Nova 7 - Submergency

by Phantom R.D.S. Foxx

OC focused story featuring (a) canon character(s). Direct sequel to "Nova 7 - Sunset". From the depths of the Venomian sea they came to conquer Lylat and now they are in Corneria City. With the new General and the helm and Star Fox still split, can Lylat be freed? Rated M for descriptive violence and heavy themes. Featuring Kip Starnova from Minty-Fivestar.

2. 1 - Clear Waters

1 - Clear Waters

- Solar Rising

Another day sets on the only recently freed Corneria City. Standing, kneeling or sitting down, the soldiers of Nova 7 watch their sun rise as the smoking city behind them does not bother them right now. Bruised, dirty and bloodied but alive and satisfied that the enemy has been chased away from the planet's capital city. In silence but all smile as they have a moment of rest.

The true magnitude of all this only comes ahead when they hear the wind softly blowing. The rustling of nearby leaves. The critters in the grass and in the sky above them. But above all, they are not hearing any gunfire, explosions or screams. They have gotten so used to it after a week of fighting house to house, building to building… that now the sounds of peace and life sound alien to them. Positively so, but still alien.

It makes Trevor and Calamity sit that little bit more close to each other. Their chapped skin and small cuts and wounds be damned.

It makes Patches lay across both their laps to stop the world from spinning. Just for a moment as she closes her bloodshot, sleep-hungry eyes while she holds her locket in both hands.

It makes Kip, who had to suffer a tremendous blow to the head on the third day, lean her heavy feeling noggin' against Phantom's nearby shoulder. Who accommodates for it to happen as PAL offers her some headache medicine.

The white vulpine himself considers himself lucky enough to still be breathing when suddenly his knife was held by the enemy and came too close to his own throat and breathing tube for comfort. Good thing PAL was there to gun that guy down.

The battle has been won and that is the most important thing. But they savor these moments of recovery. It may not be physical, but they are healthy for the mind. A moment of brief peace to regain the color on their faces. To remind them that life can be beautiful and without violence. While at the same time confirming what they are fighting for; so that they and millions of others can see and experience this view and moment for their entire lifetimes.

However, the war is not over yet and it waits for no one. In the background, they can hear the humming of approaching ships. The Fleet is returning after achieving a narrow victory just above Corneria. Which means that not only are the skies around Corneria are clear, but also Corneria's complete atmospheric boundary. Likely due to Admiral Sigismundo's actions. And now that he is returning to the Board and Command, perhaps he can make sure that those bureaucrats finally get their heads out of their asses and send Nova 7 to further contribute to the demise of those fishy bastards.

"Right. I think we should…" Trevor sighs, knowing that they will be getting a call from Tacker Field soon.

Before he can finish his sentence, Patches puts her hand over his mouth, puts her index finger of her other hand against her own lips and softly shushes before laying back down. They will call them when they need them. Not before. He gets the gist of her actions and breathes in deep. Letting the feeling of responsibility flow away again. Just for this moment to last longer. No matter how long this moment may still last.

- Diving Head First

"Welcome back, Gents." Nelson greets as his ball turret opens to reveal himself busying all sorts of computer stuff.

Giving his typing fingers the workout of their lives. Then, once the shrew has a moment to look over, he is genuinely startled by the appearance of Nova 7 as they come in. This time, there is no flair or theatrics on display. This is worse than the usual hammered shit situation. He casts his keyboards aside and steps out of his turret to make sure that his friends are doing okay. Going to each and everyone of them to ask how they are doing and check up on them. Although it does not address their physical discomforts, it is very nice to know that even the most ingrained resident computer nerd will uproot himself for them.

And while Nelson gives particular attention to Phantom, the Major welcomes them back quite warmly. Apologizing to them for robbing them of an opportunity to visit the medics but everything is a mess still and the General wanted to speak to them personally.

"Ah… it's nothing Major." Trevor says, trying his best to keep a pang down.

"Part of the job." Patches joins in.

"I'm glad you're all seeing the sunny side of this. Even when we are still up shit's creek." the Major sighs, putting his hands on his sides.

At the moment, the door to the War Room opens and Lieutenant Damian comes in carrying a tray filled up with cups of tea and refreshments. The very least he could do to soothe the troubles of his teammates in this situation. Although it may not be everyone's favorite beverage, having a warm cup in their hands which contents are made with love makes them at least feel right at home. He would have brought one for PAL as well, if only he was capable of consuming any liquids.

He even brought one for the Major and although the mutt could have used something much stronger, he still takes it. But his friend knows exactly what he needs, as evidenced by the distinct smell of liquor coming from his particular tea cup. Clef chuckles and takes a big swig from it as he stands together with his brother in arms. Who, judging from his stance and expression, has absolutely no idea why his friend is chuckling.

Once Nelson is back in his turret with his own cup of tea, he reestablishes connection with the Board and Command. And this time, they get in on Line 1. It seems that the Admiral has well and truly landed to give them a piece of his mind. Right on schedule, General Peppy appears.

"Ah, Nova 7. I was wondering when I was getting your call."

Then his eyes slide over to the actual team and an eyebrow is raised.

"I see. I apologize for denying you access to a doctor at the moment. However, I wanted to personally congratulate you and also inform you of our next steps forward to win this war."

"No need to apologize, General. It's what we do." Trevor relativizes.

"All the same still. Thanks to your tireless efforts, Corneria City has been freed from the Anglar's grip. And soon, the whole planet will be cleansed of these fools. I am also glad you and Star Fox were able to play nice."

"Thank Militia Kip for that, Sir." Calamity jokes, lightly nudging the 'roo standing next to her.

"I will be sure to do that. However, I do not think I can send my thanks out just yet. They have not contacted me."

"Really? We heard rumors you had to be saved by them." the Lieutenant then speaks.

This makes the old rabbit roar with laughter unexpectedly.

"My goodness, Lieutenant Warden! That was quite the knee-slapper. No, if I had to be saved by them, it better have been in a different timeline. If I got that sloppy as the General of the Cornerian Army, I would rather hang up my coat right then and there. No, Star Fox is on their way to Fichina at this moment last time we checked. Likely going to check in on my daughter."

Upon mentioning his daughter, the realization only now sets in that she might be in danger as well. As the shock overtakes his body, he takes off his glasses and tries to calm himself down.

"We're sure your daughter is fine, General." Trevor adds sympathetically.

Peppy finishes cleaning his glasses on his uniform and with a deep inhale he puts them back on.

"I think so as well. For now, you have your own mission. Now that we have regained control of our skies and atmospheric boundaries, we can finally expand our operations to destroy those freak fishes. Speaking of whom…"

With the press of a button, more information about them pops up. It turns out that their vessels and vehicles are made out of aluminum with small amounts of chrome. It means that they cannot corrode. The perfect vehicles to traverse the Venom sea. As for the creatures themselves, they are indeed mutated fish people that have been born and thrived in the deep of the sea itself. Which is why they have a layer of water between them and their uniform. The uniform accounts for the pressure difference and the layer of water keeps them breathing. Which means that what keeps them alive, is also their greatest weakness.

"Thank you for providing us with a live specimen by the way, Phantom and PAL. Remind me to call you two whenever I have a technical or organic issue."

"We will be ready to assist with anything you do not comprehend, General." PAL graciously offers.

"Offer well taken. Now that all this information is known, we are going to throw you straight into the deep end. Sadly, that is not a water pun. You are going to Aquas."

The rest of the information regarding the ship and rather gruesomely detailed pictures of the Anglar anatomy make way for a view of Aquas. The blue water planet with pretty much only water with minimal land. The picture then shifts to a 3D wireframe presentation with textured polygons as the camera zooms into the planet's south pole and plunges into the water. Following a predetermined route, it eventually reaches an odd looking building that looks like a sunken boat with two submarines with the noses aimed upwards, acting as either observation towers or exhaust stacks.

"This is an underwater laboratory left over from the Andross days. After the war ended, we found this place. Likely something he did his nasty biological research in. Because everyone back then was tired and more focused on rebuilding, they chose to seal it up completely and simply let whatever was still in there die and wither away." Peppy explains.

"Let us guess; the Anglars are now using it."

"Apt observation, Sergeant Trevor. We found out about the intrusion some three days ago. Since then, the lights have been on inside 24/7. I want you to get in there, find out what kind of weird stuff they are concocting in there and put an end to it. Sink the whole thing if you have to. Which will be easy to do, since it was decided to build it close to the edge of a very deep ravine."

The wireframe extends to behind the laboratory and shows this steep cliff off. It also shows that no one knows how deep that ravine actually is. Safe to say that whatever falls down there, will likely never reach the surface again. Or light for that matter.

"Consider it done, General. We can make everything ready for departure within the hour." the Major proudly states.

"However, we lack the transportation to safely get the team to that lab."

"Allow me."

Another 3D image appears, showing off something that looks like a submarine with a very distinctive and familiar paint scheme.

"I suppose being a former member of the Star Fox team has its benefits as well. Your transport ship is capable of transporting this, yes?"

PAL quickly runs the numbers and confirms that they have the capacity to transport it. But with that added weight, it means that they must travel light and quick.

"As long as we have each other." Patches mutters just loud enough for just Trevor to hear, knowing that he knows exactly what he is referring to.

For her efforts, she receives a firm shushing but also displays behind his back a solid confirmation by means of the OK-sign.

"Excellent, good to hear. Then, I suggest you take some time to recuperate. I want you to get your wounds taken care of and have a shower. Because we may be the army and we all get dirty at one point, but I will sit by idly and give infection a chance to fester within a White-out Unit." Peppy winks.

"I will see you tomorrow at 0500. Good luck! You're all dismissed."

With a final salute, the connection is cut. Which leaves the team at a loss of words. Did he just give them the rest of the day off? Now that is quite the pleasant surprise. The Major also dismisses them and tells them to relax for now. Tomorrow is going to be tough so they better enjoy it.

Relieved, they give one final salute before showing making the 7 with their fingers and leaving the War Room. All of them can let go of the professionalism and let out a well-deserved screaming. Holding back any type of pain makes it even more agonizing somehow so releasing that feels gratifying. If very confronting. Now acting how they actually feel, they drag each other to medics. Who were already enroute. Likely courtesy of the Major and the Lieutenant.

Soon enough, each of the members are in the medical bay receiving separate treatment while being separated by curtains to keep up the feeling of privacy. As each gets specialized treatment based on their wounds.

One of the doctors examining Trevor, notes that his CID has been malfunctioning. Trevor denies this, saying it is still working perfectly. But when the doctor shows him the readings of the suit that are completely faulty. Unless he seems to have three simultaneous heart attacks, two separate liver failures and is apparently severely anemic. The culprit seems to be a piece of shrapnel that went through a previously unknown weak point of the armor.

"Phantom!" Trevor shouts.

"Already being taken care of!" Phantom shouts right back from the far side of the room.

"Ah, bollocks to that! It shouldn't have been a problem in the first place." he shouts back, clearly trying to start banter.

Which Phantom gladly reciprocates.

"Maybe if you'd seen it in your visions there Nostradamus, then perhaps I would've known before I would've known now."

The counter falls a little flat at first as Trevor cannot wrap his head around it. But once he gets it, he cannot help but laugh and admit that that was clever. Boosting Phantom's ego is not generally advised but one must relent when he makes a valid point. Then it hits him; it is not something he should know about.

"Son of a… Patch! You told me you wouldn't tell anyone else!"

The bunny cannot help but giggle like a little schoolgirl as it is revealed that she talked behind her superior's back.

"Jeez. So much for having a loyal XO." he sighs theatrically exasperated before the doctor removes a rather uncomfortable chunk of shrapnel.

"Aw! F… uck. That must be how Kip felt that one time." he complains.

"Sweet revenge." she hears him say all smug-like.

"You better shush, Militia Starnova."

"Or else what, Sergeant-at-Arms DeLange?"

"Heh. You don't wanna know." he threatens oh so ominously.

"Ooooh no, please have mercy on me."

"Hey ladies!" Calamity then calls out.

"Cut the chatter will you? It sounds like a hair salon in here."

"Sorry darling; we're just having fun." Trevor half-apologizes.

"Oh, I'll show you fun if you don't shut up, boy."

"You can show me all your fun bits when we're behind closed doors darling. For now, keep it in your pants. Sorry, loincloth."

"One you're definitely not getting underneath today…" Calamity fusses very childishly in return.

"Ooooh! Denied!" Kip says, adding fuel to the fire.

"Don't worry Trevor; your trusty XO will take care of you." Patches sarcastically offers.

"Psh! In a different universe perhaps, my dear 1. But despite her harsh words, I know she'll melt before my charms and gorgeous mustache."

Calamity imitates a gagging sound and asks the doctor to hurt him again. Which the prankster actually does, earning him the ire of Trevor for the moment.

"You're supposed to be on my side, man." Trevor sighs, to which the doctor can only chuckle.

- From Below

Walking through green marble halls with arches stretching into what seems like eternity. The light that shines from the outside in, casts the gentle waves of the water against them. The ceiling is at least three times his own height. It makes him feel both important but also incredibly small. Then again, he is supposed to feel that way as he follows a carpet that leads up to the throne room. Despite his clear insignia, distinguishing himself as a General, he will have to address the situation to someone so much more important than he is.

Two massive red doors, adorned with gold calligraphy, open up just wide enough for him to go through. The groaning of their massive weight echoes through. Once he is far away enough, the gate guards close it behind him. He follows the carpet all the way to up to the more enlightened part of the throne room. Where, sitting is a rather sober looking but still tall throne, enshrined in sunlight that is always focused solely on said throne. And on said throne, sits the Anglar Emperor. Lord and mighty ruler of all Anglar kind and the mastermind of this invasion of Lylat.

A mighty looking brown anglar fish, with a bright white light at the end of his dorsal fin. The light's shine is powerful but does not hurt anyone's eyes. He wears a golden crown without any adornments or jewels. His lips are a darkened pink and stretch from one end of his face right to the other, naturally curled in a haughty, smug smile. His whiskers are at the bottom of his face, almost resembling a beard. He wears purple, satin robes with a gold trim. The platina buttons holding them closed are shaped like shellfish.

With him in the room, aside from the guards, is another male Anglar dressed in a scientist's robes. The Chief Scientist employed by the Emperor himself. His presence gives him the creeps; he is quite an eccentric figure. With a knack for exploitation of "subjects" to achieve his scientific goals.

Then the Emperor notices him and instantly, he goes down on his knee to bow before his imperial majesty.

"Rise, my General." the bassy, slightly hoarse voice of the Anglar Emperor booms.

"And tell me of the situation on the battlefield."

The General does as instructed and walks over to a nearby screen where he plugs in his portable storage device. After it loads, it shows the Lylat system and their previous zone of occupations marked out in red. Then, after loading in the recent developments, the now blue lines have shifted. Where they previously controlled a large chunk of Corneria itself, including its capital, now they no longer have a foothold anymore. Also Sector Y, which was previously still locked into a battle between the Cornerian and Anglar fleets, has been fully retaken by Corneria. Fichina is also being contested.

"The loss of Corneria City caused a rout within the Army, your Majesty. Aside from the obvious return of the Star Fox… there are reports of Cornerian Special Forces being in the area, which caused us to lose control." the General explains.

"Hm." hums the Emperor, fascinated by an unexpected factor that is against him.

"What do these "special forces" do that causes my soldiers, my kin, to run away in terror?"

"Sadly, we know very little about them. Despite our plundering of the Cornerian Military intelligence network, we could not find a lot about them. We do know that they are held in high regard within the minds of the common soldier. We also know that there is a particular team that is known as a "White Out unit". They were instrumental in various critical battles during the invasion of those mechanical bugs."

"I see. So my brethren are not scared of their Special Forces, but because of a certain unit within it. Interesting."

He then points to the scientist, who bows his head in humility.

"It seems that your weapon projects will be necessary despite the projections. If but one team can cause this… they must be destroyed right away."

The scientist looks back up with the most sickening grin imaginable.

"Of course, my Emperor. I will make sure that our location on Aquas will be running at full capacity."

"Good. How about our search for the device?"

"Our best are still looking but we believe we are getting close."

"Good. Then leave us. And make sure you have your security in check; the last thing we need is to lose a vital facility that can assure our continued domination over Lylat." the Anglar Emperor speaks.

The scientist bows his head again and turns around to walk away. Already plotting and mumbling to himself.

"If he wasn't so brilliant, he would be in a nuthouse by now." are the General's thoughts as he watches the Anglar in white robes walk away.

"General. Please continue."

"Of course, your Majesty. As I said before, this White Out unit seems to be very revered. But only with those with boots on the ground. They have limited support higher up in the command structure."

"Which means that, should they fail once, it would have significant consequences."

"That is good reasoning, your Majesty."

"See to it that you find them and defeat them. Before they are able to inflict any more damage to us."

"Your will is my command." the General assures with another bow.

"Good. Now then, Sector Y. I was aware that things were not positive there but also not negative either. What was the deciding factor for why we lost? Star Fox?"

"No, your Majesty. Star Fox never made it to Sector Y, as they are currently assaulting our positions on Fichina. What we do know, is that a maneuver done by one of the Cornerian Fleet Admiral's, caused the battle to shift into their favor."

"So the Cornerian bugs won on their own accord? No outside help at all? That is atypical. But an interesting development nonetheless. This Admiral has proven competent."

The Anglar remains quiet for a while as he stares off into the middle distance.

"Make sure he is dead. We cannot have competent Cornerian commanders."

"I will start to hunt him, your Majesty."

"Make sure you do. As for the other locations, Fichina, Meteo and Katina. What are your thoughts?"

"Fichina has only recently come under attack. We have employed an old enemy of the Star Fox team to deal with them. He should take care of them with ease." he states confidently, although his non-verbal behavior shows signs of distrusting his very own statement.

"The resistance in Meteo is manageable. No Cornerian forces are present and all we are facing, are criminal scum that Corneria was incapable of handling themselves. Katina proves to be a tough nut to crack. It has historically been the only Cornerian planet that was never fully conquered and they are determined to uphold that reputation."

The Emperor lays his head back and puts his hands together, with just the fingertips touching.

"Break their resolve and claim the first victory over Corneria's sister planet. Rid Meteo of those criminals and hold the icy rock against Star Fox."

"As you command, your Majesty. I will personally see to it that all your wishes will be upheld. Whatever happens, we will not be pushed back any further!" the General states with much confidence, which pleases and entertains the Emperor.

"Ho ho! I look forward to your results then, General. Do not disappoint me. You may leave now."

The General bows again before taking his storage device with him and exiting the throne room to follow his ruler's order.

- Seeing Blue

Blue as far as the eye can see. Eyes which are no longer bloodshot, crying or have bits and pieces in them. In fact, they feel clear and open. One might even think that they have been better. Seeing the colors much more vividly and being able to see much further ahead with more clarity.

Or maybe it is because for once they are seeing something other than concrete, stone, gunmetal gray and the black smoke rising from the burning buildings. A fresh new perspective on life. Then again, he did feel very refreshed after waking up in Tacker Field.

And as Trevor ponders over this lovely feeling, looking out of the window of the otherwise empty conference room, he feels like having a drink. Seeing all that water makes him thirsty.

While walking over there, he spots the spherical mirror in the upper northwest corner of the room. One he has seen sometimes before, but never bothered to pay more attention to for more than a second. More important things had to be done after all.

But after it became known to him that PAL had his roots into every Nova 7 system, this mirror piques his attention. As it has this familiar red glow around it. And now he does not feel that alone anymore.

He averts his eyes for now and goes to the drinks machine to pour himself something, acting like he did not figure it out. To make sure it sounds legitimate, he complains about there still not being anything alcoholic in this machine so he has to take a soda. No sugar of course.

Then, with his drink made, he sits down at the table. He takes out his phone and starts surfing the Net. Looking through both proper and sensationalized news articles. 99% of which are about the war and the liberation of Corneria. One of those articles even dares to say that this was a bad thing. Because the Anglars would be weeding out the unworthy for the great reset our lost civilization definitely needed. With their social media, their made-up genders and their woke women. In particular, those who have always said that the writer himself smelled like a certain kind of cheese that befits their actual character perfectly.

"I hope this guy is on a watchlist now somewhere." Trevor remarks dryly, as he sips from his glass to moisten it up right away.

He continues reading through when he feels a certain presence around him. Looking over both of his shoulders somehow. He keeps the feeling suppressed for now because he knows what is going on. He keeps the act going for a few more moments before he puts his phone down, drinks the remainder up and then slams his glass on the table loud enough to echo through the room.

"Which article was your favorite?" Trevor asks, to visually no one in particular.

The feeling of being watched disappears right away. Like something quickly retreated from where it came. Like a mural eel scurrying back into its cave. When he turns around, he sees nothing but that was expected. He smiles and then turns to the mirror again, which has turned to a lime green.

"Got a color update, PAL?" Trevor asks to the mirror.

He does not get a reply for a moment but when the A.I. sees that the jig is up, he replies.

"It took you long enough to spot me hiding here."

"Don't get wise with me, PAL. I had my suspicions. Especially when it came to those projects you and the Major had set up. I just didn't know you had your wires into Thresher too."

"Of course I have, Sir. I am everywhere that is appropriate. I can be everywhere where necessary."

"You know… that would sound extremely creepy and unsettling if it weren't for you being you." Trevor chuckles.

"I understand that. But I would never ever do anything to hurt you. In fact, that is what I intend to avoid at all costs."

"Like some kind of parent?"

"No, not all. I am not capable of producing offspring, only multiple iterations of myself. But neither do I feel like I need to be a parent. I would rather be a friend, a brother in arms and a shield." he explains as his light turns into a more grassy green.

Trevor smiles more.

"Then we're on the same level. Because I don't see you as anything less. I only ask one thing of you. One thing I want you to promise me you will always do, regardless of the situation."

"Yes?"

"If you ever get any ideas of grandeur… any sort of feeling of superiority over us or Corneria for that matter… I would appreciate a warning." is what Trevor kind of wanted to say, but realizing that this is preposterous, he makes sure to keep that buried.

So instead, he goes for the much more subtle and heartfelt thing to say.

"Keep an eye on us. No matter where we are or how we are… trust us enough to trust you that even when we're alone, we're never really."

The green turns to a bright purple as the blue color symbolizing his seriousness mixes in.

"I promise, Trevor. Even when you do not notice me or even if you are not thinking of me, I will make sure to be with you. Privacy outside of work, excluded of course."

"That, I would appreciate. I'm not sure how much you're willing to stomach regarding me and Calamity. The good, the bad and that which plays out in the bedroom. If you catch my drift."

"I can see the corner of your mouth curling upwards, Sir. I may never be able to feel something like that, nor do I have the urge to find out, but I understand what you mean. Those intimate matters are between you and Calamity. And that is perfectly fine with me."

"Good. Then we're on an equal level. Call the rest in; it's time to dump that old hunk of Star Fox rust into the water." Trevor orders casually as he takes out his tablet and activates the Multi-TableTM.

PAL does as ordered and over the intercom rallies the other members to come in for the briefing. Then the A.I. notices an odd facial twitch in Trevor's expression. Like a jolt of pain just went through his head.

"Everything alright?"

Trevor averts his head away from him and is contorting his face like he is holding back a sneeze with all his might. But it is not irritated nasal mucosa which is bothering him as he admits once the irritation is gone.

"It's those… voices. I thought they would be gone by now but…"

PAL understands what Trevor is going through like no other. Knowing at least the basics of emotion, he tries to think of something to soothe his Sergeant's worries but he comes to the conclusion that being forthcoming and personal is much more beneficial.

"They will never go away, Trevor." he states regretfully.

"The infection targets a being in various ways. It attacks both your genetic construction as well as your brain. Either to assimilate or to destroy what it cannot. And despite the virus being eradicated from your body, it left its mark. Like a scar on your brain."

Trevor sighs.

"You're sure that everything is out? Because something I feel these sort of… chills. Like something crawling underneath my skin."

"You have already asked me a total of four times in the last month. …however, I understand that it is frightening. All that you hear with those voices, is but permanent damage done to your brain. A small mark on an otherwise properly functioning carnal supercomputer."

Hearing that, makes Trevor almost burst out laughing. The idea of a fleshly supercomputer is so ridiculous and at the same time it is endearing given that it was a compliment coming from PAL himself. It is still weird to hear strangely worded but genuine praise from an A.I., despite having accepted that he is sentient.

"That's a good one, PAL. Made me crack one hell of a smile." Trevor says a lot more cheered up now.

"Learned from the best, Sir. Well, shall we welcome your team?"

"We shall for sure."

Shortly after, the rest of the team shows up along with PAL in his physical form attached to Phantom's back.

"Right then, Gents. Welcome to what is going to be our first off-world counter attack against those fishy freaks. Have a drink and a seat; Tacker Field will be online soon enough." he greets them.

And as everyone does what they want to do, all eventually take their seats. And as Trevor said; Nelson, the Major and even the Lieutenant appear in holographic head-only form. With PAL's assistance, they are quickly shown as something much more representative of their actual selves.

"Nova 7. Welcome to Operation Deep Blue." the Major welcomes.

"Your mission is straightforward: enter the lab and shut it down. As previously stated, Command doesn't care what's going on in there; they sealed it up years ago to let it whither away and they'd be glad if that came back. And no, Sergeant Trevor, we cannot just reseal the doors."

Trevor rolls his eyes in denial, but he was thinking about it. The Major knows him long enough to know when something sarcastic will be said.

"Nelson?"

"Yes, thank you, Major. Everyone, PAL and I have managed to infiltrate their systems despite the lab's closed-circuit nature."

"A careless attempt by someone in the base to find a wireless signal." PAL clarifies.

"Just goes to show how important adherence to digital safety is. However, despite having access to their systems, it seems they don't have any cameras installed or all of them broken. So we cannot observe you. It's unlikely however that our communications will be impaired; with PAL's adaptation to your CID radios the depth or structure is not going to be a problem at all." he assures.

Then a map that displays the layout of the lab is shown. The building has a main entry point which splits off into three directions. Likely having three different sections where various experiments are being held. It is however unsure what is being done there exactly, because nothing of that sort is stored on the computers of the lab. Which is odd but perhaps the fishies like doing things on paper more.

"The old-school approach. I like it." the Major coincides, perhaps the only time he'd ever agree with those things.

"If it were up to you, we'd all be wearing radios like mine." Trevor jokes.

"Don't tempt me, Sergeant." the Major half jokes and half threatens.

"May I resume?" Nelson interjects.

"Of course. Continue Nelson."

"Thank you. Even though we don't have access to anything visual, the numbers are not lying. The lab is pressurized and you'll be able to breathe without any issues. That either means that the Anglars didn't have enough time yet to convert the base properly or they just didn't bother."

"At the very least, it'll save on CID battery power." Phantom adds, knowing that his design is capable of keeping the team alive in different pressurized situations but also knowing that the battery will not last long in those situations.

"Yes it will. And at least you won't smell like a wet dog when you come back." Nelson jabs as he pinches his nose.

"Don't act like you don't like it." Phantom smugly retorts, as the rest of the team looks at him with confusion and some disgust.

"Private Dillinger, could you kindly leave your… endeavors with the Liaison Officer out of this briefing? Thank you very much." the Lieutenant asks without expecting any contradictory reply.

As Phantom takes a verbal step back, muttering an apology, Nelson winks at him before resuming where he left off.

"So, we don't expect too much trouble. However, be aware that they do have armed security teams. Don't think this will be a cakewalk; we've all seen how capable of defeating us they are. And the last thing we need, is to take another hit." Nelson cautions.

"Understood, Nelson. We'll be careful. We cannot speak highly about how we'll leave those guys though."

"Sergeant. I don't care in what state you leave them or that lab; complete the mission and return in one piece so you can link up with the nearby Cruiser group. That's all." the Major states very clearly.

"A typical White Out job with a ride at the end for our troubles? Consider it done, Sir."

"Good. Damian? Anything more to add?"

The avian thinks about it for a moment before sharing that he simply wishes for everyone to return in one piece as well. Reiterating what Nelson already said.

"We'll get it done."

"Excellent. Formulate yourself a strategy that fits your plan and get into your submarine. The autopilot is on so hands off the steering. It'll bring you there. Any last questions?"

The team remains silent or they shake their heads.

"Then you move out immediately. Good luck."

With the press of a button, the transmission cuts out and the holograms disappear. PAL retreats his cable and the table folds back into a normal one. Trevor calls out "Nova 7!" and the team replies with a resounding "Forever!" before they are ordered out of the room to get themselves ready to disembark. Trevor however is stopped by PAL at the door.

"Sir, I wanted to thank you for not revealing to anyone else that you know of my existence aboard this ship. But I was not sure if I should be thanking you." he says.

Trevor notices the doubt in PAL's voice, despite the light not betraying his emotions.

"How do you figure?"

"I do not like lying, Sir. Keeping secrets. Ever since I found out what they do with people, what they might do to our team. It feels wrong."

Trevor sighs.

"I know the feeling. But no matter how hard it can be, sometimes holding on to a secret is better than sharing it. I'm well aware that there are things that you aren't sharing with me. That Phantom isn't sharing with me. Add our brass to that too. Or Kip, Patches or even Calamity for that matter. Why? Because they think I couldn't handle it?"

He shrugs.

"Maybe. Or they think I don't have to know. It can be a matter of shame or pride. But I know, that despite that flaw in them, in the heat of things I can still rely on them to pull through. Besides, it isn't like I'm innocent regarding that stuff. I have secrets, I have lied. And now, I add your secret to my inventory, so to say. To be locked away in there forever."

PAL understands what Trevor is trying to say, but it still bothers him that he and the rest of his team are capable of functioning when that weighs on the mind so much. But Trevor simply says that you do not have to think about it. You can suppress it and go on your merry way. Or even come up with an alternative answer. Is that healthy? Probably not. Will it come back at some point? Definitely. But is it gone for that moment? Yes it is.

"I see. Thank you, Sir. That was very informative. A type of selective… data selection. I think I can adapt to that."

"Good to hear. Now, shall we? Otherwise the rest of us might start asking questions." Trevor says with a wink.

- Dry Welcome

If ever anyone said a military transport vessel ever felt cramped in any way, they have instantly swallowed their words. Because it is very clear that the old submarine that used to belong to Star Fox back in the day, was not designed with more than one person in mind. The removal of the onboard torpedo bay did clear a lot of space, but it does not matter much when it comes to comfort. Now they know how a canned sardine must feel.

It does not help that Nelson, before they entered the submarine, said that he made sure that the machine was patched up properly. Because of its age and disuse of the years, it needed some repairs. Trevor joked that the thing must be held together with tape, plugged up by spitballs and being kept from imploding by a prayer if Nelson did it. The shrew corrected him, stating that he used paper mâché, not spitballs.

Despite some moments of turbulence and the concerning noise the metal is making the deeper they are diving, the ride is fairly smooth. The submarine levels out the moment the lab is in view. The building itself does not have any defenses so the submarine attaches itself to the entrance without an issue.

Before they get out, PAL does a scan to check if anyone is waiting for them. But there is no one, not even in those three hallways. Then again, the scan does not go far ahead so who knows. The door of the submarine opens and the team is happy to stretch their legs again. And once all of their stuff has been unloaded, they find themselves in the entrance area of the lab.

The walls on the outside look solid, but now that they are on the inside, it turns out this might be some kind of optical camouflage. Appearing like sturdy white-gray steel, while in reality being glass just strong enough to keep the water out. So they can observe the Aquas south pole seafloor. Directly ahead of them, is what looks like the labs that were advertised. And it is likely that it will be the same for the ways to the left and right. Connected by pipes one could fit a semi-truck through with ease.

The floors are equally white. Almost clinically so. And the air is breathable as well. But that does not take away from the uncomfortable silence. With a few breaths taken, they notice that it feels sterile, dry. While inside there is an almost steamy or misty atmosphere. Comparable to a sauna. Or the aftermath of Calamity's shower.

It carries with it a sense of dread. Like something is bound to go instantly bad. Like the glass cracking right at the wrong moment. But they must put aside those fears because the real dangers lie in the armed fools and whatever mad scientist experiments are going on at the end of those halls.

"Right. Everyone is here. Let me update everyone back home. Tacker Field, come in."

All Trevor hears however, is static. He can make out some letters, maybe a word or two, but nothing he can piece together. Giving his equipment a smack does not work and even when he lets PAL amplify the signal, it is still incomprehensible.

"Bah. So much for our signal working here. PAL? Any ideas how?"

"It could be the construction of this building." the A.I. theorizes as he withdraws his extended antenna.

"Hm. Internal communications are also giving off nothing but static. I suspect a jammer is here in this building."

"A damn powerful one at that." Phantom adds, slightly dismayed that he was technologically surpassed by some kind of fish race.

"That means that they knew we were coming." Patches says as she starts to look around more just in case.

"We may have lost the element of surprise, but we're still armed. Three ways ahead, six of us. We split up and keep each other covered. Team system again. PAL, you're with me as Team 1. We'll take the left hallway. Patch, you're with Kip as Team 2. Take the middle road. And Cal, you're with Phantom as Team 3. Sweep right. Our rally point is right back here."

As Trevor is explaining his strategy and plan, with the team huddled around to hear his explanation, no one seems to notice that PAL is not joining in. In fact, he is not moving at all. Still hovering but is otherwise completely frozen. Inside, things are not going very well. His vision starts glitching and turns into gibberish very soon.

Alarms start going off internally and soon he starts blaring them out in the open. He starts shivering heavily and the emote light starts blinking red. Within the span of a few seconds, PAL goes from fine to completely blowing his top.

Phantom cries out for him as his red eye goes out and he drops down to the ground. His metal cases unceremoniously hitting the floor behind with hollow thud, almost like PAL was emptied out from the inside.

Phantom rushes over to see what is going. Agony slowly overtakes him until he notices that PAL has only shut down. Like a computer falling into sleep mode but one cannot awaken it. The tears he wanted to let out retreat back into his eyes as he clutches his metal friend.

"Phantom! Everything okay?" Trevor asks in shock as he too saw what happened.

"With me? Fine. PAL though… he shut down completely. He's still alive but he's not waking up. It's like… a failsafe. I'll be able to get him out of there but I need time."

"Alright. Glad to know that nothing's too wrong yet." he exhales before focusing on the mission.

"Change of plans; we got one man down for now. So the team system goes out the window. Phantom, stay with PAL and fix him. Cal, you stick with him. Set up some defenses with your shield and your portables. Meanwhile, the three of us will hit up the hallways. I'll still take the left, Patch the middle and Kip you take the right one."

"Understood." the two reply.

"Trevor. Please be careful." Calamity wishes him.

"You too, Cal. Keep yourself and that dumbass friend of mine safe."

"Hey! That dumbass can still hear you, you know?"

"You know what I mean. Try to get PAL back working; we'll need him."

He shares a nod and a smile of understanding with his friend before they take off. Each of the three moving out. And soon they disappear from sight, leaving the other three together. Phantom tries to open PAL's casing but he is not getting in. Despite following all the steps. Meanwhile, Calamity is setting up her assault shield facing the middle and the two other portable energy ones facing the other directions. Creating a round defensive screen they can hide and take cover behind.

"Right. Everything good with you?" Calamity asks, less interested in an answer but more trying to not have an awkward silence.

"Good. Good. Except that my friend just shut himself down and I can't turn him back on anymore. Other than that, perfectly fine." he replies with plenty of snark.

"Sorry I asked." she sighs, creating that silence she was trying to avoid.

At least she tried. That is already an improvement from previous times they were left together without having to do anything. But she gathers it is more so because PAL is there with him that feels more distant to him. There is a reason after all why she voted against allowing PAL back on the team.

Then she hears Phantom sniffing. The first thing she thinks of, is that he had started crying because he could not get his friend to wake up. Which is definitely sad in its own right. She turns around in order to comfort him but she then notices that he is sniffing because he is smelling something. And now that she sees this, she smells something too.

"It smells… almost fruity?" Phantom notices.

- The Man That I Was Not

The sound of his boots hitting the floor echoes throughout the hallways. Considering how it reverberates through, no one else is here with him. Which is comforting to a certain degree but it also makes him weary that nothing else is ahead of him as well. No constructions, no other objects. Just more tunnel.

How long has he been walking even? The watch on his wrist has stopped working, stopping at 07:35. No matter how many times he taps it, it refuses to cooperate. With the radio down, he cannot contact anyone else. He is truly alone now. All he has is himself and his equipment.

Normally he would have his revolver out but he feels that holding on to something more sturdy and powerful like his rifle will do better for him. It gives him some comfort at the very least as he trundles along.

He feels his legs cramp up. Which they only do when he has sprinted or otherwise exercised for hours on end. But he is very sure that he only been going on for several minutes. His whole body feels like it is slowly betraying him, turning to stone. His vision blurs as his nose fills up with a weird, fruity smell. He can also smell how more sterile the air is getting, like having his face blasted by a fan and breathing in that air.

Trevor then nearly sprains his ankle when his foot misplaces itself. He loses his balance, dropping his rifle in the progress. He does not hear it clatter onto the floor as he instead has to deal with a sudden and very painful feeling in his sternum. As if his lungs were burning up on the inside.

He falls to his knees as he gasps for air. His mind is rushing with all sorts of things, images and thoughts. None of them make any sense as he closes his eyes and tries to reorganize everything in his gray matter. He opens his eyes only after feeling a little better now. He then spits out some mucus that was cluttering up the back of his throat. Along with throwing up something from his stomach. With that out, the burning feeling subsides.

"I better not get sick now…" he mutters to himself as his right hand reaches for his sniper rifle.

Only to not be able to reach for it. It might have fallen further away from him. Using both of his hands, he rises from the floor and suddenly his eyes perceive a whole new world. Literally. The clinical hall with a view out to the seafloor, has been entirely replaced by a grassy green, mildly bumpy meadow. Small flowers are blooming in all sorts of colors. There is a light, pleasant breeze making them dance. The sky is a murky red color, with some dark but otherwise calm clouds. A sun, also colored red, can be seen in the distance about to touch the horizon. Ahead, the meadow ends in a cliff that looks out over a pleasant, infinite sea.

The meadow extends out to his left, right and to his back. No matter where he looks, he is no longer on Aquas. But how? What happened? Where is everyone else? He quickly checks but he finds that aside from wearing his shirt, pants, boots and other undergarments, he has been completely undressed. No radio, no revolver and no CID. Even the head-section of which is no longer present.

He finds himself in this odd place now. It feels lovely but wrong at the same time. As the question going through his head keeps repeating: How did I get here?

Standing here and wondering will not mean he will find out so he walks on. Trying to find an answer towards the cliff. Perhaps he can find someone there? If there is a sea there, there might be a beach. And the temperature around here is definitely pleasant enough to justify a visit to the beach. He could ask for help or directions. All he hopes is that those fish people are not here as well.

He walks on. Feeling the mild air blow against him. Feeling the light, pleasant tickles of the grass on his feet despite him still wearing his boots somehow. This place is very strange but also familiar somehow? Nostalgic in a way. As if he has been here before at some point. But he does not recognize anything.

As he approaches the edge, two white plastic lawn chairs appear with upholstery already attached to them. They appear just as Trevor was looking away, materializing out of nothing and nowhere. Now that he can guess how he got here, he wonders what sort of thing is capable of doing this. Instant teleportation towards various planets is not something he was aware of anyone having. And he is privy to certain types of military projects kept secret from the general populace.

"Perhaps I can explain." a voice then speaks straight into both his ears at the same time.

Trevor recognizes that voice and astounded he looks around to try and find it. But all he sees is what he already knew there to be. Then he looks back at the beds and he finds the person that matches with the voice perfectly sitting on one of them. His fur got a lot more gray at the tips, he lost most of the hair on his head as only a few tufts of stubborn resistance remain. His age is written on his face, as well as the alcohol abuse that left its scars on him. A sunken, slightly emaciated face with the smallest of smiles.

Trevor's heart skips a beat as he feels that burning sensation come up in his lungs again when this man stands up. He blinks his eyes multiple times, hoping the person he sees vanishes as quickly as they appeared.

But he has no luck in that regard. That man keeps standing there, no matter how much he blinks or looks away. Then Trevor sighs, accepting it as a real thing, sadly. The pain is substituted for disinterest and anger. Which reflects in his expression.

"Hi Dustin…" he greets as insincere as possible.

"The fuck are you doing here?"

The man he calls Dustin folds his arms and throws his head back a little, not pleased with this attitude.

"Is that anyway to greet your old man, huh?" he asks disparagingly, in a way only a dad could with their offspring.

"Oh, shut up!" Trevor snaps.

"You're not my "old man" at all. At one point you may have been, but you know exactly when that changed forever."

Dustin sniffs before he lets his arms hang free and rests his head.

"I figured as much. I think that's also why we are here. The two of us."

"Here? You know this place?"

"Yeah. I've been here for a while. But it seems it isn't clear to you yet; this is purgatory. You, me… we're dead, Trevor."

The corsac fox reacts with obvious shock. At first he thought that Dustin was just joking about it. But the more he thinks about it, it does make sense. He fell down, felt an immense pain and then he was here. The moment he looked up from that floor, it was all gone and all he saw was green.

"But… how? I was… on Aquas and…"

"You got shot, I presume." Dustin says.

"What? How would you know?"

"If I remember correctly, you always wanted to enlist. So it only makes sense that you died that way."

"No… No! This cannot be! I got friends I need to get back to! Roger, PAL, Nelson, Kip, Ashley… my wife Calamity… no… I can't be dead! I got too much to live for!" he screams out in denial.

But Dustin confirms it. There is no other way. So on the cusp of almost bursting into tears, Trevor hardens himself. He is not going to empty his tear ducts in front of that man. Lest he wants to be called a "pussy" again. Trevor sniffs and bottles up his grief and faces him like a "true man".

"If I'm dead… that means you are too. Right?"

Dustin nods.

"Yes I am. I kicked the bucket a few months ago I believe. Been here ever since."

Trevor responds in a way he did not expect. By suddenly lifting both his hands in the air in celebration, exclaiming that at least he died after his good-for-nothing asshole of a father did.

"Oh, that feels so good to hear! Sing hosanna to the fucking king of kings because I died happy with my life while you withered away in an old folks home. Sad and alone. While I had a team, friends and a wife whom I treated like an equal and loved intensely. I had everything you took from me and wished that I never had!" Trevor bellows, sentimental but extremely proud of himself and of those he had shared his life with.

He feels so alive right now, regardless of him being dead. So much energy is rushing through him, he cannot help it. He feels empowered like never before. He feels righteous in his personal beliefs and the promise he made to himself to not ever become like Dustin was. And here he stands, as an individual who achieved all of that. In spite of his youth.

The cause of that trauma is silently observing his estranged offspring's joy at the misery his life was before dying. Perhaps righteously so but he is here for a reason.

"So, you had a wife huh?"

"Yes! Yes I fucking did! Calamity, was her name. And you know what? She was bloody fantastic. She was taller than me, strong, adventurous, quirky, affectionate, loyal, cute and all-around the best person I could ever wish for." Trevor passionately declares, emoting all of those adjectives.

"I had two partners as well. Ashley Hare and Kip Starnova. Two whoppers of women who I'd trust blindly to have my back. We looked out for each other, both on and off the battlefield. Them, along with my old friend Roger… PAL… and so many more. I won't go into detail about them but just imagine that they have a big place in my heart as well. I cared for all of them and vice versa. All the love I could ever have or ask for, I got from them. Nothing I ever got from your dog ass!"

Dustin seems impressed although he remains stoic in stance and expression. Nothing that Trevor is not already familiar with. Trying to impress his alcoholic father was an impossible task back then and it seems it still is now.

"I'm… glad to hear that. And I think that's why we're both here." he sighs as he points towards the chairs.

"It seems someone or something wants us to talk."

Trevor's face sours at the mere idea of that.

"Oh no. I have nothing to say to you. Nothing you don't already know."

"Well, I guess we could also talk standing then."

"Or! Or! Better idea: you stay here with your beds and I go the other way. Exploring the meadow a little more. Until you're out of sight and out of mind. I think that that's a much better idea." Trevor practically hisses.

"Already tried that. It's endless but you never go further at a certain point. You think you're still going on because the sky moves past you. But you'll just be walking in place against an invisible wall. And you'll never get any further away from these chairs or me."

Trevor tries to detect any lies in the old man's face but he cannot find any.

"Fuck." he then sighs.

"Well, it looks comfortable enough at least. Fine. But one wrong move and I'll blow your head off." he threatens as he approaches the bed with his hand already hovering over where his holster would be.

"With what then? You don't have your guns with you." Dustin counters.

"Hm. Bothersome."

Trevor's hand relaxes and confirms that he indeed does not have his piece on him anymore.

"Fine. But I can still punch you in the face." he warns.

"Go ahead; I'm dead anyway. I likely won't feel a thing."

Self-assured, Dustin sits and then lies down on the lawn chair which extends on its own to accommodate for his legs. And Trevor, seeing nothing else to do, does the same on his own. But he makes sure that there is distance between them first. Both now lay down and stare over the cliff towards the red sun that never seems to disappear behind the horizon.

"Right then." Dustin says, just so something is said as he twiddles his thumbs.

"Since we are here to talk, how about I let you start?"

"Me? How gracious. If this is purgatory, how come you aren't burning in the deepest pit of hell right now?"

Dustin cannot help but chuckle.

"I know what you mean. And I guess I would deserve it. Maybe I was and I can't remember it anymore ever since I got here. Or someone was willing to give me another chance perhaps."

"You? Someone would give you… another chance?"

"Yes. Especially now that my son is here with me."

"Hold on there. I'm not your son. You lost your son at the young age of 11 when you smashed that car into the tree and made me tailless for the rest of my life. From that point on, I was no longer your son. I was my mother's son until her death. I still am. But yours?"

Trevor spits on the ground nearby.

"Never."

"Ah yes. Your mother. I loved her, you know?"

"Don't you even fucking dare!" Trevor screams.

"You swallow those lies right away! The way you treated her, showed absolutely no love whatsoever. All you ever loved was beating us down and gulping down your life's elixir."

Dustin holds up his hand, indicating that he did not mean it that way.

"Before all of that, I did love her. How else could I have had her in the first place? How could I have had you with her? I didn't do that because I forced her to; we did it because we loved each other. Where it went wrong? I… couldn't tell you. Those happy memories are too fuzzy now."

"I'm glad. That means that misery is all you remember. Good; because that's all you left behind." Trevor sulks some more.

"Aside from your feelings for me, I know what I have to do. Why I am here."

He turns his face towards Trevor, who does not do the same.

"I don't know how, but I know why. For what I've done to you and your mother… I apologize for that."

Trevor's eyes open wide. Did his ears really hear that? They perk up in amazement. He cannot believe it. He looks over at Dustin. His expression shows both confusion and revulsion at the same time.

"What… did you just do?" Trevor checks in disbelief.

"Huh? You-you didn't hear? Oh, maybe I was mumbling. It's not easy for me after all." he chuckles awkwardly, after which he repeats his apology again.

And then goes on. Layers upon layers of apologies. How he was not there for them while he should have been. How he was not the father or the man either of them needed to be. To Trevor, it all starts to sound like white noise. What he perceives starts to feel less and less real. Like looking into a breaking mirror. He feels a sense of almost disconnection with this place. As if he isn't really here. He is sitting on something but it is likely not a chair.

"Dustin… what is going in here?" Trevor then asks, interrupting him.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean." Trevor states as he reaches for where his revolver would be.

"Why are you apologizing?"

"W-ha…? Because I feel guilty about it."

"Choose your next words very fucking carefully."

Trevor's tone gets more threatening towards the end of the sentence as his fingers start to feel something where previously there was nothing. But Dustin only responds confused, not knowing why his son is this hostile still.

"I'm not your fucking son!" Trevor shouts again, now clearly feeling something.

"But even I know that you would never apologize for anything! Because that would make you look weak and that's the last you ever wanted. Who are you!?"

"Trevor! It's me, Dustin. Your… f-father… sorry to say."

Another apology. The glass now shatters completely. His mind fills with rage as that gentle breeze goes away. The green grass goes to brown directly around him and dies off in the matter of seconds. He is on the cusp of blacking out but is just conscious enough to pull out his revolver and plant it underneath Dustin's chin. And before the old man can respond or give a counter argument, Trevor pulls the trigger.

---

- Dream Warrior

The moment his fired projectile carves its way through Dustin's brain, everything around them shatters into reality. The meadows clear away to re-reveal those white floors and that clinical aesthetic the lab had on the outside, now visible on the inside. Everything goes in slow-motion now.

It was all an illusion, that much is clear. Dustin is not Dustin, but instead an Anglar scientist dressed up in that same get-up they had on Corneria too. With the inclusion of a white lab coat in this case. This fishy freak is not alone; as his skull breaks open from the revolver shot going through, Trevor can see the shocked reactions of several more scientists around them. Quickly, they start rushing towards him.

His perception of time returns back to normal and all senses Trevor was lacking before, come back to him as well. He throws away the now dead Dustin-impersonator and aims for the two scientists charging at him. Still high on adrenaline and anger, he does not hesitate to pull the trigger on them either. Hitting the one on the right once in the shoulder and then once right into the throat. As that one falls down to the ground to slowly die from choking on his own blood, the one on the left gets it easy. He is put out of his misery right away when a fourth shot hits him right in the forehead. He too falls to the ground.

All is not silent, with the exception of the dying scientist. There are more alive but they are all dead terrified. They are not going to attack him now for sure. As the scientist chokes his last, Trevor stands up from the chrome table he was sitting on before. Clearly some kind of autopsy table or something like that. He checks around the room to get his bearings and his revolver follows him. Making sure to let all those others know not to mess with him; he knows where they are.

He can see his equipment from the still open doors in a closet compartment. He can also see various other types of equipment a lab tends to have. All sorts of vials containing fluids that are too hard to pronounce and likely very dangerous if they were to break out.

From the corner of his eye, he can see one of them move. He pretends not to see it until suddenly snapping towards him. Trevor sees the Anglar reaching for a button underneath a nearby table. Likely an alarm. He looks the fish right in where he thinks his eyes are and gently shakes his head. But the fish is headstrong and quickly dives for it. The button is pressed but the fish is no longer alive thanks to the third nostril Trevor made for him.

"Is that how it's gonna be, huh? I hope not. But I do have enough rounds for all of you suckers! So try and mess with me now!" he dares them.

But none of them do anything, except hold their hands up in the air and hope not to die.

"Good. Now, what did your dumbass colleague just pull on me? You!" he points at a random scientist.

"A-a-a… a security team." he stutters.

Trevor looks ahead of him, seeing a large bulkhead door.

"Coming through there?"

The scientist nods.

"Thank you. Now, all of you, collect yourselves in the corner on my left right there. Yes, come on! All of you into that corner. That way I can keep an eye on you and ask you some questions when those bastards come-a knockin'."

The scientists do as instructed, dead terrified of what this revolver maniac is going to do to them if they do not comply. So all of them huddle together like a school, which Trevor handily references. Any feelings hurt about that remark, would be duly noted and pinned to the nearby wall with their blood.

Trevor now awaits the security team that is going to come through those big doors. He does not have to wait long, as a two man team comes the moment the doors are only slightly ajar. But no matter how fast they waltz in, they die just as quickly. Two shots are enough to down the two. The door closes behind them again and Trevor orders one of those scientists to lock the door until he is satisfied.

"T-then you'll let us out?" one of them asks.

"How about you do as I ask first, eh? You can ask me questions later. Right now, you owe me answers first."

Trevor then gestures with his gun to get a move on. One braver than the rest stands up and walks over towards the door. Entering some kind of code that locks it down. He reports that he can only do it for a few minutes without being detected as an anomaly.

"Clever. I wouldn't have expected anything else from you lab gents. Now, rejoin the rest of the pack."

When the scientist returns, Trevor asks who is in the lead of this lab and is responsible for putting him in some kind of weird dream or something like that.

"He… he's dead. You shot him." another points towards the table, which was the guy that was impersonating Dustin before.

"Oh. Shame. Who's his replacement then?"

A hand is raised and Trevor encourages the woman to stand up.

"Right then. I don't need to know your name; I couldn't care less. Tell me what happened to me in a way that I understand."

Swallowing hard, the woman tells Trevor he had been exposed to a new type of chemical weapon. A gas. This gas is capable of making the victim perceive any situation dictated by the person who makes contact during the initial phase. The phase in which the victim starts smelling something "fruity" and starts to see blurry and feels a lot of pain. Then the victim faints and that is when they can be influenced.

"Like hypnosis?" Trevor asks.

She confirms it can be seen like that but that this actually works. Of course, they themselves know nothing about him personally, so they have an external source to provide that knowledge. Hence why and how they were able to create this illusion with the meadows and the estranged father angle. For the victim, it would be seen like everything went along in one go. While in fact they have been out for several minutes if not hours. And if it all went on without a hitch, the victim could be locked forever in that illusion. The real body would eventually be dying of dehydration or malnutrition. No guns needed. They do acknowledge that this gas is still in the prototype phases but they are quite proud of the achievements.

"Proud?"

She realizes she might have said something stupid. So she apologizes and says that in comparison, they went easy on him. Because of the freedom that they have in creating the scenario based on the information provided to them, they could make it pleasant like they did with him or they could make it horrific for the victim. All depending on personal taste and the information given to them.

"Lovely. So the rest of my team is down too?"

She nods.

"Oh, great. You're not gonna tell me where they are very likely because you don't know. Nevermind that; I'll find them myself. Two more things; I broke out of it. How?"

The scientist explains that because the illusion rests upon being able to trick the brain into accepting what is perceived as reality. If a flaw is found in the environment or the characters within, then it can "break" and will allow for an opportunity for the victim to snap out of it. The longer the illusion goes on however, the less likely it is to shatter it. And once they are out, they can never be affected by that strain of the gas again. But they were already planning to weed that out. So it could be used on a massive scale against civilian and military targets to make conquering everything a lot easier and with a lot less bloodshed.

"Again, so proud of yourselves aren't you? So I'll ask my last question; were you involved in the making of it? And those goons behind you as well?"

She nods but quickly realizes she should not have. Because without batting an eye, Trevor pulls the trigger and kills her right away. Then he points the smoking barrel at another scientist. Then another. And he does not stop firing until his cylinder is empty, deaf to the screams of the rest as they join each other in death. He then ejects the cylinder, takes out the empty slug and walks over to the closet he saw his stuff in before. He reloads his revolver and gets dressed again. Then, as if on cue, the doors open to the outside world.

He walks past the dead scientists and is almost tempted to spit at them. But that would be too much effort for a bunch of now-dead maniacs that were willing to develop a chemical weapon like that to drop on military and civilian targets alike. Now outside, he goes to look for his teammates to free them from whatever nightmare they are stuck in.

- Sorry

Back where they started off. The entry point. Entirely defied of people, with the only exception being him. All that still stands, are Calamity's defenses now serving no purpose at all. Except sentimental value and the feeling of guilt that he could not be there with them. Also visible in the impact mark that PAL left behind when he fell down out of nowhere. It still irks him how quickly that happened and gave him momentary flashbacks to when the A.I. started to freak out at Tacker Field. Sure, it was staged back then, but in both cases barely anyone knew what was actually going on.

But he doubts this is his work. He still trusts that metallic floating triangle. He picks up the portable shields and makes sure to attach them to his belt. Then he figures out how to pick the shield back up and lifts it up. Which he regrets right away considering how heavy this thing is. He puts it down for the moment and figures out how he is going to carry this along with his own equipment.

He has an idea but he does not like how awkward this will make him in the coming moments. He switches his radio from his back to his front, making sure to push the antennas out of the way so he could still see. Then he grabs the heavy shield and with a swing puts it on his back. Which always seems easier to do in the movies. Luckily, the back-plate of the CID identified the weapon as a Nova 7 weapon and can therefore keep it on him.

Now Trevor has to make a decision; who is he going to find first? With communications still down, the C module not receiving anything and with his teammates missing, it is a wild goose chase. He needs some kind of trace, something tangible to hold on and chase. He tries to think of a way to find a trail, like drag marks or stars-forbid blood droplets.

What he cannot see, does not mean that it does not exist. Something positive he learned from PAL's exploits, is that DNA scanning thing he did to find where Patches and Phantom went to in those tunnels. He lowers his transparent screen and cycles through the various vision programs to find the right one.

Once he has the right one however, it does not help much. It is a mishmash of various DNA traces, all merged and mangled together. Along with a lot of unknown DNA, likely being from the Anglars that came here to come pick them up after they were unconscious. And no traces are leading towards any of the hallways, indicating that they were likely not dragged but carried. Not touching any surface.

Then a chill runs down his entire body as a blood curdling scream is heard by his ears. It is almost loud enough to create ripples in the waters surrounding him. It is a resounding but very desperate "No!" cried out by a familiar voice and it is coming from the direction Trevor came from. Could it be an Anglar that found all those dead scientists? Not likely, but he takes extra precaution. With the hammer on his revolver half-cocked, he starts running in that direction.

He is running as fast as he can, even with him being overpacked. He finally understands while playing games your in-game character would suddenly waddle in place because they would be "overburdened". But this is not a game and he cannot let the weight dictate anything. Lest the weight becomes less literal on his shoulders and more metaphorical on his mind. He is not going to let anyone die if he can help it.

Trevor returns to the spot he woke up in before, at least standing before the entrance. He does not see anyone screaming or looking on in horror at what he caused. So it must come from further ahead. Paying no further mind to what has happened, Trevor runs on ahead.

Past a long bend of more pipe hallways, he finds the source of the scream. And it almost makes him scream in return. He sees Phantom and some kind of weird Anglar without a helmet on, both encased in a blue-ish bubble. The Anglar seems to be floating freely and behind the white vulpine, much like PAL would but much more directly threatening.

The creature itself is something to behold. Resembling a red, anthropomorphic octopus, with its short, stubby tentacles serving almost like a beard. It has three eyes in a triangle formation and a blue beak which opens vertically. It wears a white uniform with oversized, blue shoulder pads with pointy ends. It seems unarmed, aside from holding a pose like he is holding the blue bubble together.

Phantom however, is not attempting to leave this bubble. Or even to fight back. For some reason, he is standing there. Knocking his knees, panting with mouth open and his eyes red from bawling them out. His left arm hangs limply past his side but his right hand is holding a handgun to his temple.

While very bleak, Trevor trusts in his friend and so fires three rounds right at the Anglar, vaguely aiming for each eye. However, his shots bounce off harmlessly against the bubble, prompting the octopus to chortle at his efforts.

"Admirable try, Sergeant." it speaks, like he is submerged himself, although no bubbles are visible coming out of its beak.

"But I'm afraid you'll need more firepower to break through my mental defenses."

Trevor lowers his revolver a little bit.

"What are you blabbering about? And what have you done with my friend!?"

"Your friend? Oh, him! Well, you're not the only one exposed to the gas. Although you've managed to break free, impressive. Perhaps I'll have my comrades spare your brain to preserve and study it." he chortles on.

"I! Am! Zultch! Head Scientist of this facility and you… are an unwelcome guest." he states very dramatically, pointing at Trevor equally so.

The corsac fox instantly gets "evil Nelson" vibes from this freak but is not deterred, sputtering that he does not care who he is; he wants to know what is going on with Phantom.

"Hm. Clearly you're not impressed with my abilities. But I'll humor you; your friend was just shown everything from his memories. All of his failures. He found it hard to accept that it was real, he was very resilient! Heh, I see now where he got it from. But eventually, he realizes all of it was true. All that I showed him. And he cried out so loudly, you must have heard him. Was that my ultimate intent? I don't know, but he did just grab my sidearm. So the end result stays the same."

Trevor's vision snaps to Phantom when he hears about him being subjected to his failures. Knowing how real his own illusion felt, he can scarcely imagine how being confronted by real actual negative memories must be.

"Phantom." he says calmly, trying not to sound disparaging.

"What are you doing, buddy?"

Phantom sniffs but does not attempt to clear the tears from his face.

"What does it look like… Sir?" he asks disparagingly.

"It looks stupid, that's what it looks like. Did this asshole behind you put you up to this?"

Phantom shakes his head.

"N-normally your humor would work… n-not now… I've seen it. All of it! All my failures! Everything from my youth to me just now! I failed everything and everyone! I couldn't… I couldn't save her! I couldn't save your wife, Sir!" he spits as he nearly loses his balance.

"I failed myself too… h-how am I not dead yet? I should be… then I can't fail anyone else anymore."

"Phantom. Everyone fails. It's how we get up that matters after. And you have always stood on your own two feet again. Look at what you've accomplished up until now! For all your failures, you've grown to have a family that supports your through and through."

"I even hurt you! My friend… t-the only one who stood up for me when no one else would. I let you down too many times already… no more…"

Trevor can see that whatever this bastard did to Phantom, it was fierce. It clearly mentally rattled him, so talking him down normally will not have any effect. Even though his words were sincere, it is not getting through. He has to try something else.

"Okay. Here's what we do then, Phantom." Trevor suggests as he lowers his revolver slowly.

"It's clear you feel a lot of guilt. So, I'll let you apologize to me for what you've done… and then I'll let you do it. Because it's clear you made up your mind. On one condition; that you follow my exact commands until it's done, okay?"

Zultch looks on, both entertained and curious why Trevor has made this particular decision. But it soon becomes clear to him that the fox sees no other way out.

Phantom goes along with this and thanks his friend for allowing him to do something right for once. Trevor returns a wry smile, trying his best to remain sincere in the situation as his friend apologizes from the bottom of his heart for not being a better friend, soldier and an all-around good person.

"G-good…"

Trevor swallows hard to keep his cool.

"Now… like I said. Follow my every command. I want you to them to the letter, yes?"

Phantom nods.

"Good. Then look at the weapon you're holding."

"W-what?" the white vulpine asks confused.

"You heard what I said. Turn your head and look at the weapon you're holding." Trevor orders with encouraging non-verbal cues.

Phantom, clearly puzzled by this, does follow along slowly. Turning his head while maintaining eye contact with his friend. Until his eyes can not see him so they roll back to face ahead. And both of them are now looking at the weapon and its barrel. They can see the outline of the weapon, its shape, what firing mode it is and in what caliber it is in.

A gasp escapes his lips as the realization sets in. He is holding a handgun. A pistol. Semi-automatic only. His face slowly changes from unfathomable sadness, to disdain, to outright revulsion. He is holding a pistol! An Anglar one at that! And that is what he was going to kill himself with?!

"Wh-wha… the fuck… am I holding?" he asks, regaining his grip on reality.

Trevor sees this and knows he was on the right track by making Phantom do this.

"I did ask what you were doing. You wouldn't give a concrete answer so I had to let you see for yourself." Trevor states, trying not to look too relieved just yet.

"You… you did. … Ew!" Phantom then cries out as he tosses the pistol to the floor and just about stops himself from kicking it away, not willing to dirty his shoe on something like that.

He then draws his knife and turns to the floating Anglar to his back left. In the span of just two dozen seconds, Zultch's situation has gone from total control to the complete lack of any. All he can do, is respond with shock as Phantom rabidly lunges at him with his knife. The blade sinks into uniform, the flesh and eventually in between the ribs of the Anglar as the blue forcefield evaporates. The device responsible for it, previously unseen on the creature's back, fails and both plummet to the ground.

The octopus was not hovering because of any psychic powers; like the gas, it was all smoke and mirrors. An illusion. Phantom then pulls the knife out, bites into one of the tentacles and like a mad dog tears it off before headbutting the screaming Anglar into silence. Then he gets off the fish and kicks him towards Trevor as he spits out the nasty tasting appendage.

"Welcome back, Phantom." Trevor smiles before he turns to the wounded Anglar, stopping him with his own foot like he was launched as if he were a curling stone, sliding over on the broken device.

"It seems this fellow tormented your mind quite a bit, huh? Well, all those memories may be true. But if I may steal a quote from someone whose real name isn't known anyway; they cut out all the jokes. And this time my white vulpine friend over there isn't the butt of one. Come over here! You got the knife after all."

Phantom gladly comes over. His facial expression is very easy to read; he wants this fish served on a platter with chopsticks and a good soy sauce. He is almost drooling in fact. Upon seeing this, the once flamboyant and very in-control Anglar tries to turn over so he can crawl away. As he whimpers weakly and cries for help while severely out of breath. Trevor makes sure he cannot go too far by stepping on his back just hard enough so he can only struggle in place. Then he grabs him by the collar, drags him along and forces him to sit up against the nearby wall.

"How do you wanna do this, Sarge?" Phantom asks as he squats down next to him.

Trevor points at the tentacle beard.

"There's seven more. They'll all go off, one by one until we have what info we need. This guy said he was the head scientist after all. So he must know all about it. I know some things already, like the fact that these assholes pumped this place full of a mind-altering gas."

"Is that so?" Phantom asks very hyperbolically.

"Oh yes it is, my dear Phantom. That's how they got me too. But it isn't perfect; if the victim can see an imperfection in their illusion, they can break free. I noticed you never mentioned PAL in your rants and that you were holding a handgun. Something you would never touch if you had to."

"That is clever of you, Sir! Thank you for that! So, do you perhaps… and I'm just spit balling here after all…"

"No no, go ahead my friend."

The whole mood is painfully obvious, all to make it more uncomfortable and uncanny for their victim. Bad acting with cores of their actual emotions shining through.

"Do you think this guy could know where the rest of our team is?"

"Good suggestion, Phantom!" Trevor exclaims as he puts his hand on his friend's shoulder before then turning with a creepy smile towards the octopus.

"Could you tell us then?"

Phantom joins in with the creepy smiling as he brings the knife closer and closer to the petrified octopus.

"Well, tell us." he almost whispers as the knife comes uncomfortably close to one of the tentacles.

Another blood curdling scream echoes through the halls. Another "No!" can be heard. Not from any member of Nova 7. Not this time.

- Mechanical Sheep

Shrill screams continue to emanate from a throat that has been completely destroyed by it. The vocal cords strained beyond repair and whatever blood has been swallowed does not smooth anything out.

The knife is pulled away from Zultch's face again after it has cut off the last tentacle the Anglar still had on his face. He was very hardy in his conviction to someone he called "his excellency" but eventually his resolve fell after tentacle number six. Sure, he told everything they wanted to know but when they started asking questions about their troop movements, other experiments or facilities or where the rest of their team was, he was suddenly a lot more quiet.

That was until tentacle number seven came off and he revealed that there were other facilities that they took. That also belonged to Andross at some point. He only knew the location of one; on Zoness.

Other questions he was not inclined to answer, even with the removal of the last one. Even a quick sucker punch to his beak, which broke it, did not let out more.

"I guess he doesn't know anything else." Phantom suggests.

"Well, we tried. What do you want to do with him?" Trevor asks.

"You see, I have this here knife. And downstairs from me is this little sushi place. The owner is a rock solid dude. Hardworking as hell. Up early to prepare and clean the place up before opening up."

"Since when do you like sushi?"

"Pft! I don't. He makes killer chicken for some reason, which is what I snack on. But I figured since my downstairs neighbor is always so busy and passionate, I figured that if I bring him some exotic and already pre-sliced food, it will make his life a lot easier. Sushi, calamari, tuna rolls… maybe some other select cuts." he points out with the knife like a butcher.

Not because he knows where those cuts would be, but just to intimidate more.

"Don't think we can keep that fresh, sadly. I appreciate the thought behind it though. Always buy local."

"Exactly my thought." Phantom says and without looking, he plunges the knife straight into the top eye.

Zultch screams his last as his vocal cords completely give up before Phantom pulls the knife out and jabs it right into the neck. Ending even the expulsion of gurgling noises and air. He then tears it out, leaving a nasty gash before wiping the blade on the now surprisingly useful shoulder pads. Then he puts the knife back before thanking Trevor for getting him out of that bubble.

"And uh… sorry for that mental image it must have been."

"Nevermind me. How are you? You still got traces of your tears on your face." he points out.

Phantom responds bewildered, quickly licking his fingers to wipe the traces away.

"Those weren't tears though; sometimes my eyes just sweat."

"Hmhm. Sure, sure. Now, let's find your actual weapon before we set off to…"

Trevor is interrupted by muffled and fast gunfire behind one of those bulkhead doors to their right. Both instantly snap towards it and carefully approach it. Trevor quickly acts, takes out his sniper rifle kind of awkwardly between the shield and his back before tossing it over to Phantom.

"Thanks."

Now both armed with a firearm, they approach the door as the gunfire only gets louder. Considering the thickness of these doors, it must be some considerable firepower. Which makes him weary. Nevermind how they will open it.

The moment they stack up on the door, the bulkhead itself starts shaking a little as the gunfire from the inside is currently peppering against it. Only heightening both curiosity and some dread as to what they could be facing inside. Trevor closes his eyes and breathes in deeply as Phantom shakes his head quickly to keep himself mentally focused. Then both share a glance and nod. Whatever will happen when these doors open, they will face it together.

Trevor's left hand reaches behind him and finds the panel. He presses the button and with a hiss the doors open up. The moment there is an opening, they can already see a projectile zip through at immense speed. The sound of which only comes by less than a second later.

Once the doors open wide enough for the both of them to fit through, they walk in with guns drawn and their eyes looking through the optics. Although their fingers are on the triggers, they quickly find that they do not need to pull them. Because they see a massive tree trunk of a metallic beam jutting out from the ceiling like a mighty stalagmite. At the tip of which, is an omni-directional claw which is holding PAL. The A.I. looks to be in total control of the whole installation and he is not very happy with his environment. As evidenced by him acting like a sentry gun turret and practically vaporizing any Anglar he can detect.

Without saying a word, just shining his blackened light wherever he is aiming. Then he spots the last one cowering behind a cabinet. That is until PAL opens fire and continues to do so until the cabinet has been chewed away sufficiently. In turn, turning his victim to a pincushion. Only once the last Anglar's upper body area is but a bloody mess, does he stop firing. Then he resets his position and turns off his black light. Almost like he is sighing.

"Filth. All of you." he speaks reserved but hatefully before realizing he is not alone anymore.

"Sergeant Trevor. Phantom. I hope you enjoyed my show."

PAL spins himself around to face the both. The light flicking to bright green right away. The claw holding him lets go and he floats right towards them. Right into Phantom's happy and open arms. Trevor can just about hear his case vibrate, almost like a cat purring.

"I am very relieved to see you two both alive and well. Apologies for the mess I created. However, they tried to extract information from me and that did not sit well with me. So, when I awoke, I hijacked their systems and cleaned house." he explains as he floats on his own again.

"And you did one hell of a job. Ruthless, disrespectful yet effective." Trevor compliments.

"I see you have had your fair share of bloody encounters as well." PAL notices gently tickled by that.

"Yup. We'll tell you all about it but first; how are you no longer turned off?"

PAL goes on to explain what happened. That gas was released into the atmosphere either the moment they arrived or in anticipation of them arriving. The gas, though invisible to the naked eye, contains a lot of moisture nonetheless. When he was attempting to amplify the signal, part of his backside opened up for just a few moments. In any other normal environment, this would have been no problem. But because of the amount of moisture in the gas, even brief exposure was enough to make sure he went into tilt. Closing down completely in order to get the moisture out so it would not temper or damage with his electronics inside.

"The weak spot will be patched out soon enough." PAL claims.

"What happened afterwards?"

"I can only assume that they took me after Phantom and Calamity fainted. I was however still capable of perceiving, much like I was when I was shut off back after our attack on Macbeth. But I could not respond until everything "compromising" was out of my system. They tapped into my memory in order to make the gas work on you. I could not… let them know everything…"

PAL starts hissing as the light's edge turns blacker.

"They dared to temper with my knowledge. Dared to temper with my team… my friends… I could not let them know everything. I came to know how the gas worked so I left out information, gave subtle wrong hints and then, when I awoke, all had to die! A most painful, agonizing death!"

The black edge lights up very brightly before disappearing quickly as PAL composes himself.

"They are all dead now. And I am glad my sabotage led to you two standing before me now."

"That's how that scientist lady explained it to me as well. If you find a hiccup, you can break free." Trevor connects.

PAL's red eye narrows.

"Where would she be?" he says with murderous intent.

Trevor points at some of the blood on himself.

"Already ahead of you, buddy. She and her cohorts are all stashed away pretty nicely in a corner in the lab a block or so back. Whatever was left in my revolver after killing a few idiots beforehand, they caught with their bodies." Trevor states like it is nothing.

"Hm. Appreciate the brutality, Sergeant." PAL compliments as his eye returns to full-size.

"So did I; if it weren't for the Sarge, I would've been on the floor with a bullet in my brain." Phantom says thankful, as he places his hand on Trevor's shoulder.

"Some octopus bastard had me thinking I was nothing but a worthless bastard because I failed so many times. All those memories… uh, were true… but look where I am now."

"I can sense the sadness in your voice, Phantom. Do not let it consume you; you have earned much more than that." PAL assures his friend.

"If even our resident A.I. is telling you this…"

"... Then it must be true above anything else." Phantom finishes before smiling.

"Right then! The boys are back in town. Let's find ourselves some ladies." Trevor states before PAL reattaches himself to Phantom's back.

The white vulpine breathes in deeply, relishing in the administration of that fresh oxygen straight into his lungs and then he catches up with Trevor as he is already running. As they exit the lab where PAL thrashed the place, he quickly checks with the machine if he has any idea where they might be. The A.I. says he does not know but they are definitely in either the middle or the right wing. Because this left wing does not go on any further.

"Then that's where we are going. Keep your eyes open and your amplification holes closed."

- Never Said Goodbye

Rarely has she ever felt this bad before. The only other time she can think she felt this awful before was when she had food poisoning. The cook of that restaurant forgot to change the fryer oil. They might as well have been frying with crude oil, so black it was. Of course, that was hindsight. The taste was a little off but otherwise still pleasant. That is until the stomach ache set in. Followed by a trip to the bathroom.

Once everything was out, she managed to stumble out all on her own. Mostly by hugging the wall. The fact that the restaurant then became the target of a hit-and-run was only icing on the cake. Because some guys from one criminal syndicate were present and their rivals did not like that very much. So the most logical thing to do is to make a very loud statement. And while projectiles of all kinds whizzed past her head and people fled, screaming for their lives, all she could think about was returning to that toilet because her stomach was still not happy with her.

If there is a lesson she took away from that encounter, it is that she should never eat anywhere other than that bar she knew was never going to get targeted. Other than that one place, people cannot have anything in Meteo.

At least when it came to her stomach, it would come out either through the entrance or the backend. But the nausea she is experiencing now has to do with her head. She feels like she is on a capsizing ship that cannot choose whether it wants to roll over to port or starboard. It would be fitting, considering she is surrounded by water. But she still has a mission to complete.

Kip closes her eyes and takes a moment to catch her breath. The smell of the air is not exactly something comforting, reminding her of a fruity compost heap. Found somewhere in an abandoned morgue. She finds the wall again and tries to open her eyes. Only to be struck by flashes of bright white. A high-pitched beep sets in, almost like she was just struck with a concussion grenade. That nasty feeling picks all the way up until she is almost hanging on for dear life, dry-heaving uncontrollably for a few seconds. Which feels like hours.

She comes to finally after that. The gross feeling ebbs away, aside from a mild sense of dizziness. Her head still feels like it is filled with lead but at least she can proceed onwards without covering the floor with her breakfast.

"Ugh… next time, I should follow Trevor's advice and bribe the cafeteria lady. Just to be sure." she mumbles to herself as she stumbles up to a bend in the hallway

A loud noise, like a gunshot, wakes her right up. It is followed by an explosion, whose shockwave is practically visible as it blows past her. She herself narrowly avoids it. Followed by that are the screams of those unfortunate to be caught in it. Those turn out to be the last thing they utter before it dies down slowly and gurgling.

She checks her weapon and gives herself a slap to get her head back into the game. Once that is settled, she peeks out from behind the corner, points her SAW rifle forward and charges ahead. She can see something very unsettling as the hallway ahead abruptly stops thanks to fallen debris. The floor is covered in some kind of red tarp, just wide enough for one person to walk on. All the walls are stained with black scorch marks, dripping with water and blood. And it does not take her long to find out where it all came from.

She sees them. All of them. Her whole team scattered out before her. All battered, bruised, beaten and bloodied to the point that sometimes only their outfits provide any identifying marks. Along with them are several Anglar corpses. They all went out in a blaze of glory but all without her.

The corpse closest to her is Trevor. Thrown away by that blast in her direction. With half of his face blown away, a charred chest and with his sniper rifle next to him in several pieces. She gasps when the reality of the situation kicks in. If she was not wearing her shoulder strap, her rifle would have fallen to the ground.

Kip then runs towards him and kneels down beside him. Her hands ready, hovering over his body but she has no idea what to do with them. Try to shake him awake? Plead for him to wake up? Feel the warmth slowly seep away as death takes hold of his body? So many disturbing thoughts are racing through her head right now. None of them spare any pressure on the tear ducts.

He does not move.

It has to be true.

Her partner… is dead.

She snaps to her right and sees the rest. Patches is slumped up against the left wall, missing her right leg and a significant portion of her right arm. Both ears are bent and slumped over. Morbidly complimenting her left eye as it hangs by a thread out of its socket. Her two pistols lay at her remaining foot, missing their slides.

A little further in the middle lies Phantom. Only recognizable by his relatively untouched face and his left hand. But the rest of his likely mangled and crushed body lies buried between so much rubble. Support beams that likely pierced his flesh. Heavy, metal blocks that have reduced his bones to dust. To top it all off in terms of insulting for his death; one of those beams that is sticking out has PAL's eye impaled on it. Even that tough as nails machine is unresponsive as wild sparks occasionally come out of the shattered glass eye.

And finally all the way to the right is Calamity's unresponsive corpse. She tried to use her shield to block the blast but she was swept off her feet, slammed face-first onto the hard floor below and then thrown like a garbage bag against the other wall along with her molten shield. With all the injuries associated with that coming along. Judging by the blood that seems to have poured out of every orifice, including from her very fingernails, the blast must have turned her insides to goop.

All that is left standing, perfectly preserved in front of Phantom, is Trevor's bronze radio. The only thing of her now old team that is still working and intact. With her boots now filled with that lead she had in her head at first, she rises up. She is shaking from head to toe. Every step she takes feels like it takes all of her remaining willpower to pull off. Almost feeling like a puppet on a string being steered into walking. Slow, heavy and noodely like cooked spaghetti.

She tries to reach out towards her deceased friends but can only manage a faint gesture with her hand towards them. Everything feels weak and floppy. Her muscles ache and after a small misstep, she falls to her knees. Fingers digging into that tarp, clenching her fists hard enough to pierce through the fabric as tears drop down freely.

"I… I never… got- to s-say goodbye…" she sobs as the waterworks are opened up all the way.

So many things she would have liked to have said to them before they died. Anything more meaningful than what she had said to them today. That she loved them, cared for them and hoped they knew this feeling was genuine. And that she was thankful for being part of this team. That they accepted her with all her flaws and limitations on her participation with Nova 7.

And she never got to say that now. She could say it a thousand times over now; it would all land on deaf and moreover dead ears. All she can do now… is finish the mission. As her nails tear into the skin of her palms, she rises to her feet. Ripping the tarp up as she does. Then she discards the mess and wipes her tears away.

With more determination than grief on her face, she walks on ahead. She approaches the radio and applies what she learned from watching Trevor. Making sure it is at the right frequency. And it seems to be transmitting too.

She grabs the transmitter module and spots a small bloodstain on it. Still fresh as it stains her fur. It must be from Trevor. She presses the button and transmits what she has to say.

"Uh… t-this is Nova 7-3 calling… ugh. I-I'm all that's left. Something terrible went down here… a-and I'm on my own now. 7-1, 7-2, 7-4, 7-5 and 7-6 are confirmed… K-K-k-k…"

Kip lets go of the button and stops speaking as the emotion overtakes her again. Her lips are trembling as the abbreviation sits anxiously on the tip of her tongue. She has to say it but she pleads to the stars she does not have to. Let this be a bad dream. A nightmare she can awake from. But salvation is not coming.

She presses the button again and finishes her sentence.

"Confirmed… KIA… please a-advise, over." she transmits, shaken to the core.

It takes a while before she gets a reply which does not fill her with much confidence. She can hear the wailing noise of falling bombs. The cries of incoming death in rocket form and the blazing, all-consuming fires that are sparing no one. Finally someone comes to the radio.

"Kip!? Is that you? Fuck… everything… everything's gone to shit!" she hears a panicked Major lament as everything around him seems to fall apart.

"We've been discovered and… fuck! They're targeting us with everything they got. I don't know how they found us but… I'm sure everyone else is dead. I'm sorry Kip… this is a lost cause. We… I can no longer help you."

Hearing the Major be this desperate about the situation makes her clutch her holster and pistol. Both of which he gifted to her. As a sign of trust towards her.

"This project is over. It was good while it lasted. I'll make sure you'll still get paid or something… but… our deal, our contract is terminated now. You're free again. No obligations anymore… run and don't look back. … ah. They're coming in. Goodbye."

A door is heard opening followed by a hail of gunfire before the transmission on his side is cut off completely. Nothing but static is now being transmitted. Her hand holding the module is shaking while she herself is completely befuddled. So many things she could say but no words are being formed by mumbling lips.

"I am so sorry to hear this." she suddenly hears behind her, although she does not respond or look towards where the voice came from.

As a female Anglar comes around the corner Kip came from at first as well, she approaches the kangaroo facing away from her.

"Feeling a bit down? I would be too, you know. If I suddenly heard that everything I had was just blown up."

She looks around the room.

"Something blew up here. Was it you? No… probably not. These non-Anglars… your people? Oh, this was your team! I get it now. First you saw this and then you heard that everything you worked towards fell apart." the woman almost cackles, deriding Kip through and through.

"But I'm sure you can get another assignment soon enough. You know, we pay pretty well for those who want to help us in our righteous quest for galactic domination. You know, Lylat is just the stepping stone. We could go anywhere from there. Assume total control over everything and everyone. Just imagine how richly you'll be rewarded!"

While the woman is orating and slowly getting closer, things are not well with Kip. Her hand is clenched around the transmitter module but she feels it gets softer and less tangible the more she presses. Like clay that slowly turns into a liquid. The small cuts her nails made in the palms of her hands seem to heal up on their own. Like they were never there.

She gives a quick glance to her back left as Patches' corpse begins to go up in smoke. And a glance to her back right does the same for Calamity and her shield. With her other hand still on her holster, she removes the safety clip. In one smooth moment, she pulls her pistol out, turns around and shoots the female Anglar in the leg.

As she screams and goes down, everything around her that brought her such devastation begins to decay and fall away into nothingness. None of it was real. The explosion, the death of her friends, the attack on their base and even the module in her other hand disappears. Along with the radio it was attached to.

Feelings of desperation and agony make way for pleasant, positive surprise but also for blinding anger towards that Anglar she just capped. To make sure that bitch cannot do anything anymore, she skillfully fires three more shots. One into the other leg and two more in each of her hands.

"Ack! Aaaah! Fuck! How…! We had you!" the female Anglar screams out in confusion and pain.

Kip walks over her, shoulders up and murder written all over her face. How did those nasty fish fuckers dare do this to her? And then also to take that tone with her. Like she was just an experimental guinea pig to test on however they wished. She was not supposed to rebel or break out.

Now close enough, Kip chooses to shut the woman up with a swift kick to the jaw which forces the Anglar onto her side and also breaks part of her previously unseen see-through helmet. The caustic water pouring from it.

Before Kip adds several stomps onto her kidneys for good measure. Then she rolls her on her back before putting the barrel of her gun right on fish's forehead.

"Now! You're gonna tell me what I want to know; where is my team?" she demands to know as the still hot barrel sizzles the fish's skin.

But the Anglar is stubbornly keeping her lips closed. So Kip subtly helps her part them by pistol whipping the already hurt jaw and demands to tell her where her team is again. No response again, just pained grunts. She sees no other option but to use extra violence to get what she wants.

She turns around and takes some distance from her. She then hovers her tail over the ribcage of the stricken Anglar and makes sure to position it so that her leather tail cuff lines up perfectly to the sternum. The lead shots that form the studs on the black band are eagerly glinting to break that bone. And the Anglar woman can see it as she shudders.

"Last chance. Before I turn the insides of your ribcage into fish soup." Kip states clearly and emotionlessly.

There is temptation to talk before once more the lips are locked.

"Have it your way."

Only just a moment after Kip said those words, her lower body motions in such a way as to make sure that the studded cuff impacts with the sternum like a whip cracking. The impact sounds muffled but the crack is almost audible. If it were not for the agonizing scream the woman lets out. But the 'roo is merciless as she walks a little forward and whacks again, shattering the ribs on the right. Then she walks two steps back and does the exact same to the left side.

The Anglar woman has the air literally whipped out of her as her lungs are being bruised, if not effectively puncturing them. And while she is struggling to get air back into them, Kip demands to know it another time. This time, the Anglar woman relents.

She tells her everything she knows. How there is this gas that is affecting people's minds. It was done to her team as well, but she does not know where they are. At least not all of them; she saw one of the other women, a brown furred one, being dragged further down the hallway.

But she suspects that some of them have already broken free as well. Because there was a source of information about them before. This source was cut off just shortly before Kip's illusion took hold, making the Anglars work with what they had. And it was not enough in the end.

"Good to know." Kip answers without a hint of gratitude.

Instead, every fiber of her body is screaming to kill. To dispose of this watery freak. For everything they put her through. For making her think that everyone she knew… a gunshot quickly follows and silences all those negative thoughts. The woman no longer struggles to breathe as she no longer needs to in death. To make absolutely sure this is not just another trick, she gets down on her knees and punches the woman's face in. As the bone structure shatters with a satisfying, if somewhat nauseating crunch, Kip uses her hydraulic fist to punch straight through. Cracking the floor beneath as she punches straight through the skull, flattening the brain as well.

As blood and water drips down from her lifted fist, she has confirmed to herself that this is indeed reality. Or maybe she just wanted to desecrate this bitch's corpse. She deserved nothing less. She shakes her hand as clean as possible before she runs into the direction where it was said that Calamity was taken. She is not going to let anyone live in a nightmare if she can help it.

- Paralyzed

Faint voices she can hear. From behind her and from both sides. Despite heavy feeling eyelids, she is able to see something at times. Each time, she is facing the ceiling. Seeing lights pass by her. Seeing masked faces on the sides. But she cannot move her head in any direction. The rest of her body is not working either. All she can do is look and listen. And it seems that those masked people do not know that she is capable of that.

"What do you mean she's "immune" to it? No one is!" she hears a male voice exclaim, sounding very insulted.

"But she is. I don't know how else to tell you." is the reply given.

"It was applied to her exactly like it was with the rest. But she remains unconscious, despite our attempts to reawaken her in the proper state."

"Preposterous! We tested it multiple times on her species already and it worked perfectly!"

"Remember; it's still in the prototype stages. We'll find out what is going on with this one and adapt the contents of it."

"Hmm… you're right. Ready the operating room; we'll find out what makes this one tick and why it isn't accepting our commands."

"She's likely to die if we do that though."

"Irrelevant; she'll be kept alive for as long as we need her to. Keep her sedated until that point."

Hearing this, she quickly closes her eyes again and refrains from moving at all. Despite how horrible it is to hear that she will be experimented on while she is still alive or even conscious, she must not break her cover. Or they might pump her full with anesthetics and she will be out cold completely.

But she keeps her ears open. She can hear the squeaking of wheels beneath her, meaning that she is being transported on some kind of stretcher. Old-fashioned but effective. If not for one of the wheels being wonky. There is always one it seems, even in an Anglar lab underwater.

Despite that inconvenience, they manage to wheel her into that operating room that was mentioned. The flappy doors open up easily before an automatic door slides open horizontally to let them into the room itself. She can hear it shutting behind her and then close with a hiss. Either hermetically sealing it or acting like some kind of airlock. Either way, no one is coming in easily. Or coming out for that matter.

She is put into the middle of the room and turned diagonally as more people gather around her. Likely nurses or other supporting personnel. The head doctor or surgeon is explaining what is going to happen. They are going to cut her skull open, make sure they put the right measuring equipment into her brain and then expose her to the controlled amounts of that gas they mentioned. To see what portions of the brain are responding and which parts are not. To compare them to the data of others of her kind.

The fact that they have already tried this on other rabbits and other species prevalent on Corneria, makes her stomach churn. But she cannot do anything else at the moment. All she can do is be a witness to their crimes.

After the explanation, the surgeon excuses himself to make sure that he is decontaminated. Losing their precious test subject to something as mundane as a simple infection is simply inexcusable. As he and his goons walk away and the rest pays no more mind to her, she opens her eyes slightly to check. She sees no one. So she tries to get her hands moving, but finds that although she can control them again, they are strapped down tight. And so are her legs.

She has to restrain herself from uttering a groan. She feels so useless now. She cannot do much at all. Not even send a sneaky message on her head-section screen, because that has been stripped from her. She can only guess that they wanted unobstructed access to her noggin'. Creeps.

Then her mind returns to that gas that was mentioned. It did not affect her. But it affected the rest of her team? She can only imagine what they have to go through. But she has faith that they can break through whatever these fishy freaks will put them through.

Then she has to quickly close her eyes again when she hears the surgeon and his followers return. And they brought something along with them. A wheeled cart by the sound of it. She can hear a few drawers being opened and various devices are stuck into sockets. A drill is being tested to see it still works.

"Right. We have everything. Hook her up and then we can get started."

Patches then feels a sharp pain as needle punctures her right arm. She can hear something being clipped and then she feels something being injected into her. Everything starts to feel heavy and hazy. They are pumping even more anesthesia into her. She tries to move, to resist but nothing is responding. Not even her eyelids anymore.

She can hear the heart monitor next to her turn on. Hearing her own heartbeat in beeps. Then the drill again. But this time it is turned on until the job is done. The closer it comes to her head, the further away it sounds. There is nothing more she can do. All she hears before she loses consciousness completely, is a loud crack. She does not feel pain…

"Put the fucking drill down, doc! Or I'll make a hole in your head!" Trevor threatens as his revolver is now aimed right at the temple of the surgeon.

Who is holding the drill just centimeters from Patches' head. The automatic door which she came through has been blown open completely and allowed Trevor to enter. The surgeon quickly glances at a security guard present but he is preoccupied as an invisible man is holding a blade against his throat and pressing the barrel of an automatic weapon into his spine.

"Jax! Why aren't you doing anything!?" the surgeon shouts, not seeing the obvious yet invisible threat that Phantom is to him.

"Sorry, your boy is a bit busy not wanting to die. Now get that drill away from her!" Trevor demands again.

The surgeon turns the drill off with a sigh and pulls the drill away. Then he turns towards the corsac fox with this pompous indignation written all over his face.

"You simpleton! Do you even realize what lies before you? This creature, this being, could bring about massive strides in the medical field! She's immune to the effect of the gas!"

"Yeah, so are we now. Big whoop." Phantom calls out as he disengages his optical camouflage.

"Despite your impressive technology, your ability to understand genius is questionable at best." the surgeon huffs.

"You two broke free I suppose… but you were affected before. She was never able to be influenced! Do you know what that means? It means that when we learn how her brain functions, we can adapt the gas to work even on her! But we could also map out her brain in such a way that we could prevent and cure so many more diseases people are suffering from! It could benefit the whole of Lylat and…"

A loud bang silences the surgeon as he is thrown onto the floor, back-first with a shattered helmet and big hole in his forehead. The smoking barrel belongs to Trevor, who could not be bothered with the mad, medical ravings of this bastard. Sure, some of it made sense and it sounds like something noble. But not on her. Not on his 1.

The Anglar personnel present cry out in fear as they see the surgeon drop dead while they huddle together at the back of the room. And get an extra heart attack when Phantom cuts the security guard's throat. As the guard drops to his knees, clutching his hands around his bleeding throat, Phantom then puts a burst of bullets into his back. While normally he would not mind seeing and hearing someone die slowly like this, in particular when he has a sadistic A.I. on his back, there is a time and a place.

"Right then! Your turn." Phantom says ominously as he lifts his barrel up towards the surviving personnel.

"Phantom. Stand down." Trevor orders as Phantom does so a little reluctantly before spitting on the dead guard.

"We still need them. Who of you is in charge after the good doctor?"

A female Anglar raises her hand up and Trevor beckons her over. Then he asks PAL to join them. The A.I. disengages from Phantom's back and joins him, hovering over and just behind Trevor's right shoulder. His red eye focuses intently on the woman as she comes closer. His emote light turns blacker the closer she comes as well. One step out of line and she will not live to even regret it.

She stops at a respectable distance from Trevor and asks how she can help, slightly sheepishly. Trevor simply sniffs at her before very disrespectfully spitting on the floor before her. With some residue hitting the tip of her shoe.

"Listen very carefully."

He wipes his mouth.

"I don't like your species. And I don't like you. You find a way to wake her up right now, or you join your boss in hell."

He is very clear and particular with his words as he cocks the hammer on his revolver.

"O-okay… she is sedated now. We can wait until she awakens naturally…"

"Not! Fast! Enough." Trevor hisses in response, startling the nurse.

"PAL! Find something in this room that wakes her right up."

"Yes, Sir." the A.I. obeys as he rises up in the air.

A red light emits from his eye as he makes a full rotation, scanning everything and everyone in the room. Briefly, a green light comes on before he descends down again.

"Found it. On top of the metal cabinet at the back of the room, next to the cowering bastards. The red substance, third on the left."

Trevor gestures to the woman to go and fetch it. Which she does with a terrified skip and soon she is back. In the meantime, PAL has already injected himself into Patches to monitor her himself. He does not trust that Anglar equipment to be truthful.

"PAL. You're the medical expert here. Instruct this nurse what to do."

"Yes, Sir."

"Phantom, keep an eye on those others. If one flees, you gun them all down."

"You got it, Sarge."

With the operating room now under complete control, PAL tells the nurse exactly what to do. Using the drip that was used to pump anesthesia into Patches, she will inject that red fluid into her. Very carefully and very slowly as it is very potent stuff. And if PAL detects any attempt to sabotage, to hurt or stars-forbid to kill… he makes sure she gets a proper look at the three rotating barrels of his chaingun that will reduce her to her base particles. Just like he did to her other colleagues.

"You may begin." PAL instructs cold as the barrels remain deployed as his blue tendrils float around freely.

The nurse nods in fear and begins the process. Injecting exactly the amount that PAL is specifying at the exact tempo he deems fit. It is a grudgingly nerve wracking process for the nurse. But in the end, she pulls it off. As the injection needle slides out and is put away, the nurse is told to stand back with the rest.

"Specialist Patches will awaken within approximately 40 seconds. She will be conscious but will also appear dead drunk for a minute as the substance injected is very potent. You will have to carry her out of here for that moment." PAL warns.

"That's acceptable. Then we'll wait." Trevor says plainly, hiding the mixture of tension and excitement pretty well.

So does Phantom as seconds start to feel like hours. A thick silence fills the room, only broken by the natural breathing of the Nova 7 members and the occasional whimper coming from the Anglar personnel.

"Brain activity spiking. She will awaken shortly." PAL then measures as he retrieves his needle and rolls it back up inside him.

Phantom rushes over and removes all the now unnecessary medical equipment as well as the straps. The heart rate monitor flat lines but is quickly silenced by a swift butt stroke from Phantom's gun. Not too long after, with a massive groan to accompany it, Patches wakes up from her slumber. Trevor then rushes over as Phantom takes over the duty of watching over the hostages.

Her eyes drag themselves slowly from left to right and then back again. As she is getting her bearings and realizes that she is not dead, she can see Trevor very clearly. Before he has a chance to greet her, she slurs something before she propels herself towards him. Flinging her arms around him and hugging him tightly.

"Wow! Heh, hey there. I'm happy to see you too." he says with a smile as he recovers from the surprise.

As she continues to slur something that is possibly akin to a thank you, Trevor makes eye contact with Phantom. His face turns more serious and he gives a nod. The white vulpine knows exactly what this means.

"I-I'm sssooo… g-glad you're here…" is the first coherent thing she manages to utter.

"T-they wwere g-g-going to-to experim-m-ment on meeee… they were g-going to… h-huuuuurt… me…"

Trevor can hear she is on the verge of crying. Whether this is actual emotion or that drunkenness that PAL described, does not matter.

"Don't worry. They won't hurt you anymore." Trevor promises as he puts his left hand underneath the back of her knees and his right on her back so he can lift her off the bed and carry her out.

As he does that, neither are not deaf to the pleas of the Anglars as Phantom readies his weapon and points it at them. But neither could really care. The moment Trevor has lifted her off the bed and turned his back, the trigger is pulled. And it is held down until there is the unsatisfying click of an empty weapon. Nothing else stops it, no begging, no prayer or scream.

Phantom scoffs, drops the empty magazine on the floor and reloads. Once his weapon is ready to cause more bloodshed, does he put PAL back on his back, reactivates his optical camouflage and follows his friend out of the operation room.

- Broken Shield

With a click a light comes on. Shining down right on top of her. Surrounding her in a yellow circle, only interrupted by her own shadow and the chair she has been placed on. From just the position of the shadow, one could determine her head is hanging down. Her black, messed up hair dangling down and covering her closed eyes. Hands tied down behind the backrest. As well as her ankles being tied to the chair's legs.

Nothing too special she expects. She has been brought here for a reason. The most likely one being interrogation. At least, that is how she would do it on a budget. If this is all that they had to work with, this is not half bad. All she has to wait for, is for a door to open. Or for someone to walk up to her if they are hiding in the dark. Until then, she will remain quiet and pretend to be unconscious.

How much time passes by she does not know. But finally a door opens. She can hear it open in front of her, not too far away. The door then closes and it is locked from the inside. Footsteps come closer. By the sound of them, they are wearing shoes with heels. A click like that is very distinguishing.

"Hey! Wake up!" she hears a man call out but she ignores him.

The man sighs and says that it will have to be like it then. He walks over to somewhere to her right and lifts something off the ground. For a few seconds, there is silence before she is suddenly hit with a splash of cold water. She recoils back and spits out whatever got into her mouth. Then, instinctively, she starts drying herself off in a way only dogs would. Because if she is going to be wet, then so is this guy.

"I see that has awoken you. Good." the man states as he dries himself off.

"Do you know where you are?"

Calamity sighs.

"In place of hopelessness for me?"

The man retorts by slapping her in the face. Which results in shock but also an almost instantaneous biting off of his hand when Calamity snaps right at him. Like she did not even feel the pain.

"Oop! Feisty thing you are, aren't you?" the man says, waggling his judgy finger towards her but now keeping considerable distance from her growling face.

"Shame your fellows weren't."

Calamity stops growling, but only because she has no idea what this guy is talking about.

"Heh. What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you didn't know? Then I'm sure to let you know that you've been left behind."

Calamity's confusion only grows. Almost as fast as her eyebrow starts raising.

"Yes, it's very tragic. We know you had a relationship with one of them, considering that ring on your finger… but even he left you behind. Heck! He was the first to leave! That leaves you as the sole member of your little team left."

The confusion reaches its boiling point and cooks over into unintended hilarity. First starting slow, only giggling and trying not to contort her lips into a broad smile. But it fails very quickly and before long she is in the chair cackling her ass off.

"Hoo… hoo… hooo-no-no… no… please tell me you're kidding… heh, heh…"

She tries to compose herself so she can check if the guy is actually kidding her or is dead serious. And when she can get a good glimpse at the acted seriousness on that Anglar man's face, visible behind his helmet glass, she resumes her laughing into his face.

"Hey! Shut up!" the man shouts at her but not intimidating her in the slightest.

But it does annoy her. So her cackling dies down like he wanted but not for the reasons he wanted to.

"Buzzkill. I was just having fun at your expense. Some host you are." Calamity fusses.

The Anglar sighs and reiterates that they left without her. Leaving her all alone. And that not believing him will only make the eventual realization hit her even harder. His persistence however is no longer as funny as before.

"Sure. And I'm the President of the Universe. My husband and my friends are some of the bravest bastards I've ever met. No one of them would leave me here unless they were either dead or would come back for me in some capacity. None. Of. Them." she retorts confidently.

"But we have proof."

The facade does not hold up to Calamity's critical eye.

"You guys don't have cameras in this place. What did you fabricate? A written note? Signed, sealed and delivered to your very person? Pfft! Don't even give that."

The man sighs, puts his hands into the pockets of his pants and kicks the floor. It has not worked. But that is not why he is down. But mainly because he is disappointed it has to be this way.

"I tried being nice. Now we'll do it my way."

He walks away into the darkness as Calamity complains that he was not that nice to start off with. But her snark is punished right away as the moment she finishes her sentence, a shock of electricity is sent out throughout her body. All her hairs stand at attention, her teeth clench and all her muscles cramp together. She feels her mind and vision go fuzzy as the scent of something burning fills her nostrils. The feeling is agony and it seems to go on forever.

In reality, the shock only lasted a few seconds. The man comes back into the light. This time holding a remote with only one button. Accompanied by the smuggest of smiles an Anglar could even pull off.

"You never wanted me to respond to your "kindness", did you?" Calamity hisses as the stimulation of her pain receptors has died down.

"Correct. I was hoping for it. Itching for it! You and your cronies have caused us a lot of grief. We expected it as such, considering your team's reputation. But that's all over now. Because I was indeed lying; they didn't flee."

"I knew it." she chuckles.

"Chuckle all you like."

He squats down and slightly tilts his head before tsking at her.

"But they are dead."

Calamity's first thought is that this is another bad lie. But the uncomfortable smile on that man's face. Along with the tone of this voice. There is no hint of the bad acting she saw and heard before. There is actually a sense of compassion or even honor. Like the winner of a duel having to console the wife of the dead man. This is an Anglar who might just be telling the truth.

"Impossible."

"Ah, I see now you've changed your tone. But I'm sorry to say that they are, my dear. No other way around it."

He stands back up and presses the button again. Sending another continuous jolt of electricity down into her body. Everything tenses again and the pain is unbearable. Blue jolts are almost visible emanating from her. Her vision goes double before blurring out completely. Then the button is released.

"Ack! … ah fuck…" she utters, feeling spent.

"I wouldn't want to start panting now. That indicates you're starting to sweat. And water is a bit of a good conductor, you know?"

"Like you ever got a woman to pant…"

"Hmph! Insult me all you want. It doesn't change the fact that your friends are all dead. Including your husband. I would offer you my condolences, but I'm afraid they are already on their way to the morgue. And I only give condolences at the funeral… which will never happen."

He starts walking around her, his finger eagerly rubbing over the button.

"I did however notice, that you're very protective. Of everyone around you. When we found you with the other one, we saw a big shield and various other emplacements. You really wanted to protect everyone, didn't you?"

"Wouldn't you? If you care for people? If Anglars even could of course."

"Oh yes, we do care. But you failed in that regard."

He presses the button briefly, keeping her up and alert.

"You failed." he repeats and presses the button briefly again.

"Oh, yes you did."

Calamity shakes it off. She knows what this guy is trying to do. Trying to make her feel guilty and associating that feeling of guilt with the pain of electricity. And it is sadly working, as she feels more skittish with him around. Especially when she sees that finger on the button.

"Can you just fuck off!?"

"Such an impolite way of asking! So… no."

The button is pressed again and it is kept down. While he walks around her saying, screaming, shouting and even whispering that she failed. As much as she tries to hold on, she cannot help but scream in agony. Everything hurts and she feels herself ebbing away into unconsciousness.

Just before that happens, the button is released.

"Look at you. I heard you were called the "Boogeywoman". Or something like that. The terror to those willing to oppose the might of Corneria. Now look at you. You not only look like a dumb dog, you smell like one too. You failed."

Calamity braces as she hisses through her teeth, only for the Anglar to laugh.

"But I do see you can be trained with the proper stimulants. Good to know that. I might keep you alive then. You could be useful after all."

The way he is talking to her. Like she is nothing but some dumb kind of pet. She may not be prudish, but even she has her limits. Especially when it is not Trevor who is degrading her. Even when he is doing it, he is doing it with her consent. Not this guy though; he will pay dearly.

Perhaps it is the constant frying of her brain but she starts recollecting the moments before. The words this Anglar said… all of them. She carefully goes through all of them, almost like she is reading through a film script. It is horrifying to say the least. He has not said that much, but the moment he started to sound genuine, what he did say cut her deep. They are dead, he says. Her friends, even counting that dumb white furred moron and his floating triangle, her husband… dead?

Everything they went through together. Corneria City with the Aparoids, Katina, those tunnels and the grief that gave her… the Macbeth debacle followed by the siege at Tacker Field. Which all ended with the annihilation of Sargasso in Meteo. But also those little moments. The support from Kip, the caring nature from Trevor, the friendly snark of Patches and the healthy rivalry she had with Phantom. Those are all… gone now? Doomed to become nothing more than memories?

She has to hold back those thoughts. They cannot be true. But as much as she tries this to herself, there is increasing pressure on her tear ducts to produce the liquid of grief. To distract herself from that awful feeling, she continues digging through that mental transcript.

And she comes to the part where he spoke of them as all being dead. And going straight to the morgue. But… he never mentioned them by name. Or anything other defining characteristics.

"Still there? Or are you starting to sulk? I wouldn't blame you; if I couldn't protect those I love, I would tear myself apart too. After all; what is the point of trying to guard them with so many shields, if the wielder can't even keep herself standing?" he continues to insult before he sees those tears developing in her eyes.

"Ah, I see you've stopped telling yourself they're still alive. Good, that's healthy. I shall leave you to grieve for a moment. Don't worry, I'll come back."

The man gives her a creepy smile before turning around and walking away into the darkness. Calamity sniffs and calls out to him.

"What were their names?"

The man stops.

"Sorry?"

"My teammates. What were their names?"

Silence follows before there is an awkward laugh coming from the Anglar.

"I… have no idea what you're talking about."

"You don't? That's strange. Because… you said that they were dead. Already being brought to the morgue. Likely already there now. Maybe even put a toe tag on them. You'd need information for that. Like their names for example."

"I…"

There is more silence again before she can hear some kind of beeping. It is very muffled and far away but it sounds like a touchscreen keyboard. Making a noise each type a key is touched. She herself hates that and turns it off right away, but it seems the Anglars are a different breed in that regard. Is he texting someone? And why do the ropes holding her hands tied behind the chair suddenly feel a lot more loose?

"Maybe you can tell me what unit? It shouldn't be too hard if you know they are dead."

"I didn't see them myself, okay!?" the man suddenly snaps at her, before he sounds a little more elated.

"You're part of Unit N7. A Black Ops team within the Cornerian Military. Used for infiltration and sabotage. Like you were going to do with this lab." he states confidently, only for Calamity to chuckle.

"And what does "N7" stand for?"

"It's an abbreviation?" the man asks before he realizes he just said that out loud.

"You don't know, do you?"

The man stammers, indicating that he is getting flustered. He does not know at all. He is like a poorly prepared student being grilled at the oral exam. So he turns to the hard method to assert his dominance again. He tells her that she failed still, presses the button and gets ready to relish in her suffering.

But much to their surprise, nothing happens. He presses it again but the result is still the same. Calamity snaps out of her bracing herself again and feels that those ropes are very loose all of the sudden. Almost like they were never there.

She looks down and she can see that those that kept her ankles tied are starting to wither away. Turning to dust before her very eyes. She does not know what is going on exactly, but she knows that she was tricked in some way. There never was any electric shock or any threat. It was all an illusion. And she will find out how and she will also find out what else this Anglar was lying about.

Once her bounds have gone up in smoke, she stands up and grabs the only thing that was real the whole time; the chair. And while the Anglar is distracted, desperately trying to get the remote working again in the hopes that the illusion will do its work again, she drags the chair over the ground as she closes in on him. The moment he realizes, it is already too late.

He is startled and falls down. Dropping the remote in the darkness. He briefly searches for it before he sees Calamity's menacing silhouette against the backdrop of the only light in the room. He can see to his horror that she is baring her teeth, faintly glinting in that one light.

"I will show you why they call me "Boogeywoman". And you will come to respect that name."

She comes closer, enveloping his whole body in her shadow and presence. And as the shock paralyzes him completely, he can do nothing but watch as the chair is swung right at his face.

An icy, shrill scream enters her ears. They instantly perk up and help her turn her face towards the right direction. It definitely sounds feminine, judging from the high-pitched nature. Her mind instantly turns to either Patches or Calamity, being pained in some brutal way. It is coming from ahead of her, just on the other side of a short hallway and then to the left.

She starts sprinting for it, underway checking her ammo situation in case she has to gun down whoever is torturing her friend. She reaches the place where it must have come from. It is a rather normal looking door, not as fancy as the rest of the doors. It could be some kind of closet then.

Kip does not wait to find out and with a mighty pushkick, she busts the door open and storms in. She can see only a singular light shining down on the middle of the floor in the pitch darkness. She turns on her flashlight checks to her right and left. Her shining light finds a very one-sided altercation, where a certain chocolate brown dog is beating the snot of some Anglar with a nasty, splintery-looking chair leg.

Upon seeing the light, she stops and shields her eyes from it. Then the realization clicks; they found each other.

"Cal!"

"Kip!"

Both exclaim in happiness that they've found each other again. Calamity tosses the chair leg and embraces her 'roo friend.

"I'm so happy to see you! This bastard told me you were dead!"

"Ooh, I'm so happy to see you too! And I wouldn't die to his kind of vermin. Not easily."

Kip then takes a good look at Calamity, seeing the injury she sustained from being slapped in the face. She checks it out and then she sees the Anglar being barely alive from Calamity's beating. A well earned one for what he did to her.

"I'm so glad you're alive. They made me think you died too… you were like… folded and burned. Your shield was broken and… no, that was all an illusion." she composes herself before that emotion returns.

"I just… I just love you, Calamity. That you know that."

The dog is surprised to hear that, but she finds it very endearing anyway. Considering Kip was subjected to something like she was, she understands it perfectly.

"I love you too, Kip. Come here!"

The two embrace again as in the background the Anglar slowly dies of his wounds. Left all alone as the two collect the dog's equipment and leave the room to go find the rest. Because they have managed to find each other, the rest should not be too far away.

---

- Surfacing

- Reunion

The adrenaline from showing that Anglar who is boss has died down in the meantime. Although those shocks were not real, the pain felt certainly was. And now it is catching up with her. Luckily, Kip is there to catch her before she hits the floor unceremoniously. The 'roo puts the dog's left arm and puts it around the back of her own neck. Before making her lean against her shoulder and glued together they walk on.

"So, while you're carrying me… you might as well tell me what those bastards did to you." Calamity suggests, clearly pained.

Kip humors her, if only for that reason. She tells her what she saw. How she found everyone malformed, burned and dead in the most horrific ways. First Trevor, then Patches and… she stops right there. The images are too much, even to entertain Calamity for the moment.

Instead, she tells about how she managed to break out. Things did not make sense soon enough. When she found that radio and heard the Major on it. He did not even once mention either Nelson or the Lieutenant. Two people he would definitely name if they were dead. He did not mention Tacker Field either. Instead, stating that the "contract" they had was terminated.

"Pfft! Contract? Like you're just some kind of mercenary. None of those bozos did their homework it seems."

That is something Kip can agree with. From that point, it all started to break for her. The whole illusion. She shot and wounded an Anglar that crept up behind her and she extracted all the information she needed. Or at least all the information that the Anglar was aware of.

"Before I turned her skull into fish sauce that is."

"Nice." Calamity chuckles as they are nearing the point where they originally came in.

They can see that everything has been cleared out. Which bums Calamity out, because that was her stuff that they took.

"Do you think the others are still alive too?" she then asks as she is sat down onto the floor to relax and give Kip the ability to use her machine gun if necessary.

"Oh yeah, for sure. But I'm not sure if they broke out too."

"I hope so… I would really like my husband back. Not forgetting about those other three too of course."

Kip glances over to Calamity with a smile.

"Glad you're accepting PAL now."

"Eh… he has his moments I suppose." Calamity mumbles, not willing to admit much more than that.

"Sure sure… hold up."

Her ears perk up as they receive the sound of boots running towards them, coming from the hallway Patches went into before this.

"I've got movement ahead." she warns as she looks towards it.

Kip then sits her friend down carefully before she lies down on the floor to set her SAW rifle up for continuous fire. With the bipod deployed and all 300 rounds on tap with the flick of a switch, she is ready to mow down whatever fools are going to come through.

However, it seems that those who were approaching, have also noticed that they are not alone anymore as they suddenly stop. Now they have ended up in a tense situation.

"Identify yourself!" Kip shouts down the hallway ahead.

There is a moment of silence before the same is yelled back at her. It is a masculine voice which is… familiar?

"... Kip?! That you?!" that same masculine voice shouts just after.

Her eyes widen and a gasp escapes her lips. She cannot believe what she is hearing. Is it him? She would better be sure than sorry; those illusions were deceiving enough already.

"Tell me something only someone who knows me would know!"

She can almost hear the confusion on the other side when this demand is issued.

"Fuckin' hell, it's me, Trevor! Your partner! Nova 7, 35th SVU, Cornerian Army!"

Any thoughts that made her doubt have vanished. She puts her weapon on safe and stands back up. And then loudly and happily calls out to come pick up his partner and wife respectively.

Now it is Trevor's turn to be without breath momentarily. He peeks his head around the corner and sees the remaining two missing members of his team. Military discipline be damned as he tells someone or something behind him to get their asses back to the submarine; they are going home.

And as Trevor comes running towards them, so are a recovered Patches, Phantom and PAL. The joy already felt by the two women was already palpable but now is off the charts. Just out of respect for Calamity's less than fortunate state, Kip does not run out to meet them halfway. It does not take long for them to be together again however as the other side quickly reaches them..

They kiss, embrace and shake hands. All glad to be together again. Trevor dives at his wife but careful enough not to wound her even more. He also gives her her shield back. Patches and Kip, almost like two high school girl-friends who have not seen each other for ages, do this kind of silly secret handshake and dance before gluing themselves together. Which leaves Phantom as the odd one out, but not for long as the moment Calamity gets back on her feet, she gestures to him to come closer so he can be part of the Trevor-Calamity sandwich. And yes, even PAL is welcome.

Once all the niceties are done, Trevor orders everyone back into the sub. But not before ordering PAL to detonate this whole place. The A.I. has no qualms following that order has this base and its surviving personnel deserve nothing more than a watery grave.

Explosions start ringing out throughout the base, starting at the very back and getting progressively bigger and closer to the entrance. The glass hallways start to crack and eventually shatter, letting tons of water in. Which normally tend to douse the flames, but not when sensitive, potentially unstable substances and gas is present. Which, turns out, can be as thick and as flammable as oil. Causing another cascade of explosions and engulfing the base into a constant state of chaos. Under which it starts to collapse.

By this point, everyone has been loaded back into the hold and despite being cramped, they would rather be in here than inside that crumbling lab. Some watch and say nothing, some flip it off and the rest cheers the destruction on. Once it is out of view however, silence returns. And it is tense and thick enough to cut through.

It is only broken when Trevor manages to get his radio working again. He calls himself and his team back in.

"Ah, there you are! We lost you there for a moment. Is you calling us a sign of a mission complete?"

"Yeah… uh… it is, Nelson." Trevor sighs, which does not gel well with Nelson.

"Not even a Nelly? You guys okay?"

"No…! …no we're not." he snaps in return but calms himself down soon enough.

"Just… get some medics ready and get Thresher to come pick us up. We've… been through enough for today."

"... okay. Gotcha, I'll make sure to do just that. Huh…? Oh yeah, sure thing Sir."

Nelson can be heard giving his headset to the Major who takes over for now.

"Trevor. Talk to me."

Trevor remains silent. Almost staring past everything and into the nothing. Then he looks next to him and around him. Seeing his team. Alive, wounded and mentally not entirely there. What they all went through, he does not know. How could he? He does not even know exactly what happened to him.

"There was… this gas. They used it to… knock us out and make us see things. Experience things. We… fuck… we just wanna go home, Sir."

The Major does not know what he hears. Those Anglar bastards used chemical weapons on his team? He covers the microphone and tells Damian to get hazmat teams and all medical personnel on the base at the ready on the double. The avian does not have to hear that twice and instantly makes a break for it. Then the Major turns to Nelson, telling him to get their ship to them right this moment. Something the shrew was already working on. Then the Major uncovers the microphone again.

"Sergeant Trevor. You and your team have done an amazing job. Thresher will be brought to you at a moment's notice. Sit back, breathe and let us do the heavy lifting from this point on. I'm proud of you. Nova 7 forever."

The corner of Trevor's mouth almost turns to a smile.

"Nova 7 forever, Major. See you soon."

"You too. Tacker Field out."

Trevor puts the radio down on the floor behind his legs and leans back. The mission is over. They are alive. And when Calamity puts her head on his shoulder, he cannot help but think that that is the most important thing after all.

- Breathe Free

Thresher. Simple commodities. A bed to lie down in and a couch to sit on. Such things are a given to them. A fact of life and this job. But right now, they all feel like heaven. Considering where they just came from, something as arbitrary as being able to sit down and put one's legs up, already feels like a forbidden luxury.

As Nova 7 settles in ways that they see fit, Nelson comes on over the intercom. It has been decided that, because of the sensitivity of this mission and to keep morale up amongst the crew of the Cruiser group, Thresher will instead be taking them back to Tacker Field right away.

Within that well-meant statement, was hidden the obvious fact that the mission did not go as planned. It is very likely that the plan was to link up with that Cruiser group and then use the victory on Aquas as a stepping stone for future victories. But in their current state, they are dead-tired, demoralized and just plain done.

"Come home safe, everyone." Nelson ends the message as Thresher breaks through Aquas' atmosphere and enters into the reconquered space zone around the planet.

There are Cornerian Fleet ships everywhere, with some even being in engagements with leftover Anglar forces still present. It is a turkey shoot out there but no one of Nova 7 bothers to look. Thresher automatically gives up the right clearance codes when they reach the edge of the operational zone and they are allowed through. The engines then prepare for hyperspeed and soon enough, they shoot halfway across Lylat to return to Corneria.

Almost in the blink of an eye or what could be considered a nap later, Trevor notices that they are almost home already. He checks the time and it checks out. Then he puts his head back down on the pillow of his head and he will not remove it until they have landed. In the meantime, he crawls closer towards Calamity lying next to him.

This little bit of sleep does not last long enough and soon they have landed back on Tacker Field. With a proper landing pad already built into it. Which was a massive improvement from before. Although the truck driver was not a big fan of that change, it was a welcome one for Nova 7. And in a situation like this, it definitely proves it was useful. As the moment they land, medical personnel are already on station and take the team inside.

Because of the nature of their ailments, they are separated and quarantined for the moment. Each member is given a disinfecting shower and their clothing is also put through that same treatment. Feeling a little refreshed and officially declared clear of any pathogen or other toxic chemicals, they are given their clothes back. Dry of course. And they are let free.

The base is no longer on alert that much compared to the start of this invasion. Which improves their mood a lot; if they had to experience that kind of panic in their current state, it would not work in their favor. But also just walking through these hallways makes them already feel much better. It does not do much for their wounds, both physical and mental but it is better than nothing.

They enter the War room and the door closes behind them. There is no need to appear big or like they have not suffered because it is impossible to hide.

Before they really enter the room, the Major has already stopped them about a quarter of the way through. Without saying a word, he looks over his team with this kind of almost fatherly concern. He looks them all over and does not even have to touch them to see how hurt they are. With just the motion of his finger, he can make sure someone looks into the direction he wants them to so he can get a bigger look at them. Like with the injury on Calamity's face, which is not easily visible from the front.

Having looked over everything, he sighs but ultimately smiles.

"I don't know exactly what you went through down there. It is not my business to know now, unless you feel like sharing at this moment. Otherwise, I only want a report on my desk tomorrow. We'll do the debriefing after you guys have gotten home. Properly. Dismissed."

The way he said "dismissed". With such care and willingness to keep up their spirits so there is no sacrifice to their reputation. No one else on the outside has to know, so no one else could possibly judge.

Trevor understands. He nods as a sign of thank you and then turns around. With just a singular motion, of waving both his hands forward like he is trying to make waves in a pool, he tells everyone to get out of here.

However, it is too good to be true as a call comes in. And it is someone that Nelson cannot ignore. The Major grumbles and orders the shrew to pick up. He does so and on the screen appears General Peppy.

"Ah! There you are, Tacker Field. Glad I got through to you." he greets, a little less stressed than before but still not out of trouble just yet.

"Good day, General. What can I do for you?"

"Major, it almost sounds like I'm calling at an inopportune time. I only wanted to check on your team that should be back now from their successful mission on Aquas. I have enjoyed the fireworks, I can tell you that! I wanted to personally congratulate them and…"

While he was talking, his eyes started to wander over to his left when he mentioned "fireworks" and eventually he laid those very eyes on the team he was talking about before. And what he sees leaves him without words. He then looks back at the Major, who currently has his arms folded. The General now understands why it felt like it was not a good time to call in right now.

"I see… Nova 7. Regardless of the circumstances, you all did an amazing job. Cornerian owes you a thanks it cannot repay. Thanks to you, we have stabilized the front. But… I will bother you with details later. In short, well done." he commends them.

Trevor turns around fully and then salutes, even though everything hurts.

"All in a days' work, General. This is what we do."

Right away, Trevor is surrounded by his team. Beaten but still standing, they join in with the salute before they utter their creed. The Major, observing this charade, knows why they are doing it, but he would have rather had it that it was not necessary. This grandstanding, the posturing and projection of power. Just so that the Board and Command will not lose confidence in Nova 7 all together. General Peppy will likely and unintentionally blab about this to someone with a grudge against them. And they cannot give that group more ammunition.

Peppy seems happy with this display of bravado and salutes right back with a broad smile on his face. Then he turns back to the Major and tells him to give his warriors some time to recover. As they will be necessary for the next operation. The details of which will be known to them soon enough.

"Do take care there, Tacker Field. General Peppy, out!"

The call ends and the Major looks upon his team as their hands finally are let down. They stood there like real fighters, biting their way through the pain. Now utterly drained, some of them almost collapse under their own weight judging by the wobbly knees on some of them.

"Nova 7!" he calls out, making all heads turn towards him.

"I thought I told you that you were dismissed. Fuck off out of here." he says with a cheeky smiles, while he waves them away with his hand.

"Damian, Nelson. You too; you have relationships in that team so go be with them."

The avian and the shrew look at each other before they shove aside their doubts and join with their partners. As the group leaves, the Major sits down on his own chair and stares at the massive screen before him. Leaving himself in silence. He takes a breather and lets the quiet wash over him for the moment.

At least, that is how it feels. How much time has since passed, he could not tell. Instead, he reaches over to a remote and starts to play the recordings from the head-sections of the Nova 7 members. To comb through the footage and see if he can find out what they went through. Hours pass…

---

Self-inflicted Burden

"Why must your torture yourself with this?" Damian asks his friend as the footage is rewound again, having himself now seen it about three times since he re-entered the War Room.

The friend in question, Major Clef, does not answer. Instead, he reaches for the flask with the patented and very highly regarded "Snap-Forget", puts it against his lips and takes a big swig. The burning sensation on both his tongue and throat makes him instantly think of other things than what he is subjecting himself to. Only that way, could he go another round. Because there has to be a way to adapt. So it never happens again. If he could find a way to have them break out earlier, then perhaps there will never be such pain present.

Damian reaches over and snags the flask away from him, as well as the remote. He could have just slapped him to make sure he came back to the real world but he prefers to refrain from physical contact. He pauses the footage and turns to his friend fully.

"Care to tell me what this is really about?"

The Major sighs as he wipes his lips dry. He might as well tell him now.

"Our team. I've grown to like them. A lot."

"That I have noticed, yes."

"I don't want… anything bad to happen to them. I know that in this field of work that is impossible, but if I could… I would. And maybe, I already have." he says with some ominousness about it.

At the moment his sentence ends, the screen changes to display the rooms of the Nova 7 operatives inside. Not showing camera footage, instead only showing basic 3D illustrations of their rooms like they were separate entities. With the real-time position of each team member indicated with a red dot and an abbreviation of their name to distinguish between them.

Damian reacts confused at the sudden change and turns back to Clef.

"What did you just do?"

"Me? Nothing. That was PAL. You can appear on the screen now."

"Very well, Sir." the A.I. answers before his red eye is displayed on the screen as the rooms are rearranged to be around his eye.

"How did the trail go yesterday?"

"As predicted; all team members reported to be more energetic and feeling better about themselves. This, very likely, had a significant positive effect on their performance during the beginning stages of Operation Deep Blue. I cannot speak of what happened afterwards of course. For obvious reasons." PAL reports.

"Understood. We will have to see what this night will make of those poor buggers."

After that, it remains eerily quiet. The Major is in dubio on whether to show what he wanted to show but he is also afraid of the response from his friend. He deserves to know it. Or else he will go after it until he will eventually find out himself.

"Alright. PAL, show the Lieutenant here a simulation of how our new project works."

"With pleasure. Starting simulation."

Within a few seconds, the program starts. From hidden spots within the walls of their rooms, various things are done. Supersonic sound systems are emitting sound waves that are inaudible but have a calming effect upon the brain. Especially during sleep, where it has so far resulted in very pleasant dreams. Each sound system has been perfected to emit the perfect pitch for each team member. From extremely small tubes that are funneled through the walls, little sprays spread pheromones and subtly pleasant smells throughout the air. Not enough to be picked up by direct smell, but enough for the brain to notice.

"This way, they will always be energized while at home. And always ready for the next day, exactly what we've proven with last night's experiment. This, my friend… is Project Dream."

Damian is speechless. In awe, but not for the right reasons.

"Have you gone mad?" he asks seriously.

"What do you mean?"

"Another project? After we have already had that debacle from before… you introduce yet another? Do you even learn from your mistakes?"

"That almost sounds like an insult…"

"It is! I understand your feeling of wanting to keep them safe, happy and healthy. But this is not the way! You are literally going to control what they feel like. That is not caring; that is drugging them until they do not know any better." Damian criticizes harshly.

"Well… maybe. But you cannot argue with the results so far."

"Results are not everything, Clef. They are people, just like you and I. The ABC projects I can swallow but not this. Not this secrecy again."

"But…"

"No buts! There is no excuse for this!" Damian snaps before he calms himself down

"I know it comes from a good heart, I do. But this is not the way. It is almost like you stole from the Anglars' chemical project. Or hopefully not vice versa."

The Major falls silent again. He did not expect this backlash, but the more it sinks in, the more he understands what his good intentions were going to be leading to. And yet, he cannot shake being a proponent of the Project.

"I see your point. Perhaps a compromise then?"

"What do you suggest?"

"It might still be a little bit invasive, but what if we only turn on the project when they are in distress? And not on full power, instead in minimal amounts. That way, the emotions can still be expressed and dealt with in a normal way, but they would feel just that little better all the way through."

"Hm. So instead of being bombarded by it, it would be just enough to have an effect but not have it be addicting. How do you suggest we measure this "distress"? Or better yet; how would we learn PAL to recognize it?"

"If I may interject, Sir. My knowledge of emotions has grown significantly since my introduction to them. I must admit that they are not perfect, but I do not believe I require that long to learn the subtleties." PAL states confidently.

Damian strokes his chin while he thinks about the proposal. He is not comfortable with another project running throughout this base but it definitely has its positives.

"Do we tell them?" Damian asks.

"... no." the Major admits.

"This will be something that stays between the three of us. Another secret not shared, I know. But I'd rather keep this from them so that they can fully focus on what is most important. Leave the little details to me. And once I'm gone, the Project will stop. Leaving only the ABC's."

He reaches over and grabs the flask again. Damian makes no attempt to stop him as Clef takes another sip.

"Aah! That burns good… this is for them. This is my thanks for their service. To you as well, my friend." he says with a half-smile.

"And how about you?"

"Oh no. It's not for me. Someone must keep an honest and neutral eye on this process. Should it actually have unexpected mental effects, it must be adjusted. And I cannot do that if I'm affected by it too. I'll keep my burdens to myself, if you don't mind. Both this one and those already present."

"... is the RDX not helping?" Damian asks, concerned.

"Neither is the alcohol. But it gives me temporary solace. That's all I've earned. All that I deserve."

"That is rather negative of you, Clef. You know you deserve more…"

The Major holds his hand up.

"My friend. I know what you're trying to say. But no, I do not. I cannot stop it. I can't break the cycle. And that's okay. I've accepted that I'll always be a schemer. Doing things my own way. All I can do, is to try and guide those I care about to a happy life. That includes you, my team, my wife… but not me. And if I have to go through burning hoops to do so, so be it. Even those of my own making. We all have our secrets… all I ask is that you keep this between us."

Damian shivers momentarily as he hears this. The lack of confidence, the sheer hopelessness his friend has just expressed shocks him. He never figured this is how he felt. Nor that he fully embraced it.

"You are wrong about yourself, Clef. Whatever is eating you up on the inside, is indeed of your own making. But you don't have to accept it."

Clef smiles, but in a melancholy type of way. There is deep-rooted sadness behind his expression. One which was previously always hidden behind that stone face of his. But now it is no longer easy to hide.

"I'm glad you're able to see something more in me. I really do. Please, keep that up. Perhaps… one day… I can see it inside myself. Goodnight, Damian. Pleasant dreams." he wishes to his friend while also covertly telling him to go bother someone else.

Damian understands. He gets up from his chair, approaches his friend, takes his flask to gulp some of it down himself before putting it down. Then he gestures to the mutt to stand up and give him a hug. At least give him that pleasure. Clef sighs, rolls his eyes but ultimately cannot decline the offer.

Once that is done, the avian excuses himself and wishes Clef a pleasant night as well. The door to the War Room closes behind him. Leaving the Major alone with PAL.

"Right. PAL, see what you can do with the suggested compromise and adapt it as the new policy for Project Dream. In the meantime, how is the rest doing?"

"Progress on Project Hex has progressed past 60%. If I may be bold however, Sir. Considering the controversy Dream has already caused, do you think it is wise to create even more projects?"

"Like I said before; the moment I leave, all projects after the ABC's will cease to exist. We all keep secrets after all. What they don't know, doesn't hurt them. And what isn't turned on, will not affect them. So keep all other completed projects in the background but ready for use. Let me know when Hex is finished so we can start on Indigo. We got until "Z" for our imagination to run its course."

He takes the last sip out of the flask before he tosses it away carelessly.

"Might as well go out with a bang."