A cell.
.
A little cell makes its grand climb.
.
The journey upstream, a tale old as time. Against all odds, the cell claws its way up the mountain. This cell, however, came into contact with a helper halfway through.
The cell met a speck of dust on its way past a field of mighty glacier ravines. Where ice and snow met nothing, where the paths cut and fell into the icy void that separated them horizontally, the cell got stuck. "Whatever should I do?" The cell asked. Nothing came to its rescue – not the flowing rivers that swam across the never ending ice rinks, not the shining sun, not even the stars that watched the cell climbing at night. Nothing, but a speck of dust flying right past. It landed by the cell and said that they should mold into one. A cell in a tiny speck would be lighter than air itself, thus flying over the mighty dangers should come with ease. Fly over, then simply un-mold back into separate pieces, that was the deal - a mutual agreement. The cell took the helper up on the offer without hesitation. Crossed the ravines with no problem at all, then asked the speck of dust to stay. It did stay, helping the cell frequently by taking over, molding into one and then simply returning control back once the gales stopped blowing and the horizons flattened. Whenever the cell needed, it was easier to let the dust handle whatever flew its way. Whenever the cell started losing control, the dust would hug it from all sides and simply allow itself to take over for a minute or two. The cell and the dust soon turned into inseparable pieces. The cell never even noticed when the dust started taking control far more often than it was needed. When it started spinning the steering wheel around for the fun of it, the cell stepped in and asked to stop, to get off this hellish ride and continue the horrid climb on its own. At that point, the speck of dust had its fluffy body all around the cell. The cell was more dust than cell, more alien than itself. The dust laughed and refused, so the cell tried to fight. The cell fought, and it fought bravely, but it was eventually the speck of dust that had reached the mountaintop on its own, carrying behind a carcass, a vessel, a dead cell that served its purpose. A cell reborn anew.
Andy woke in a hurry, rubbing the visions of cells, dust specks, and grand mountaintops from his eyes. As if injected with a fresh dose of adrenaline, his heart kept beating out a steady breakdown rhythm, much too fast for his liking. Before it could even stabilize, his gaze fell upon the white, shapeless blob that presented itself right before his very eyes. A mass of light, as if it was the famed tunnel the dead crossed on their way into the heavens – but it was no tunnel. A moment or so later, his otic capsules had finally stopped spinning his head around like a careless carousel, letting his eyes focus and immediately narrow, hurt by the brightness cast by a myriad of LED bulbs. Once he got used to them, his eyes scanned the ceiling – unfamiliar, surgically white, maybe even grayish, had the lights been turned a little dimmer. Underneath himself, a bed. The last time he felt a bed this professionally put together was a blurry period of his life, that now barely even graced his mind with its presence – the Lateran days of idyllic peace, now buried beneath a pair of blackened horns and a flimsy tail. The moment he tried to shift on the bed, a voice clicked its little, non-corporeal tongue, then spoke.
.
"Lookie. So he's not dead, unfortunately."
The snarky waves of disappointment washing off each word struck a chord of familiarity in his head. "... W?"
And sure enough, after tilting his head, he saw the devil lazily sprawled over a rolling chair by the side of his bed. A little rough around the edges herself, W threw him a bored look, then slung one leg over the other. "Yeah, who else. Dropped by to personally finish you off."
"... Where are am I?" He asked, before propping himself up on the bed. It took him a little effort to fight gravity and the gnawing pain in his head.
"On a landship."
"Landship…? How are we– how are we even still alive?" Andy kept digging, while massaging his temples, hoping to distribute the pain evenly through his brain, maybe even rub it out of it completely.
"Oh, this is familiar." W let out a snort. "Got rescued, moron. So called "employers" paid us for a job, then had to drag our guts back here and shove 'em up our stomachs. Literally, they had to reaaaaally get in there with those poking sticks and dump all those innards of yours back into place, your entire digestive system, your–..."
"Spare me the details?"
"Oh?" Her brow shot up, along with the corners of her mouth. "Thought you liked when it all goes red and gore-y."
"I don't really like hearing about it after the fact, thank you." He muttered back, the slowly curled his legs up to his chest and hugged them tight. "... Where's the rest? Ines?"
W slipped a drawn out sigh of pure disappointment past her lips. "Unfortunately, also alive."
"Hedley?"
"Talking to the fancypants in charge, I guess. Kicked me from their little roundtable meeting, told me to go rest." She scoffed, as if disgusted by their audacity. Without her usual merc-attire, Andy noticed the true extent of the wounds their operation left her with – arms bandaged up to the short sleeves of her top, face all bruised to hell, with some natural eyeshadow in the form of two barely concealed shiners. Even her antennae weren't quite as lively as usual, instead hanging limp by her horns.
"And the guys he hired…?"
"Dunno. Dead, or getting back on their feet somewhere. Don't really care about a single one, though. Less cash to split."
Because of course she didn't. Andy took a quick glance around the barren room, slightly concerned by the technological advancement of his surroundings, yet an absolute lack of any familiarity. W didn't quite seem to feel at home either, nervously twitching from time to time, arms crossed.
"... So you came just to check up on me, or…?" He began, hoping to get some more insight on their whereabouts.
"I came 'cause I was bored. No way in hell am I going to sleep while we're in an actual damn landship. One this size."
"What size?"
"Huuge size. Biggest land-prowler you're sorry ass' ever gonna see. Lots to explore." She smirked, then stood up and nonchalantly kicked her chair away. It rolled past some important-looking machinery, then accidentally caught some cable with a wheel and fell over. W whistled, then stretched. "... And you're coming with me."
That was news to him. Non consensual news. "Am I?"
"Yeah, it's settled. Was settled the second your worm-brain decided to survive the night. You're stuck with me, c'mon." She warbled, then tore the pristinely clean, white bedsheet off his body. Andy wailed in protest when she picked him off the bed bridal-style, then carried out of the room. Even his tail slapped the air around, as if in search for any invisible flies.
"Y-... Moron, there's my stuff in there!" He glared right up at her, wriggling and shoving elbows in her grasp. "My ammo, my gun, my coat… Put me down?"
"Woopty-doo, kid lost his toy. Womp womp. And no, you're going on a tour-guide without the guide part." W muttered, clearly amused by his reactions, and the fact she was carrying him around like a pretty little princess, now heading through a long, threateningly inoffensive corridor. Windows splattered across the walls gave insight to rooms on the other side, some of them filled with heavy machinery that pumped gods-know-what through tubes the size of his head, some displayed pristinely clean laboratories with fancy equipment thrown all over the place, while others just welcomed his eyes with piles upon piles of dusty boxes. He managed to get a good hit in and dug his elbow into her stomach. W "tch-k'd" in pain, then bent in half, but didn't drop him.
"... The hell?" He muttered, slightly in awe of her resilient stomach muscles. She straightened her posture, then cleared her throat.
"That's what being Sarkaz's like, Lawdog. Can't just twist me like a contortionist with a single punch."
"Okay?" He regained some of his evaporated anger. "... I can do two punches, though. Or you can just put me down."
"Oh, but is it necessary? So violent, so fierce." She commanded his spirit, then fixed her grip by throwing him around like a sack of rice. "You can just ask nicely. With a "please", I mean."
"Hell no." He snorted, then changed his mind nearly immediately, seeing her shrug and lack of any further attempt at playing into his hand. "... Okay, whatever. Please?"
"Please, what?"
"Please, put me down?"
"Please, put me down, Miss W." She corrected him.
"Fuck's sake… Put me down "Miss W", pretty please."
"There you go." She immediately dropped him to the floor with an empty thud. "Wasn't so difficult, was it?"
"Fuck you." He mumbled, taking her hand to lift himself up. W bumped her eyebrows, then clicked her tongue multiple times.
"Tch-tch-tch-tch, foul-mouth. I should start legit feeding you soap every time you swear, for shits and giggles."
"You do that, I'm drowning you in the first bathroom we find. Do they–... They do have actual bathrooms in here, right?"
"Shit, maybe?" She shrugged, then flicked her gaze around the corridor. A little intersection split the straight line in four, one hallway from which they came, two routes leading to a corner, then the fourth, which remained bathed in darkness. Clearly not meant to be seen by their eyes, where the ceiling tiles withered and simply peeled off, accompanied by the buzzing of loose electricity sparkling from open-end cables, haphazardly shoved between the unfinished pillars that made up this landship's grand, metal skeleton. "... Place's falling apart, so hold your horses."
"Yeah, looks like shit." Andy added his own five shekels, approaching the unprepped corridor to take a closer look. Just as he passed by a mechanical door left loosely ajar, a pair of rather tall, brown, Cautus ears popped into his view. He blinked, then sent his gaze downcast, where he found a rather short, little girl, curiously staring up at him through a curtain of messy bangs. The ears poked him in the cheek, so he gently pushed them away with a finger, then took a step back.
"Oh!" She perked up at the sensation, then jumped a little. "S-Sorry, I didn't see you, uh… um. Yes."
"Yeah." Andy affirmed, at a loss for words. He's never been good with kids, after all. Shooting W a look begging for help, she only shrugged back, quite enjoying the spectacle. "... So, you are…?"
"They're, um… They're still building this place." She ignored his question, instead pointing towards the darkened hallway. "And, and doctor Kal'tsit said not to go any deeper. It's dangerous."
Her large, cerulean eyes only added to the utmost severity and seriousness of the precautionary tip. Andy felt himself losing some gray matter in the sea of pure blue, being drowned by the depth and intensity of her gaze, but W pulled him from right beneath the surface, putting a hand over his shoulder. She lowered herself down to level with the girl, then smiled and nodded. "Surely won't go there, mhm. We'll just scram right off."
"..." The tiny Cautus bore her gaze into W this time, cautiously sizing her up from top to bottom. Seemingly having received a positive review of her scan, she gave a tiny nod. "Okay, um… Thank you."
"Yeah, cheers…" She waved the kid off, as she disappeared behind the door, then turned to Andy with an asking look. "... Hell's wrong with you?"
"With me?" He narrowed his eyes in confusion. "It was that weirdo. Huge-ass eyes, felt like I was being interrogated."
W snorted. "Yeah, of course. Was a nice kid, maybe you're just not made for dealing with them, that's all."
"Oh, so she told you?" He asked, recalling Ines' promise to tell W about his recent, made-up Freddie-killing. They directed their footsteps back into one of the other two corridors, the sound of their heavy soles hitting the metal floor accompanying their casual, little talk. "What'd she say?"
"That you splattered his brains over some oak. Close range, mind you." She pointed out, finger raised. "... The rationality in me screams "wasted bullet", but the survival instinct shrugs it off as a natural selection. And the dopamine receptors squeal for more, heh." A nudge to the ribs. "Whatever gets your rocks off, right?"
"Yeah, you fucking loonie." Andy chuckled under his nose, which W picked up and joined in on. They wandered the hallways, passing a flying black cube, or two, from time to time. They all had little wings welded to their sides, complete with teeny devil tails sticking from behind. It seemed as if they were in quite the hurry, waving their flying apparatus' like their life depended on it. The mercs exchanged a glance, then a shrug, eventually deciding to follow the strange creatures, wherever it was they oh so desperately needed to get to. Crossing the empty corridors, they occasionally passed by an open door where some unknown, local ritual was taking place, each one different, and each one carried out by presumably "personnel" of the vessel, dressed in heavy armaments of the same, neat black and blue. Andy spotted a bright, shining halo in one of the rooms, sticking from behind a group of armor-clad crewmates, which made his stomach churn and flip into a somersaulting frenzy – not the fun kind. W, whether she might've noticed, or whether got too eager to follow the flying cubes, grabbed his wrist and decided to race the nearest creature down. Right, left, he could barely keep up her pace, but eventually came to a complete standstill. Before them, some tall, rather petite woman, enveloped in a storm of tidily groomed, white-ish-pink hair, much like cotton candy (alas, straight), stood and watched a black haired Sarkaz covered in dirt, soot, oil and sweat working overtime by one of the automatic doors. All the tiny black creatures circled her head in a rather worried manner, passing around tools and flopping their little wings in accordance with the woman's unintelligible mumbling. W and Andy stopped to stare at the sight, casually strolling up to the cotton candied presence. A strange feeling of warmth shot up and down his spine, as if soaking in a dying star's final goodbye, then spewing it right out, and catching it last minute to once more shove it down his throat. Glancing at W, she didn't let anything show.
"..." The three of them stood and watched the spectacle in silence. The door occasionally beeped and creaked to the Sarkaz woman's delight, but every time a hopeful smile entered her face, it immediately fell closed and fired off a few sparks. Once the door had finally had enough, it gnashed in annoyance and shot a ray of condensed electricity into one of the cube-creatures, much to its brethren terror, and the Sarkaz's silent annoyance. W let out a stifled snort at the way it fell from the air and immediately gathered a crowd of terrified, wing-flapping twins all around itself. Andy glanced over at their newly met buddy, only to notice the way her long, silky smooth dress seemed to swim through the air, as if tugged at by the invisible hands of wind, despite the air there being rather static. She took a deep breath of air with elegance fit for royalty, then exhaled, shaking her head.
"... Poor Closure." She said, softly. "Oh, Rhodes Island, how long will it be until you're up and running…?"
W unglued her eyes from the cubes trying desperately to perform CPR on their fried comrade, then glanced over at the pink woman. Andy did the same, assuming the question was directed at them.
"Rhodes Island?" He asked, before W could beat him to it. The pink woman flinched, then turned to her side, seemingly just now realizing they were there. She gave them a long, thorough look, and Andy could see faint glimmers of realization lighting up her curious face.
"Oh…" She began, softly crossing her arms and taking a step forward. With a finger by her lips, she offered them a smile warm enough to melt through steel. "... I remember you two. Your wounds were quite serious, but… You were with Captain Hoederer, weren't you? Andy and… and forgive me if I'm mistaken." She took a small breath, then pointed at W. "W?"
W opened her mouth to answer, but something caught her attention first. Captain?
"I mean… Yeah, the names are right, but…" She started, already beginning to smirk in mocking amusement. In the corner of her eye, she saw Andy following right by with his own grin.
"Captain…? I mean, I wouldn't really call him "Captain", but…" He complemented her words, equally as surprised someone would actually call Hedley by a proper title.
"Yeah, maybe not "Captain", but we are with Hedley, yup." W finished. "... With, uh, Hoederer, I meant."
"Oh!" The woman tapped her temple, almost if apologetically pointing out her flawed thinking. "I'll have to be excused for mixing the man's titles, then. I myself, would much rather not worry about proper naming etiquette, so…"
"Oh, yeah." W nodded, then casually slung an arm around Andy's shoulders to use him as a makeshift stand to lean on. He didn't even bother trying to stop her. "I mean, it MIGHT be his title, but it's just… a little complicated. It's that, you know, some people get off to normal stuff, like torture and pain, maybe gore, or just vanilla, but..." She clicked her tongue in a rather disapproving fashion. "... Some people get off to being called "Captain." And in his case it's painfully the latter."
Andy confirmed with a casual tilt of the head, only adding to the pink woman's amused confusion. She gave a slow nod. "I… think I understand? That is a very blunt way of stating it, but… thank you for sharing Hoederer's "getting off" preferences…?"
"Hey, no probs." Andy dismissively flicked his hand.
"Yeah, no worries." W chimed in, then narrowed her eyes and pressed her cheek flush against Andy's right horn. "... By the way, what the hell's a "Rhodes Island?"
"Rhodes Island." The woman repeated after her, as if stating something obvious. With her arms wide, she did a little spin, her dress fluttering in the non existent wind. "... Everything you see, everywhere you stand. The name of this fair vessel, of course." Before either moron could say anything, her smile dimmed a little, along with her radiance, and she added. "... Although, it hasn't been yet officially christened, that is the name I wish for it. And, well, maybe it's just my whimsy but I feel as if the name would be rejected by the likes of Kal'tsit and the Doctor…" For a moment, she thought about it hard, then added. "... I'd probably find an ally in Anton, though, but what can one man do against a strict Liberum Veto from Kal'tsit? Ah…" She trailed off, leaving the two wondering what the hell she might've been on about.
"Uh yeah…" Andy mulled her words over, but they just kept coming up blank, again and again. "So, like, you're the quartermaster around here, or…? Skipper, maybe? Shipowner?"
"Lemme guess, fancy floor-wiper? Janitor? Hell, caretaker?" W chimed in, trying her own luck at cracking the woman's identity.
"Oh, oh, those are all good guesses, but…" She once more offered them a warm smile, seemingly humored by their absolute lack of accuracy. "I haven't yet properly introduced myself! Silly me, I hope you can pardon my scattered-brain." She then bobbed them a little curtsy, holding onto the edges of her skirt. "Just Theresa. We are currently outside of Kazdel, so any proper titling and royal etiquette could very well be thrown straight out the window…"
Now that, that was something Andy wasn't quite expecting. His head tilted even further, face riddled with soft surprise. Was he hearing her right? Were his ears working correctly? Did his brain malfunction and make up a sentence that wasn't meant to be? It seemed almost impossible, nearly shockingly baffling, yet she said it so casually… She wouldn't lie about such a thing, whoever she was. Andy felt the weight slowly sliding off his right shoulder, as he raised a finger and asked:
"Did I… Did I hear right? We're OUTSIDE of Kazdel…?-"
The pink haired woman nodded slightly at his question, eager to address him again with one of her signature face-melting smiles, but W decided to cut in.
"Y-... Y-You… Y-..." She stammered, as if going through a seizure. With the raise of a hand, she patted down her cheek and pinched herself to make sure the situation wasn't just a nightly hoax thought-up by her brain. Andy has never seen her so pale, even despite her already milky complexion and countless life or death scenarios. "Y-... T–... YOU'RE Theresa…?" She finally managed to splurt out, holding onto the moron's shoulders tight.
Theresa once more shot them a curtsy and allowed an amused smirk to crawl onto her lips. "In the flesh, yes."
Andy stood between the two, cautiously running his eyes from one to the other, as if waiting for a punchline to a joke that never came. Confused to all hells, he parted his lips. "... Who?"
"Who?" W dug her nails deep into his skin. "Who–? You're asking? You're… Fucking hell, Lawdog. C'mere." As if nearly back to normal, she scoffed and threw an arm over his shoulder, turning him forcefully from the woman. Theresa stood and patiently watched as the white-haired fiend whispered a few hushed words to the gray angel, who first looked at her with befuddled puppy eyes, then glanced into the King's direction, and his pupils went wide. Expanded in a moment's notice, shot clean open, rose to the size of two dinner plates. He turned to W once more, as if to confirm, as if to truly make sure he understood her correctly, but she only gave him a disbelieving smirk in return.
"I am…" He began, spilling some barely held-back laughter at the thought of having misjudged his interlocutor's identity a little. "... So incredibly sorry, Your Majesty, I genuinely had… I mean, WE really had no idea, had ZERO idea that…"
"Oh, don't apologize, you two." She flicked a hand, waving away their embarrassment and instead offering her unwavering acceptance of their obtuse shenanigans. "Mistakes, right? To err is human, after all. Isn't that what we all are?"
"Oh, but of course, Your Majesty, y-yeah." He quickly affirmed and slid a hand up to his mouth to cover the ever-stretching grin. "... Your Majesty, if I may?"
"Andy, it's "Theresa", I told you…" She sighed, softly tilting the fluffy contour of her horned head.
"Of course, Miss Theresa, if I may…" He said, and kept going, even when the King tried cutting in to make him drop the "Miss." "... If I may, would it be improper to, ummm…" He trailed off, overcome with chortling giggles that soon turned to coughing.
"Would it be improper to laugh in your vicinity?" W finished for him, before sending a hefty slam of her palm to his back, finally unclogging his lungs with the might of her tough-love practices. "... Miss?" She quickly corrected herself.
Theresa rolled her eyes at the second moron also picking up the "Miss" habit. "... Well, I don't see anything wrong with it, but most of my colleagues aren't really the…" Here, she searched far and wide for the word to best describe Kal'tsit and the Doctor. A certain exception slipped her mind, but maybe mentioning that man's name wasn't necessary in her current train of thought. "... The laughing types. Our warriors, the poor Sarkaz whose wounds we're mending, the operators roaming these halls, they've got enough on their plates to omit such frivolity anyway, so hearing laughter fill these gray halls would really lighten up these darkened days ahead." After her solemn admission, she cracked a little smile and bobbed her head to the side. "... I'd like them to smile more, though. Just another silly example of my extravagantly hopeful folly, but a nice thought nonetheless. Happy to see you two being all smiles."
"Oh!" Andy perked up, W followed suit.
"Yeah, you're gonna see our dirty teeth quite often, I'm afraid. Miss."
"Yeah, I mean, duh." Andy tapped her on the shoulder, she tapped back. "Never seen, or been in such a vessel, so that's already a reason to celebrate. We usually do things a bit more…"
"Bit wilder." W finished. "We're real outdoorsy types. Sleeping in the mud, sleeping under the stars, sleeping in tattered merc shelters…"
"Sleeping together." Andy slipped in, to which the King raised a curious brow. W slumped her weight against his side again, as if to show just how much of a toll the mercenary life truly takes on one's weary pasture.
"Sleeping together, yeah. Sleeping together in the mud, sleeping together under the stars, sleeping together in tattered merc shelters…" W kept going, burrowing her face into Andy's shoulder.
"A lot of sleeping together, mmm." Theresa murmured, taking great joy in watching the two nearly climbing onto one another, as they try to piece together the deplorable commodities of mercenary life and form it all into coherent sentences. "... But going back to your question, you're allowed to laugh to your hearts' content."
"..." Andy and W exchanged a look. Both their lips stabilized back into static, unmoving lines, their cheeks no longer flushed or puffed. They awkwardly exchanged a wordless question, then W opened her mouth to speak. "Yeah, no. Sorry, magic's gone."
"Yeah, magic's gone." Andy followed, a little disappointed. "... Maybe some other time?"
"Oh, I'm sure there will be plenty." Theresa replied softly, then caught a little glimpse of a bright, white storm hailing over the horizon, right past the mercs' shoulders. Her eyes followed the high heeled footsteps that approached them from over yonder, each sound synchronized mathematically with the others, all calculated to near perfection. It wasn't rhythmic in any way, not the cheery, impatient rumbling of merc hooves, but instead a pitter patter of droplets seeping from a lightly pierced water canteen, each of them falling in accordance with the one before, then the one after, then the one after, and so on and so on…
Andy glanced past his shoulder, only for a greenish-ly white shadow to pass him on the right. He blinked a little and took a step back, as the overbearing smell of hand sanitizer and perfume that could only be described as "clinical" entered and rampaged his nostrils. The perpetrator, a Feline woman slightly taller than himself, dressed in a simple lab coat and some eye-catchingly green garment beneath, stepped between him and W, ending their little, clinginess session. W, as if lost in a daze, staring at the King, blinked a couple times and just barely managed to grab onto Andy's tail not to fall. His eye twitched in pain, as she pulled on the leathery worm, but not a single sound of discomfort fell from his lips.
"..." The Feline reached out towards the King, holding a tidily folded piece of pristinely white paper, nearly as white as her snowy hair. She grazed her sight past their faces, feigning a calm, collected expression. Hints of repulsive abhorrence almost managed to slip past her unfeeling, green eyes, but only barely. Had any of them knew how to read shadows like Ines, they could tell she was judging them. Silently, but hard. "... Theresa, message."
"Oh, message, message, of course… Thank you, Kal'tsit." She huffed back, allowing a small smile. "... What is it that the big world needs from little ol' me, hmmm…?" A murmur followed, as she unpacked the paper and started reading, her smile flattening more and more with each sentence.
"Kazdel's on the move. The Doctor is already preparing a counter offensive." She stated in an overly matter of fact voice, but her eyes kept sizing Andy and W up. The two morons stood side by side, with W still subconsciously clutching his tail. In the face of the "messenger's" death glare, the fiend stuck her tongue out, which earned her a raise of a single brow. "... Your action is required, Theresa."
"Mmm… I can see that…" She muttered, eyes still glued to the paper. Momentarily, her frown dissipated into clear air, as she slid the message into the folds of her dress and smiled back at the youth. "Well. Pleasure meeting our new recruits, as always. As long as you're willing to fight for the right cause, you're always welcome here, mmm?"
Andy and W gave a combination of somewhat uneasy nods and half-assed smiles, as the King bid her farewells with a polite nod, then disappeared somewhere down the hallway. Only when her footsteps had gone entirely quiet, "Kal'tsit" took a small inhale and spoke, eyes focused anywhere but not at the mercenaries. "... I'm not one to criticize Theresa's decisions, but… Don't expect too warm a welcome."
Finally, her green irises met theirs. Andy felt a spike of something cold, an icicle sliding down his throat, forcing him to melt alongside it, quiver and bend under her gaze. W accepted the challenge head on.
"Never anticipated one."
"Mm." She hummed, unimpressed. "I've seen your records. Field reports. Customer reviews. Employee opinions. From those that ever made it out alive, which weren't many, of course." Blink. "... It's a miracle any of you are still breathing."
"Oh." Andy clicked his tongue, humbly and positively taken by surprise. "Well, thank you."
"Not a compliment in the slightest." She cut him down in an instant. "We might've struck a long-term deal with the leader of your misfits band, but it doesn't mean you will not be put up to the standard of Babel's operators. You will work the way we want you to work, not the way Kazdel taught you."
"Sure." W scoffed. "Hope's hoping."
Kal'tsit glared at her softly for a moment, as if taking a second scan of her entire person. "... Barebones combat knowledge. Self taught."
"Yuuup. All me."
"You. The same, I assume?" Her icy eyes slid to Andy, who felt strangely uncomfortable, having to look at her face for more than a passing fraction of a second.
"Uh… no. No, I had a year of military training."
"Military?" As if for just a single moment, her voice wavered with something else than cold indifference and that holier-than-thou, know-it-all flair. "... Lateran?"
"Pontifica Cohors Lateran, yes." He nodded, then straightened his back just a little more, feeling proud of his tour in Kazdel, for once. Seeing someone finally recognize his achievements made his spine strangely coily, as if asking to be sprung straight up. W rolled her eyes, then pretended to retch under her arm.
"Bare minimum, not enough." Kal'tsit summed up. "We'll split you in two. Your captain and his second in command, as a benched recon squadron, and then…" She hesitated for a moment. "... The two of you."
"You don't want me working with Ines?" W perked up at the premise, a grin already building at her lips. "... And you think you're hurting me by doing this?"
"No one is hurting anyone. You're merc fodder, your usefulness ends where your humanity begins, but you're still required to be evenly distributed through and through. Satiate the most burning issues first, but…" Here, she sighed. "... Not with the likes of you. At your current state, you're as good as bait meat."
"..." W and Andy exchanged a glance. "... So what're we doing, then?"
"Waiting." Kal'tsit answered without losing a beat. "He should be halfway through the pouring process at this point."
"Who?" W raised her brows. "And what "pouring process?"
The medic did not answer. Instead, she closed her eyes and nudged her head towards a nearby sliding door, in the opposite direction of the block-creatures and the machine-fixing Sarkaz. They stared and stared, anticipating something to happen, and got their wish when it bent just barely, just slightly ajar. A pair of petite hips clad in some overly fuzzy material slid between the crack, then pushed the door open completely, revealing a youthful face, and a youthful body covered by a rather comfy looking bathrobe. A feline man, carelessly humming a little tune, tapped the door to close it after himself, exiting into the corridor with a cup of steaming hot something in one hand, the other on his head, brushing back a tuft of egregiously long, white hair. His melodic humming soon filled the entire hallway, as he tapped away at the floor, the sound of his slippers hitting the metal all uneven, but with a clear sense of rhythm and some underlying joy that commuted with him, each step of the journey. His green eyes swept the area, lingering a little longer on Andy and W, then finally Kal'tsit, as he passed them by. A sly, lazy smile followed.
"Mornin', gents." He addressed the mercs with a nod, his voice slightly too laid back. Passing by Kal'tsit, he shot her an overly sweet smile. "... Mornin', doc."
With sunshine in his step, he took a deep sip of his smoldering hot drink, then carried on his way through. Kal'tsit grabbed the collar of his bathrobe just before he slipped out of reach, causing his head to jerk backwards and his legs to fly forward, into the air. Despite it all, the mug and drink remained perfectly intact, as if his nimble hands had turned it to a gyroscope. He choked back on the drink, spat it out and turned towards the doctor, eyes narrowed in clear, over the top confusion. "... Fuck's wrong with you, Kal? Nine in the bloody morning, ain't it a bit too early for this?"
"Nine in the morning, and you're still being useless." She pointed out, then turned towards the mercs. "Shifts begin at six. Breakfast's served between five thirty and five fifty, down in the cafeteria. A set of identification documents will be provided to you by the end of the week, alongside a proper wardrobe fit with uniforms. Your names, monikers, records, every piece of digital and corporeal footprints have been stored in our databases, and are now recognized by the vessel and other Babel personnel. You will be led to your shared rooms at the end of the day by your first in command." Here, she took a deep breath, visibly steeling herself for what was about to crawl up her throat, then exit her lips. "... And that is, operator Newmaker, your contemporary leader."
.
"..." W and Andy turned to glance at the Feline man. Their eyes were pretty much blank, with nothing behind them, not a single thought. Newmaker returned their gaze, equally as lost and confused.
"... Leader?" He asked, slightly unsure. "Didn't you say I can't–..."
"Operator Newmaker will mold you into something useful by the end of the month, and that is not just a statement, but also a direct order." She cut in, not only glaring the man down, but also pressing down on the last few words, as if to make sure they were welded to the inside of his skull. "... And from now on you report to operator Newmaker, operator Newmaker continues reporting to me."
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"..." Andy wasn't quite sure what to think. What to do, even. He had a lot of questions, but not a single one of them seemed appropriate at the moment. Hell, even breathing seemed inappropriate in the presence of doctor Kal'tsit. W kept her eyes bored into Newmaker, curiously studying him from head to toe, her antennae twitching and curling from time to time.
.
"... Questions?" Kal'tsit asked, eyebrow raised. Newmaker's hand slowly crawled upwards, index finger outstretched. She stared at him for a good minute or so, before he just gave up and lowered it. "... Good. I recommend you to start the training process straight away. Welcome to Babel, expect to stay for as long as you're useful." She threw towards the mercs as a goodbye, then walked off.
.
"..." The three of them were left staring in her wake, the sound of heeled footsteps slowly disappearing in the far end of the corridor. Once it all went quiet, Andy and W turned to Newmaker. His eyes jumped from one to the other, then a silly grin slithered onto his face. "... Always such a bitch in the morning, don't mind her. Hey. Hey, ain't you… ain't you the two twerps who got blood and guts all over me shoes yesterday? Think I pulled you lot from some crater during all 'at ambush shazam."
"That was you?" Andy asked, clearly remembering the torn strands of a similar voice swimming through his mind, when thinking back to the events of yesterday.
"Aye. Me and Uri." He smiled even more, proudly taking a sip from the now cold mug.
"Uri." W narrowed her eyes at the mention of that name. "... Another freak? Like that bitch, Kal'tsit?"
"Oh, woah, wow…" He nearly spat the mouthful out. "Hey! She's your supervisor, can't be callin' her a bitch."
"Why not?" Andy and W asked in unison.
"... That's for me to worry about, m'kay? Only I get to call her that, burn that into ya memories." He chuckled, then finished off the cup and let out a satisfied gasp. "Ah. Now about us, lads."
.
His arms found their way over both their shoulders, gripping their necks tight and bringing close. Andy accidentally stuck his nose into the Feline's fluffy white hair, taking in a lungful of something he could only assume to be cherry shampoo, and… a distinct, metallic odor, that no detergent could fully wash out. He leaned away enough to notice W's slightly uneasy expression under their "leader's" grasp, a new one for the books. Newmaker grinned from ear to ear, glancing from W to Andy, back and forth, as if spectating a tennis match.
.
.
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"... How 'bout we get to know one 'nother a lil' better on the trainin' field, ah?"