Sonata (səˈnɑːtə): a composition for an instrumental soloist, often with an accompaniment, typically in several movements
— Chapter One —
Intro
(in· tro): The opening section of a piece
A small Kreper darted across the open desert, the vast outskirts of the sprawling Myce City shimmering like a mirage on the distant, hilly horizon. Its sleek, gray-and-black hull glinted in the blinding morning sun, sending flashes of light scattering across the barren expanse. The nimble hovercraft carved a swift path through the sandy dunes, leaving a plume of dust in its wake. Twin repulsors, large and powerful, jutted from the back of the machine, whirling with precision and emitting rhythmic puffs of white exhaust as they propelled it forward.
Inside the Kreper's tinted cockpit, a lone figure sat motionless in the vehicle's single seat. The cramped enclosure was dim, illuminated only by the faint glow of low-powered consoles and screens lining the control panel. The figure's threadbare leather coat, dark and weathered, concealed most of his form as his arms lay folded across his chest. The chin of a battered black helmet rested against his chest, its once-polished surface dulled by years of use. The helmet's mirrored visor reflected the dim light of the cockpit, its unblemished surface sharply contrasting with the scuffed and worn shell surrounding it.
The steering mechanism shifted and turned on its own, its small digital display quietly monitoring the vehicle's bearings. Abruptly, the display began to pulse with a soft green glow, each flicker accompanied by a low, rhythmic beep. Slowly, the figure stirred. The helmeted head lifted with deliberate motion, its visor tilting upward to meet the source of the steady tone.
"Attention, pilot," a robotic female voice announced through the Kreper's comm system as the consoles sprawled across the cockpit flared to life in a burst of light and color. "Autopilot systems nominal. You are now five kilometers from your desired location. Please advise and reduce speed as necessary."
"...manual control," a low, raspy voice rasped through the black helmet, each word filtered electronically through its built-in respirator. The figure's head tilted slightly from side to side as if shaking off a thought. Unfolding his arms from across his chest, the man reached down with gloved hands to the compartments flanking his knees. There, resting securely within the side panels, were the hilts of two long, curved swords. The weapons were nearly identical except for their finishes—one gleamed with a deep red lacquer, polished to perfection, while the other bore a weathered white coating, its age evident in its dulled surface. After a brief adjustment of the blades, the figure shifted his focus to the controls.
"...Confirmed," the computer replied, its monotone voice unchanging as it processed the input. "Thank you for using the Tedan Tippedai S-7 Automatic Pilot Program. Awaiting further instructions."
"Shut up..." the man muttered bluntly, his fingers deftly pressing a button on his helmet. His visor lit up with scanner readings, glowing faintly in the dim cockpit.
"I'm sorry, that is not a valid com—" The computer's voice abruptly cut off as the figure flicked an array of switches, silencing the guidance system before it could finish its response. Without hesitation, the man gripped the throttle stick and pushed it forward.
The Kreper's twin repulsor engines roared to life, their domed housings spinning with a sharp, high-pitched hum. The sleek hovercraft surged forward, skimming the dunes with renewed intensity as it carved a trail through the shifting sands.
—* *—
Sand swirled at the base of the towering communications array, a stark silhouette against the endless desert expanse. The antenna loomed high above the modest colony, its spires and flat panels jutting upwards in every direction. Below the cluster of sand-encrusted tech, a thick strap swayed tautly, suspending a woman clad in a flowing crimson cloak. The fabric billowed around her in the warm desert breeze as she worked, perched precariously against the structure.
One arm emerged from the cloak, its white armored plate stretching from elbow to gloved knuckles. She ran her fingers through her reddish-brown hair, beads clinking and clicking as she tucked the strands back behind her left ear, trying to tame them against the gusting wind. A faint sheen of sweat glistened on her brow, the desert heat oppressive even at this height.
"C'mon…" she muttered under her breath, frustration lacing her tone.
Her long white boots braced against the stem of the antenna, keeping her steady as she worked. Carefully, she unplugged and reconnected various modules and nodes, her deep brown eyes darting between the console in front of her and the blank tablet clutched in her opposite hand.
"Any way you could boost the signal a little more?" she asked aloud with a resigned sigh. "I'm still not getting anything."
"We're already at capacity," replied a digitized male voice emanating from a panel on her armored hand. The voice, though synthetic, carried an uncanny naturalness. "Sabuku's network is stretched thin just linking the lures." The voice hesitated briefly, as though mulling over a solution. "Iria, plug me into the node on the backup generator."
With a flick of her wrist, Hunter Iria unhooked a cable from the console and stowed the tablet inside her cloak. Adjusting the long rifle strapped to her back, she pushed off from the antenna stem. A fluid twist of her hips sent her spiraling around to the opposite side, her cloak trailing in a graceful arc. As she steadied herself against the tower once more, she wiped sweat from her brow with a quick swipe of her glove.
"...Wish these things would just come out already," she muttered irritably. She attached the cable to the circular panel on her wrist armor and plugged the other end into a small circuit box in front of her with an audible scoff. "You don't have feel this heat, Bob..."
"Life has its perks," Bob quipped, a hint of humor in his tone. "But I'm more worried about the town. Are you sure the colonists have evacuated?"
"I did what I could," Iria replied with a sigh, her brown eyes scanning the settlement below. Circuits beeped and whirred as the connection took hold. "I can't force people to leave if they don't want to… even with these things out here."
"It's their land," Bob said evenly. "Miners are proud people."
"More like stubborn people," Iria muttered, her gaze shifting toward the hollowed-out mine entrance on the east side of the village. From her elevated vantage point, she could see the eerie stillness of the site.
Bob chuckled softly. "Then you have more in common than you think." His amusement was cut short by a series of rapid beeps from the metallic box. "We're good," he said, his voice suddenly all business. "Let me take a look."
Iria uncoiled the cable and adjusted her position, holding her armored arm out over the colony. A small plate on the arm rose, projecting a holographic image of a golden sphere adorned with gilded, spinning cones at its poles. A glassy red 'eye' at the center scanned its surroundings, the cones clamping and releasing as if the sphere were blinking.
"There are still quite a few life signs," Bob's voice echoed hollowly through the projection.
Iria exhaled sharply, irritation creeping into her tone. "Like I said, I did what—"
"They're mostly on the outskirts," Bob interrupted. "Collateral should be negligible. Given the schedule, this will have to be good enough. I recommend keeping your weapons at a minimum. Type-one package."
"Check…" Iria's voice carried a hint of veiled boredom as she lowered her arm.
"Don't get careless," Bob's voice warned, detecting her complacency even as his projection faded away. "We don't want a repeat of yesterday."
"Yesterday paid more, Bob," she shot back, pulling a stubby, short-barreled revolver from beneath her cloak. "I could afford to get outnumbered yesterday." With one eye closed, she held the weapon before her face, peering down its truncated sights. "Useless jobs like this? Just headaches waiting to happen."
"Saving lives is useless…?" Bob's tone turned curious, even faintly reproachful. After a brief pause, a faint, suppressed chuckle filtered through the comm.
Iria's brow furrowed as she shifted uncomfortably against another warm gust of wind. She raised her arm, summoning Bob's projection again. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing," the AI replied, its holographic golden sphere twirling as if shrugging off her question. Bob's voice held an amused undertone. "I just feel like I've had this conversation before with someone." The sphere blinked deliberately before spinning away to scan the area once more. "We're ready. Proceed when you are."
Iria cocked the hammer of her revolver as she swung herself back to the other side of the tower. Planting her boots firmly, she tapped a sequence of buttons on the console. Her finger hovered over the final switch for a moment before she flipped it with a deliberate motion. Almost instantly, the town below came alive with a soft mechanical whir.
From her high vantage point, Iria watched as large plumes of blue smoke erupted in a circular pattern around Sabuku, each one blooming in succession until a cerulean haze engulfed the skies. She reached into her cloak and strapped a pair of goggles over her head. With a tap on the frame, the red lenses activated, casting a faint rosy glow across her eyes.
"Lures are deployed," she confirmed, her voice steady.
"They're pushing toward the center," Bob replied crisply. "Move it!"
Iria made a quick adjustment to her goggles before pressing a small button on her rifle clasp. Her tether released with a sharp snap, sending her plummeting toward the sandy ground below. Arms outstretched, her crimson cloak whipped violently in the wind as she descended.
"How many?" she shouted over the roar of her rapid fall.
"Five or six… from the north," Bob answered, calm as ever. "Tough to get a precise reading."
At the last possible moment, Iria grabbed the tower's circumference with her gloved hand. She pivoted her body, planting her boot against the stem at an angle. Sparks flew as her armored sole scraped against the metal, slowing her descent. Just before hitting the ground, she pushed off the pole with a powerful kick, tucking into a roll as she hit the sand. Rising to one knee, her cloak settled in a cloud of dust as she leveled her revolver in the direction Bob had indicated.
The red glow of her visor pulsed rapidly, readings pouring in. From a narrow alleyway, a pack of snarling creatures charged into view, their pale-pink skin streaked with the blue residue of her trap. Their patchy brown spines bristled with fury, their razor-sharp tails whipping furiously behind them. Moving on oversized hind legs, they galloped across the sand with unnatural speed.
"I knew it…" Iria muttered, narrowing her eyes as she aimed. "More Zeiramoids."
She squeezed the trigger. The revolver's shot rang out, striking one beast squarely in its grotesque, featureless face. It crumpled lifelessly to the ground, its companions trampling over the corpse as they raced toward her.
"Stick to the plan," Bob's voice rose slightly over the commotion.
Iria straightened, firing precise shots into the pack. One by one, the creatures fell, but their speed and agility allowed several to evade her bullets. When her revolver clicked empty, she holstered it smoothly, swinging her long carbine rifle from her back. She sighted down the barrel and fired, dropping another beast as she turned and began retreating to maintain distance.
"Iria, heads up!" Bob's voice cut through the din. "More coming from the east!"
Her lenses flared with incoming signals. She glanced left, spotting another group of snarling Zeiramoids converging on her position. Iria's jaw tightened as she quickened her pace, adjusting her rifle grip in preparation for her next move.
The two groups merged, charging toward her in a coordinated assault. Iria planted her foot firmly in the sand, stopping abruptly. With a sharp motion, she pressed a large button on her rifle clasp, releasing the strap. Thick white smoke erupted from her cloak, engulfing her petite frame just as the creatures closed in.
Seconds later, Iria burst from the haze, leaping gracefully into the air as claws and fangs slashed at empty fabric. Sunlight gleamed off her white armor, stark against the navy-blue combat suit beneath. Her sleek pauldrons caught the morning rays as she readied her rifle mid-flight. The barrel swung open on a hidden hinge, revealing concealed cylindrical tubes.
With a quick crank of the lever near the ejection port, Iria unleashed a rain of needle-like projectiles. The darts pierced rubbery hides and embedded themselves in the sand, spreading chaos through the horde.
Landing smoothly in the sand, she crouched on one knee and flicked the muzzle shut. A sly grin spread across her face as the needles erupted in brilliant, fiery bursts. The Zeiramoids shrieked in agony, their twisted forms consumed by the blaze.
Iria stood, shouldering her rifle as she pushed her goggles up onto her forehead. Watching the carnage unfold, her lips curled into a satisfied smirk.
"So…" Bob's voice broke her reverie, flat and unamused. "Pretty sure that was a Type-two weapon."
"Yeah, well…" Iria shrugged, letting a chuckle escape her lips. "All's fair in easy money—"
Before Iria could savor her victory, her goggles erupted with an angry cacophony of flashing lights and blaring alarms. The sudden commotion snapped her attention upward, her gaze narrowing as the noise pierced the tense air.
"Shit…" she muttered under her breath, yanking the goggles back down over her eyes. Almost immediately, the source of the warning became clear. From the thick blue haze behind her, a swarm of Zeiramoids erupted, dozens strong. Some barreled past her, their movements wild and disoriented, their pale hides streaked with the azure powder of the lures. Others bounded directly overhead, their frenzied forms scrambling blindly through the chaos.
"Looks like you're not done earning yet," Bob quipped, his tone laced with sarcastic humor.
"This is a lot more than five or six!" Iria snapped, her voice exasperated as she began to move. Pulling a fresh clip of ammunition from her belt, she sprinted toward a narrow alley where several of the creatures were bottlenecking. A few strays darted off in various directions, scattering into the open spaces of the town square.
Reloading her rifle on the run, Iria darted into the shadowy passage. Raising her weapon, she aimed down the length of the alleyway. Her sharp eyes quickly picked out a larger Zeiramoid in the middle of the pack—a hulking beast struggling to push its way forward as the others jostled around it. Seizing the opportunity, Iria steadied her sights on the larger creature. A well-placed slug tore into its back, sending the beast crumpling to the ground and pinning two of its companions beneath its bulk.
Wasting no time, Iria closed the gap, leaping over the pile of mangled limbs. As she soared overhead, she fired three successive midair shots. Each found its mark, felling the creatures with deadly precision. She landed with a grunt, quickly regaining her footing.
"Can't say I miss the old Zeiramoids very much!" Iria remarked between breaths, a sly grin flickering across her face.
Pivoting sharply, she trained her rifle on the remaining stragglers and fired at the retreating shapes.
"They're getting weaker with each generation," Bob observed, his voice calm and clinical. "But in turn, they're getting harder to track."
Iria pushed forward, her boots pounding against the sandy ground as she gave chase down the alley. Suddenly, two massive explosions rocked the nearby buildings, the force nearly knocking her off her feet and into an adjacent wall. She stumbled but quickly regained her balance, her expression shifting to surprise and wariness.
"What the hell…?" she cursed between breaths, glancing upward as she ran. Over the tops of the adobe huts, she could see plumes of flame and black smoke rising from the opposite side of the settlement. The smoke twisted violently, swept away in sudden gusts, as high-pitched squeals of dying Zeiramoids echoed through the air. Over it all, a resonant hum—a sound like an engine—cut through the chaos.
Another explosion boomed from behind a cluster of buildings nearby, sending a fresh wave of shock through the narrow alley. Iria braced herself, dodging shards of glassed sand and debris raining down from the rooftops. Her pace quickened as her mind raced to make sense of the new threat.
"Whoa!" Bob's voice erupted in a rare lapse of his usual composure. "Iria! There are still people out there!"
"I didn't plant those!" Iria shot back, her voice sharp as she fired a close-range shot from the hip at a Zeiramoid stumbling around the corner. The point-blank blast tore into the creature, sending its body crumpling against the adjacent wall. She shielded her face from the spray of acidic fluids as her pace quickened with a renewed sense of urgency.
"Bob, did someone else pick this job up?!" she demanded, her frustration boiling over as she dodged another collapsing form.
"Of course not," Bob replied, his tone biting. "You know no Hunter would register after you've claimed a contract."
Another explosion thundered ahead, the ground trembling beneath her feet. The sharp whine of a screaming engine pierced the air, mingled with the cries of enraged Zeiramoids. Iria noted the steadily dissipating blue fog of Bob's lures, the familiar haze thinning amid the chaos.
"You might want to check again!" she shouted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Turning a corner, she fired shot after shot at the fleeing creatures, weaving through the wounded as she maneuvered around their flailing bodies. "There's definitely someone else here!"
"Stick to the plan!" Bob repeated emphatically. "It could just be the miners. If they're fighting back, we don't want anyone to get hurt!"
"No way, Bob! Not with that kind of firepower," Iria retorted, her brow furrowed in defiance. "And I plan on getting my pay for this job!"
With a burst of determination, she turned through a shadowy sidestreet, the path lined with clay arches and patterned cloths stretched taut to provide shade. The acrid stench of scorched material filled her lungs as the hot air spilled into the corridor. The bright light at the far end flickered with the silhouettes of more Zeiramoids darting past.
Iria raised her rifle to her shoulder, steeling herself as she neared the corner. Pressing her back against the wall with a soft thud, she canted her head to peer around the edge. Her sharp eyes swept the street beyond, noting small patches of flame from the earlier explosions and the charred remains of Zeiramoids scattered across the sand. The air was thick with an unpleasant odor, but her scanner displayed nothing—no movement, no sound.
Reassured by the silence, Iria spun her rifle into position and moved tactically around the corner. But before her feet could settle into the sand, a massive pale hook arm lashed out from a hidden nook.
Startled, Iria instinctively jumped back, narrowly avoiding the first swipe. But the second arm struck hard, its powerful swing connecting with her rifle stock. The force of the blow sent the weapon flying from her grasp, spinning through the air before it landed with a dull thud in the middle of the street.
"Son of a—!" Iria cursed under her breath, frustration boiling over. Abandoning the idea of lunging for her carbine, she snapped her hand to her belt and drew her repeating pistol from its holster. Without hesitation, she fired three shots from the hip at the charging monster, sidestepping further into the street to avoid its attack. The beast collapsed into the sand in a cloud of dust and debris at her feet.
Seething with irritation, Iria ripped the goggles from her face and spiked them into the sand with a sharp motion. "What's even the point if they don't work?!"
Her momentary lapse of focus left her vulnerable. The low, menacing growl of another creature reached her ears, cutting through her frustration. She turned toward the alley she had just emerged from, her senses honing in on the sound. But it was too late.
A fleshy Zeiramoid lunged from the shadows, tackling her before she could raise her pistol. Iria fell backward into the sand, the vile creature pinning her gun arm beneath its weight. Its snapping jaws hovered mere centimeters from her face as it pressed its advantage. Straining against the beast, Iria managed to shove her free hand between them, pushing against its neck and holding its fangs at bay. The creature's sheer strength was relentless, its weight bearing down on her more and more as her energy waned.
"So much for easy money," Bob's impassive voice cut through the struggle.
"Shut up, Bob," Iria spat through gritted teeth. "I don't need your commentary!" With a final burst of effort, she wrenched her pinned arm free and jammed the pistol's barrel under the creature's jaw. She fired once, then again, and again. The Zeiramoid's unnatural persistence faltered with each shot, though it continued to strain toward her, its strength ebbing. Finally, as its fangs neared her face, its weight collapsed onto her, pinning her gun and forearm against her chest.
Iria grunted in frustration as she tried to push the dying creature off her petite frame. Before she could free herself, another low growl caught her ear.
"Oh, give me a break…" she groaned softly, tilting her head back to look above and behind her. A blue-stained, six-legged Zeiramoid was pacing toward her, its glowing eyes locked onto its struggling prey. As it closed the distance, Iria shifted her body, trying desperately to slide out from under the weight of the fallen brute pinning her down.
"It's coming…" Bob's tone rose slightly, a rare note of urgency breaking through his usual calm.
Iria grunted in response, her frustration fueling her efforts. She slammed her fist repeatedly into the side of the fallen creature in a futile attempt to dislodge it. Glancing back up, she caught sight of the advancing Zeiramoid, its long fangs bared as it prepared to strike.
"Quit playing around, Iria!" Bob's voice carried an unusual edge of anxiety. The young Hunter gritted her teeth, shoving against the heavy mass of the fallen beast pinning her, though she could barely shift it an inch.
"Iria!" Bob called again, his tone sharper.
As the advancing Zeiramoid lunged toward her, Iria was suddenly engulfed in a stark shadow. The air around her seemed to press down, forcing her and the dead weight of her attacker deeper into the dunes. A high-pitched yelp was swallowed by the deafening hum of an engine as the advancing Zeiramoid and its limp companion vanished in a blur of motion.
The dark blur that enveloped her disappeared as swiftly as it had come. Shielding her face with her arms, Iria braced herself against the stinging sand whipped up by the gust.
"Huh…?!" she exclaimed, flinging her head back to catch sight of the commotion. Squinting through the swirling dust, she caught a glimpse of the two Zeiramoids—the one that had pinned her and the charging beast—tumbling violently across the sandy street. Their bodies and limbs bounced erratically, trapped between the drift and the underside of a low-hovering Kreper.
The sleek, black craft yawed sharply to the side, its sudden movement sending the battered creatures skidding to a stop in a tangle of limbs amid the dusty wake. The Kreper slid toward a row of buildings, its movement controlled yet abrupt, before coming to an automated halt.
As the swirling dust began to settle, Iria's eyes widened in astonishment, her gaze fixed on the vehicle. Her sudden fortune left her breathless.
The bulbous, domed hatch of the Kreper hissed, depressurizing with a sharp release before shooting open like a cannon. A dark figure leapt from the cockpit with grace and flair, the aerosonic propulsion systems whirring as the craft shifted into an idle state. Two curved blades gleamed in the sunlight, catching her eye as they swept outward in the figure's hands. The tail of a long leather coat fluttered behind him, rippling in the air as he descended.
The reeling Zeiramoid barely had a chance to recover before one of the blades drove down into its skull, sending a pale spray into the sand. The figure's silver-and-black boots knifed into the gritty earth as he landed in a firm, offensive stance, the blade buried deep in the ground.
Through the coarse haze, Iria strained to see the figure more clearly. Based on his size and build, she recognized him as male. However, his face was obscured by the reflective visor of a dark helmet. The visor turned slowly, scanning the surroundings as flashes of light raced across its mirrored surface—a stark, cold contrast to the chaos around him.
The enigmatic figure fixed his gaze on the dwindling pack of Zeiramoids in the distance. His posture was unnervingly robotic, exuding an air of detached precision.
Almost forgetting that she had been freed, Iria stared at him, the shock of the moment etched on her face. Slowly, she stumbled to her knees, her focus locked on his subtle movements.
"Bob?" she murmured, her voice soft and guarded. "That's not a miner."
"What's his outfit?" Bob's voice broke her concentration, his tone sharp with curiosity. "Is he a Hunter? Ghomvack?"
Iria's fists tightened around her pistol as her deep brown eyes remained fixed on the mysterious man in the distance. "I don't know," she admitted, her tone uneasy.
The blade in the man's hand dripped with a pale sludge as he pulled it from the fallen creature. Without hesitation, his visor remained locked on the dwindling pack of Zeiramoids before he launched himself toward them with startling agility. Surprised by his speed, Iria instinctively trained her pistol on him as he bolted toward the stragglers.
"Wait!" Bob's voice cut through her concentration, instinctively staying her hand for the moment.
The man moved with fluid precision, pushing off a foothold in the sand and dashing toward two of the creatures that froze in confusion. His first blade slashed cleanly through the head of one, the razor-sharp steel cutting effortlessly. Using his momentum, he adjusted his second blade mid-swing, altering its path to strike another creature attempting to leap away. The Zeiramoid was severed cleanly at the waist in a single, decisive motion.
The swordsman twirled to a stop, spraying sand as the bodies of the creatures collapsed behind him. He casually tossed one of the blades into the air, its red lacquered hilt glinting in the sunlight before he caught it again in a backhanded grip. Without hesitation, he impaled the blade into the ground and smoothly drew a sidearm from its holster. His visor lowered, focusing on two more fleeing creatures in the distance.
Two sharp cracks echoed through the still air as the man fired, the last remnants of pale blue smoke swirling in the wake of the projectiles. Both Zeiramoids collapsed face-first into the sand, lifeless.
From the other side of the street, Iria's uncertainty deepened as she observed the man's cold efficiency. His movements were calculated and machine-like, devoid of hesitation or emotion. Slowly, she rose to her feet, her gaze never leaving him.
"That's definitely not a miner," Iria murmured to no one in particular, reiterating her earlier thought.
A calm wind swept over the gritty street as the man holstered his pistol and retrieved his blade, sliding it into the sheath on his back. The dull white hilt protruded over his shoulder as the cold, impassive visor of his helmet turned toward Iria, locking onto her with an unsettling gaze.
Iria tensed, her body rigid under the weight of his stare. Her grip on her pistol tightened, and her brow furrowed with quiet determination. As he moved toward her, retrieving the red-handled sword protruding from the sand, her unease grew.
The man slid the blade into its sheath alongside its ivory twin, then began pacing toward her in deliberate silence. Iria held her ground, weapon at the ready, her narrowed eyes tracking his every step.
"Who are you with?" she called out, her voice commanding and firm. "This is a closed Tedan Tippedai contract!"
The swordsman ignored her, continuing forward until he came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the street. His visor tilted downward, and Iria followed his gaze as he crouched to retrieve something partially buried in the sand.
Her eyes widened in disbelief. "Wait… Hey!" she shouted, her voice rising as he lifted her long carbine rifle from the dune.
"Drop it!" she barked, her tone sharp with authority. Lowering her pistol slightly to show restraint, she added, "It's one thing to jump my bounty, but it's another to touch my gun!"
The helmeted figure remained silent, brushing sand from the weapon with a gloved finger. He carefully cleared the exhaust chamber before inspecting the yellow, feathered sight at the muzzle. His hand moved methodically, freeing the grit trapped between the delicate veins.
"Hey!" Iria repeated, more forcefully. "I'm talking to you, pal!"
Still unheeding, the man shook the remaining sand from the carbine, knocking the stock lightly against the toe of his silver boot. He raised the weapon to his chest, cocked the hammer back, and pointed the barrel directly at Iria.
Iria gasped audibly but quickly steadied herself, her pistol snapping back into position. Her deep brown eyes remained locked on him with unwavering focus, frustration simmering beneath her calm exterior.
"What are you doing?!" she demanded, her voice firm and edged with urgency. "Put it down, now!"
"Iria..." Bob interjected, his tone calm but tinged with concern as he tried to redirect her attention.
The silent swordsman gave no response. His reflective visor lowered slightly as he focused on the weapon in his hands. His movements were deliberate, sliding his gloved hand along the length of the carbine to steady it.
"I'm warning you!" Iria called out, her tone resolute. She stepped forward with cautious determination, her weapon steady as she maintained her stance. The tension hung thick in the air, each second dragging as her words echoed in the quiet street.
The man continued to move with a measured calm, his actions unhurried. His grip on the rifle remained firm, his visor reflecting her defiant figure. Iria's resolve held steady, her weapon trained on him as she prepared for the confrontation she hoped to avoid.
"Don't!" Iria's finger trembled against the smooth surface of her pistol's trigger. Just as she began to squeeze, Bob's AI projection suddenly burst to life from her wrist. The glowing 'eye' of his holographic form spun wildly, swiveling toward the dark man's direction.
"Iria!" Bob bellowed, his voice frantic as the twin cones of his projection spun in a wild panic. "Behind him!"
The Hunter's attention snapped to the dark figure's scuffed helmet just as Bob's warning reached her ears. Through the dissipating blue haze, she caught sight of a medium-sized Zeiramoid lurching forward, its grotesque silhouette illuminated by the faint light. The creature hurled itself through the air toward the swordsman with a feral screech.
Iria's instincts overrode her hesitation. With a split-second decision, she shifted her aim over the man's head and squeezed the trigger. The sharp crack of her shot rang out just as the cloaked figure's rifle discharged, a successive bang splitting the air. Iria gasped, her breath caught in her chest as her heart pounded in anticipation. She winced, bracing herself for the impact she was certain would follow.
She had never been shot before, but she had heard the pain didn't come from the initial entry—it came after. Her mind raced with anxious thoughts as she waited. Had she just saved this man, only for him to repay her with a bullet? She waited for the sharp, searing pain. She waited to feel the force of the blow, her imagination conjuring scenarios of her augmented rifle's power turned against her.
And yet… nothing came.
"Iria! Iria! Snap out of it!" Bob's exasperated voice pulled her back to the present. Her eyes fluttered open cautiously, and her gaze settled on the man still standing before her, her rifle trained steadily in her direction. Behind him, the Zeiramoid she had shot lay sprawled in the sand, its mangled body lifeless and leaking viscous fluids.
The swordsman's helmet tilted slightly, as if acknowledging the sound of the creature's dying screech. Then, from behind Iria, a louder, guttural scream erupted, followed by a heavy thud that shook the ground. Her stomach churned as she turned her head to see another Zeiramoid—a hulking brute—slumped against a building wall. Its contorted face bore a fresh, jagged wound, its slimy body oozing a pale, viscous fluid as it let out one final gurgling breath.
Iria stared at the fallen beast, realization dawning slowly. She swung her gaze back to the dark figure, her expression now a mixture of astonishment and indignation.
"What the hell are you thinking?" she wailed, her voice cracking with disapproval. "You couldn't have said something?!"
The dark man lowered the rifle, his motion deliberate as the tension of the standoff dissipated. The unnervingly cold and emotionless visor beneath the helmet locked onto her once more. Without a word, he disengaged the firing mechanism, slinging the rifle to his shoulder with a single fluid motion. Then, in one casual, detached move, he tossed the weapon toward her.
The rifle landed a few meters from Iria's feet, kicking up a small puff of sand. She stared at it in stunned silence, her frustration mounting as the shadowy figure turned on his heel without a word.
"Clean the block," the man's low, raspy voice echoed through the vocoder in his helmet, distorted and disconcerting. His tone was curt, his words hollow as he turned toward his Kreper. The tail of his dark coat swirled in the desert breeze as he trudged through the sand. "The aim is off..."
"What—?" Iria stood frozen, stunned by his nonchalant demeanor. Her brows knitted tightly together as she took a few steps after him, one thin eyebrow arching high in exaggerated confusion. "Does that mean you were trying to hit me?!"
The man didn't respond. Instead, he reached into the side pocket of his long coat, producing a small mechanism with a switch at the top. Without pausing, he flipped the switch with his thumb.
A distant explosion erupted to the east, muffled compared to the earlier blasts. Iria turned sharply toward the sound, her expression shifting to one of bewilderment. The detonation hadn't come from within the colony.
"He blew the mine," Bob said flatly after a moment of stunned silence.
Iria's suspicions were confirmed. Her gaze snapped back to the dark figure, her eyes blazing with indignation. Clenching her pistol tightly, she stormed toward the Kreper, her boots kicking up sand with each determined step.
"Hey!" she shouted, her voice sharp and commanding, though it failed to slow him. He continued toward the vehicle, unfazed and silent. Iria pointed her pistol toward the eastern horizon, frustration boiling over. "Why did you do that, huh? You just blew up their—"
Her words faltered as she realized he still wasn't listening. He didn't even acknowledge her presence. Irritation seared through her as she broke into a sprint, her determination overriding her better judgment.
Iria finally caught up, stepping directly into his path and forcing him to stop. The dark man halted, his mirrored visor tilting down to meet her fierce glare.
Iria stood her ground, her posture defiant. Though she resisted the urge to raise her weapon, she made no effort to hide the pistol in her hand.
"I'm talking to you," she said, her voice laced with a biting coldness. Her words hung in the air as her dark eyes bore into the visor, but all she could see was her own reflection staring back at her. The sight only deepened her frustration.
Taking a moment to collect herself, Iria let her gaze travel over the man, trying to piece together something—anything—that might explain his actions. Her glare sharpened as she spoke again, her tone heavy with accusation.
"You just wrecked this colony's livelihood, and you're just gonna walk away?" she demanded, her voice trembling with barely contained fury.
"They dig for a living," the man's frigid voice interrupted, each word sharp and barbed. He stepped to the side, attempting to move around her. "Last I checked, there's still plenty of desert left."
Iria mirrored his movement, blocking his path again. "How noble of you. And for the record, I didn't ask you to play hero."
"You didn't ask, did you?" The helmet tilted slightly, the gesture laced with veiled sarcasm. "Yet, here you still are…"
"Yeah?" Iria shot back, a sly smirk piercing through her irritation. "And so are you—"
Her words wavered as her eyes caught on something glinting at the collar of his coat. Beneath the black leather flap, a flash of silver armor peeked out, polished and deliberate. But it was the black pendant hanging from his neck that arrested her attention—a magatama, its rounded, curved shape unmistakable. Iria's smirk faded, replaced by a narrowed, scrutinizing gaze. This wasn't ordinary jewelry.
"You are a Hunter," she said softly, her tone a mix of surprise and suspicion. The moment passed quickly, her steely resolve returning. "Then you should know that blowing up mines wasn't part of the contract you just tried to steal from me!"
The man gestured with a subtle nod over his shoulder toward the horizon, where thick smoke still billowed.
"Where do you think those things were coming from?" His gelid, filtered voice sliced through her tirade like a cold blade.
Iria blinked, momentarily taken aback. Her eyes shifted toward the distant detonation site, the truth of his implication settling uneasily in her chest. But before she could respond, the man closed the gap between them with measured steps. Towering over her, his helmet's mirrored visor loomed mere inches from her face.
"I did them a favor," he said, his voice low and unyielding. Then, without waiting for her response, he brushed past her with a subtle shove of his shoulder and resumed his path toward the Kreper. "And now I'm doing you one."
Iria's frustration boiled over. Acting on impulse, she reached out and grabbed his arm, clutching the worn leather of his sleeve. "Who are you?"
The man stopped abruptly. Slowly, he turned his head, the motion deliberate and heavy with tension. A muffled exhale hissed through his vocoder, his frustration with her palpable even with his face concealed. They stood locked in place, Iria's grip resolute despite his larger frame bearing down on her. Her dark eyes locked onto the smooth, unreadable finish of his visor, refusing to waver.
"Answer me," she repeated, her voice low and firm, each word cutting through the tense silence.
"Go collect your Kem," he said finally, his tone dismissive as he gave a gentle tug against her hold.
Iria's grip only tightened, her fingers digging into the threadbare material of his coat. "Figured you'd try to get there first, eh, hero?" she retorted, her words dripping with defiance.
"I just might if you don't let go," his voice dropped to a menacing metallic growl.
"Would you?" Iria shot back, her tone dripping with sarcasm. She tilted her head to the side, her grip on his sleeve tightening as she forcibly pulled him closer. She nodded toward his helmet. "You'd have to take that stupid thing off to claim it, so I guess I shouldn't be too worried."
"Whatever…" he scoffed dismissively, his tone laced with annoyance. He tugged at his arm to pull away again, but Iria refused to relent. She opened her mouth, ready to hurl her next verbal jab—
"Wait…!" Bob's AI suddenly erupted from the projection panel in Iria's armored forearm, interrupting her tirade. A flickering hologram spun to life between them, its swirling cones blinking over a swiveling red eye.
Both Hunters froze, their attention drawn to the tiny projection that had inserted itself into their standoff. The AI swiveled its focus toward the man, taking a deliberate 'look' into the mirrored visor that stared back. The sphere tilted slightly, its red eye yawing and pitching as if sizing up the figure before it. Then, its gaze shifted upward, toward the swords strapped to the man's back.
Iria followed the hologram's movement, her own eyes narrowing as she studied the weapons. At first glance, they seemed unremarkable—standard curved blades—until she noticed the ornate, circular emblems engraved into the red and white hilts. Her head tilted slightly, her expression a mix of curiosity and confusion.
"Wait a second—!" Bob's voice was uncharacteristically uneasy. His hesitation immediately caught Iria's attention, her bemusement giving way to wariness.
The dark man remained silent, his helmeted gaze locked on the projection. Iria felt the tension in his arm begin to wane, his resistance easing against her tight grip. Noting the shift, she loosened her hold, though she didn't let go completely.
"You know him, Bob?" she asked, her voice edged with curiosity as her eyes darted between the AI and the enigmatic figure.
"...Bob—?" The man's voice hummed faintly through his vocoder, the sound soft and almost uncertain. The subtle shift in his tone didn't escape Iria's sharp ears.
Her eyes flicked between them, her confusion mounting. She opened her mouth to press further, but the words caught in her throat. "What is—?"
Bob's AI interrupted, its voice awestruck. "You're—!"
"I'm nobody," the shadowy Hunter interjected, cutting off the thought. With a sharp pull, he freed his arm from Iria's slackened grasp. The unexpected force caused her to stumble slightly forward, caught off balance by his sudden move. She quickly steadied herself, glaring at him through strands of her dark hair as he began to backpedal from her. The swordsman moved backward toward his Kreper, his visor never leaving her.
"Just some bounty-jumping hero…" he muttered, his voice cold and dismissive as he continued his slow retreat.
The man turned silently and strode toward the Kreper. Iria and Bob watched, still mystified, as he climbed up the sleek hull of the craft, removed the two swords from his back, and slid down into the open cockpit, the weapons resting at his sides. He spent a few moments adjusting the controls, his movements methodical and unhurried. The bulging hatch began to close around him, and the twin umbrella-like domes of the aerosonic motors hummed to life.
Just before the dome sealed completely, the ebony helmet shifted slightly, the visor glancing once more in Iria's direction. She stared back, her unwavering gaze meeting the distant sheen of the reflective visor. Then, with a final hiss, the hatch closed. The Kreper lifted from the ground, kicking up a thick cloud of sand. The sleek machine pitched to the side, sending a wave of grit and debris cresting behind it before it accelerated down the street in a blinding blur.
Iria remained rooted in the middle of the street, her narrow brow furrowed as she watched the storm of dust settle in the wake of the onyx craft. Her expression gradually softened as the hum of its engines faded into the distance, replaced by the stillness of the desert. Slowly, she tilted her head back, her face upturned toward the cloudless sky. The biting warmth of the sun bore down on her—a heat she had ignored in the chaos but now felt acutely as her adrenaline waned.
With a long, exasperated sigh, she let her shoulders slump, the tension melting away from her body. Relinquishing her enmity, Iria allowed herself to collapse backward into the soft dunes. A puff of yellow dust enveloped her as the sand cushioned her fall. Her pistol slipped from her slackened grip, the weapon landing at the end of her outstretched arm. Her tired body sank slightly into the drift, the warm grains cradling her exhaustion.
Her matted, sweat-soaked hair spilled across her face, strands tangled with the long, decorative beads she wore. The beads and loose locks splayed haphazardly over her nose and cheeks, as though she had been swept over with a broom. But Iria, utterly drained, gave her disheveled appearance no thought in that moment.
"Bob…?" she muttered wearily, her voice muffled through the curtain of hair and beads. Her gloved hand reached to her neck, tugging at the clasp of her blue suit. With a sigh, she unzipped the collar down her chest, letting the stifling heat escape. The movement revealed her Hunter's license—a blue pendant clinging to the skin beneath her suit, glinting faintly in the sunlight. "I don't suppose you want to tell me what that was all about, huh?"
She waited, her question hanging in the still air. But there was no response.
Frowning, she reluctantly propped herself up with her arms, pushing her body into a seated position. Her fingers brushed her hair back from her face, tucking the unruly beads into place. With a quiet sigh, she raised her opposite forearm in front of her chest, bringing her partner's projection panel to eye level.
"Hey, Bob…?" Iria called out again, her eyes fixed on the flat panel atop her wrist. It was only then that she realized his hologram had vanished. Furrowing her brow, she gave her armored forearm a subtle, wholly unnecessary shake, as if trying to rouse the AI from some unseen slumber. "Bob…?!"
Silence.
Letting out a frustrated groan, Iria flopped back into the sand, her body sinking slightly into the warm grains. She stared up at the bright sky, her thoughts swirling.
"Guy shows up, and he runs—" she muttered, irritation dripping from her voice. The words felt hollow, spoken more to herself than anyone else.
For a few moments, she remained still, letting the oppressive heat of the desert sun press against her armor. Then, with a resigned sigh, her head lolled to the side, cheek pressing into the coarse sand. Her dark eyes landed on her rifle, lying halfway buried across the street. The fine grains had nearly swallowed the weapon, its familiar form barely visible in the distance.
Iria blew a huff of air through her nose, her frustration simmering beneath the surface.
"I can't catch a break…" she muttered, the words escaping her lips like a fleeting confession to the quiet, indifferent desert.