Chapter Text
Hours.
It’s been half a day already and nobody came. The repair on the plasma battery you brought is done ages ago.
You sigh, crouching to crawl through the small opening in the crate you’ve been hiding in.
No one around. Sometimes they use numbers, and you can’t tell. But there is no one around. They just forgot about you.
Again.
Your gaze drifts to the ice cream stand on the corner.
They told you not to move from here… but it’s been ages since that happened. And it’s too long since you last had ice cream.
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It seems like forever before they finally come.
You’re sitting by the crate, a pile of popsicles on the side when they finally show up. Your stomach hurts, and you know you shouldn’t have had that many at once, but you couldn’t help it.
“Stand up you little shit!” your handler calls.
You do so, letting out a slight strawberry burp.
He slaps you across the face.
“What the hell are you doing here? Why didn’t you get on the van?!” he demands
“Was told to stay here,” You answer.
Another slap.
“Didn’t you think to come after us?!”
“Nobody messaged when you were leaving” you point out the obvious. It’s not even the first time they do this.
“Stupid piece of shit!” he slaps you one final time, pointing at the van. “GET IN THERE!”
You walk in, as he grabs his phone, telling his superiors that they found you, and trying to blame it on you. Lying to protect himself.
You take the only empty seat, on the left row, fastening your seatbelt and harness by the others. They all take a brief look at you, before looking down, and you do the same.
He’s getting enraged over the phone, as they don’t buy his excuses.
It never works. Everything is recorded by mission control, and you’ve never lied to them. It’s humans who choose to do that.
“Fucking unbelievable” he curses, shutting the doors of the van, sitting behind the wheel. He tosses the phone on the companion’s seat. He turns, looking straight at you “You just cost me my bonus, you useless bitch!” he says throwing hands at the wheel.
“Sorry sir” Your lips move mechanically. You don’t even know what his bonus was supposed to be, but it’s the correct thing to say when a human tells you something is your fault.
“Sure you are… fucker” he lets out starting the engine.
You fiddle with the plasma battery. It looks shiny and new now that you fixed the connection.
XD-5 extended a hand, from the row of seats opposite to you. You hand him the battery, and he holds it in his hand, using his powers to let out a dim flash of green flames, before passing it back to you.
You take the battery back, powered up and ready to be used, giving him a slight bow of your head in recognition. He just saved hours having it recharged.
Now you owe him a favor. It’s been a long day, so you lean back on your seat and close your eyes. Might get some sleep before you get back...
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“Is someone looking at us?” they always ask that.
And the answer is YES!
You gasp, opening your eyes wide.
It’s dark, and the van is still moving on a bumpy road, smelling of tobacco… and there’s something…
DANGER
“Sir!”
“Be quiet,” he says, letting out some smoke.
“But sir it’s urgent…!”
“I told you to be QUIET! You should have gone back when you were lazing around there, making me look like a damn fool”
“But we’re in dange…-”
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Get out.
You don’t know how you got here. You don’t know what’s going on, but it’s hot, and you can smell fire, and you have to crawl away.
Struggling with your elbows, you emerge from the wreckage, into the night. XD-5 is laying to the side, and you shake his arm, but he doesn’t move. You sense nothing from him.
They are coming!
You struggle to get up, running towards a few nearby rocks, jumping to hide behind them.
Don’t look here. Don’t look at me. There’s nothing here.
You can sense them, going through the wreckage. Pulling the bodies out of the van. Taking their weapons, stealing every single piece of tech.
You steal a few glimpses, looking through their own eyes. Several mercenaries, led by a tall modded man with spiked armor…
Psychopathor.
He is well known. He has killed many, every time there’s been an attempt to capture him it’s ended badly.
“Take the mods too!” he says, pulling the door off its frame with his modded arm. Your handler wakes up, bloodied face, bewildered expression… and he shoots a bullet through his skull, ending him right there.
You hear other gunshots. You can hear them using a chainsaw to cut off MG-3’s arm… they want the modded cannon.
They are… butchering them. Taking everything, just like he told them.
Mods can be removed, just like weapons, and it’s messier.
“Boss, look at this!” one of the mercenaries brings him your recharged battery.
“Now this… “ he laughs “This will do nicely!”
“Empty seat here,” another one says looking at the crushed back of the vehicle.
The question lingers in the air, as you cover your face with both hands, closing your eyes as hard as possible
Can’t see me. Can’t see me. Can’t see me.
The inevitable conclusion never arrives. Nobody even looks your way.
“Alright, we’re out. Set out the EMP, and we detonate the moment when we’re out of range”
They pack up everything and leave towards their own truck, hidden behind a slope of a small hill nearby. You breathe in relief, coming out. They left a strange device nearby…The EMP.
Shit.
You don’t know how strong it is, but you jump back into the van, ripping the covering from the ceiling, pulling the aluminum foil shielding.
You try to wrap yourself in it, but you’re not fast enough, and your arms are still out.
You feel the burn on your left arm, as your tracker gets fried, letting out a scream, your pain gate activating instantly.
It hurts, even through the gate. Holding on to your hurt left arm, you emerge from the foil, taking in the disaster around you. They burned your arm.
They stole your battery.
They killed XD-5. You’ll never be able to repay him now.
There is fire still burning on the side of the van. The radio’s gone, along with any meaningful tech, and the EMP fried everything else. You still have your tools, but you can’t build a radio out of nothing.
Walking back, you sit by your pile of rocks, looking down at it all.
You’ve got a few cuts, but asides from the arm burn, nothing that’s too concerning.
Once more, waiting for them to come to get you…
Hours pass… and for the first time, they don’t come.
Your tracker’s busted, along with everyone else’s. They won’t know where you are.
They don’t know.
You’re on your own, for real this time.
Breathe.
You take your handler’s leather jacket and every tool that wasn’t fried, every water bottle you can find, putting everything into a backpack, and you start walking, making your way back to Los Diablos.
This is nothing. You’re not even that hurt.
You’ll get back and call them, and they’ll pick you up, like usual.
That’s all you need to do. No big deal.
No need to panic. You are not afraid.
Definitely not panicking.
Nope.
You just have to keep walking, telling yourself that with each step, pretending you aren’t trembling.