Hot sun, dry air, clear sky, and blasted land as far as the eye can see. It was familiar enough for Amina to feel a sense of kinship with it. This borderland was like her in a way- a blur of Sargon and Columbia but not defined by either. Goggles on, keffiyeh wrapped tight over her mouth and head so the toasted brown sand didn't force its way into her mouth and nose. Same with her jacket; zipped up and over her chest and all the way to the high-rise, neck protecting collar. Despite the uniform top being tanned for camouflage out here in the boonies, no thought went into making it light and breathable for the badland heat, but that lack of foresight benefited Amina more than it did her colleagues.
With a whisper of a prayer off her chapped lips, Amina tapped into the trace amounts of Originium in the grains beneath her boots as well as those that flowed in her veins. The terrain here was not as pure and flowing as her birthland's, but she still could affect the sands. A running start, a forward leap with a beat of her powerful Pythian tail, and a deep breath as she dove to the ground.
The warm embrace of the sand welcomed her. With Arts wrapped around her like a blanket, Amina swam through the coarse ground with the speed and grace of a scalebeast through water. It wasn't the fine-grain dunes of home, but mixed with dirt and stone that grazed and scratched her; her Arts unable to affect them without an over-expenditure of energy.
Still, Amina coursed as far as her single breath could take her. It was relaxing -freeing some could say- to simply turn off all those extra thoughts of hers and simply do what came natural .
When her lungs started to burn, she swam for the surface, the density of the sand shifting beneath her until it was propelling her upwards like a geyser. To any outside observer, it would look as if the earth had just spat her out: a single, enshrouded woman rejected by Terra itself.
They couldn't be more wrong. When Amina landed, she could feel that connection to the ground beneath her comfortably fading like the lingering affection from a hug. Her body was warmed by the embrace and, as soon as she shed the jacket, her skin kissed by the sun. Sand spilled from her pockets and from the places where it could catch, but most of it would shake out or slip off her like water as she walked back to the base's wire. Still, she shook out her white tank top as she went, knowing that though the grains on her skin would slough off, getting everything out of fabric required a bit more concentration than she was willing to give right now.
Right now she was at peace of mind, and so long as she made it back before her lunch break was over, no one would care how she spent it.
"The benefits of the job." she mused while throwing her jacket over her shoulder and casually striding through the gate of the Blacksteel compound.
Other benefits of the job? Being left alone to do her own damn business exactly as she liked. Freedom from micromanaging on the expectation that she was competent enough to figure it out. The pay too; going to the private sector made a whole jump in her income bracket for doing the same menial "move box A to area B" kinda work.
It also meant that, when she was all done moving the goods, she could kick back without a supervisor coming around and chewing her out. Still, she couldn't deny that she yearned to be out on the frontier again, to the places where civilization just never touched. With a huff, Amina leapt up onto one of the metallic crates she had just moved out of the loading bay, feeling the breeze run its invisible fingers through her already wind-swept hair. She kicked her legs, boot-heels thumping a metallic rhythm against the crate she sat on. Monotony had always been part of the job, but there was something worse about the downtime before a deployment that just bit into her patience like a blood-starved fangbeast.
Really with all the prep done hours ago, all there was to do now was a little sunbathing. Jacket cast aside, baggy fatigues rolled up to the knees, white tank top pulled down over her shoulders so that it hung from her breasts, all so that she could get as much of that sweet warmth from the now waning sunlight on her Sargon-blessed, richly tanned skin. She added her hands and tail to the beat now, tip-tapping against the edge and swaying to the impromptu music. An instinctive song from home, perhaps? If she were more a poet, she would have said that it was a perfect embodiment of her; Sargonian heart but Columbian in make.
"Oi, Ameenah! Howsit?" a particularly brusque woman shouted from somewhere behind, interrupting the flow of music as abrupt as a car-crash. Leave it to the city-folk like Anna to not catch a vibe.
"Still waiting." Amina called back over her shoulder, catching the wild curls of blonde bouncing over the tops of the stowage space before she even saw the outline of her Vouivre teammate jogging up. She barely managed to get the tank top back over her shoulders before the tall, muscular woman vaulted from the rear of the crate to land beside Amina with enough force and weight that the lighter Pythian woman bounced. All muscle, Anna was.
"You think Yawkie'd be 'lil maw punchy, yeah?"
"Johan -Baron- would be, not Yorkie." Amina caught and corrected herself- had to get used to using code-names soon. She scooted over to give the broader-framed Anna more space to stretch out, curling her tail around her lithe waist to cover her midriff with her creamy beige scales. "Yorkie'd sit working on the truck 'til the sun and moon set. He'll always find a problem that needs fixing."
Anna rubbed her pointed chin before scratching at the twist of white horn that curled from her skull like a ram's. If she wasn't built like a damn truck, probably could have passed as a Caprinae.
"Gotah point, Bah-on's team lead anywho."
"Baron. "
"Yeh, Bah-on-"
Amina sniffed pointedly, not that the stone-headed Vouivre would understand that Amina still struggled with understanding her accent. By the Hotland's Hellscape, even Amina had managed to curb her own Sargonian accent slightly, but here Anna was -a Trimounts native- and spoke barely passable Columbian when she got worked up.
"Hopefully the job's as easy as they think."
"Easy money's the best kinda money." Anna nodded before she pulled back the sleeve of her coat to a particularly defined bicep, "but not too easy! Just one or two good fights' s'all I ask."
Amina rolled her eyes at the flex, knowing Anna'd want to drag her the gym if the boys took any longer with showing up. Just a few hours before sundown and, despite Amina's hope-of-hopes that they wouldn't have to pack the gear in the dark, it was starting to look that way.
Once more the boredom found her tapping out another beat, this time from one of those new rock bands from out of Siesta and Anna recognized it immediately- she should, it was from that playlist that she'd always put on in the gym. Her Vouivre teammate drummed out the deep bass bits on the side while Amina rattled out the upper-melody, the two of them swaying back and forth until Amina caught sight of the dust plume on the northern horizon. She elbowed Anna, who let out a long and drawn out sigh.
"'Bout time."
"Yeah." Amina agreed, trying not to let the apprehension show as she leapt from the crate, hitting the sand-swept asphalt of the loading dock. "Not like Fort Barron's that far off. Wonder what the excuse will be?"
"A two-dollah says it was Yawkie makin' a last minute shit."
"... bad bet." Amina smiled and shook her head.
"Awww c'mon Amina-" The Vouivre's sham of a pout was betrayed by that stupid grin that curled its way onto her face. Amina simply shook her head- she knew never to take a bad bet, let alone bet on the workings of the world at all.
"Let's start getting the rest of the gear ready."
Yorkie arrived in style.
The Perro veteran rolled through the wire without being stopped and pulled up right alongside where Amina and Anna stood with all the stacked-up supplies. When he hopped out, there was a youthful glitter in his graying eyes and grin that made the corners of his eyes wrinkle- one even big enough to show from beneath that big bushy moustache of his. For a middle-aged man to still be in this line of work… well there was that old mercenary adage of fearing an old man in a field where men die young. Not that the short Perro seemed much of a threat when Amina had first sized him up, and when compared to Anna he was practically an Originium slug. Competent in a fight, but the logistics side was more Bill "Yorkie" Yonkers specialty.
"Ride's here!" he bellowed more for Johan to hear than the ladies, or maybe it was just a rare moment of boyish excitement that made him all boisterous. Either way, Amina and Anna simply exchanged a glance and a shake of the head before getting to work.
Military four-wheeler, reminded Amina of an armored-up dune buggy. It was the kinda surplus stuff that happened to disappear off the "shelves" of the Columbian Army and into the hands of Blacksteel. Looked like some relatively recent model, still painted in the badlands-brown camo stripes with a hasty Blacksteel logo stenciled on the side. Boxy shaped, but suspension looked good enough for hard offroad work. It probably sported some stupid acronym name meaning high-mobility, multi purpose, modular, or whatever buzzword of the day the manufacturers felt like selling the military on. Amina knew her Columbian kit well enough, but not quite enough to fully identify the thing beyond "transport"… but then again, she didn't really need to because-
"It's a M-H-M-T, block E model. Managed to get her running after swapping out the military valves out for some aftermarket civilian stuff. Armored, all-terrain, mine and explosive resistant." Yorkie said proudly, slapping the side like a used-automotive salesman. "This bad boy can even fit a rotating turret in the top mount."
"But we don't have a turret-"
"Not yet, we don't." Yorkie grinned. He hiked his thumb back to the sheet-metal tied down in the open trunk. "Bit of welding and some of my Arts and we'll have a good enough gun-shield."
"... Oh yeah? And with what time, Yawkie? Ain't we pushin' of in the mawnin'?"
The veteran just patted the Vouivre's shoulder before guiding her to the open back door, the order as clear as it was unspoken.
"Don't you worry your pretty little head about that, just help me get all this into the workshop."
Amina opened one of the rear passenger doors, surprised to discover just how heavy it felt. They were pretty thick too- definitely bolt-proof. By the Hotland Hells; could probably be bullet and even harpoon-proof. Pretty spacious inside, had hatches on the roof, the back seat open and easily accessible for the rear cargo area… and yet she knew with what they were packing they'd wind up using every single inch of that space. She helped Anna out by unbuckling the straps that held the sheet metal to the interior, catching a glimpse of her friend's already toothy smile pulled wider the moment she thought of something. Whatever it was, Amina would let her battle-buddy dictate the engagement as she shifted to carting the gear over.
"Hey Yawkie- so we call these things 'Mhmts?'" Anna slyly asked while going through her own motions to not arouse suspicion.
"Mhmm?" Came Yorkie's clearly distracted reply. He was too busy fiddling with the engine to notice that he made the grave error of walking into the setup of an experienced shit-stirrer. Anna and Amita exchanged knowing glances, the single brain cell they shared firing its one connection.
"It's settled then." Anna belted out to catch Yorkie's attention. "It's an 'Mhmmmm~'"
The Vouivre put as much womanly sass behind that acknowledging hum, barely able to keep the laugh bottled when she saw just how it made the old veteran rankle when he slammed the hood back down to scowl at them. That greying moustache was all bristled, each huff of his increasingly frustrated breath only making it seem like someone had stuck a broom in front of a fan.
"No… no- it's called a M-T-S-" he forcibly corrected with some very adamant hand gestures.
"You just said it was called a 'Mhmmm~' " Amina chimed in. They had poor Yorkie from two sides, forcing the Perro man to whip his head back and forth to try and glare them both down. Their SOP for reacting to an ambush was to return fire and break contact, but Yorkie charged head first into that fire instead.
"No, no! M-H-M-T-S. Modular high-mobility transport system!" he fumed, "If anything, it's "MT", but they call them "Muts" over in the motor pool!"
"Mhmm…" Amina nodded.
"No no NO! M-H-M…"
"No need to get so bent up Yawkie- Ami's just agreeing with you-"
"Belle, Cerastes, knock it off and do your jobs." their radios backed in unison with Johan's distinct authoritative coolness. Amina and Anna exchanged grins and shrugs, knowing full well that, because the radio was still transmitting, the bossman had one more up his sleeve.
"... and we're calling it the Mutt, since it's Yorkie's baby."
That was what popped the cork of their mirthful champagne bottles, laughter spilling out even as they did the drudge work of loading the truck. It'd return in little bursts of giggles whenever they'd pass, humming "Mhmm" acknowledgements as they passed each other. By the time Johan decided to grace the team with his presence, most of the gear had been stowed away, Yorkie and Anna had started on the turret, and only Amina remained by the Mutt to finish loading the cargo nets that dangled from the slanted rear hatch.
"Hey bossman." she said without looking.
"Ceraste."
Amina huffed her frustration at what looked like the eternal struggle of trying to understand just how she fit into this puzzling team, but Johan caught it pretty quick.
"Amina." he corrected. "Not in the field yet, I get it."
He helped where he could, the two of them finishing up in a peaceful silence. Never an awkward quiet though, the bossman had a canny knack of knowing when it was a good time to speak- probably how he got so far ahead in the company. A tall, thin Liberi guy; had the sort of hawkish look to him with the beady gold eyes set a bit too close together and a pointier nose than most. It made the way he stared… unnerving. Bunch of chocolate feathers to match the sweep of auburn hair that some said resembled old Corsica the First, and of course that meant that combined with his Gaulish blood, others around the base started to crack that he was the lost heir to the old Empire.
And he never refuted it.
"You ready to head home?" he asked nonchalantly, helping fasten the last bit of netting.
"You ready to head to Sargon?" Amina retorted, a bit more snide than she intended, but Johan shrugged it off. If he had ever been put off by anyone's prickliness, he'd never show it past a crooked grin anyways.
"Never been there."
"That why you took the job?"
"Yep. Noooo other reason."
Amina rolled her eyes- she knew that sarcastic tone. The job choice did confuse her though; Johan had a bit of ambition- was a textbook ladder-climber. Taking an outwardly easy job didn't exactly fit his sort of profile, and that was something about the mission that unnerved Amina. Johan was favored by the higher ups for just that fact, so why would the head-honcho give Johan a simple babysitting job? Amina realized she was pondering a bit too long when Johan slid into the corner of her vision like a damn apparition, that sharp eyebrow of his cocked quizzically.
"Yeah. It'll be nice to be in my homeland again, if only for a little bit." Amina threw out to get him to back off. Just thinking about home pulled a little more of her accent out. Hers was a harmonious curl to the natural Sargonian pronunciation inflection points, but set to ploddingly unmelodic Columbian words. She had thought it had been ironed out after years of schooling, but it always came back when she spent too much time away from others. It had been a peaceful six months of ranging…
"Only a little bit?" Johan grinned in that way that told Amina he was about to take a shot, so she drew first.
"The Lords Ameer are loving and caring to all of those under the sun of Sargon, and only seek to enrich the lives of all who help hold aloft the remnants of their fragile empire. So yes, Baron, I only wish to visit for a little bit."
The deadpan manner in which Amina delivered her wit only made Johan grin wider, but didn't pull anything revealing from him. The squad leader simply shook his head as he finished tossing the last jerrycan of… something into the extra netting.
"Spoken like a true Pioneer."
"Never was one for the trappings of civilization." Amina sighed with just the slightest bit of false romanticism. "Or of people telling me what I can and cannot do."
"And yet your work for us."
Amina shrugged at his attempt to find some fault in her argument. "Blacksteel pays me."
"And boy do they pay." Johan chuckled in agreement.
"And I will make how much for a babysitting job through lands I already know? Interpret a language I know like the sand off the back of my hand? Trick you into visiting my mother's home village-"
"What was that last one there, Amina?"
"Nothing at all bossman- unless of course you don't like free food and a place to stay after rolling through the badlands for a week."
"Maybe I'll add it to the route then, you know, just because my lead scout and interpreter is feeling a little homesick."
"Homesick. I suppose." she answered with a wistfulness as light and airy as the clouds above. "You'll see just what it is I miss and hopefully understand."
"Talking up that route change as much as you can, aren't you Ceraste?"
Amina flashed the Liberi a smile drizzled with charm, even gave him a bat of the luscious lashes and was rewarded with a scoff and a roll of the eyes.
"Well, first stop is Minos anyways, after that we're rolling south 'til Men-at Ha meyat. "
"Menat Ha'miat." Amina corrected.
"And that's why we're paying you the big dollar to 'terp."
"Except it's the same cut as Yorkie and Anna-"
"And that dollar the three of you are getting is quite big." Johan smiled, but there was a cold cut to the expression that chilled Amina's blood. He knew she was probing for information and shut it down in a perfectly non-confrontational way. Sharp one, Johan was; probably why his codename was "Baron".
"Got it bossman, got it." Amina held up her hands as if he had her at gunpoint. "Pay too good to pass up, got it."
"Knew you were keen, Ceraste. It'd take you pretty far in the company if you weren't so…"
"Cold?" Amina bristled, eyes narrowed, "Aloof? Disinterested? Bitchy?"
"Well I was going to say 'outgoing' , but damn- that's what you think of yourself, Amina?"
Amina snorted involuntarily. Yeah, she had walked into that one, not a good display of foresight as the team's scout. Still, Johan was amiable as always, hadn't changed much since she worked the pipeline guarding job with him a year back.
"I picked up dinner for the team, so hit the canteen at seventeen-hundred. I'll see if I can get Yorkie to at least release Anna from his servitude and get him to eat something."
"Affirm, bossman." Amina threw a casual salute out of habit and Johan stiffened up. She forgot, but too late to take the gesture back now, not after she hastily excused herself and ducked back into the outpost.
An hour to kill 'til chow and not enough time to really start anything significant on the eve of a job. She could hit the base's gym like Anna wanted, but really there was only one thing Amina ever wanted to do in the fleeting moments of downtime. A hasty retreat back to her bunk- back to the corner she carved out and demarcated with a low-wall of books piled on one another like a little shitty fortress of literature.
Amina threw herself back into bed, tail grabbing the last volume of the adventure series she had been trying to finish. There'd be no way she'd be able to fit the next three or four books in her ruck… so she'd just have to get through as much as she could tonight- she could always sleep in the truck later.
"Pizza?"
"Pizza."
"We nevah get 'zah. What you got on the job, Yawkie?"
Yorkie takes a whiff of the pie before wrinkling his nose and making that brush-of-a-moustache wiggle on his upper lip.
"Nothing. You think the Baron'd tell a greasemonkey like me?"
"Bullshit." Amina called him out while snatching a lukewarm slice out from beneath Anna's hand. The Vouivre shot a glare but all she got in return is a mocking raspberry instead of apology.
"You've been with him the longest." A deft diversion of Anna's attention back onto the second-in-command let Amina slink away unscathed.
"Yeah Yawkie- if anybody'd know it'd be you." Anna pressed in, towering over the smaller Perro man. He shrank for a moment, but Amina knew what they say about small Perros backed into a corner.
"I said I don't know, and even if I did know, opsec protocol dictates-"
"-dictates deez nuts, Yawkie." Anna belted back, grabbing at her non-existent pair. It was either a well-thought out dose of blatantly crass illogic to throw the overly-analytical Perro off, or Anna's unsubtle nature coming in like a freight-liner onto a high-way pileup.
Probably the latter, Amina judged by the wild grin on the Vouivre's face.
"Yawkie, we'rah… like what, seven hou-ahs from steppin' off an' we ain't got weh-re we goin'?"
"We're going to Minos then Sargon." Amina tossed out, suddenly feeling a bit of pity for Bill. Man had his quirks but it wasn't like he was purposefully trying to deceive her and Anna. Still, the attention shifted onto her as she quietly ate- both of them glaring at her.
"How do you know?" Bill and Anna in the same accusatory tone.
Amina shrugged before pulling out a folded map and throwing it on the table. Of course Anna snatched it up first, unfolding the thing only to frown and throw it back on the table.
"Amina, girl- ain't nuthin' on this map. No row-ut, nuthin'."
"Look where we are, look where Sargon is." Amina sighed, shoving the crust of her slice in her mouth as she wiped her greasy hands off on her pants. With a pointed finger, she jabbed where Tkaranto was, then to Menat-Ha'mait. If they drew a straight line, they'd spend the majority of their travel through the Bleached Wasteland, but if they hugged the eastern mountain range, the travel'd be slower but far more tolerable. Bill said nothing as he chewed his pizza, but Anna lit up.
"Minos? We goin' on the Acahualla side?" Anna asked excitedly. Amina knew that the Vouivre had heard about the culture there -specifically all of the fighting- and that had only piqued the muscle-head's interest all-the-more. Thank the Gods that the jungle was not conducive to a quick and timely arrival of goods.
"Doubt it. Bad terrain."
"We're going to have to go through the Bleach Wasteland anyways." Johan suddenly announced from behind them all, making both Anna and Amina jump. "And we don't want route leaks from anyone on the job. We're swapping out drivers and restocking in Minos before the second leg."
Johan snatched up a slice and greedily shoved it in his mouth, not that having food clenched between his teeth would stop his officially unofficial pre-mission briefing now. "Ah-minash wite. 'Ountainsh choo rough. Acahualla'sh ou' choo." he traced an imaginary route on the west-side of the mountain range until they got to Minos, but after that, it was almost a straight line through the desert.
"Risks?" Amina asked, understanding this was as close of a mission briefing as they'd get. She even waited politely for Johan to finish chewing the pizza crust, even listened to him purposefully drain his soda down to the last annoyingly loud sucks of an empty cup.
"Usual fair. Wildlife, unpleasant locals, Catastrophes, though it's off season for the… what're they called, Ceraste?" Johan asked, snapping his finger as if it was on the tip of his tongue.
"Haboob." she replied instantly before realizing that Anna was snickering at the name. She threw an elbow at the Vouivre- just because the meathead only knew Columbian didn't mean that she'd get away disrespecting Amina's native tongue- and she pointedly ignored how Johan smirked. There'd be plenty more time to get used to verbally dueling once they were on the road.
"Funny boobs aside, we're the primary security detail. The two trucks will have Rhine Labs Defence Section personnel, but only one per truck and they're mostly responsible for their own vehicle."
"So we'rah… basically alone? Just one team?"
"Oh Belle, don't tell me that if we get into a scrap that we'd need more than one team?" Johan looked at her with disappointment that made even Amina flinch and believe him. It lit a fire under Anna though, the muscle-bound Vouivre slamming both palms on the table hard enough to make the thing crack ominously.
"Hell no!" Anna belted.
Amina tried not to roll her eyes, she honestly did, but if even she herself were susceptible to Johan's subterfuge then someone as… earnest… as Anna would be like manipulating a child.
"Do you know what tribal lands we're going through?" Amina was compelled to ask, knowing full well someone as meticulous as Johan would. The real underlying question was how much was Johan willing to reveal.
"Ahkhaad, Pasar az Lugal, Kirrgh." he answered succinctly.
Amina could sketch the route in her head just from the territory, coming to an unpleasant conclusion. "Two of those three are not friendly with Columbia, Baron."
"We move light, we move fast, right Yorkie?"
"Oh she'll move fast." Yorkie piped up. "And we'll be carrying enough firepower to dissuade anyone from doing anything ungracious."
Amina wrinkled her nose at the very bold assumption. The Ahkhaad were hostile but sensible, the Kyrghar still fashioned themselves after the Khaganate. When she explained that, neither Baron nor Yorkie seemed too concerned, and Belle took interest in all the wrong ways.
"So'if it comes down to a fight, we'd get the best outta the K…Ki…"
"Kyrghar."
"Yeah, those ones."
"You wouldn't. They hit and run- probably fill you full of bolts before you'd get a 'good fight' ."
Anna pouted, but Baron leaned in, interest piqued.
"You know them then, Ceraste?"
"Don't know what upper management has intel-wise… and opsec means I don't have access to it-"
Baron's smile was honest, for once, and he reached back for his coat to pull a folded bundle of papers out. A few page flips and he tossed the report onto the table for everyone to read. Reports as recent as a few months back… based on the intelligence Amina had gathered herself.
"You'd know best, Ceraste ." Baron kicked back in his seat, "You've been the only agent in the area in the last year."
Alive would be the unspoken detail there. Pioneers lacked a certain… subtlety required to survive straddling the border. Columbia's protections only worked if that power projection was either respected or feared; Amina had never been one to rely on it. Local collaborators had clammed up recently or made themselves scarce, and there was the sense that something was brewing along the border.
And here they were, planning to drive a convoy straight on through and hope that they didn't stir up anything? Baron caught her realization, his eyes all the more telling with a voiceless retort.
'You can back out any time.'
"... easy mission, right?" Amina stared back, undaunted.
"Easy mission, easy money." Baron coolly replied. "If we're all on the same page, then pack up the leftovers when you guys are done; we'll have it for breakfast. Bright and early."
Baron knocked on the table, giving each of the team members their own linger gaze and nod to affirm commitments.
"Bright and early, bossman." they replied as one for the first time in what felt like weeks.
All it took was a little pizza.
A little pizza and a whole lot of understanding that, for the next few weeks, they were at the mercy of one another.
Doors slammed shut and bodies settled into their seats. Amina sank into hers, trying to keep her eyes shut for as long as possible despite all the damn yapping going on. So long as no one said her name, she'd tune out the world and catch up on the missed shut-eye.
So of course the very moment Amina started to slip back into the shallows of restless sleep, Anna called out to her. When she cracked an eye to glare, the damn Vouivre wasn't even looking at her, instead digging through the ruck between her legs for something. The engine hadn't even rumbled to life and the blonde was already fishing out a pair of old wired earbuds and a cassette player.
"Save the batteries." Amina grumbled and Anna responded by holding out one of the earbuds for her.
"Just ripped it, fresh outta tha' last album."
Curiosity and friendship had her accepting it despite knowing the coming consequences.
It was a harsh tune, the kind of rough-shod and clashing guitar, throatiness of an untrained singer, overbearing pound of the bass drum, and dirty acoustics that spoke to the rawness of it. Grungy, like it was recorded in the guts of a mobile city, amidst all the grease and gears and soot.
Amina didn't want to admit she liked it- she still hadn't fully come to terms with that revelation either, but she could say one thing.
"Headache."
Anna frowned at first before sidling up nice and close to Amina across the stack of water jugs.
"An' who's fault was that, Ah~mee~nah~?"
Amina snorted and swatted at the invasion of her space, but trying to move a brick shit-house like Anna was… well just that. Gods above, she didn't need this bright-and-early in the morning.
"When I got up fo' th' pissah yah readin' light was still on."
Amina grumbled something that not even she was sure about, and that only made Anna grin wider. Like someone trying to shield their eyes from the overbearing sun, Amina shoved her hand out and into Anna's face. If she couldn't push the damn twist-horn out of her space she could at least cover up that stupid, infuriatingly smug smirk.
"Aww 'mina. Why you pushin' me? Thought we was pals~"
"Lemee sleep. I didn't get on your case when you woke up hungover on your last patrol."
"But you didn't offah to take it foh me like I woulda foh you."
"If you had the brains to ask me before you got shit-faced-"
"Kids, don't make me come back there." Johan jokingly scolded as he twisted himself back to look. "And keep to codenames. We're on the clock now."
"Yeah Baron, got it." Amina grumbled while slumping further into the seat.
"Got it, Bah-on."
"We're on the clock and they're the late ones." Yorkie grumbled. Amina hadn't worked too much with the old veteran, but she knew him well enough to tell the way he drummed his fingers on the wheel and scratched at his moustache meant the graying Perro was losing patience.
"We get paid either way, York." Johan tried to soothe.
Didn't help.
Once more Amina tried to close her eyes and stave off the underlying thrum of a coming headache… only for the harsh hiss of Yorkie opening up the mission frequency directly in her other ear to make her jump in her seat.
"Jolly Oh-Nine to Jolly One-nine- where the Hothells are you, over?"
"Jolly Oh-Nine to Jolly One-nine- where the Hothells are you, over?"
Amina tore her earpiece out- no need to hear Yorkie twice over when he barked back and forth with the other drivers so loud she could hear him through Anna and Johan's pieces too. The Mutt rumbled to life suddenly and unexpectedly, and for some bizarre reason the particularly concerning vibrations didn't bother Amina one bit.
It was… comforting. Reminded her of her childhood, for what little that was worth anymore. The cursing, the arguing from the front seat, the bumps and shifting bouncing her against the barely-passable seat cushion…
All of it made Amina curl up. Jacket tossed over her head, jezail hugged to her chest like a doll and tail wrapped around her like a blanket, she let the clamour become her bedtime music once more and had the nostalgia of it bleed into her dreams.
She had spent such a long time away from home.
Would they even recognize her anymore?
…they had to.
As her mother said, for as long as she stood under the same skies and atop the same earth, they would always be together- no matter the distance.
That was the lie that she'd lull herself to sleep with, night after countless night.