For what felt like the hundredth time this shift, Haido walked down the aisle, snack foods and candy passing him by as he slowly plodded along. Occasionally, he would pause to straighten out an errant product, staring at the happy packaging of some random snack, the squiggly fun mystery script all over the package somehow comprehensible to his sleep-deprived and Metro-addled brain.
Kelpy Krisps stood out to him, some sort of potato chip alternative with eighty percent less fat per serving. At least, according to the cartoonish crab mascot emblazoned over the product. Cool. The bag shook in his unsteady hands as his eyes met the crab's dead, wide-eyed stare. His watch read 6:44 AM, a fluorescent light above him flickering. Near the end of his shift.
He sighed, returning the bag and the disturbing crab on it back onto the shelf with its brethren.
It'd been a little bit since this new life of his had started, the number of days admittedly hazy - no thanks to the nightmares, the night shifts, and Cod knows what else was wrong with him.
For what it was worth, at least he wasn't shitting in bushes and beating up college students for their ramen anymore. The survivalist life had its charm, but the simple grind of normal society was… shockingly nice to get back to?
Even if the normal society was anything but normal.
With the snack aisle accounted for, he paced past the small kitchen in the back of the store, a place where hot, 'to go' foods were prepared and displayed. The light was on, but no one was in the back, leaving only a few wrapped food items in a heating display, and a little case that rotated a selection of differing pizzas.
Much to his horror, he'd discovered very quickly that there were almost no surface lifeform-based food products - the Flood having long since washed away untold billions of chickens, cows, pigs, turkeys, and more. A horrifying revelation, to think that so many other species had been rendered extinct with no acknowledgement. The side effect of this being that nowadays, meats were made from lesser marine creatures, primarily fish.
There was something to be said about the whole 'well, Haido, you live among literal fish people now and they eat their lesser-evolved cousins' thing, but that train of thought was quickly derailed by further horrific revelations about post-human food and drink:
Where the fuck did the milk come from?
There was coffee creamer! Cheese! Dairy products in general! But no cows!
He'd asked Vista the other day, on his second night of normal life. She'd chuckled, then said something that Haido couldn't for the life of him remember - the answer so repulsive to his (mostly) human mind that he repressed it on the spot.
For the sake of never being able to enjoy modern dairy products again, he very purposefully stopped trying to un-repress those memories. Despite that, he would never look at birds the same way again.
Ultimately, the food differences were small, but it hurt more than it should have.
What also hurt, albeit definitely not as much, was the problem of him being the only other guy working tonight. Two other guys were on this shift with him, but had evidently decided a late-night Mini-MakoMart shift was just not worth it. Not too much of a problem, since Haido was real antisocial anyway, but it was still marginally annoying.
Luckily, the other cashier (Joseph, a prawn, nice guy) generally kept to himself, and left Haido to do his thing in peaceful quiet.
Most of his shift was, unfortunately for his antisocial-ness, spent behind the cash register. Evidently, whoever was writing this chapter of his life had decided to make him the bearer of some great and terrible misfortune, and they were going to be subtle about it.
He glided down another aisle, taking a quick inventory. There wasn't too much to do during the night shift, but it did give him time to think. Honestly, being alone with his thoughts probably wasn't the best thing for him, but there was a strange therapy to it. Everywhere he looked, he saw something familiar.
Store aisles lifted straight from a Japanese convenience store. Character-based languages. Colorful posters. All manner of familiar smells, sounds, and more. It felt like home, or at least as close to 'home' as he could've gotten back before the Flood. They weren't the happiest times, not by any stretch, but they were nostalgic.
The instant he focuses, though, the illusion breaks. He's back in the future, twelve-thousand years after humanity's extinction, facing down the mother of all existential crises in an alien store, working a dead end retail job, trying to make ends meet in order to have a shot at saving the last remnants of humanity in a world humanity no longer had a place in.
He had no choice but to confront the truth, and remember his real mission, here. Polaris needed him, and getting himself back there was the main thing that kept him going, kept him sharp. All he had to do was keep himself together, and get down there.
After that, everything would be okay. It would have to be.
And being okay started here, at this Mini-MakoMart only a twenty minute walk from his apartment. He needed money for everything for everything this endeavor required, never mind for more basic needs such as food and rent. There was also the matter of keeping himself busy, idle hands being the Devil's workshop and all that. Standing around only planning instead of acting would kill him, if he had to be honest, nevermind the differences between the theory of a plan and its actual execution.
Hence the job, and the skin-deep disguise of a MakoMart hat and what little self-control he has keeping his eyes from lighting up like Christmas trees. It was risky, far too risky, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.
A sardine stood in one of the aisles, perusing the store's selection of tin foil and plastic wrap. And yes, a sardine, standing on its fins as if it had two legs. One of their dead eyes glanced his way, a fin waved in greeting.
There were just some things he was never going to get used to. He was accepting of people from all walks of life, yes, but such a thing was easier said than done when most of them were only human-like in bipedal stance. It was something he would need to work on.
For now, smile and nod. It's the best he could do.
Back to his position. His saving grace, the only reason why he was fine with taking this risk, however, was the sheer variety of species in this city. So what if his disguise wasn't perfect? No one would question him over it; he was an anomaly, but one that fell within the Gaussian distribution.
One weird-looking 'Inkling' with bioluminescent eyes was easy to overlook, and the only groups he knew of that were looking for him amounted to a tiny militia of misfits led by a wannabe Great Uncle, their 'Captain' coming off as incredibly eccentric in Vista's descriptions of the feeble old man.
Granted, Vista also told him to never underestimate the so-called NSS, and with at least one of their members very closely acquainted with his unmasked face, he was inclined to take her advice.
Thankfully, Haido was a hay-like, non-ferromagnetic needle tucked in the bottom of a comically large haystack, and for the militia, their target was working the night shift at a small, nondescript store tucked away in this massive city. The real Great Uncle would have been proud of him for pulling this off.
As for the job itself, this was... a nice one, honestly. Retail was the bane of many people's existence, but it was ultimately a simple job. He was overqualified to hell and back, as egotistical as even thinking that was, but there was something nice about the wagie life. It brought him back to his younger years, before he was working for Polaris, before he had left home for what he didn't know would be the last time.
That, and he didn't need to stress himself out over writing reports or performing complex mathematics. Chemistry did not tolerate sloppy equations, and those errors tended to attract too much attention.
But in all seriousness, he doubted there would be any more official work in his chosen field. His degree and qualifications were useless in this new time; he doubted any organization would recognize them as legitimate. The whole human bit didn't help either, background investigations weren't his friend right now. That, and there were some human innovations that he would prefer to monopolize once this was all done with, and certain bits of knowledge that needed to stay buried.
Another aisle checked. Frozen foods, looking fine. Nice and stocked, fridges all fridging at the normal rate a fridge fridges. Very cool. That was the last one for now, not that he expected much to be out of line. This was more just to stretch his legs than anything else, also to kill time. His watch now read 6:54 AM, about time to head to the back and clock out.
It wasn't anything too glamorous; he simply passed by the register, nodded to Joseph, the prawn cashier manning it, and stepped into the back. His time card was a simple schedule where he filled in his hours with a pen, a far cry from the high tech systems Polaris utilized. Afterwards, he slipped on his well-loved coat, and walked out of the store.
In truth, he enjoyed the city in the early morning. The store was a good mile or so from his apartment complex, and during the early hours of the morning, there was almost nobody around on the admittedly rough streets. Just him, his thoughts, and the aging buildings of this pier adjacent district. It was honestly just nice to feel normal, even if only for this walk.
The comforting weight of the Polaris coat helped, too. Sure, it was dangerous to be walking around wearing a decently thick Modular Overcoat System, what with the clear resemblance to the ERA and its many clinky metal bits, but it helped with the normalcy of things. How this thing withstood all the punishment being in his backpack since he'd left Polaris had subjected it to, he'd never understand, but at least it cleaned up nice.
Somebody even called it 'fresh.' Dopamine!
As he got closer to his apartment, the normalcy faded. Nobody was up, sure, but ignoring his reality got harder and harder the closer he got to his dilapidated abode. The best he could do was just get back to his apartment, his bastion, and sleep for a few hours.
There wasn't anything Haido planned in the day, and his newly nocturnal nature played right into that. No need to risk getting himself into any crowds, and the only things he was really eyeing to get his grubby little mitts on were either ordered online or acquired with some night time, perfectly legitimate dealings. There was a library, which would be a nice place to waste some time at, but it was outside his comfortable walking distance. That, and he wasn't willing to shell out money for public transport nor infuriating Vista with requests for a ride either.
…Speaking of Vista, there she was, looking positively ragged as she leaned up against the wall next to his apartment door.
"Morning. Why're you up?" Haido asked, walking up to the Octoling ex-militia woman. He considered adding 'and were you waiting for me?' but that was best left unsaid, for now at least.
Tired eyes met his own, eyebags prominent underneath her eye rings. "Long night. Give you a minute to get settled, then we're talking on the roof. Walls down here are too thin." she said, as Haido unlocked his door and stepped in.
"Yeah. Sure. Gimme a sec." he said, as he glanced around his apartment, the sad pathetic mess that it was. A barren space with almost no life, not even a television. Cod forbid he look at the kitchenette, with its small assortment of the cheapest cookware and cutlery a minimum wage job could buy.
"Good," she muttered, inviting herself in to judge his depression nest of an apartment. "Do you really live like this?"
She peered into the 'bedroom', only consisting of a mattress on the floor, and his worn ERA laid out next to it as a kind of safety blanket. The lamp, which he had dug out of a dumpster, really tied the room together.
"Yup. Saving for a TV, so things can be a little livelier in here. And other stuff, too, I guess."
Vista let herself into his small kitchenette, idly looking through his cabinets, "And what is that 'other stuff'?"
"Eh, still figuring that out. Could be a mini-fridge for lots of beer, could be a whole fiber bundle of polybenzimidazole, who knows. 'Till then, it'll be liquid cash." he said, shrugging. "And, uh, I know my apartment looks like a veritable treasure trove, but those are still my cabinets, y'know."
"Fair enough." Vista said, letting the cabinet door swing shut. "Good treasure's always hidden, anyways."
She deflated a bit, the spontaneous quipfest of theirs coming to a halt as mutual exhaustion set in. "Sorry, H. Old habits."
"Meh. Just how it is." he said, shrugging off his coat and motioning for the two of them to get a move on.
Casual indifference. His best coping mechanism for concerningly perceptive and mostly unwanted house guests almost finding his hidden stash. Petty pilfering from work funded it, and the 'goods' he had laying around in there weren't exactly something Vista needed to know about yet.
(He wasn't exactly lying about the whole thing of polybenzimidazole, anyway. Who knew Turf War-legal clothing could be broken down into ERA oversuit repair materials?)
The two of them quietly meandered their way up to the roof of the apartment complex, initially taking the world's sketchiest elevator before going the final distance on foot. The sun was barely up by the time the two of them stepped out onto the bland concrete expanse, bathing the scene in a soft blue glow.
"So, what's this about?" he said, the annoyance in his voice bleeding through somewhat despite his best efforts.
Vista was an ally, yes, but not a friend. He was painfully aware that she knew his dirty little secret, and it didn't help that part of their arrangement felt like blackmail on her part. In addition, he was tired, in great need of going the fuck to bed, and very much living in the epitome of middle-class poverty housing, but he still had to sit and entertain whatever this was going to be.
Besides that, he had a feeling that what she had to say was going to ruin his day.
"Your girlfriend. The other human. She's on the move again. Airbase in Octarian territory, about a dozen final deathed. Not good, in case you didn't get the hint already."
…
Being right about everything was a curse.
"We used to believe the Domes were cursed, perhaps even alive, early on in our exploratory expeditions to them. Their systems were autonomous, like clockwork, the pulse of a heart."
Of all the things Lead Engineer Tamarin expected to have happen to her today, being subjected to a Takozonesu soldier's baleful attempt at being her tour guide was not exactly on that list. But here Scalpel Five was, staring off into the Octarian capitol beyond as they rattled off info point after info point.
From where Scalpel Five was getting this information, she didn't know, but the information was… almost appreciated? She barely knew a thing about this place, and the sheer secrecy of things didn't help one bit.
"Doma Priwa was the largest and most well-equipped of the Domes that we uncovered early on after the Great Turf War. Before it was co-opted for our use, we believed it to be the most alive of them all - no thanks to the active 'ICM' system we discovered within the deepest depths of the complex."
Part of Tamarin wanted them to just shut up, especially with that monotone droning voice of theirs.
The other? Begging for the Takozonesu soldier to keep talking - to keep her mind off the disaster that was soon to come.
"As with much of their former abodes, the Ancestors had utilized simple machinery and computers to maintain what they left behind, and protect it from intruders. We had simply run afoul of the Dome's Internal Crisis Management system, and found that we were able to subdue it with relative ease..."
Try as they might, however, Tamarin's nerves got the upper hand in this engagement. Scalpel Five's words slurred, as the reality of her situation began to set in and wash the impromptu tour guide's exposition away.
Here she was, fresh from the colossal squitshow at her beloved airbase, currently on a potentially one-way trip into the bowels of the Octarian capitol Dome to meet with the Council. Personally. As in, her, and her alone.
She was to answer in person for the final deaths of dozens of Octarian soldiers, several Elites, and her pride and joy - her Octo Shower, the lovingly customized and maintained weapons platform now a smoldering wreck in a pile of rubble.
Oh, she was so fucked. So absolutely screwed it transcended belief.
Deep breaths. Recenter yourself. Start simple. Where are you?
A shaky tram, rolling along tracks mounted into the supporting walls of Doma Priwa, an absolutely massive subterranean city buried somewhere she wasn't at liberty to know about. The secret crown jewel of the Octarian state. Part of her figured it was more of a crown tomb, but this was no place for cynicism.
Tamarin peered out into the expanse beyond the tram's window, out over an expansive grid of buildings and industrial structures, lit by a massive circular hole in the ceiling - through which what seemed like sunlight shone through, illuminating the tallest of the buildings in the center. A beautiful sight, one she'd like to appreciate up close, but today wasn't her day.
Slowly, Scalpel Five came back into focus. "...there are currently 302 ICM autonomous projectile turrets active, fully loaded and ready for engagement. You are safe from Ancestor reprisal here, Lead Engineer."
That's 302 ICM turrets ready to make sure I never leave this place alive.
"You are shaking, Lead Engineer."
I know.
"The Council has taken note of this. You are to be reassured that the Council does not seek to bring harm to you, nor any members of your unit."
Could be a lie. Now's not the time for lies.
"The Council repeats this reassurance. You are safe here. You are among friends."
"I don't think an emotionless armed gunman is someone I'd consider a friend." she snapped, before shrinking back in on herself. "Sorry. Just… Nerves. That's all."
"An ally, then." the Takozonesu said after a moment, adjusting their stance. Tamarin huffed, continuing her staring contest with Doma Priwa's city outside.
The Council, for lack of any more descriptive phrases, scared the everloving squit out of her. DJ Octavio's rule was one thing, but he was one man - one very charismatic, respectful man. Despite his quirks, and not to mention his ego, he was someone that was at least approachable.
On the other hand, the Council was none of those things. Six anonymous individuals from all walks of the Octarian military, surrounded by all manner of autonomous and partly-autonomous defenses. The ICM system, here at home. The secrecy surrounding Doma Priwa. Visibly modified Takozonesu fighters. Old human machines, given new life and new purposes.
A far cry from Octavio's more kindred spirit. Cold. Detached. Unsettling.
She wasn't a fan, at all. But, authority was authority, and they sure had authority.
They'd worked in the shadows for so long, Tamarin figured, as the speed by which the six had taken over all of the Octarian state after Octavio's defeat by Inkling hands was all but unprecedented. Almost seemingly overnight, the Octarian military had been massively modernized, Domes upgraded to withstand greater threats, and Octarian society entirely mobilized to 'prepare.'
For what the Council was preparing for, she did not know. Retaliation for Octavio's loss to Inkopolis? Subjugation of the Salmonids?
The return of humanity?
Somehow, she felt like the latter was the correct answer.
The tram disappeared into a tunnel, the rattling contraption trundling along into the depths of Doma Priwa's walls, in which the Council and the remaining upper echelons of the Octarian military built their fortified command centers. Red low-visibility lighting permeated the spaces, built to maximize night vision in case of power loss, while also minimizing the consumption of said power.
A practical purpose. Too practical. If Tamarin had anything to say about it, they just made everything red to put the fear of Cod into anyone who dared to come in here, or were brought here for reasons like her own.
The next few minutes were a blur, as Scalpel Five led her off the tram and into the Council's spaces proper. Endless dimly lit corridors, the din of air conditioning set too cold for her comfort. The more and more things she found out about this place, the more and more her hostile architecture theory began to make sense.
She was led in all sorts of directions, up and down stairs, into elevators going directions she didn't think elevators could even go in, and down all sorts of featureless hallways only seemingly Takozonesu soldiers knew the way through. Not a hint of signage, and not a hint of Octarian life.
No officers, no Elites, nobody. Just endless corridors, and hundreds of soulless husks carrying guns.
This place was going to be the death of her, she just knew it.
"Scalpel Five, reporting. Escorting Lead Engineer Tamarin, as requested by the Council." her escort suddenly said, snapping her from her stupor.
They stood before a nondescript door at the end of a nondescript hallway, guarded by two heavily armored Takozonesu wearing full helmets, their faces concealed unlike Scalpel Five's more open equipment. Did these Takozonesu even have faces?
Electronic gibberish filled the air as one of the guards spoke, a deep vocoded voice that was all but incomprehensible to Tamarin, but no doubt understood by her similarly modified escort. A third, just as distorted voice joined the cacophony, a short burst of words Tamarin assumed to be a radio message saying 'let her in.'
With a hiss, the door behind them slid open, the two guards standing aside to allow them entry into the dark room beyond.
"Enter." Scalpel Five said, gently nudging her forward.
End of the line, it seems.
She was led to a conference table, a dark wood of unrecognizable type. Nothing fancy, nothing ornate. It was almost minimalist, in a way. Just a table and chairs in a dark, scary room. The space was bathed in dim light, the result of a sleek black projector in the table coming to life as she entered. In a further bit of theatrics, lights came on around the edges of the room, embedded into the wall near the floor, revealing the determinants of her fate.
The Council in the flesh.
There were six total, three women, three men, all intentionally obscured by the room's dim lighting. A simple trick, but an effective one. Yet, not all encompassing. It wasn't bright enough to obscure their uniform, an olive attire that was bulky in a few odd areas, nor the blank, plastic-like mask each wore, no doubt a facade for some sort of irreplaceable technology housed within.
They were flanked by two more armed Takozonesu guards, these new guards holding slender rifles that were simply unlike any Octarian weaponry she had ever seen. No hookups, no ink tanks, no supports, just themselves and their heavy composite armor.
One of the Council members waved their hand, motioning to Scalpel Five. "You are dismissed. Await further tasking."
"Understood." With that, they left the room, heavy footfalls silenced by the door closing behind them. Sealing her in.
A moment passed, before her end began.
"She's… alive?"
Haido's legs felt rather wobbly, so he sat down on the rough concrete of the roof, eyes narrow. It was shocking, but curiously, it did little to stir up any emotion in him, only more casual indifference. Yet, there was a sort of tightness in his sternum, an uncomfortable, choking sensation.
"You good?"
"I'm fine, just… I had a feeling she survived, but… I don't know."
He had been trying not to think about Emily, considering the events that occurred in the Metro, but he could only bottle those emotions in for so long. Yes, he was happy with the confirmation she was alive, but equally, what the hell was she thinking?
It sounded like Emily really poked the hornet's nest with that one. Vista had told him some about the Octarians, probably the closest thing humans had to a descendant in this world, a militarized society with a working knowledge of his kind, and access to some of their technology. A society that had proven itself tenacious, and an ability to hold a grudge. This was just great.
"Haido, you're shaking."
"I am?"
His right hand, this traitorous appendage, trembled. Not out of control, but a constant vibration. He quelled it, albeit with a bit of effort.
"Oh. Sorry. Go on."
"She's also evened the score between you two. They had a modified Octoweapon there, a flying one with experimental shielding tech. It went down in flames, as you'd expect."
"That's..."
To that, Vista paused again.
"Seriously, are you alright? Now it's the eyes doing their thing."
"I… I'm…" he started, only to bury his face in his hands, "Oh, for fuck's sake…"
Vista, bless her heart, simply put on her best sympathetic face as Haido worked through the news of Emily's fuckup, a few unflattering words escaping him. One, frankly much needed, bit of catharsis before the cold calm could set in.
"That's the last thing I wanted to hear, Vista."
"I know. Was the last thing I wanted to hear, too. Both my contacts in the Octarian military and the NSS were hounding me all morning about it, and what I'm hearing is not good."
"So spill." He had no time for theatrical bullshit. Get to the point.
"The NSS is meeting right now to discuss it. Probably discuss you, while they're at it. I wouldn't expect anything out of them, thankfully - and a helpful reminder that I do keep my promises. They make a move? You'll be the first to know." she said, nodding.
"However," oh boy, this wasn't going to be much better, "the Octarian Council is mobilizing as we speak. I've already gotten word of troops being organized, vehicles being moved, all manner of installations going on heightened alert status, the whole nine yards."
"Oh. Oh, shit."
"Oh squit indeed. Here's a little ray of sunshine, thankfully; you're way less of a threat to the Council than she is. She's got a weapon that can permanently kill Octarian fighters, and you don't. You had a Dome dropped on your head, and she's in the air in a stolen hovercraft."
That did equalize this equation somewhat, but still, what if they decide to-
"Oi. Drop that line of thought, whatever it is. I can physically feel your paranoia, and I'd rather not feel any more miserable than I already do."
"I… alright. Sorry."
Despite the circumstances, he felt surprisingly calm. On edge and fearful, yes, but he was able to keep himself from freaking out. It was an achingly familiar situation, honestly; after his time with Great Uncle, and then Polaris, and after everything he had gone through up to this point, this almost felt mundane in comparison.
Still horrifying, of course, but it was something he could handle, something he could grasp onto. It wasn't an unknowable horror or cataclysm, at least. Yet, he still needed info.
"But, humor me for a sec, Vista - what do you think I'd be up against if this 'Council' decided to send people my way? Doubt they'd send regular fighters after me." The ex-Octarian in question raised an eyebrow, silently asking him to elaborate.
"You used to be with them, right? No better time for words of wisdom than now."
Vista nodded. "Yeah, but I was a grunt back then, and not for too long. To answer your question as best I can, though… spec-ops, surely. What they'll use on you, I don't know, and neither do I know what they'll do and how they'll do it, but I do know that we had special operations types. Sorry."
Better than nothing, Haido supposed. She wasn't forthcoming with details, but broad-spectrum information was seemingly free game here as part of their 'partnership.' He'd divulged the broad spectrum of his life to her, and she'd do the same. Mutually beneficial bad intel sharing.
"Right. Brings me to one last problem, then." he started.
"The NSS." she finished. "Think they'll blame you for the attack?"
"Not sure. Being paranoid got me this far, though, so we'll go with 'yes they will, and they will send people after me.' I'm not overly worried about them, considering my past encounters with their two 'Agents', but still…"
Vista raised an eyebrow, again. "There's more than two of them, you know."
"That's the only real worry I've got. I know two of them, and two of them probably fear me. I don't know the others, and they could kick my ass if I'm not ready. And that's not forgetting the grandpa you told me about, too." he said, standing back up and pacing around the rooftop.
"Well, here's your last bit of sunshine then, H. They already know about the other human, and they only know that you're somewhere in Inkopolis. No specifics, just that you're here and not as much of a threat as the crazed gunwoman with a flying saucer."
So they'd be distracted by Emily's deranged activities, and would leave Haido alone for a while, buying him time to prepare. Good. He had a hobo community to entrench himself into, hardware stores to raid, and many other things he had to do (and build) before he could call himself ready to go up against the Agents again, which felt inevitable at this point.
He was still on their list, after all, but he was just not a priority at the moment. He rubbed his face. He could work with this, he could work with this…
But again, there was the matter of Emily, the element in all of this that was utterly outside his knowledge and control. He was glad she was alive, but why did she have to go and do this? The two of them were the ambassadors for humanity here, and currently, they both were doing a piss poor job. Beyond that, his interactions with her had been brief, but she didn't strike him as the type of person to assault a hardened military target.
She was angry, violent even, but this just felt outside of her capabilities. He had barely scraped by at the Dome, and that was because all of the advantages were stacked in his favor, nevermind an ungodly amount of luck. How did she pull off this little stunt of hers?
"You probably know her the best, and what she could be planning." Oh, he'd thought that too loud. "We're certain she stole a hovercraft for a reason. It was a large gamble on her end, and with how long she's been in the countryside being a relative non-issue, it seems unlikely she would suddenly change her behavior on a whim."
Haido's pacing resumed as he put the last of his rapidly fading brain power to work. "If she stole a hovercraft, she could maybe be trying to flee the island, right? I doubt all of the Emplacements still work, so she could go anywhere."
Emily could make for the Sinosphere countries, poke around the old massive industrial zones around Chongqing or something. Perhaps a play down south, into Independent Australia? No, there'd be nothing of importance down there, especially with no resource gathering capabilities.
Farther west, maybe? Eurocom territory was loaded with tech, especially militarized tech. It wouldn't be good equipment, but manufacturing was so absurdly ramped up during the Intercorporate Wars that the region was almost literally buried in some places in vehicles and armor.
Perhaps she was going to make a play for a cross-Pacific trip? Visit America? Go see if the railcannons of the Rockies still functioned? See home?
Questions, questions. As always, though, Vista seemed to have answers.
"She definitely wasn't fleeing." Vista said, shaking her head. "According to hacked telemetry data, she was heading inland, toward the mountain ranges. Clearly, she knows something we don't, going there the way she is. With any luck, this little problem might resolve itself."
"Resolve itself? What are you implying?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Vista asked, staring at him oddly. "Oh, right. No, Haido, those mountains are cursed. Uncharted. Hopefully she'll just disappear like the rest." she stated plainly, as if she was telling him about the current stock prices.
"I… what? What do you mean 'cursed'?"
Vista clicked her tongue. "We'll call it, uh, superstition. Simply put, the mountains further inland are almost always covered in rain and storms, making exploration difficult, if not impossible. The furthest expeditions into the mainland never returned, and any hovercraft or drone that goes out there loses contact very quickly."
"So she's found herself a hiding place, then?"
"Perhaps. Though, knowing what we know about humanity, I can only assume there's something up there that she's looking for. Something hidden in the storms, in the rain. After all, we've studied the weather, and that whole situation is just unnatural. Now, we think it's human-related."
He almost missed her muttering, "Just like fucking everything is today."
Wait. Constant rain. He remembered this, yeah.
The Japanese government had been up to dubious good in the years after he first arrived for his work at Polaris, primarily in the realms of 'environmental conservation' and 'renewable resource renewing.' As such, they decided to try playing God a bit, which led to a situation not too dissimilar from what Vista was describing.
"Y'know, that rings a bell, the more that I think about it."
"I'm not going to like what I'm about to hear, am I?"
"Not really. We had very limited weather control in my day, in the form of cloud seeding. They'd started doing that to the mountains under the excuse of artificial forest creation, considering wood wasn't exactly renewable at that point, but they just… never stopped making it rain."
Vista blinked, confused. "So it's been doing that for thousands of years, now? Are our drones being rained out of existence or something?"
"I don't think so. We had our theories back then, and I have my theories now." he started, "Considering that it's still going on after all this time, though, the process had to be hardened and automated to an unfathomable degree, or they somehow tweaked the biosphere."
Conspiracy theories ran absolutely wild after the first year of constant rain, mostly along the lines of 'they might be hiding something in the woods.' Which, weirdly enough, made sense - if you wanted to keep somebody off the mountains, just flood them out! Easy. It was a decent cover for any other less than moral work, if nothing else.
Granted, he thought these theories were reasonable bullshit back in the day, but now? After seeing Kamabo's technology? What they could do with it? He felt like he was really onto something, and with Emily's closer ties to Kamabo than him…
"Yeah, I wouldn't be shocked if all that rain was very much intentional. Kamabo in origin, if what I know about their tech and how it works is still up-to-date. We never got any of the more esoteric stuff, but after seeing what they did to make the Metro, I think anything's possible."
"Hmm." Vista hmm'd, crossing her arms. "So, if we go with the idea that Kamabo's behind this, then what do you think would be up there, then?"
Haido shrugged, looking off at the steadily brightening sunrise, driving away the morning fog, "More Shelters, maybe bunkers, long-term storage facilities, caches, that sort of thing. Emplacements too, continental defense railguns, denial towers, that sort of thing. She couldn't use them, but if she found a control bunker or something-"
"Emplacements?" Vista asked, head cocked. "You've mentioned those before. Elaborate on those for me, real quick."
"A-Alright. So. Back in our day-"
Vista snickered, "You what? Had to go uphill to and from school?"
"Felt like it sometimes. Even worse when it snowed." he quipped back, before continuing. "Anyways, back then, the many mostly corporate-owned enclaves and former nations of the world had many problems with each other. Problems that could be solved with the handy-dandy application of a hypervelocity intercontinental ballistic missile."
Surface level info. Publicly available stuff. She was already looking a bit lost, though, not that he cared much. She wanted an explanation, and she would get one.
"Said missiles became further problems, and then somebody somewhere had a great and terrible idea…"
Tamarin swallowed, her mouth far too dry. It was a terrible idea to come here, and she should have fled when she had the chance. The Council's non-existent gazes pierced her soul, judging every fiber of her being.
"Lead Engineer Tamarin Octoza, assigned to Special Defensive Installation 052. Welcome." a lightly augmented voice spoke, coming from the center-most Council member. "We offer our condolences for the losses sustained in your recent encounter with an Ancestor, and offer our apologies for our reinforcements being unable to arrive in time."
"We have brought you here to discuss this recent encounter, however. This matter is extraordinary, as you may know, and has required our full attention due to the nature of things." another Council member spoke. They were all in sync, no doubt, leaving her always guessing as to which one would speak next.
"Please be seated. This discussion will commence shortly."
She did as she was told, sitting ramrod straight in a nondescript chair at the end of the conference table. Before her, the projector flickered as it changed scenes, the easily recognizable device something she was all too familiar with from her work.
An OCT-46TRX to be precise, a sleek, black unit used by commanders within the Octarian army, or more commonly Engineering staff like herself, when that extra bit of quality really mattered. A crystal clear image, a high refresh rate, and most importantly, utterly silent save for its speakers.
To that end, seeing the grainy security footage from the base played on such a high end device was simply surreal. On the crisp, clean, projector image, Tamarin could only see the occasional, overwhelming burst of plasma fire as the intruder worked their way towards the hangar, and the tinny reverb of screams and weapon fire, coming from speakers that could perfectly mimic a babbling stream, or a whispered conversation.
It felt wrong to have such poor quality footage up on such an advanced projector, in such an advanced conference room, and yet, it was easily one of the more important files recovered from that horrid night.
Reliving it was another matter. She had lost a lot of good soldiers, and even the raw disconnect from the poor footage wasn't quite enough to stem her guilt.
What could she have done to prevent this, to have saved a few more souls?
The projector paused, just as the camera feed cut into the hangar. Tamarin could see herself and several technicians feverishly working on the Octo Shower.
"And this is the moment the Ancestor penetrated the hangar, yes?"
"It is, yes. Not long after we had ceased working on the prototype for the night. Considering the actions of the int- Ancestor, we had decided to prepare the prototype for deployment. Not that it did a lot of good."
She was still getting used to calling the intruder that term. For all of her life, 'Ancestor' as a proper noun had been nothing more than a certain class of technology and a subset of history. Using it to refer to a living being still had a sort of shock to it, that yes, she and her soldiers had been attacked by a fucking honest-to-cod human.
From the other end of the table, she could see one of the silhouettes shuffling through a stack of documents.
"It performed admirably under the circumstances, Lead Engineer, and has given us valuable data concerning the combat capabilities of the hostile Ancestor." the Council member spoke.
Another picked up where they left off. "We are pleased with its performance, yet displeased at its loss. Not only that, but we are also greatly displeased by your flagrant violation of Octoweapon modification legislation."
"You know this, Lead Engineer, and yet you pursued it." a third continued. "Ancestor technology, such as the anti gravitic drive you modified and installed, is not to be trifled with, and for good reason."
Another flash of guilt, more ingrained by duty rather than any personal morals. But before she could retort, or at least justify her actions, another member continued, "We are displeased, but not disappointed. Thus, your presence here today. We will return to this later."
And so, the projector's image returned to life, grainy quality now displaying the inside of the hangar. It was more of a numb feeling than anything else as she watched the events unfold once more. She was glad for the shoddy quality when she saw herself fall off the catwalk and break her neck. There were some things that she didn't want to relive, that for that night, they were frail and mortal.
Then, the modified Octo Shower sprung to life.
Even though she knew the Shower was destined for destruction, she still watched with a sense of pride as it initially put the Ancestor on the back foot. The shielding held up admirably, even against plasma - Cod, she needed to get her hands on that weaponry - and the missile racks proved effective enough. Theoretically, it should have been able to kill the Ancestor, but that hope died when she saw the missile pods explode.
Found the hole in the shielding, it looked like. Clever bitch.
From there, things began to go downhill.
Sure, it had managed to get the weapons she had sent topside for it, but the Ancestor knew how to get past the shield, rendering its efforts moot. And the end result? The Shower prototype was destroyed, its Zapfish stolen, a platform stolen, and the air base an utter wreck from the shower's collateral. The last of the security footage showed the Ancestor getting away, and the Takozonesu reinforcements trying in vain to stop them.
In short, a total squitshow. And she was being asked to answer for it.
"With the review of the incident's events concluded, we may begin," a different Council member spoke, "Tamarin Octoza, it should be noted that this meeting is strictly off the books, with everything discussed here under Alpha Classification. Ordinarily, the matter of you performing unauthorized experiments with relics and Ancestor technology would be a severe matter, but under the circumstances, that shall be waived."
"Once more, we are displeased, but not disappointed. The admirable performance of your modified Octoshower interests us greatly, and we acknowledge you and your unit's skilled craftsmanship. The weaknesses are fixable, the design solid, and the potential limitless."
Internally, Tamarin let out a sigh of relief. It was short lived, however, as another Councilwoman continued.
"However, we do wish to know why you were modifying this Octo Shower. From our investigations, it was clearly designed to engage other Octoweapons, or as demonstrated here, hostile Ancestors."
Tamarin swallowed. She should have known they'd pick up on that.
She had little hope of rebellion, at this point. No more dreams of taking her Octoshower and going on a joyful rampage to bring her DJ back. Tamarin was in too deep, now.
But, a little spin here, a white lie there…
"It was to address a flaw within our arsenal. None of our other Octoweapons are suited for taking down their peers. What if one were to fall into our enemies hands?" she said, holding her head up high. "The DJ always told us to 'not raise up what we cannot put down.' I wished to embody that, and ensure Octarian supremacy even against a domestic threat."
It was the rationale he used to justify his own personal mech, but regardless of its actual intent, the saying was something that Tamarin did respect him for. He wasn't the best leader, per say, but he certainly knew how to inspire someone.
"That is true, yes, but we're aware of your old loyalties, Lead Engineer."
A folder was slid across the table to her. Her dossier.
"As we're sure you've gathered, Lead Engineer, the Ancestors aren't quite dead, and judging by the actions we've seen, the only conclusion is that they're hostile. Your creations built to uphold said 'old loyalties' will find new, more justifiable purpose here in this new conflict, as will you."
Of course they knew. She wanted to feel shocked, but the emotion just wasn't there.
"As we stated earlier, this is not a punishment, but a reassignment. We're merging your unit with another that was attacked by another Ancestor. As of now, we're preparing to accommodate this change, with the expectation that this new merger will counter the Ancestor threat."
"Familiar faces will be joining you. Not only is your current unit being merged into this new one, but the Scalpel and Suture units of Takozonesu fighters will be joining you as well. Considering your seniority and past track record, you will be the head of this task force. Consider it a promotion."
Tamarin sat back, chewing on the information. Being under the Council's thumb wasn't an appealing prospect at all, yet equally the Ancestor threat trumped that by a significant margin. As such…
"What will this entail exactly? And what support can we expect?"
This didn't have to be forever, and it wasn't as if she had much of a choice.
"Your primary support from us will be relative freedom from the chain of command. We anticipate that you will face the Ancestors in guerilla warfare, something we believe your creativity and forward-thinking nature will find easy to adjust to. You will also enjoy access to upper-echelon weapons, equipment, and reinforcements - primarily more Takozonesu."
A good thing, at least. They were going to have the shiny new toys, the big new guns, and even more mentally broken highly-trained special operations units at her disposal. Better than nothing. Said special operatives would no doubt report her every action to the Council, but she could live with that.
"However, this comes at a cost, Lead Engineer. You will not have much in the way of conventional Octarian aid and resources, as much must still remain devoted to restoring our society, and the conflict with Inkopolis. That, and we must not allow the world at large to learn of the Ancestor's continued existence."
"Why is that?" she asked, curious.
"Lead Engineer, how much do you know about the Ancestors?" a Council member intoned, cocking their head.
"Not much, Councilor."
"Without going into excessive detail, they were a race of highly intelligent warlords, distant descendants of tribal hunters that discovered the means by which the act of killing could become an artform."
"For millennia, they waged war without reason, tearing one another to shreds over the smallest dispute in the name of perfecting their tools of violence. Tools that we now inherit."
Tamarin glanced at the up-armored Takozonesu to her side, eyes falling on the weapon in their hands. Some strange part of her recognized it, almost. A word. 'Rifle.'
"And now, the inheritors return to claim what they have lost. Already we have confirmed four Ancestor survivors within the past century, two of which we know are nearby and alive, and one of which we now task you with eliminating."
She blinked. Four Ancestors? How far did this conspiracy go back?
"We cannot allow the Ancestors to return in any meaningful capacity. Their time on this Earth is long finished, and will only spell doom for all of us. Octarians, Inklings, everyone. Thus, we must act, and act now."
One of the Council members in the back finally spoke, having been silent the entire time. "This Council believes they act to awaken old, old things. This cannot come to pass. The Ancestors are distant history, nothing more, and they must remain that way."
The closest Council member nodded, then gestured to Tamarin.
"Of course, Ordinal Octoza," they started, "this means that your mission must not be disclosed to anyone. Not even your allies beyond your unit. Not even those you still hold old loyalties too."
The dossier was opened, revealing Tamarin's fate.
Octarian Special Operations Command
1st Special Forces Group - "WAVE DANCERS"
An Ordinal posting. The highest officer position in the Octarian military, reporting directly to the Council. She was to be in command of the Council's personal anti-Ancestor unit, a hastily grafted together mashup of heavily armed survivors and Octarians that were more machine than Octoling.
"We do not believe we need to spell out the consequences if that directive is not followed."
She had no choice in this matter. Nothing she could do, except take the offer.
"I-I understand, Councilor." she stammered out. "But, I must ask, what about Inkopolis? The traitors? What about my engineering work? My designs?"
"Firstly, the war with the surface and the defectors goes on. You will not fight it. We cannot afford to spread ourselves thinner in the face of the Ancestors. Conflict is to be avoided, but if it is inescapable, you will be expected to act on our orders. The traitors are to be eliminated, defectors to be subdued, and the Inklings to be eradicated."
"Secondly, your modifications will be adapted, and fitted to further Octoshowers both active and in production. Be assured that our finest engineers will do their utmost to ensure it will not go to waste."
At least that was good. All her effort was worth it, in the end. Ultimately going against its intended purposes, but she couldn't quite complain.
"Are there any other concerns, Ordinal?"
But, she was still expected to kill her DJ. Capture the escapees, the defectors. A terrible prospect, but it was do or die - and dying meant everyone else joined her in the depths below. Every Octarian. Every Inkling. It came down to her, and her fighters.
An engineer was the wrong choice for this, but this was the Council's judgment. There was no backing down now.
"Negative, Councilor. Your Ordinal is ready to serve." she said, the Council members regarding her nodding as they made ready to adjourn.
"Very well. Dismissed, Ordinal. Make our species proud."
"-And ultimately, the Emplacements ended up creating an Iron Curtain between several nations and geographical chokepoints. Looking back, it was the start of the end for us, we just didn't see it. And that's the basic rundown of their history, any questions?"
Judging by Vista's incredulous (or just really bored) look and stunned silence, it didn't seem like she had any. It didn't help that he'd been talking for so damn long the sun had started to come out, warm orange poking through the clouds in the distance. Whoops.
"Uh… sorry, that's a lot of info to digest, not that I understood most of it," she finally said, "But the gist of it is that these 'Emplacements' are old human weapons, and you think that she might be going after them?"
"Hole in one. I don't know what she intends to do if they really are her target; they have plenty of safety and security measures incorporated into their structure to keep people like her out, and I doubt the Emplacements themselves are still functional after all this time, but there's just… There's still that paranoia, y'know?"
He leaned against the roof's little wall, looking out at the sun. On the street below, life was beginning to stir once more, Inklings coming out of their homes to do whatever they did for their lives.
Vista joined him, eying the streets with an odd sort of weariness.
"If what you're saying is true," she enunciated, picking her words carefully, "then this situation may just be the start of something horrid, like you were saying about the Emplacements being a death knell for your kind. You may not like it, but… it may be worth collaborating with the NSS concerning this."
"Yeah, no. Not happening," he quickly shot back, "It's too risky, and to be honest, I don't want to get tied up in this conflict."
"Haido," Vista sucked in a breath, her frame tense, "You may not like it, but this is your fight too. You took an oath to protect this City when you joined up with the Church, and I'll hold you to it."
"I took an oath to protect Inkopolis from the Salmonids, not crazed humans," he corrected, "And regardless of that, I am not talking to those NSS bastards. They hate my guts, and I'm not risking the stability I have right now."
"I-"
"Vista, for Cod's sake, I snapped the green Agent's leg like a twig, robbed the short one before introducing my boot to her foot, and then I told that same Agent I'd kill her and all the other Agents if they fucked with me again! Told her myself, 'if any of you cross me, I'll make what I did at the Shelter look like a coddamn joke!'" he pleaded, "And that's not to mention what I did at the Shelter, too! You think they're going to forget all that and just want to be buddy buddy?"
Vista pinched the bridge of her nose, exasperated.
"Look, I get it, the NSS can be a bit… rough around the edges. I left them for a reason, but I wouldn't be suggesting this unless I thought it wasn't serious." she said, taking a step towards him.
"Your kind already has quite the reputation, and you'd rather it get worse? You both already pissed off the Octarians, but you have a chance to fix things with the NSS and stop her before she does something truly horrendous."
Haido sighed, "Vista, I can appreciate that, but I really can't risk anything right now. Tell them about your suspicions, tell them about what I told you, I don't care, just leave me out of this. Please… I just want to stop fighting."
There were fifty-six souls in cryostasis relying on him, and jeopardizing them by frolicking with the NSS was absolutely out of the question. Vista could do what she wanted with them, as long as she kept him out of it. At the end of the day, Emily wasn't his problem, Polaris was.
"Look, Vista… she needs to be stopped, but I have my own problems to worry about."
"Haido-"
"I'll think about it, alright? Shell, I'll even answer any questions you may have about the situation, but I can't promise more than that."
He got up from the wall, stretching, joints popping.
"Then, what's so important for you to not help? And don't say 'muh stability', we both know that's bullsquit."
…
Haido looked Vista right in the eye.
This whole time, he'd had this distinct feeling the woman knew much more than she let on. Like she was always one step ahead, always leading him to the answer instead of just telling him outright. It was effective, that much he could give her.
He knew she knew. She had to. And as such…
"Have a good morning, Vista. I have work tonight, so I'm going to bed."
…he left the rooftop, leaving Vista alone.
Another chapter done, and with it, great and terrible things have been set in motion.
This chapter is a bit more of an expository one, to be honest, but giving some more information was long overdue and to de-escalate some from the insanity of the last few chapters. It may not be as flashy, but hopefully it was fun to read, and filled in some pieces of the puzzle.
Onto other matters though. Apologies again for how long this chapter was in the oven. Getting all the dialogue written, refined, and properly incorporated proved to be a struggle, and it took a concerted effort from all of us to get this finished before things dragged on for too long. On my end, college is reaching a sort of crescendo in terms of work, and it will be that way until around May or so. The next chapter may take a while, but I thank you for your patience; I'll make sure it is worth the wait.
Thank you for reading and reviewing, and see you next time!
Before we go, by the way, Falken, the artist who's doing artwork for the Ao3 version of the story and helping write it, has his commissions open again if anyone wanted to snag something from him. His prices are reasonable, and I believe the images displayed on this story speaks for the quality of his work. The invite code for his commission server is W5ygy3kkqu, I hope to see some of you there!
As always, we have a Discord Server, the invite code being qCMxkGzzBg.
