Chapter Text

📖 Change Log - [29/09/25]  AKA. IF IT'S NOT THIS DATE, IT MEANS YOU SOMEHOW CAUGHT THIS BEFORE A03 went down for 20 hours. Congrats :P

Also, I'm not finished. 

*Yells as you try to proceed further reading* WATCH OUT FOR THE PLOT HOLES!

🥁🥁🥁

⭐️ = No Change Since Last Change Log 
🟨 = New chapter
✅ = Recently Updated
🖊= To be Updated
📚= To Be Uploaded

* = Major / Plot significant change [Recommended re-read for all returning readers]
      → I have an update log on Tumblr for anyone who just wants to skim through the details of the recent changes :)

Part 1 - But It Refused

INTRO 🟨*
Ch.1 ✅ Infiltrating The Airship (Again) [Part 1]
Ch.2 🟨* Calm Before The Storm
Ch.3 ✅ Infiltrating The Airship (Again) [Part 2]
Ch.4 ⭐️ Fractures - [TITLE CHANGE: Was 'Old Friends Part 2’]
Ch.5 🟨 Hopeless 
Ch.6 ⭐️ Hopeful - [TITLE CHANGE: Was ‘Forgiven Foes’]
Ch.7 📚 * Raiding The Outpost (Part 1)
Ch.8 📚 * Raiding The Outpost (Part 2)
Ch.9 🖊 * Long Time No See
Ch.10 🖊 Leaderless
Ch.11 📚 [RETRACTED]

Part 2 - Saving The Future

Ch.12 ⭐️ Final Preparations → [Ch. divided in half]
Ch.13 ⭐️ Eisoptrophobia → [Was later half of 'Final Preparations']
Ch.14 🖊* Escaping The Complex Forever
Ch.15 🖊 Triple Threat +
Ch.16 ⭐️ Rocket Launch
Ch.17 ⭐️ The Intruding Past → [TITLE CHANGE: Was 'Completing The Mission (Part 1)] 
Ch.18 ⭐️ Escaping The Rocket (Part 1)
Ch.19 ⭐️ Escaping The Rocket (Part 2)
Ch.20 🖊* Ending The Mission → [TITLE CHANGE: Was 'Completing The Mission (Part 2)] 
Ch.21 ⭐️ Scrap Metal (Part 1)
Ch.22 🖊* Scrap Metal (Part 2)
Ch.23 🖊* Mission Completed?
Ch.24 🖊* The Hunter & Hunted
Ch.25 🖊* The Hunted & Hunter
Ch.26 🖊* M̻̬̹̒ͤ̉isş̣̱̭̒͒ͩĭ͇̉̕ͅo̢͓̘n̷͔̽ C̅ͯ̈́͟o̥̺͖ͦ͛ͥm̵͈p̗l͕̯e̽̀ͥteͯͣͦḑ̣ͫ

Part 3 - The Butterfly Effect

Ch.27 📚* Scrap Metal (Part 3)
Ch.28 🖊 ✅* Uncovering the Truth
Ch.29 ⭐️ Stuck With YOU!

[More chapters to come...]

(See Tumblr for more frequent status on updates, WIPS & art.)

Chapter Text

Waking up in preparation to be kidnapped is a strange way to start your day. At least, Henry is sure that’s what anyone else would tell him if he explained to them his plans for the day without the background information they wouldn’t have believe anyway.

Today wasn’t going to be the first day he was kidnapped. In truth, he’d lost track of the number of times he’d done this song and dance across time, reliving this same day, February the 3rd, over and over. But what Henry did know for sure, is today would be the last if everything went to plan. If he played his cards right. If the little ‘glitch’ he’d found could be exploited in the way he suspected it could be-

Henry paused, hands over the keyboard of his dusty-outdated PC.

Did he mention he was a time traveler?

He scrolled through his document a little and spotted ‘X + 732’ in the margin of his last entry. The X stood for the unknown number of jumps he’d done before starting this journal. He glanced at the page count, then decided against the painfully slow scroll up to the first page. Instead he went back to where he’d left his cursor blinking, moving it to the margin and typing ‘X + 733’.

Henry laughed to himself, a quite sort of chuckle: A time-traveler with a bad memory. It sounded like a bad joke, but it was an unfortunate truth for him. The more times he went back to the beginning, the more his past slipped from his grasp. In one of the timelines when he’d been more bold, he’d told a Russian scientist about it (and his abilities) and she’d been the one to theories that, while his poor long-term memory could be a side effect of his ‘unique’ ability, it could just as likely be his human mind unable to retrain multiple lifetimes worth of memories, especially when he rotated so often between his core 16 lives- or ‘endings’, as he liked to call them.

Henry liked to think of it all as a game, and him the main character, the one in control. It made everything easier to process, the idea that he charge of his story and could choose one of 16 predetermined ways he wanted to spend his future. Some of these futures saw him alone with the riches he’d spend most of his life chasing (and stealing). Others saw him a member, or even the leader of a notorious clan of criminals living the high-life. Whether they’d taken him in willingly or begrudgingly- he’d grown to hate them all the same.

In truth, there was only one of these 16 endings he wanted, ironically it was the ending his old self criminal self wouldn’t have. An ending without riches, or status, or respect, but… friends.
Him, a red-headed criminal and a Government pilot.
He’d had this ending too.
He’d called it ‘The Triple Threat’, inspired by the nickname the Government had given their trio of crime-fighting specialists.
He was happy in that ending. He wanted it to never end, he had called them ‘predetermined’ for a reason. While he chose the ending, he could only stray so far from it before reality came for him, before it pulled him back inline with his games script.

He couldn’t escape the true ending of Triple Threat.
Not until today.

With his glitch in one hand and plan in the other, he was ready.

He saved his journal entry, and ejected the USB from his PC. The USB had been his first test of the glitch he’d stumbled across. A unique way of bending his abilities that allowed him to make ‘minor’ changes to the story. Like being able to carry this same USB across time, the contents never affected. It now served as his journal and data gatherer. He kept in one file his thoughts, and in the other notes- mostly about the Toppat Clan. Of course, he’d never written his name on anything, keeping it anonymous in the event that later down the line his red-headed friend or curious pilot found it. Best case scenario he could deny knowledge or claim it was a silly story he was writing. Worst case, he took the USB back and reset time, leaving the reader none the wises to the USB & it’s contents.

Henry got up stretching out his arms and back, the latter making a quiet ‘POP’. With his right hand, he activated his second ability taking the folder of blueprints from the table and putting it into his ‘deep pocket’ for later in the day. His second ability was almost as useful as his first of time manipulation. Henry was able to open a sort of ‘pocket dimension’ in his literal pocket, allowing him to hide all sorts of useful things for later or during tight pinches.

“Right...” Henry said softly to himself, looking around his musty apartment. “That should be everything.”
His eyes drifted to the clock above the kitchenette: 11:42am, he should grab lunch. He hated infiltrating the Airship on an empty stomach. Of course, doing so hadn’t caused him any issues in the past, but with the few loose coins in his real pocket that rattled upon putting his hand in, a part of him wanted to go for one last walk too.

He walked to the door, shoving his shoes on and tying the lace he knew would be ready to be re-tired before he even reached the bus stop at the end of his street. He gave his apartment one last look over, excitement bubbling in his chest.

If everything went right today… this would be the last time he’d be here. The last time he ever had to re-live this miserable section of his life: He couldn’t wait for the future!

Chapter Text

[Mission: Infiltrating the Airship - Charles’s Helicopter - Henry Stickmin]

A jolt from the helicopter and Henry pretended to wake up. 

He’d done this song and dance often enough. The confusion was long gone, and instead replaced by the act: he repeated old movements and faces, back from when he’d first woken up in the helicopter. From a time when he’d actually been confused. 

“Well, well…” A familiar voice said. “Look who finally decided to wake up.” An old guy with fair greyed fair smiled down at him, military uniform neat, badges shining in the dim light cast from the window. Before Henry stood a familiar face. Once he’d grown to respect in some endings… and hate in others. It was the face of the most persistent General in the whole US Military. One who despite the timeline Henry walked in, always worked toward the same singular goal: Bringing the Toppat Clan to justice. 
This man was General- Captain. Captain Galeforce. 
Henry smiled inside at his mental blunder. In this time and place, Galeforce was still a Captain.

Henry took in his surroundings- not because they’d changed from the last time he’d been seated in this helicopter, but because- Ah. There he is: Rupert Price. 

The spike black haired Lieutenant met his eyes, his cold and bitter like always. That deep-seated hate he had for Henry never faded, never changed. It might have been suppressed in the future (- if he made the right choices today), but for now, the Ex-Cop not only remembered him, but made sure Henry knew that too, his eyes narrowing.  

The first time Henry had woken up in here, he’d returned the glare. He’d gone as far as to smirk, to ask if the prison bar he’d broken free and smacked Price over the head with had done so much brain damage they’d had to fire him~
Today however… Henry shrugged his shoulder and smiled warmly. However, despite knowing he had to get on good terms with Price, he couldn’t help himself.
‘Miss me~?’ He signed, keeping his hand movements friendly; playful.
Price just scowled more, a finger eagerly tapping the safety of his tightly gripped rifle. 

“You’ve been quite elusive, but your skills make you worth the catch.” General Galeforce announced, breaking off Prices line of sight. “You’ll be perfect for the job.”

Henry couldn’t help but smirk at Galeforce’s words: If only he knew. If only he knew the amount of ways he could go rogue if he wanted. If only he knew how ‘perfect’ Henry really was for this operation. 
Apart of Henry wanted to tell Galeforce. He’d love to have seen in person the look on the old guys face for thinking he could get a criminal to do the good guys bidding, that time he’d joined the Toppat Clan. The time he’d run off with the Clans Romanian Ruby.
He imagined it would be quite amusing. He imagined Price would have given his superior a rightly deserved, 'I told you so,' afterwards. 

Henry wasn’t going to do that however.
He had a plan to stick too, and all this was all apart of said plan. 

“We’ve been having some issues with a group of thieves known as the Toppat Clan,” The Gen- Captain, explained. “We know they’re guilty, we just can’t pin ‘em to any crimes. You’ll be going into the airship to bring ‘em down.”

Henry gave Galeforce the same look he always did. That skeptical ‘and why does this concern me?’. Of course with his hindsight he knew why, and as boring as the act had become, he still had to play along to some extent. 
He could only stray so far from the main story before he crashed everything. 
Time was resistant to change. It didn’t like change. It would only let him stray so far before bouncing him back in line- he’d discovered that the hard way, being thrown from promising endings all the way back to the start. Just when he’d thought he’d won, when he’d cheated the system. He’d blink, the stabbing chest pain, the muzzy head and dizziness… it would all clear for him to find himself stood alone. Alone in that hot desert with nothing but a pocket full of random items and a vague plan to rob a bank. 
…
He didn’t even remember why he wanted to rob that stupid bank in the first place!

Galeforce pull out a pad of notes. He flicked through the top few pages, continuing his little monologue. “I don’t need to remind you that we’ve got you on several charges: Attempted robbery… breaking yourself out of prison… and even stealing the Tunisian Diamond. We’ve got quite a lot of counts on you.” Galeforce smiled tapping the pad, “Do this job right and we’ll drop all charges against you.”
The General Captain nodded towards the cockpit. “Charlie here will be bringing you close to the airship. The rest is up to you.”

Henry got up, stretched his achy limbs and walked to join the older man by the open doors, a position that felt so familiar to him. So natural that it made his heart ache with the memory of the real last time they’d been stood here as allies. 

“It wasn’t your fault, Stickmin.” Galeforce said, his voice weary, eyes still unable to make contact, even all these weeks later. “In this line of work, we all walk into this knowing the risks. We accept the risks to serve our country. To keep the people we love and hold close safe, but… we can’t protect everyone. And sometimes, no matter how hard we try, we still loose friends, family…”
Galeforce placed a firm hand on Henry shoulder, at last meeting his eyes. “We stop to morn the loss of those we care for, but time keeps moving, and we must do so too.”
Henry’s fist tightened in his pocket. He stepped back from the Admiral. “No. I don’t want to live in a future without them.”
Galeforce sighed, “We can’t change the past Henry, all we can do is move on and look to the future.”
“But I can,” Henry raised his hand, energy gathering in his palm. “And with or without your help, I will save them.”

[RESET]

Adjacent from the helicopter flew a bright, fire-red Airship, bearing a black top hat and word ‘Toppat’ alongside it, as if they needed to make it anymore obvious. It wasn’t like Reginald Copperbottom- the current clan leader -painting everything they owned that obnoxious red helped with the whole ‘blending in with the environment’ thing. 

The Toppat Clan’s Airship itself (minus the paint job’s colour choice, ) was old. It had been around for a few generations of leaders and this would continue to be the case long into the future for most of Henry’s endings… Except one. A timeline where Copperbottom would make a mistake Henry made sure he’d pay for, they both paid for; He never liked that ending. 

“Find a way to bring ‘em down and you’ll be a free man." 

The Captain marched back inside the helicopter joining Rupert, who continued to burn holes into the back of Henry’s head. Henry flashed the former police officer a small smile, ’Come on Price, give me a chance here’. Price just bared his teeth.

“Hey, um…” A new voice- nervous, but clear, spoke up from the cockpit, excited green eyes leaning out the door frame to meet Henry’s. “How do you want me to bring you in?” 
Henry smiled back, trying to hide his excitement. The burning joy he felt in his chest that came with hearing that voice: Charles Calvin. One of the youngest and brightest pilots in the fleet. He had a long bang of white hair draped over half one eye, and red headphones securing the rest of his hair out the way. 

Henry moved his hands, signing for them to move over the Airship’s roof and towards the top hatch. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an ear piece, showing the small device to Charles before securing it around his ear. Charles nodded, giving him a thumbs up, then going back to the controls.

Henry took a deep breath in, then out. 
Here we go. 

Chapter Text

[ELSEWHERE - TOPPAT CLAN AIRSHIP]

Reginald Copperbottom, Leader of the Toppat Clan pushed an unruly curl of brown hair from his amber eyes, choosing to ignore the first strand of grey he’d spotted earlier that morning. It defiantly glistened back at him under his desk lamps light, as did the slight fuzz to the letters on the blueprints under his forearms- more reminders of the obvious: He’s getting old.

Across from him on the monitor his colleague nodded, finishing writing some notes from Reginald’s previous words. Despite being a few years younger than him, she too was starting to portray her age, something she’d brushed off during their last chess match, when Reginald had brought it up. Perhaps if she found a strand or two of grey mixed into her dark blue-black hair, ends curling around her shoulders, then she’d change her opinion. That being said, Carol Cross, Head of the American Division rarely did change her opinions on anything or one.

Her violet eye’s flicked up from the paper.
“Everything is running on schedule. The Brazilian Outpost have reported back a few minor setbacks on site, but nothing we hadn’t already equated for. Mr Macbeth’s update came in last night: He’s behind schedule, again. He said the last of the interior panelling will be onsite by the weeks end.”
Reginald glanced at his second monitor taking note of the schedule. The delay fell well within the buffer period himself and the Head of Transportation had agreed upon a few months ago.
“A small delay,” Reginald announced flashing Carol a reassuring smile. “It happens.”
Carol looked back skeptically. She huffed, “Funny how the rest of us are able to do our jobs properly.”
“Don’t be too harsh on him, Carol. Keeping a train on time while trying to smuggle large cargo across multiple boarders is a task much easier said than done. He does a fine job, even if it takes longer than some of us would like.”
Carol said nothing, glaring quietly at something out of frame.

“Any updates on the teleporter issue?
His colleague signed, running a hand through her hair. “Sven’s transferred to Europe to help the Berlin Outpost Science team. He said there’s an issue with the batch of Chaos X we acquired. I’ll save you his science spiel, but essentially: it’s not genuine. The only good news is he thinks he can synthesis a real batch out of it, so it’s not a complete waste.”
Of course it wasn’t genuine. This would have been too easy if that were the case.

“Is Dao aware of this?”
Carol shrugged. “She said there was a risk. No Chinese counterfeit is ever 100% what it claims to be. That, or even the CCC haven’t perfected the recipe. Sven said his father was the only able to synthesise it twice before his death, so it’s possible the true recipe is still lost, even to them.”
Reginald nodded, pinching the bridge of his noise. “Dose he have any idea how long it will take to make a new batch?”
“A month, two at worst. It shouldn’t impact the launch date, Sven is confident that the issue is the Chaos X, not the device it’s powering.”
Reginald’s eyes feel to the blueprints below him, his stomach twisting in displeasure, chest still tight. He doubted this was the bad news he’d been expecting.

“Don’t look so worried, we’ll get up into space in no time.” Carol’s cold face flickered briefly into a smile, “I know the other Elites like to joke you & Sven do all the worrying for the Clan, but you can leave some for your other Division heads, you know.”
Reginald forced a smile, masking his fear. “I am aware. I trust my team. I know together we will pull this off. We’ll make history eve-”
“And you’ll go down as the greatest leader in Toppat history~,” Carol finished with an exaggerated eye roll. “Save the speech for the rest of the Clan, or someone who cares.”
“Ah, my bad,” Reginald chuckled. “I’ll see you Saturday, Ms Cross. Don’t forget the chess board.”
His colleagues face warmed a fraction, “So you can win by default? Unlikely.”

The broadcast cut off before Reginald could say another word, plunging him back into the silence of his small office. The heartbeat of the airship thumped in the background, it’s every breath filling the air with a subtle hum that one often forgot was present when not focusing on.

*KNOCK, KNOCK*

The Leader’s eyes went to the door, but by the sound alone he already knew who was there. “Enter.”

The door slid open and in walked a familiar face he greeted warmly. He didn’t bother mask the tiredness in his face as he’d done for Carol, for against his Right Hand Man, he knew it was pointless.
Red eyes met his, a long orange moustache lifting into a smile. “Reg,” Right greeted back. He had his hair tired back into a long ponytail today, but some chunks of ginger hair had still managed to escape, grouping messily around the side of his face, one notable strand even bold enough to dare block his Right Hand’s field of view.

Right sat the second coffee he carried down on Reginald’s desk, and Reginald leaned over to tuck the offending strands of hair neatly back into place. Right smile softened the way he only did for him. He eye’s held some amusement, still unable to understand why Reginald saw such importance in a neat presentation, especially when no-one else was around.

“How’d the meeting go?”
“The usual,” Reginald took the coffee and chugged it. Perfect as always, his favourite mixture of cream and bitter-sweet warmth. “A few setbacks, but nothing we can’t handle.”
Right nodded. “And yourself?”
Ah.
Reginald gave him a sheepish shrug, “I’m alright, I just… can’t shake this feeling that something bad is going to happen today.”
Right stopped smiling. “It’s one of those feelings?”
Reginald nodded.
“How bad we talkin’ here? Bad like you’re gonna spill coffee on those blueprints? Or bad like the Airships going to fall out the sky?”
Reginald laughed, sliding his chair back and himself out from over said paperwork. “Nothing like that… I’m… I’m not quite sure how to describe it. It’s as if the world itself is tense, like it knows something is going to change. Something rather significant.”
“When was the last time you had a feeling like this?”

Reginald hesitated. He’d been thinking about this odd feeling in his gut all morning, trying to think how he could articulate it into words others could understand. How he could show someone the glimmer of the connection only he had to the world around them.

“Honestly?” Reginald said finally, his words cautious and slow, as if them alone could set the unfolding tragedy into a full-blown landslide. “The day we lost the Oceania Division.”
Right’s frown deepened, “You think it’s them again?”
“Ha, ha, oh, goodness, no.” Reginald shook his head profusely, finding it in himself to at least smile at that truth. “No. They got what they wanted all those years ago. They have no reason to target the Clan further.”
Right nodded, but his expression remained… tense.

“I suppose you can’t feel it?” He asked, when Right remained silent, eyes lost to elsewhere. Likely a day that had been just as devastating to himself, as the Clan.
Right shook his head. “You know only guys like you, who weren’t strong enough to get an ability, but still some of our manipulator quirks are able to feel those shifts in environmental energy, Reg. Rest of us loose that skill by the time we’re adults.”
“I know that. I just thought since your abilities are… you know, maybe...”
His colleague sighed, casting his eyes away.

A few minutes of silence passed. Neither Toppat saying a word.

Eventually, Right was the one to break the silence. He put one of his large hands on Reginald’s shoulder, then moved it to hold the hand Reginald wasn’t nursing the coffee cup with.
“Whatever happens today, I’ll be right here by your side. I promise.”
Reginald met his Right Hands eyes as they glimmered with fierce determination he admired. It filled his chest warmly, made his heart skip a beat.

He squeezed the hand back, careful not to spill his coffee. “I know you will.”

Chapter Text

Down the shoot and- OW!

Henry sat up scowling at the hole in the pipe he’d just burst through. 
Every. Single. Time; It still hurt. 

“Oh Hey!” Charles said through his ear piece. “Uh, you see that records sign? Where it says ‘Records’? That’d probably be a good place to look right? Let me just, uh, help you across that gap.”

>🪜Platform 
> 🫧 Gravity Bubble 
> 🚁 Charles 
> 🤖 Robo Helper

In front of Henry his abilities, mixed together, working in tandem to illuminate a row options for his next step. What they believed could work to bring his future into reality. 

The batting average of his abilities- as he’d learned from past exploration when he was still fresh to the whole time-travel thing -was poor at best. Most opinions lead to a painful or embarrassing demise. It was rare for himself to be presented with multiple ways forward that lead to success. In most cases, as with in front of him, there was only one choice really. 

Henry couldn’t help himself but hum, pretending to consider one of the options that Charles had presented chosen to help him across. He was tempted- he always was! ’The Greatest Plan’ was a hard choice to turn down, even if it was just for those few seconds to see Charles smile. See his big goofy grin fill up the cockpit windshield. Hear his sing song cheer filling his ears, making his heart leap with joy. To imagine Rupert loosing his mind in the back. Galeforce rolling his eyes, regretting his life choices… here and now… it just made his eyes sting. The memory of it all. 
He missed it so much. 
He missed them so much. 
Their happy ending ruined because of those stupid-

Don’t get distracted. 
Focus. 

He’s here for a reason: A purpose.

>🪜Platform 
> 🫧 Gravity Bubble 
> 🚁 Charles 
> 🤖 Robo Helper

Henry selected ‘Robot Helper’ and in fell the metal box, unraveling itself to reveal a mecha bright-yellow fox, using its tail as a propellor. It patiently hovered on the spot, waiting for Henry to accept the ride it offered, but… he didn’t.

Henry raised his hand: The moment of truth. 
Everything he’d done came down to this one moment. Everything he’d done this time around, everything he’d learnt during his research runs, reset after reset, gathering all the intel he could. All the time he’d spent in the Toppat Clan as their leader, terribly missing one or both of his future friends. 
All of it was going to finally pay off; His happy ending.

Henry closed his eyes, gathering his energy that burned inside. He pictured another option, another branch to the story. One little deviation. That’s all he was asking for. One little extra stop before continuing on with the main story. Time wouldn’t even notice. Such a small change…

He felt a pain start shooting through his right hand as he reached for it, as he willed this new possibility into existence.  
A numbness filled his arm, tingling at his finger tips, a haze of thick fog across his mind. 

Come on.
Come on. 
Come on.

He pushed harder, feeling the pull of time, wrapping it’s hands around him as it tugged back, as it tried to take him back to the start, back to the desert.
Henry dug his heals into the floor as it warped beneath his feet. He felt his determination boiling inside his blood, the energy swarming around him.

He could do this. 

3 best friends sitting together on a hill, watching the sunset…

He could do it. 
He could get the best ending not possible. 

4 friends…
A late comer to the party. He’s frowning slightly. He’s not frowning because he’s not happy to be here, he’s doing it to keep up his illusion. This illusion of distance he like to uphold, as if not being associated with Henry and his friends somehow could protect him from the chaos that followed the trio. 

He rubs a hand through his spiky black hair sheepishly, he doesn’t seem to quite know why he’s hear but it doesn’t matter. He joins the three of them sitting in the long grass of the bank. They watch the rolling waves crash against the rocks below together, the setting sun glimmering off the water’s surface. 

Behind them is the call of a voice, a ‘wait up!’, and here he comes. The one who can change the future. The one who can bridge bonds that were never their to be broken in the first place. Next to Henry the black spiky hair waves, smile wide as his friend joins them. 

He’s quiet, he wears an old black cap, the words ‘security’ faded on the front. Henry could never quite figure out why he still wore it, but imagines it has something to do with holding onto the memory of things always getting better. The memory of that day…
The day when Henry killed to birds with one stone. 
The day he rescues him and takes down the Toppat Clan: permanently. 

And that day is today.

He can see it now. It’s clear in front of him: HIS happy ending. 
All 5 of them, sitting on that fated hill, watching the sunset over the ocean. Watching their final chapter end with the words ‘Happily Ever After’ scrawled above them in the clouds. 

Henry’s every breath burned, his legs felt weak, his head spun and then… He fell. 
He felt the barrier around him dissolve away, the invisible wall disappearing in a shockwave of energy. The hands of time letting go, excepting that his will was stronger. His freedom to choose filling him with a warm glow inside. He was in control of his future, even if it would only be briefly… right here and now? That was all the control he needed.

His hand sparked, the options in front of him jumping between the ideas that flashed in his mind. The different ways he could choose to progress his story.
Ha. 
Ha.
HA!
He’d done it! 
He was free from destiny!

“Uh, Henry? Is something wrong?” Charles called almost frantic. “Are you uh, are you there?” 

In front of him, his endless options flashed, shifting and twisting. 
He was presented with two:

< Ć͉̻̥̰ͅe̷l̴͚̘͔̰̞l͓̹̭s̶̜̜͈  ☐ Continue >

He reached forward, selecting the left option, the words shifting in a blur under his hand.

<̧͇̙̤̘͖̠͛̽ͤ͊̌̋ ̼͉̲̣̓̀ͦ́Ć̷̴̮̣͉͉͎̺͈̹̖̻͖̦̦̥̰̤̰̭̬̥̺̬̊ͩͧ̒̄ͯ͛̆͋ͅe̷͈̻͉͎̗̞̣͕̒̄̂̋͑͌ͨ̑l̴̝͕̝͚̘͔̬̱̰̞̣̜̺̲̙͇̻̄ͮ̍̅̑̆ͥ̎̃ͯ͒͑̑́̑̆̓̚͢l̸͓̝͍̗̥͚̠̩̹̣̣͚̭͙͓̱̹̤̜̱͋̀̈ͧ͑̒̓̔ͣ̾s̶̨̧̛̻̺̜̻͖̞͕̯̼̥̜̬̲̜̙̪͕̪̜̭̗͈͊ͧ́̎̎̒̀͋̔ ̤̯̥̹̦͇͙̾ͮ͛ͧͨ̀͛ ☐ Continue >

He felt the edges of reality resist. They pushed back against his skin with a sharp short pain like one burning their hand on a hot plate. On instinct Henry want to reel back and remove his hand, but he didn’t. He held it there, collecting his energy inside to push harder. 

He felt reality nod. It stepped aside.

< Cells

Henry raised his hand to the ear piece, feeling a smug smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “Hostages?” He asked.
“You think they might have uh, a hostage?” Charles’s voice was cautiously. “Uh, Henry, I don’t know about that. I think the best option is the Rec-“
“Trust me?” Henry’s voice wheezed, still rusted from lack of use, as it would continue to sound for another year. While his mind was well used from his time travel, every time he reset, it put him back in to the same body he’d started his adventure with. Weak, but nimble. Voice rusted, but loud when needed. 

The line was silent. 
Henry held his breath.

If he had to guess, Charles is talking to Galeforce right now. 
They’re listening to Rupert give his input on why not to trust Henry further than they can throw him. This isn’t the plan. It’s dangerously close to the vault where he’s gone rogue many other times in other universes; where he could go rogue again. 
They know this- well, not how many times he’s stabbed them in the back, but they know it’s a possibility. They don’t want to tempt him, he’s still a thief at heart. The Romanian Ruby is there. It could be another shiny gem in his collection. 2 of 3, he’d be so close to having them all; He didn’t want them all. Not anymore.

“Alright,” Charles sighed, his concern leaking through. “2 minutes. You’ve got 2 minutes to investigate and then we’ll head back to the record room. We’re er… we’re more likely to find something there but, we’ll try your idea first. You never know.”
Henry quickly tapped a quick ‘thank you’, then made his way to the door. 

Each step felt nauseous, reality reminding him of how far he’d already strayed, but he pushed on. 
He’s doing it. 
Uncharted territory!

He reached into his deep pocket, retrieving his trusty memory stick. He flicked the cap off, then slid it into a hidden port under the card swipes panel. 

He waited. 

*BIZZZ*

Perfect. His research had paid off. 
While leader in another timeline, he’d gone back and looked for the override door codes. He knew finding that code could pay off if he got himself into a pickle, and while not in a pickle now, past him had helped make this step of the plan easy. 

The door lock chimed and proceeded to whizz open. 

Henry entered and went straight to cell J13. With the back of his hand he lightly knocked on the door. The figure inside stirred awake from where they’d been slumped against a wall. The cells occupant rubbed his dark-circled eyes. His fear shifted to confusion when he found Henry’s watching him, and then… a small glimmer lit up the empty brown eyes. 
Before he could speak, Henry did. 
“Need a hand, Dave?”
The former rookie-cop nodded, eye’s looking watery. 
Henry gave Dave a thumbs up, then motioned for him to stand back. 

>͠ 🧤Infin͞it̀y Gau̡nt̨ĺet̸ ̢
> 🥊 Su̕pe̴r ͟Pu͘nc̢h 
>͘ 🔓 L͏ock ̧pi͜c͝k.̵

>͘ 🔓 L͏ock ̧pi͜c͝k.̵

Henry went with the lock pick first. It was simple and kind of boring, but he knew how to use one, so he was guaranteed it would work. 

With a few twists and turns he heard the welcoming sound of the door unlock and open. 

“O-oh, right… you’re that guy…” Dave’s excitement instantly left. He looked like he wanted to run away as he reluctantly stepped out of his cell. “… so, um… d-did these guys get you too?”
Henry made a ‘sort-of-not-really' gesture with one hand, the other fishing around his deep pocket, looking for the smooth-round plastic shaped ball he knew he’d put in there earlier this week.

Ah-ha!

He pulled out the second headset. “Made some friends,” He beamed, passing it to Dave. “And um… sorry about Dimond thing, and uh… costing you job… twice.”
Dave took the headset with a single nod. “It’s um… it’s fine. I um, I wasn’t really good at the cop thing anyway… I actually wanted to go into the computer side of stuff, but er… everyone has to start on the field… so um, you know.”

“Henry? Uh, who’s that? Did you find someone?” 
Henry tapped the side of his headset, making sure to Dave saw which button to activate the mic. “One hostage. Going to exit.”
“Nice job, Henry!” Charles’s voice beamed. “I’ll let the Captain know!”

Henry led Dave back to the gap room while he introduced himself to Charles over the com-line. He seemed to relax a fraction, no doubt knowing Henry was backed up with the power of the US military and Charles’s friendly voice helping with that.

“So uh, how long have you been held there?”
“A-a month or two, I-I think?” Dave looked to Henry as he landed across the gap, to which he nodded. It had been 2 months since he stole the Tunisian Diamond.

The yellow Fox waved at the pair, taking off. Dave waved back and Henry felt himself smile. Everything was going to pla-

“HEY!” 

“…”

A grey haired Toppat glared at them from by the door, blocking the pair’s way forward. He had thin brown hair that had mostly gone grey and a pencil line moustache. His brown eyes flickered between the pair and he didn’t hesitate, reaching for the left side of his hat, “The prisoner is escaping with an intruder in the gap room!” His voice called out with a thick European accent. 

Henry just sighed: Wilhelm Kreighaus. A Toppat Elite and former Head of the Clan’s European Division, before his successor Ahnoldt Schwarz took over, 8 years ago. He was the furthest thing from a regular lackey. He was sharp despite his age, and his veteran Toppat status made him problematic to deal with at best, and a serious threat at worst. 

Henry already knew he was going to be the latter. Last time Henry had done this he’d had the element of surprise on his side. He’d hoped they would have missed Wilhelm with the detour, but it looked like this was how reality was working his changes back into how the story was suppose to go: By delaying events. 

Dave turned to Henry shying away from the Toppat. “Y-you’ve got a plan right?”
Henry gritted his teeth, reaching into his pocket. 

“Henry? Are you in trouble?” Charles asked, then announced, “Hang on. I got this!”

Before Henry could respond he heard a low humming he knew all too well, the Toppat in front of him went for his gun, but his hand melted in front of him, skin off bone, and bone into liquid. It took only a minute for the Toppat to be reduced into a pile of horrified goo.

“He-“ Dave sank back more, eyes locked in horror on the puddle. 
“Temporary!” Henry quickly said, trying to calm him from what looked like the start of a panic attack. “Temporary. Be okay.”
“T-that’s-“ Dave ran a hand through his hair, he didn’t seem to believe him. Instead all he said was, “I-I don’t like this… I don’t like this at all…” Wrapping his arms tightly around himself.

“Henry, get to the Records room and take the vent to your left. It’ll lead you to the Cargo bay, we’ll be waiting outside to pick you guys up. Hurry, you’ve got company coming on all sides!” Charles ordered. 

Henry mumbled an affirmative, grabbing Dave’s arm pulling and pushing him through the door Wilhelm must have opened while they were gone, and into the empty record room. He pointed to the vent and Dave ran to it, opening it up and hoping in. 
When he stopped to look back, Henry wave him on with a mumbled, “I’ll catch up.”

Henry felt a little bad looking at the goop. Temporary or not, he didn’t deserve that. Wilhelm was kind. He had a loud, jolly laugh like Santa, something he’d play into at Christmas time when he’d dress up for the clan kids; the kids loved him. They treated him like their grandpa and to be fair… most of the clan did too. He’d been around for 35 - 40 years, and had such gotten the chance to know everyone from when they were kids, and now had their own kids, or even grandkids.

Wilhelm had such a soft and gentle exterior he showed to the clan and it’s members despite the hardships he’d been through. Hardship that you’d think would make him cold like Carol Cross, or grumpy like Mr Macbeth… but it didn’t. Maybe that was why Wilhelm had been the first person Mr Macbeth had introduced him to?
Henry’s mind always wandered to that night Mr Macbeth had dragged him along on a fishing trip with Wilhelm. He’d used some excuse about it being important as his mentee for him to get to know the clan’s Elite members who’d be his close colleagues in a few years. However, Henry still suspected Mr Macbeth himself didn’t want to be there, and had chosen to make Henry suffer with him.

The three of them sat on a lonely pier, late in the evening when the bugs were starting to bite. Wilhelm had offered them a beer, to which Henry had excepted and Macbeth gave him a dark look he refused to elaborate on, snatching up a water bottle instead. 
The older elite then spent the night telling them stories from his time as a double agent in the Soviet Union, and how he’d gotten busted, captured, tortured and then rescued by the Toppat’s after befriending one of their own captured members, but despite that-

Henry shook his head and the memories away. 

“Sorry Will,” He mumbled, entering the room. “You’ll be okay. Sit tight.”

Sure he might feel bad now, but he had to remember: These Toppat’s are the one’s who ruined his life, ruined his perfect ending, his happy ending! And while Wilhelm might not be directly involved, he’s still apart of the clan who’d ruined everything!

He’d not friends with the Clan’s Elite circle here, he not grumpy Mr Macbeth’s mentee here. When he looks at Wilhelm, he’s the only one who has those cherished memories of that night on the pier. He’s the only one burdened by these one-sided connections because… they’re not real. 
None of those memories have happened here. 
None of those memories are real, and whether he likes it or not. No matter how hard it is… he has to let the memory of those people go. 

He made his choice.
He chosen them, over the Toppat clan. 

Henry pulled the crumpled file from his deep pocket, sliding it into his real one for later, then ran after Dave, leaving Wilhelm and memories behind.

*****

Henry popped his head out of the vent to see Dave frozen in the middle of the cargo bay. Between him and the waiting helicopter stood a group of angry looking Toppats, weapons raised. 

Henry rolled his eyes, crawling out. 
He stuck around the crates, opening the cargo bay’s door drawing the groups attention away from Dave, who’d conveniently cowered himself against a wall out of Henry’s way; perfect.

> 📸 Flas͘hba͏ng͘ ͠ 
> 💤 Sleépin͞g͠ ͝Gas 
>̧ 🍌 B̴aǹana Bo͜mb͠ 
> 💨 For̷ce̶ Gun

> 💨 For̷ce̶ Gun

“OI! WHAT DO YA THINK YER DOING!”
… you’ve GOT to be kidding.
 
Henry whipped his head around, catching a glimpse of Right Hand Man from the corner of his eye as the second in command came into view. 

Yep. Time to go back, and this time, Henry’ll go first into the vent and not let himself be distracted by memories that aren’t real. He won’t mess this up JUST because his head decided it’s feeling nostalgic today!

Henry pushed down on his reset button, but felt a hand over the top of his, crushing his hand shut, the pairs skin colliding with an audible ‘ZAP', like static electricity. 
Henry felt their two energies collided, his reset button glitching and distorting under their combined hands, as if no longer sure who the true player here was. The one in control of the game.

He elbowed the Right Hand hard in the side, trying to break free but it did about as much as he expected. The Right Hand gritted his teeth, his free hand coming in hot, balled up in a fist.
Henry ducked, anger boiling to the surface as the Right Hand refused to let him go. "STAY OUT OF MY WAY, RIGHT!” He snapped over his shoulder, "I won't let you ruin this again!"
Right pulled Henry’s hand further from the button, clearly catching onto the fact it was something that meant bad news for him. Clearly able to see something he shouldn’t be.

"THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!?!” He scowled back, grabbing Henry’s other arm and restraining him. “I’ve never seen you in my life!”
Henry smirked, his mind latching onto a name Mr Macbeth had let slip once. “Funny considering I remember you, B-12!” 
Right's grip loosened and Henry pulled his arm forward, pushing his hand full force into the button, forcing all his energy into his Reset.

It glowing bright than he’d ever seen befor-

Chapter Text

[The Airship Medical Bay - 8 Hours since infiltration - RIGHT HAND MAN]

“Anything else that stood out about this guy?” Slice asked, scrolling through his notes.
Right Hand Man shrugged, wishing he didn’t have to keep reliving the same 5 minutes of his life on repeat. 

“I mean anything, Right.” Slice clarified, “Even something that seems little now can be the piece to help us find this guy later.”

It was stupid, but…
“When I went ta grab that guy…” Right focused on the blurry memory, “I could’a sworn, just for a brief second before I went ta grab him… outta the corner of my eye, there was a button under the guys hand and… he pressed it, right when I grabbed him, and…” 

And nothing. 

He blacked out. 

He woke up in the Medical Bay. 

The same story he’d already told him, but this one detail…
“I might’a just been seeing things. I was focused on his face, tryin’a figure out his next move. e was a manipulator too, and a strong one at that.”

Slice tapped his stylus against the edge of his tablet.
“I dunno, you might have seen a button.” He shrugged, “Maybe he had like a video game ability or something, you know? He might have been activating his defensives, maybe activating some super ability he has? We got guys with abilities stranger than that in the Clan.”
“True,” Right said, not 100% convinced. 
Something was off about that guy. 
Something weird. 
Something familiar. 

He wasn’t normal. 
He didn’t feel normal. 
Not like the rest of them. 
He seemed… he felt….

“And you’re sure have no idea who this guy is?” Slice asked again, looking up from his tablet he’d been furiously scribbling on.
Right raised a brow. Why couldn’t someone give him the all clear so he could get out of here already? 

“Okay, okay, just checking,” Slice said, “But if you do figure out why this guy looked so familar-“
“I’ll tell ya, okay!? Now stop harassin’ me on it! Ain’t I suppose ta be ‘resting’?” 
Slice nodded sheepishly, “Yes. Sorry.” 
Right Hand Man hated being in the Medical Bays. The folks who ran it were nice, albeit a little judgment if you were a regular, but it was just… too familiar. Too similar. 
The sights, the sounds, the smells. 
He hated it all. 

“How’s the Chef?” Right asked. “ ‘m surprised he’s not here.”
Slice laughed tucking his stylus & tablet into his side bag. “He was like…. 6 hours ago. I think Sage threw him out because his pacing was distressing the other patients.”
“Sound’s ‘bout right,” Right laughed. 
“I think he was suppose to call it a night 30 minutes ago, before I came to talk with you. Tho, given he was heading in the direction of the balcony, I doubt it.”
Reginald’s thinking spot; that made sense given everything that had happened today.

Around the corner walked Dr Sage. He smiled at the pair, but his bright sea-foam green eye’s were heavy and tired, framed by wild white curls that reached down to a stained scarf, wrapped loosely around his neck.

“Mr Right Hand.” Sage greeted. 

Sage sat a clipboard down on the side table. He pulled a small light from his pocket, turning it on with a ‘CLICK’, then leaning over and shining it into Right’s eyes. 
He squinted a little at the sudden discomfort, but it didn’t last long, being quickly removed. 

“How are feeling?” Sage asked, picking up the clipboard and scribbling some notes down. 
“The same as I did an hour ago,” Right grumbled. 
Sage looked up from the board smiling softly, “I know you hate being in here, just hang on a few minutes longer, I’m nearly done.” With that, Sage wrote another line or two, then sat the clipboard down, holding out his hand.

“May I?”

Right Hand Man rolled his eyes, giving Sage his hand. Sage’s hand glowed a gentle then deep sea-foam green, engulfing the whole room. Right was familiar with the feeling and knew what he was doing as his arm filled with a numb tingling. 
A red glowing snake like creature materialised around Right, floating in the air momentarily. It didn’t seem to care for the eyes watching as it started making laps around it’s owner. 

“Woah…” Slice said, eyes wide like a child on Christmas morning. “This never gets any less cool how you manipulator guys are able to summon people’s souls like this.”
Sage shrugged modestly, “Ah- well, it takes some practice. Not everyone has the gift needed to do this either.”

With his other hand, Sage made a small circle motion, summoning the red soul to come to him. He had it spin around in a few directions getting a good look at all it’s smooth features, and the few bumps and cracks life had dented into it’s surface.

He lowered his second hand, and the red soul returned to Right. 

Sage smiled removing his other hand from Right’s. With the fade of his abilities, as did the red soul, returning to where those were kept hidden from the naked eye.

“No new cracks, so it’s safe to say your Soul!Trait has stabilised.” He sighed despite his positive statement, “Well… somehow, like always, you’re everything is reading normal, so you are technically free to go. However! You’re to stay on the airship for the next week so I can continue my observations just in case something changes.”
In case something changes? Yeah right, he feels fi-
Sage held up a finger seeing his objection coming. “Your body absorbed an excessive amount of chaos energy, and while your Soul!Trait is stable, that stuff can reek unpredictable havoc. We are not risking you having a medical event out on the field, clear?”
Right rolled his eyes, “Clear.” 

Right sighed, swinging his legs off the bed and into his shoes. While not an ideal outcome, at least he wasn’t confided to MedBay for a week again.

“Slice,” Sage said next. “Mr Krieghaus is stable. We’ll have him ready for transportation in 10 minutes, if you’re not ready at the docs by then, they’ll be going without you. Understood?”
“Yes Doc!” 
Sage winced, “D-don’t call me that. Ever.”
Slice picked up his side bag, a little surprised, but nodded. “Er sure, sorry, Sage.”
“It’s fine, now shoo.”

“What happened to Wilhelm?” Right asked, looking from Sage to Slice.
Slice pulled a face, “He er… he had a run in with the intruder like you, but um… his didn’t go so well.”
Right tightened his fist standing up. When he get’s his hand on that intruder, he’s going to-
Sage scowled lightly at Slice, “He’ll be quite alright Mr Right Hand. I’m just not able to provide the long term care he needs. That’s why he’s being transferred. Now, the pair of you out! I have other patients to deal with.”

Slice left through the nearest door, and Right followed close behind. 

He pulled Slice’s arm to slow him down. “An’ what’s that suppose ta mean?”  
“It means um…” Slice winced, “…they melted his bone-“
“THEY WHAT?!?”

All the Toppat’s in the hallway stopped, turning to look at them. Then, upon seeing it was the Right Hand Man, quickly hurried away. 

“He’s going to be fine, you heard Sage! And we’re taking him to the American Central Base where the Witch is currently stationed. You know she’s the best of the best.” Slice reassured, “Sage said the damage of a bone melt is reversible on its own, but with the risk of complications, it's best to get him to a better facility. He’ll be ok in a week or two, a month at worst.”
“You won’t be saying that intruder when I get ‘im,” Right grumbled. 
Since laughed, “Oh, I’m sure we won’t.” 

*****

Right and Slice parted ways at the end of the corridor. He wished him well and told him to pass his regards onto Wilhelm, and let him know he wouldn’t be going easy on him during their next card game just because he got to be a liquid for a few hours. 

Right Hand Man greeted a few others on his way to the balcony, figuring Reginald would still be out there. A lot of people asked him how he felt, and twice as many asked what happened. He told ‘em all he was fine and didn’t know. 
He wasn’t in the mood to be social. 
He had too many things on his mind. 
He was worried about that intruder, but more importantly, he was worried about Reg. 
If he’d been pacing enough to get kicked out of Medbay, clearly the guy was about at his wits end, and there was still this whole intruder breaking, entering and fleeing with the Government to deal with. 

He walked down the last corridor, typed in the code for the doors and stuck his head outside. He wasn’t ready to commit to getting cold and blasted with wind if no one was there. However, as he’d expected, Reginald was. 

Leaning on the railing, hats in hand, the wind was making a right mess of his almost pristine hair. He said almost, because Reginald would tell him every morning, you can only get curly hair to behave so much. There was always one or two strands, a clump or two, (or on bad days three,) that would point whichever way they desired, no matter what Reginald did. 

“You’ll catch a cold out here Reg,” Right smiled leaning against the outer wall. 

Reginald snapped around, tried features lifting, but he didn’t look as happy as Right had expected. “How are you- obviously you’re alive and well enough for Sage to have released you from Medical, but-“
Right pushed of the wall and took one of his partner in crimes hand. “ ‘m fine. Really. Stop frettin’ so much.”
“I have every right too!” Reginald declared, but the bold demeanour faded away into a tight hug and quite whimper, “They told me you were dead, Right.” 
He said quietly, "They thought that intruder had killed you in the explosion, and- Sage thought the same for the first 15 minutes! Do you have ANY idea how lucky you are?”
“Explosion?”
“Ah, right,” Reginald said letting Right Hand Man out of the hug, but not go completely. “No one has told you what happened.”

Reginald retook his position by the railings, staring out at the clouds passing by. Right joined him and also cast his eyes downward. They watched the land below playing peak-a-boo through the thinning clouds. 

“The Cargo Hold looks like a small explosive went off, and whatever it was fried quite a few circuits elsewhere. We briefly lost power, that was… rather scary,” Reginald said wincing. “The engineering team have informed me we are rather lucky to still be flying given the extent of the damage. I suppose the Government must have done it so we wouldn’t be able to chase after them, and it worked. We couldn’t even if we wanted to: We’re going to be flying at this snails pace for at least another 16 hours.”
Right nodded. He didn’t miss much then. 

"Do we know who that guy was?” Right decided to ask, even tho he was pretty sure he knew his answer. “Something wasn’t right ‘bout him.”
Right didn’t want to say it aloud, but thinking about how confident the intruders demure and movements were, it was like watching someone preform an act. Like he’d done this a 100 times before. 
Reginald placed a hand confidently on Rights shoulder, “I don’t know, but I can assure you we will find out, and when we do, he’ll wish he’d never stepped foot on our Airship!”

Rights face remained stern. This was great and all, but…
The intruder had still gotten away. 

“What’d the guy take anyways? I doubt he just broke in for the thrill of it.”
“We… aren’t sure yet,” Reginald sighed. “We know he helped one of the captives escape. That security guy who saw us attempting to steal the Tunisian Dimond before we found out someone else had beaten us to it!” 
Reginald looked annoyed, but under that dramatic mask, Right could see another emotion flickering through. 
“And?”
“He went through the archives, but we’re yet to identify what he took.”
Right copied Reginald’s wince. That’s not good.

“Wasn’t Harold suppose to be stationed there today?”
“He was, but he’d swapped with Wilhelm before the intrude came through.”
“Sounds like he got better off than Wilhelm…”
Reginald smiled sympathetically, “I can assure you Wilhelm’s weathered worse. That or he’s rather dramatic with his stories!”
Right’s expression fell bitter. 
Reginald’s trying to be humorous. He’s trying to lift the mood. He’s trying to soften the blow.

“Reginald?” Right Hand Man asked, his voice more strained. “What do ya wanna tell me?”

Reginald gave his friend a small smile, a smile Right recognised as the one he’d flash at the other elites when he had a plan, some course of action. A smile that normally helped relieve the tension in the room. Seeing someone take the reins with a burning confidence, a cunning smile; It didn’t work on him.
Reginald knew that too. They were too close for simple acts of deception to go unnoticed.

“I have a plan.” Reginald said. 
Okay. 

“I want to start transferring all non-essential personnel immediately. I want the Airship to be down to a skeleton crew by tomorrow afternoon. No doubt the Government will return very soon, and… if we are going down, I want them dogs to get their hands on as few of us as possible.” 

Right nodded, taking Reginald’s gloved hand and squeezing it. 
Easy enough. He’d have that taken care of in a couple hours, and maybe he’d make Harold help him for not doing his job and guarding those archives!  Just how many times had he told that book nerd it was a job to take seriously and not treat like an extra break!

The leading duo’s hands lingered within the others a moment longer before parting. Right dipped his hat, “Alright.” He said. “I’ll go start roundin’ up some folks to get this sorted. Don’t stay out here too much longer, we’re gonna have a busy day tomorrow.”

Reginald’s smile slipped.
Why did he stop smiling?
Had-

Right studied his features. 
Had he been forcing that smile this whole time?
How had he not noticed?

“Reg?”
“…That includes you, Right.” Reginald said softly, avoiding his eyes, “I will be staying here, but I want you off the Airship by first light at the latest.”
WHAT?!

Right folded his arms tight against his chest. “Not happenin’ Reg, I’m staying here with you.”
“No. You are going without me.”
“Over my dead body I am!” Right stomped on the decking. “I promised I’ma stay by your side, and that’s a promise I intend ta keep till death do us part, remember? You agreed to those vows too!” 
Reginald held stern. 
“We're a team!” Right tried instead, “We’re more than a team, and we're staying together!”

He wasn’t going to let it end like this. 
He wasn’t going to let it end like this twice!

Reginald threw his hand up in defeat. His cheeks were puffy and red, his frustration suddenly boiling over into uneven hand movements. “We are not discussing this further! The clan will need a new leader and- and you know as well as I do if the Government does not find somebody board to arrest and hold accountable, they will go after the rest of the Clan and ruin everything we’ve worked so hard to rebuild!”
“…”
“It is your duty as a member of this Clan to be there to support them when I will inevitably be unable to. You are the Toppat Clans Right Hand.”

There. 
That was the truth.
That’s what he’d been hiding from him this whole time. 

He wanted them to…

Rights fist tightened.
Bruised knuckles becoming pale.
What could he say to change his mind? What could he say to make him understand what a bad idea this was? He can’t protect him if they are apart. 
He can’t prevent his past from repeating if they’re apart. 

He turned his back to Reginald. 

“I- I can’t leave you.” He said to the door
“Right, please, we don’t have tim-“
“You don’t understand! I can’t leave you!” He snapped back around. “I- I can’t loose you too.”
Reginald shook his head, “You’re not going to ‘loose me’, we’ll… we’ll just be apart for a little while. I know you’ll come break me out of prison once everything settles-”
“NO WE WON’T! NOT WHEN THEY FIND OUT YOU’RE-“
He stopped himself. 

Reginald raised a single brow, suddenly willing to… at the very least, play along. 

“When I’m what?” He asked. 
“…” 
“Oh come on now, Right. If you want to convince me to change my mind, you at the very least need to give me a reason why!”

He…
He can’t tell him. 
He’s so happy, so ignorant to the truth. He- 

He can’t take that from him. 

“When they find out you’re… amazing. And perfect…”
“Oh please, don’t play me for a fool.”
“…And the best thing to have ever happened to me, and-”
“Right, stop it, please!” Reginald said coldly. “You’re making this up on the spot! That is NOT what you were about to say.”

“… I love you.”
“…” 

“What if… what if I stay here, and YOU go. I recon they’ll settle for second in command, don’t ya think?”
Reginald shook his head, he looked disappointed. “Right Hand Man, just what aren’t you telling me?”

He pulled at the fringe of his shirt, “You… you won’t understand.” 
“I won’t understand?!”
Right winced. 
“I WON’T UNDERSTAND!” Reginald pushed off the railings and leaned into his Right
Hands face, his twisted into burning disgust. “You talk about promising not to leave me, but how about we start with the first promise you made! That there would be NO secrets between us!”
“This- This is different, Reg-“
“Don’t ‘Reg’ me!” The chef huffed. “If you’re going to start keeping secrets from me that are so important I should be changing decisions this major, then we have nothing further to discus!”
“I can’t tell you this, but- ”
“You can tell me anything Right, I’ve told you this a thousand time!”
Right threw his hands out, “Will ya just trust me on this and let me stay on the Airship with ya?!”

Reginald narrowed his eyes, “Request denied: You’re leaving at first light, or I will have a security team throw you out!”

Right’s fists shook, “Reg, please, just listen to me-"
“This is for the greater good, Right Hand Man. We must ensure the survival of the clan at any cost-“
“AND THAT INCLUDES US!”

Outside the doorway, they heard footsteps come to a stop. 

The door opened and two Toppats, Geoffrey Plumb and Thomas Chestershire leaned in, no doubt checking what the commotion was.
Right took a single step back, out of the Chiefs face, his hands sparking-
Reginald looked just as stunned. 

“I thought you’d lost the ability to do that?” Reginald asked, just above a whisper. 
Right shook his head. What had that intruder done to him?
The CCC had made sure he couldn’t…
It- it shouldn’t have just worn off liked that, right?

"I-is everything alright out here?" Thomas asked when neither leader said anything. 
He shoved his hands in his pocket. Never mind that. 
" 'tis fine,” Right spat mostly in Reginald's face.
This was anything but fine.

Geoffrey looked at Thomas. “Er… really doesn't sound that way-“
"NONE OF YA BUSINESS, GOT IT?”
Geoffrey sunk back, the pair nodding quickly and retreating a few steps inside.

“Good.” He spat at them.

Right glared at Reginald once more before fully turning his back on him. 
“Fine.” He said coldly. “As you wish Chief.”

Thomas and Geoffrey exchanged concerned glances, but Right didn’t care. 
He walked inside, shoving his way past the pair when they didn’t step aside. “One of ya go tell Cuppa Joe down in Comms ta let everyone who's class 2'an above know they'll be transferred to different divisions by 06:00 in the morning. I'll have 'im a list of who's ta where in an hour. The other one of ya get Harold's ass down ta Records. He can come ta help me sort out his mess!”

He heard quick footsteps behind him, but ignored them.

“Right, wait! I’m sorry! This is for the-” 

Right snapped around, “I’m carrying out ya orders so quit whining! I got the message! I’m more important to you as a Right Hand than anything else!”

He stormed off, not waiting to hear a reply, because he didn’t need one. 
He already knew the Chiefs answer. 

Chapter Text

[US Division Central Base - Carol Cross] 

“I repeat we have a visual."

Hand still trembling, Carol Cross lowered the phone. Silence consumed the small Head of Communications office, the faint buzz of computer parts and monitors a mer whisper. Lights glowed and blinked, but all of it faded into the same numbness. 

“Miss Cross?” The voice on the other end of the line called. “A-are you still there?”
Carol moved her thumb and ended the call without a word.

She felt her eyes sting, threatening tears. Instead, she forced the emotions bubbling up inside back down and spun on the spot, then punched a section of wall absent of comics strips. 

“Shit!” Her voice echoed, a slight tremble clearly noticeable. “Shit!”

She punched it again, and-

The office’s owner held her arm back before she could swing again, his grip firm. He didn’t say anything, hazel brown eyes peaking out from under a long white bang of hair. Burt Curtis never had much to say, even in situations where words were needed. He was a listener first, and a good one at that. It was part of what made him one of the best Head of Communications the Toppat Clan had had in decades. 

“Not again…” Carol mumbled under her breath. “God damn it! STUPID INTERFERING GOVERNMENT! Why can’t they keep their noses OUT of our business?!” 

Her colleague pulled her towards his now empty seat with one hand, and with the other nudged a single one of his orange headphones free from his right ear. 
“Sit.” He said. “I keep a first aid kit here.” He nodded down at her hand, still bawled into a fist, and only then did Carol notice the small abrasion across her left knuckle. It was a small cut, she must have just caught the edge of a metal push-pin. 

She turned her head away from the injury and stared down at the grey and blue checkered carpet. The old carpet was long since worn firm, the odd coffee or tea stain here and there. She knew most of them, the carpet on this particular floor of her Division’s Main Base had been replaced not long before she became it’s head. She knew which stains were from Burt, and which were from Miss Mayday, The Head of Communications before he took her position; Medical retirement. Carol still remembered the day Mayday broke the news to her. It was a muggy May morning, the sky outside filled with dark thunderous clouds. She’d been oddly quiet during their usual early morning meeting. Meetings she use to do with AppleSeed until she too…

“It’s terminal.” Miss Mayday had said, nursing her favourite cup with it’s hot chamomile tea steaming inside. Her yellow eyes were soft as they met Carol’s, a sort of sympathetic smile that made Carol feel ill. Just how many times had people given her that same look over her life?

Mayday’s complexion had begun to look paler over the months prior. Carol had asked about it once, but Mayday had told her not to worry herself over such things. She was getting on in age and Carol’s only concern should be on her new position. Reginald had handed back to her the last of the American Division’s responsibilities. He’d been helping her shoulder the work load until she could fully adjust into being a Divisions Head. 

Carol was now in charge of the Clan’s largest Division, and as such, new Heads were normally eased into it over a 2 year period. Instead, and as per usual with her luck, some incident- the other Elites were oddly tight-lipped about -between the Transportation Head & US Head had lead to him vacating his position unexpectedly and refusing to return. As such, Carol had essentially been dropped in the deep end of responsibility, forced to do her transition in 11 months instead of the usual 24.

“Don’t look so blue, young flower.” Mayday took one of her hands, squeezing it tight. “This isn’t goodbye. Not quiet yet, and even when it is, I’ll be sure to haunt these old halls and check on you every now and then.” 
“…”
“I’m sure you will feel it is unfair after what happened with AppleSeed, but life has a dreadful habit of being so, for it simply doesn’t care for such a concept.”

It’s not fair. 

The thought felt cold, carrying years of hurt, and along side it a flash of the smile Mayday had given her that morning. 

Carol took a shake breath in and out trying to stay clam. To keep a level head. Like willpower alone could overpower the sea of emotions inside, waves of grief crashing into her already well weathered shores.

She focused on the world around her, on the present day unfolding before her eyes. There was a quick rustle of plastics, and she looked in time to see a small plaster being extended in her direction. 
Burt never gave her sympathetic smiles. Other people thought his lack of displayed sympathy made him cold and uncaring. She on the other hand had always been grateful for it.  

“It’s fine, Curtis.” She told him, showing him how little the cut had actually bleed.
Burt said nothing. He peeled off one side of the plasters foil then the other, kneeling beside her to place it over the slightly bloody knuckle. He looked up from his handy work and gave her a thumbs up.
It wasn’t much, but enough that Carol felt the tug of a smile at the corner of her mouth.

“We’ll get them back.” Burt then said calmly, voice steady like the Clan hadn’t just received it’s most devastating news years. Like she hadn’t just had her past laugh in her face again. Spit at her.
She pushed the thoughts away: Focus on the now. You're a Division Head: You’re better than this.

“I know, I know.” She leaned back in the seat, crossing her arms, then huffed, “So much for my chess match.” 
“Why don’t you play against Sven.”
Carol rolled her head on her shoulder to shoot Burt a frown. “Sven’s in Berlin.”
“No, he’s here.” Burt typed something on his computer keyboard, not looking back. “He said he needed to pick up some old notes & books of his. He’s heading back out there on Monday.”
Carol nodded, not that he turned around to see it. “It’s fine. You two hardly get to spend time together nowadays as it is.”
“Nah, I’m sure he’d be happy to play a quick game wit-“
“IT’S JUST A STUPID CHESS GAME, CURTIS!”
Burt waited until the room fell quiet again, then said, “But it’s important to you.”
“…”

There was a double knock on the door and a familiar blue hat Toppat Walked in, pushing some long strands of blonde hair out of his deep blue eyes.  

“Hey Burt!” Sven Svensson beamed, smile wide for a whole 10 seconds until he spotted Carol. He blinked at his two friends. “What er… did something happen?”
Burt shrugged, and as calm as telling you the weather said, “We lost the Airship Division.”

“WE WHAT!?”

Carol ignored her younger colleague's dramatic’s, her eyes drifting to what little distraction Burt’s collection of cartoon strips pined up on the wall could provide her. 

“W- bu- HOW?! I- I wasn’t even gone-“
“US Government raid.” Burt said. “We’re still receiving intel on the details.”
“Jävla skitfan…” Sven pulled on his hair, pacing between two of the offices small walls. He mumbled in what sounded like broken Swedish or English (, or maybe both).
Carol glanced at Burt who was able to make sense of her colleagues bilingual-mush, and watched his face twitch between amusement and guilt. When Sven’s dialect drifted back into something she could comprehend, she quickly figured out why Burt had that look to him. 

“The Chief is going to loose his mind when he hears about this!” Sven announced, hands flailing in the air. “The Airship has been apart of Clan history for DECADES! No doubt he’ll want to get it back soon. That shouldn’t be too hard to plan out, he’ll want my help planing, of course. Hardest part will be taking account risk of Government use it as trap, so maybe-” 
“SVEN.” Carol snapped over him.

The Head of Strategies eyes drifted across the room to meet hers. That dorky look he while strategising twisting into concern. “J-ja?”
She felt her shoulders sink, eyes avoiding his as she spoke. “They got everyone, Sven. Chief and Right Hand included. They got everyone but Slice, Wilhelm and one of their low-ranking medics.”
For once… Sven stayed silent. 
“Slice said they saw a big group of Government Aircraft heading in the Airships general direction about an hour after their medical transporter left. They weren’t sure if they’d been spotted, so they had to go radio silent to make sure they could get Wilhelm medical treatment in time.”
Sven chewed on his lip, “Is he-“
“He’ll live.”

“How long ago was that?” Sven asked next, “Maybe we can-“ His eyes twinkled with defiance. Determination. That spark in his eye Carol herself had let go many years ago because she knew the truth: There was no such thing as hope. “They arrived here 30 minutes ago, and saw the 
Government Aircrafts 5 hours ago.” She shook her head watching as she crushed all his hopes, forced him to face the truth… “There is nothing we can do.”

Sven looked to Burt, still desperately clinging onto the glimmer in his eyes. “Didn’t you hear anything?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary.” Burt scratched the back of his neck, “They must have been using jammers and a feedback loop. It’s went silent about an hour ago. I was in the middle of checking if they were in a no-reception area when Carol came in to ask me to investigate what Slice saw.”
“And?”
Burt looked to Carol who still held her phone tightly in one hand. 

“Outpost 37 have located a large convoy of Government aircrafts heading towards their main Airbase. They…” She took a shake breath in. “They have a visual on the Airship in the centre of the group.”
Sven opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. 
 
“What do we do now?” Burt asked.
Carol shook her head, words low. “I- I don’t know.”
Sven looked between the pair and shook his head, that look of defiance back in his eye with a vengeance. 

“We will find them.” He said, voice sturdy and strong. “The Chief, Right Hand, Airship Division… all of them. We still have time before the Rocket launches. We won’t let this be an easy victory for them over us. Toppat’s don’t give up.”

Chapter Text

[??? - Henry Stickmin]

Henry, much to his surprise, woke up not in the back of Charles’s helicopter or a Wall prison cell, but a hospital? This… this wasn’t how his story went.

He’d dragged his aching body up right and examined the damage. A broken arm, lots of bandages wrapped around said arm and the other. He had some plasters stuck to his face and overall looked like he felt: awful. 
Were those burns on his hands too? Had he jumped through a window of a burning building or something? He didn't remember that being apart of the story.

He hadn't been left confused for long. A nurse came in soon after, followed by a doctor, and then another nurse. They gave him a run down of his injuries, asked how he was feeling and mentioned something about pain meds and some burn cream he'd need to use. Essentially what they said came down: You’ve been out cold the last 72 hours, but otherwise your fine and we advice bed rest at your place for the next 2 weeks.

3 hours later and he was making his way down to the lobby for whoever was waiting for him. As it turned out, he was half right on his location. He was in a hospital, but it was a military one at the main base, which meant… his escort in the lobby was Charles best case, or… Price.

“Hey Henry!” Charles called as stepped into the lobby. He flagged Henry over and they left together, with Charles handing him some discharge papers to the lady at the desk. 

Out of the over-sanitised lobby, they stepped into the cool air of a early evening. The sunset was long over and what rays were still lighting the sky had long since lost their shine and colour.

“Still surviving things you shouldn’t, and getting out hardly scratch, I see.” 
Henry opened his eyes to be greeted by Rupert Price and Dave Panpa, who’d been sat on a nearby wall. 

He shrugged to Rupert's question, ‘Not call this scratch,’ he signed the best he could with one broken arm.
“Oh hey guys! I thought you’d already left for the night?” 
Price shrugged at Charles question. “Figured we’d hang around and wait for Stickmin to be discharged. I got a few question for him, like… oh, I don’t know... how did you cause that explosion? You got EMP’s hidden in your pocket or something? You knocked out the Toppat’s power grid for a good 60 seconds.” 
“Explosion?”
“Y-you don’t remember?” Dave asked.
Henry shook his head. 
Rupert huffed, seemingly a little disappointed. “I figured you wouldn't remember anything with the way you hit the helicopter’s side panel. You’re lucky I caught you.”
“And you?” Henry signed to Dave.
“Me? O-oh, I er… I didn’t really see what happened.” He laughed nervously, “I had my back turned when whatever exploded and went, you know er… boom. I did see you hit the helicopter tho, which er… I mean that looked erm… painful.”

Dave hopped off the wall and him & Rupert joined them heading wherever Charles was taking them. A ride home Henry hoped. He was pretty knackered still and a bit drowsy from whatever meds he’d been on, so catching however many buses and trains needed from this base back to his place wasn’t exactly ideal. 

“How Galeforce?” Henry asked, talking somehow worse than signing. 
“Galeforce?” Charles frowned for a minute. “OH! He wanted to come say hi, but he's been busy with that info you got on the Toppat clan, on the usb. You must have got some good stuff too, we had the whole Airship devision arrested in like… not even 24 hours after you got out!.”
“You mean 12 hours. We got them arrested so fast they didn’t even know what hit ‘em,” Rupert boasted. “We got the leader, Right Hand… the whole lot. Serve ‘em right for what they did.” Rupert elbowed Dave at that last part getting a small smile from the shy guy. 
Dave never really spoke much in any time when they’d met. He was either quiet or fumbling over his words. He only spoke with confidence with those he trusted. The one ending where Henry could have earned his trust he… he didn’t like that ending. He’d only done that one once and the details were hazy.

Regardless, he must have gone a little overboard with his intel for them to take out the whole Airship in less than a day. It normally took them 2 or 3 days. 
Oh well, the sooner they were locked up the better off everyone would be, and hearing Reginald Copperbottom and Right Hand Man were already dealt with was a big plus.

“Galeforce said to tell you he’d be have a proper meeting with you sometime next week. OH! And he’d get you that pardon asap too.” Charles added. 
Henry smiled watching him as he bounced down their grassy path, skipping every other step. He saw Rupert rolling his eyes in not quite disapproval, but something more humorous, like, ‘and that’s my goofy friend’.

“So… er,” Charles rubbed his neck. “Henry have you got anywhere to stay for the night? It’s kind of late and I’m heading back to my place if you wanna crash with me.”
Henry slowed his pace. “Work?”
“After his fainting stunt in the ‘copter, scaring me and the General half to death?” Rupert butted in, “He’s off for the rest of the week.”
Charles shrugged looking away, “I’m fine really, but er… you know medical precautions.”
“Free tomorrow then?” Henry asked, failing to hide the plan brewing in his head.
“Yeah, why? You got something planned.”
“Air museum exhibition?” 
“THAT’S THIS WEEK?!?!”
Henry, Dave and Rupert covered their ears wincing. 
“OH NO! I’m such a scatter brain! I forgot all about it!” Charles whined, pacing. Henry smiled watching him. The only reason he actually knew about the show was because Charles was the one who was suppose to invite him. They’d originally swapped numbers after their mission and a couple days later Charles had texted asking if Henry wanted to hang out with him & the other pilots who’d gotten free tickets (and extra for their plus ones).

Charles abruptly stopped, turning to face Henry. “Er, yes! I’d love to go with you. I was actually hoping we could do something together, you seem like a cool guy and I think we’d be good friends, you know?”
“You come?” Henry asked a surprised Price.
“Nah, some of us still got a job to go to Stickmin.” Rupert answered, then said, “Tho, me and Charles were gonna catch a movie at the weekend. Dave’s tagging along too, so I guess we’ve got room for another if you wanna come.”
Henry stared at him.
“What?” Price frowned.
“You hate me?”
“You’re not half that bad Stickmin, even if some of the decisions you’ve made in the past are. You also saved Dave from those guys, so… if Charles is going to give you a chance, then I’ve got no reason not to do the same… until you give me one.” Rupert said, putting emphasis on that last part. “So you wanna come or not?”
Henry nodded vigorously and gave Rupert a thumbs up.

It worked.
His plan WORKED!
This is great! This is better than great! He’d only been aiming to clear the air between them, to dissolve that tension and distrust. But Rupert’s giving him a chance! He’s giving him a chance to be friends, not just colleagues or acquaintances. This is the best outcome he could have asked for!
If him and Rupert end up being as good of friends as him, Charles and Ellie, then he can change their future! The Triple Threat will live on. 
There will never be an end to the Triple Threat. Never again.

“Aw man, this is going to be awesome! We could totally do a movie night at my place if you like?” Charles practically bouncing on the spot with excitement. Henry nodded eagarly, but the joy felt bitter again; he missed this so much. 

“Hey Sitckmin, before you go…”

Henry turned to Rupert, “I’m sorry about teasing you in prison, and thanks for getting Dave out of there. I guess I owe you one, but don’t think that means I’ll help you rob a bank or go on a crime spree!”
Henry nodded, quickly signing a ‘no problem’.
“If you decided you wanna do something good with your life, make a difference, or heck if you just enjoy the thrill of getting the proper bad guys arrested…” Price shrugged, “Me and Charles’ll be available if you need allies on those mission.”
“We will?” Charles blinked. Rupert frowned at him briefly. “Oh right, yeah! We made such a great team back there, and you should see Rupert in the field! I bet you two would be SO cool!”
Henry’s cheeks hurt. He hadn’t smiled like this in so long…

“Thank you again Stickmin.” Rupert held out this hand, “I hope this won’t be the last I see of you on the right side of the law.”
Henry took his hand and shook it, “I will.”

Chapter Text

[1 Month since the Airship Raid - Carol Cross]

“What about Krieghaus? He’s been around for 4 different leaders at this point and was in charge of the EU devision before Schwarz. He’s got the experience and knowhow, so why not him?”
“Not a chance,” Slice shook his head at Manaaki. “The Witch said he’s still going to be out commission for a few months while he does physio. We need a leader now, not in 6 months.”
Manaaki huffed grumbling, “I still say Krieghaus is the best candidate.” 

“What about Mr Macbeth?”
Manaaki laughed loudly at Dao’s suggestion. “He’d put half the clan in ICU before the end of the year with his temper.”
Dao rolled her eyes, “Speak for yourself,”
“Oi! At least I got the balls to do it myself. I’d like to see ya get off ya butt for once rather than ‘swooning’ all you’re Chinese goons.” 
Albert Poshly, Head of Finances and currently oldest (in both maturity & age) cleared his throat. “Would the pair of you please give it a rest? I don’t care what history you have together, but it can be settled in your own time.” The older man turned to the Head of Transportation and away from the bickering Oceanian and Asian Devision heads.
“I didn’t sign up to be no leader, I’m just here to drive the train. You should know that by now.” Mr Macbeth said stale-faced.

The vocal disagreements started up again, and by the sound of it Ahnoldt, the younger German and current Head of the European Devision, was having his turn under the spotlight, proceeding to drag Slice down with him. Poshly shook his head adding some suggestions on options outside the elite circle, but no one was happy with that. Dao meanwhile seemed to be measuring Manaaki up for his coffin, and Burt? He sat silent watching the chaos unfold, with an equally unimpressed Macbeth. 

Carol, she hadn’t been paying much attention. She’d been distracted. A wooden prawn sat in her palm. She’d taken it with her to the meeting, she didn’t know why. Her fingers had graced the piece sitting by her computer and then the next thing she knew she was marching down the hall with it. 

The piece was Reginald’s: A black G7 prawn. She knew the exact one from its imposter buddies by a lightning-shaped chip in the base. Reginald had thrown the chess box at an intruder once, causing it to split open and pieces to fly everywhere in the Airship’s gap room. It had taken them a month to find all the pieces again, but somehow they did. Reginald, Sven, Burt and half of the other Airship Crew.

The G7 prawn was special being not only the last found, but in an area where it should have been crushed, but wasn’t. Reginald called it his lucky piece afterwards, always moved it first when they played. The whole chess set she had actually belonged to him, but he’d given it to her about 7 years ago. He’d insisted, she’d A) need the practice to beat him, but B) he considered it a sort of… good luck charm. He’d always won when they played with that board. He said when he played with the board he could feel Harry playing with him. A coping mechanism for his uncles death, she assumed-

“Cross?” 

Macbeth tapped her arm, eyeing up the piece.
She closed her hand around the it ignoring his curious gaze. “I’ve got my hands tied with the American division, you know that.”
Dao said. “Slice is helping you, no?”
Slice was the Head of the Airship devision and one of the few to escape arrest. 
Dumb luck? Wilhelm would argue otherwise. Wilhelm avoid arrest because of needing an emergency treatment at the Central Medical base within her devision, and Slice tagged along to pick up some paperwork from herself. However, with the loss of the Airship not even a day later he’d ended up staying within her devision tying to assist in the fallout.

“We’re still thin on all grounds,” Slice cut in. “There’s a lot of panic in the Central Division after the Northwestern base was compromised. We’re worried there will be a few more compromised given the Airship kept most of the records for this particular devision, but from what you said the EU’s been hit bad too Schwarz.” 
“Yah. London outpost vent offline this morning. Informant says US Government has passed on our files to MI6. Ve expect the last two UK outposts to go offline in next few months.” Ahnoldt announced with a loud grumble. “Ve are losing outposts like flies.”
Another problem they hadn’t touched on: The sheer amount of data and sensitive information that had been compromised.

“Regardless, leadership is out of the question for us three. My hands are tied, Slice is working on transfers & evacuations, and it sounds like Schwarz has his own work cutout for him.” Carol sighed. They were busy alright. Apparently no one had taken note of the bags under their eyes, empty coffee cups and in Schwarz’s case, the lack of headache-inducing volume.
“I’m on my way to ya base for the scheduled cargo drop, and I’m ‘bout 3 week ahead of schedule with all these cancellations, so if ya need some extra help…” Macbeth offered, one of his cheeks rarely creasing.
She raised an eyebrow at him, giving a long cold stare. There was 100% a catch to this.
Macbeth held her stare, upholding his demeanour.

Carol lowered her head covering a yawn, “And just what do YOU know about running a devision?”
“Don’t need to know anything ta help ya make a dent in the paperwork.” 
Carol scowled more. He’d be a nuisance, not helpful, and even if the he wasn’t annoying to be around, always sticking his nose where it didn’t belong… She didn’t want his help before, nor did she want it now!

“That is quite the fine idea,” Poshly answered for her. “The more tasks you are able to eliminate at this stage, the more hands available for the rocket launch’s preparations.”
She glared down the table at the Head of Finances but he was oblivious to her clear displeasure.

“We’re really going through with that? Without the Chief?” Slice frowned.
“You have a better solution to stop the Governments hunting us to extinction?” Maanaki spat back.
Slice didn’t answer.

“This great, but if you 3 off with American division, WHO is going to lead us?” Dao demanded, her temper flickering into her words.

“Sven.”

She turned to Ahnoldt and Burt’s end of the table. “Excuse me?” 
Ahnoldt slid his tablet across the table. “Sven vas Copperbottom’s top candidate to replace him. Vhy not?”
“In a couple years sure, but the kid ain’t ready yet,” Macbeth countered at a volume to rival Ahnoldt’s own. “You know ‘im as well as I do, tell ‘em Curtis!”
“Sven lacks confidence, not skill. If pushed he can and will lead.” Burt not-answered. “He handled the Government attack on outpost 21 well enough didn’t he? No members captured, and only 3 injured from a whole base of 76.”
Poshly joined Macbeth with the head shake. “Well, yes, but one of those is himself sitting in Medbay, Mr.Curtis.”
“And the last Chief couldn’t defend himself either.” Ahnoldt countered. “That not big problem.”
Carol put her head in her hand and sighed. She was too tired to deal with this madness. 

“Are you forgetting Reginald had Right Hand Man to keep ‘im safe.”
“And what a great job he did.” Dao commented earning herself an elbow from Maanaki and glare from the other elites.
“Sven’s got the skills to lead and he’ll get confidence with time. He just needs a friend or two who can support him. Do for him what Right-Hand Man did for the last chief.” Burt argued, still very much set on the idea. “It’s not like we have a better option and most of the work will be regarding the rocket, which, with Sven’s background making him the best candidate to be in charge of.”

Well… Curtis had a point there. Sven was the son of some famous Swedish inventor. Tinkering and making stuff was in his blood. He’d understand all the technical jargon the engineers use and would be best suited to make decisions about any issues or last minute alterations. 
Macbeth hissed under his breath, fist tightly clenched on his lap, out of sigh from everyone but her. 

If anyone here knew Sven’s skills it was him. Macbeth had seen it first hand when Sven joined the clan, and Sven was Macbeth’s kid, so he’d no doubt picked up a thing or two from Macbeths own abilities in that particular area. 
Carol figured that’s what the hiss was about: He couldn’t counter that point. Nothing he said could counter that reasoning, because Burt was right. 

Still, a friend huh? 
Well, if Curtis & Schwarz are serious that only leaves one candidate. “What about you as Right-hand, Burt?”
Curtis didn’t outright argue at the suggestion, if anything he blinked blankly, but his hesitation spoke for itself. He shrugged, “I guess.”
“‘You guess?’ That is not leader answer,” Dao scowled. “Yes or no.”
“Yes?” 
Ahnoldt face palmed, groaning over them all.

“Its a possibility sure, but Curtis isn’t exactly renowned for his fighting skills either,” Slice ran a hand thought his hair and shrugged. “We can’t have two people in charge who can’t take care of themselves in the event of an emergency.”
“If Cutis pick up self-defence as fast as Mandarine, Kabiz could teach.”
Manaaki bounced out of his chair, “Count me in too mate! I’d be happy to show ya a thing or two these Chinese dogs can't.” Manaaki called punching the air a few times.
Dao gave him the death glare of all glares.

“Ya’ll serious?” Macbeth folded his arms, unimpressed fading into anger. “Ya want SVEN to run the clan? Are ya all mad? We’re talkin’ the same kid which Terrence-“
“His past vith Terrence has got nothing to do vith it. He is the best option ve have and vith Copperbottom’s favour the Clan has nothing to vorry about!” Ahnoldt argued back. 
“They’re never gonna except him as leader!” Macbeth stomped out of his seat. “I don’t doubt he’s got the skills, but his past is too well known! Ya all know as well as I do how the clan feels about murders. And if they don’t know now, it’ll run loose like wildfire once he’s charge. Ya really think he needs ta relive all of that shit?”
“As his caretaker, your resistance is understandable,” Poshly announced straightening his monocle. “However I don’t see you rushing to volunteer with a better suggestion Mr Macbeth, and as we have stated already: He is more than capable.”
Macbeth huffed at them all, walking to the door. “Fine! Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.” 
“And where are you going? We aren’t finished here!” Poshly called. 

The table of 7 sat in silence. 
It seemed Macbeth had decided if they weren’t going to listen, there was no point in him staying. Carol rolled her eyes; such a mature elite~

Poshly cleared his throat and stood up.
“All if favour of Sven Svensson as leader, and Burt Curtis as Right-Hand?” He asked.
The heads around the table nodded, left hands raising into the air: 7 of 10. 
“Alright, it’s settled then. Sven Svensson will be the next leader of the Toppat Clan.”

*****
[American Devision, Outpost 8 - Medbay]

“I’ve been working on more refinement for the teleporter, there’s still more work to be done, but I think I am about there. I’ve been working on the idea of how we can ensure only Toppat’s would get picked up by the device as it is the most obvious weak point in the rockets design, for someone else to get on board. So I was thinking initially some component worked into the coms devices on all standard issues hats, but hats are easy to loose and could be an obvious point for an enemy to suspect to find something.” Sven explained to Macbeth who sat across from him nodding along. 
“Which is why instead I thought of these small clip which could be clipped under a collar or inside of a suit jacket to keep out of slight, or perhaps on a hat as well. Of course reducing the signal in this way would cause problems for bring back large loot, however, I was wondering on the idea of a magnetic device which could be placed on the side of say… a safe, so that would be included in the transportation without someone having physical contact to extend the signal from their own device, but then again-“
“Whoa there kiddo, slow down your loosin’ me,” Macbeth chuckled. 
“Oh, right, ha… erm, sorry?”
Macbeth smiled patiently. “Sounds ta me like you’ve got it all sussed. The clip on ideas a good one, but I’d be personally concerned about some of the younger folks leaving behind a stick on device and then the Government gettin’ their hands on it.”
“Hmmm, true I hadn’t taken that into account.” Sven picked up his tablet and started typing. 

Macbeth pushed the tablet down onto Sven’s lap, getting his attention again. “Aren’t ya suppose ta be resting?” He frowned.
“I’m rested enough, it’s only a bullet wound after all.” Sven whined, “Besides, you know I’ll loose my mind if I keep doing nothing, Pa.” 
Macbeth leaned back in the chair sighing, “I wish you’d spend less time with the Chief, he’s a bad influence on ya. Working yourself to the bone…”

Carol looked over her shoulder at Burt and decided now was as good of a time as any to interrupt their conversation. They couldn’t just stand in this hallway all afternoon!

She knocked twice on the doorframe before coming in.

“Room service.” Curtis announced behind her.
“Hey Burt!” Sven smiled. He tried to swing his legs out from under the covers to greet them, but was promptly stopped by Burt. 
“You’re suppose to be on bed rest, which means staying in the bed.” He deadpanned. 
“Tch, but I’m bored of being in bed rest. I’ve got things to do, places to be!”
Burt looked to Macbeth who frowned back. "See what ‘m dealin’ with here?"

Carol couldn’t contain her smile watching Burt proceed to wrestle with Sven to keep him sitting on the bed. Ultimately he settled on sitting on Sven’s lower legs so he physically couldn’t get up, earning him a chuckle from Sven. He was never going to grow up, was he? Well in his defence he was still pretty young, but…
Carol spotted Macbeth looking at her from the corner of her eye. She promptly dropped her smile and scowled, “Mr Macbeth.”
“Miss Cross,” He greeted back, still pretending to be friendly. 
He’s being overly polite to keep up appearances, but she wouldn't be fooled.

“Hey Carol!” Sven cheerily called, in a clear attempt to distract and save his guardian from her wrath. “How was the meeting? Did you guys figure out a new leader yet?”
Carol turned on Macbeth, “YOU HAVEN’T TOLD HIM YET!” 
The conductor winced slightly, “I was hoping ya might have used your brains in the time I was gone and-”
“WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?! ARE YOU TRYING TO SUGGEST SOMETHING MAC-DUFFUS!?!”
“Keep your volume down, you’ll get us all thrown out-“
“DON’T TRY CHANGING THE SUBJECT!”

Macbeth’s mouth formed a hardline, he looked at Sven then the door clearly signalling he wanted to end the confrontation. Or run away like the coward he was.

“If you’ll excuse me-”
“Nah ah ah a! Not happening until you answer-“
Burt tugged on her sleeve, holding her by the bed. “Can’t you two argue later when we’re not burning through our visiting hours?”
Carol looked from Burt to Mac-jerk and glared. She huffed in his face, but as expected he had as much reaction as a brick wall. He was like talking to a brick wall too somedays, except more annoying. 
A brick wall doesn’t follow you around. 
A brick wall doesn’t come to check how you’re doing in some act to gain your trust. Actually, thinking about it, she’d prefer to talk with a brick wall. At least she didn’t have to pretend to tolerate its presence once she’d had enough of being bothered. 

She removed her arm and the Head of Transportation promptly left.

Sven sighed sinking into the pillows, “I wish you two would get along. You know Pa means well, I just… I don’t understand why you dislike him so much.”
Carol folded her arms glaring at the wall. She quickly remembered why she ‘pretended’ to get along with him, rather than give him a piece of her mind like she would have for anyone else. 
“He’s a nosey annoyance who keeps sticking his nose in my life. He doesn’t seem to understand what ‘no’ and ‘go away’ means either!” Carol grumbled to the wallpaper.
Sven laughed softly, “That’s just how he shows he cares-“
“Yeah? Well, I wish he’d find someone else to ‘care’ about and learn what boundaries are!” Carol tried not to yell at Sven, who only meant well. 
“You are one of my best friends Carol. Maybe he just wants to get to know you better.” 
“Or maybe he’d like to be in same room as you without feeling threatened constantly,” Burt suggested in quite the calm contrast to Carol’s stormy temper. “Everyone knows his temper is… iffy, especially after… you know. I know I wouldn’t want to be the one to make him snap again.”
“I doubt it,” Carol huffed. “He’s been like… this, since I joined the clan.” 

She should have made him stay away back then. She should have given his a proper piece of her mind like she had with Suave. 
But she hadn’t. She’d chosen to mostly ignore his presence. She rarely saw him at first. Reginald asked how she was doing for him, but clearly he never relayed her annoyance for being pestered by someone far below her. Someone still below her; an endearing farm boy trying to be something he’s not. 
He’s just putting on an act. 
He wasn’t really this sweet or kind, he’s just trying to steal her trust. Why else was he so persistent for THIS long? 

Still…
She should have given him a proper piece of her mind at the time. She should have done more than just turn up her nose and walk away. 
Who was she to know she’d get promoted to an elite position and be forced into regularly seeing him and conversing for the last 11 years worth of Elite meetings.  

“Maybe he doesn’t know how to talk to girls.” Sven laughed, “I should try teach him.”
“Right, because you’re the king of social~” Carol teased letting her temper steadily evaporate. She’d just keep ignoring Mr Macbeth. Keep giving him the cold shoulder. She did it for Sven. Not for Macbeth, and certainly not because apart of her wanted to believe he was genuine, BECAUSE HE WASN’T. They never were.

“HEY! I’m more approachable than you! At least people don’t worry I’m going to clock them in the face for saying something wrong.” Sven argued with bold confidence.
Carol rolled her eyes and rather than argue more, she fluffed up his already ruffled hair with one hand. Sven swotted her hand away laughing. Burt, tho not one for visual expressions, did have a slight crease to his cheeks watching them squabble more like siblings than colleagues or friends. Carol jumped on Burt next, knocking his hat off to ruffle both the boys hair’s at the same time. 

Friends was more Burt & Sven’s thing. The pair had been very close since meeting. It was like they had some magnetic connection that drew them to the other despite their vast difference. Wherever one was, you could always guarantee the other wasn’t far away. Her and Burt? They were just colleagues who’d gotten to know the other well through their friendship with Sven. 
Sven of course would counter all of their opinions, proudly announcing them as the ‘Trio of Terror’. A formidable foe who even the Government wouldn’t dare cross! 
Both herself and Curtis had laughed it off, insisting he was drunk out of his mind at the time, but… he wasn’t completely wrong. Friendship was what Burt called it, but Carol still insisted they were just close colleagues, because they were. 

“How are you feeling? Any better?” 
Sven nodded, “Ja. Doctor says I can be out of here Monday morning.”
“Nice. So no weekend plans then?” Burt asked.
“Not unless you two want to play monopoly.”
“I’m in over my head with paperwork, but I can try swing by Sunday evening,” Carol offered. 
“I’d like that!” Sven beamed.
Carol was tight on time and sleep, actually she was too tight to be offering any of her time. She knew Burt’s schedule well enough, to know Sunday he’s in his office till at least 1am, so the least she could do was offer an hour of her company.

“How was the meeting? No one has told me yet who the leader is, or has no one been decided yet? It really needs to be figured out sooner rather than later; the clan’s a mess. We need someone in charge to lead efforts in countering the damage the Government has done to our resources and security. See a quick bounce back would also help keep moral and confidence up. Everyone knows the period when leadership changes hands is rocky, even without a major data breach!” 

Right…
They still had to tell him.

“You’re leader.” Burt answered, in a deadpanned beat.
“I…” Sven frozen and after a minute of making every facial expression possible said, “You want ME to be leader??? D-Did you all loose your minds in that meeting!”  
“You won the vote.” Burt clarified as if that would help the situation.
“I won the… WHO PUT MY NAME FORWARD?!” Sven practically jumped out of the bed.
“I did.”
“You…” Sven stared at Burt gobsmacked, mouth hanging ajar for a solid 2 minutes, taking in the information. He stayed like that for another minute struggling to find any words. 

“If it helps, he’s also your Right Hand.” Carol offered.
Sven blinked some more at them. “This must be the pain meds right? I’m just high out of my mind, ha, ha, ha…” 

Carol looked at Burt who returned the concerned look. Guess it wasn’t just her who thought he’d be excited, or at the very least take the news well. This is what Copperbottom had been training him for, surely he should have expected it.

“You okay, Svensson?” She asked.
“Huh? Um... yes? Maybe? No? I don’t… it’s just… it’s so sudden I thought I’d have longer than this, I um…” Sven fell quiet again.
Burt nudged Sven in the shoulder, “It doesn’t have to be forever. We can get the old chief and Right Hand back. They were only arrested.”
Sven lifted his head up, a flicker of light returning to his sapphire eyes. “Ja. JA! We do that! We get Orbital station up so we are safe from the world Government’s, then focus on getting the chief back! When do I start?” He asked, a new wave of confidence filling him.
Carol smiled, a part of her feeling relieve to see how quick he’d bounced back. 
Young optimism. She missed that feeling. She hadn't felt her own in a very long time. She doubted she still had it in her, but watching Sven did light a familiar warmth within her, even if it was only temporary.

“Monday,” She said patting his shoulder. “We’ll start Monday.”

Chapter Text

[5 Months since meeting ITA - In town - Henry Stickmin] 

Downtown and around a few old street corners, parcel in hand, Henry Stickmin walked enjoying the feeling of the fading summer breeze through his hair. 

It’s a few blocks of walking from the bus stop Henry came in at, and while he’s never been a fan of walking, walking has always been a great way to soothe his twitchy nerves. His pounding heart and the tight pit in his stomach.

5 months. 
It’s been 5 months since he helped take down the Toppat’s Airship and it feels like even long since he’d last seen Charles in person. In truth, it hadn’t been that long, about 2 and a half nearly 3 months. They’d chatted once or twice on the phone in that time and Henry had helped them take down the security on some major American Devision base in that time. Galeforce had figured given how easily he’d snuck into the Airship (almost) unseen, he’d have no issues sneaking into a base crawling with angry Toppat’s and taking down their security systems for them. 

The mission had been a roaring success, he’d gotten in & out completely unseen. He’d even caught sight of the blabbermouth-leader Swede, swearing and shaking his hand up & down like he’d burned it or something. Henry’d snickered watching him and guessed, based on the direction he’d come from and how he’d tumbled down that first vent, he must have spooked him into dropping his coffee or something. 
Whatever it was, the lack of red lights and sirens suggested the Swede hadn’t given the loud THUMP Henry made a second thought. Racoons in the vents probably, Henry had seen a few of those on his way in.

For a good 10 minutes after he’d been excited. He’d been ecstatic even. If the acting leader was taken out 7 months before the Rocket Launch, that would make a HUGE dent in the Toppat’s progress and leadership!
Unfortunately, the roaring success had ended with Henry’s part. 
They’d been prepared by the look of what was left behind. They must have been expecting it: to be raided. All the Toppat members escaped with what sounded like no casualties! And the cherry of the cake? They scrambled the ENTIER system. Sven Svensson scrambled the entire system (, based on the descriptions he’d heard of a blue & blond Toppat with an accent). 
How could a 20-something-year-old cause THIS many issues? 
Henry sighed at the memory, it was just another thing he’d get to listen to him rant about later down the line.
 
He should have done more. They could have stopped the Toppat’s then & there. They could have nabbed yet another semi-competent leader. One less to worry about. The Toppat’s more crippled than loosing their Leader & Right Hand of 10 years. 
Next time Henry would do more. 
Next time Henry would ignore orders and do more. 
Galeforce didn’t have it under-control, that much was clear. His extra information hadn’t been enough. It hadn’t tipped the scales in his favour. 

Had the timeline balanced itself back out? Was this its way of trying to reduce the damage he’d caused to the original flow of events by making most of his changes void? Was all his effort for nothing?
No. 
He refused to believe that. 
His information would be the game changer he needed. It was the thing which could tip the scales in his favour, maybe… maybe it just hadn’t made its way to the right hands yet. 

Henry stopped in front of the postbox on the corner from his final stop. He looked at the parcel in the brown envelope. He remembered the contents of that parcel well. The hours, weeks, months, and years he’d put into gathering the data. Remembering the data to carry across the timelines at the start, and then how he’d managed to break the timelines enough to carry a small thumb drive with him across them all: His first crack in the system. 
It was a much smaller crack than he’d caused on the Airship, but it had been the sign he’d needed to know he could make this work.
 
This thumb drive alone would get the attention of those at its final location. No doubt it would be radiating some potent signal after travelling with him for so long. And if not the exterior, it would be the interior that would raise the alarms. Hopefully, that would be enough to motivate them to give the Government the extra help or kick up the butt they needed to take this seriously. To take the Toppat’s down properly, once & for all.  

Henry looked at the parcel once more, holding it through the open shoot. 
He needs to do this. 
He can’t lose everything all over again. 
Not again.
The only way to make sure he won’t lose everything he holds dear is to take the Toppat’s out. Take the Toppat’s down and make sure this time, they stay down. 
He’ll eradicate them himself if that’s what it takes. 
It’s what any good friend would do to keep those they love safe.

Henry opened his hand, releasing his grip. 
He felt the parcel slide and stumbled out of his hand. The weight disappeared and changed into an unsteady rhythm of taps and clacks as it hit the side of the metal box before landing in a bed of other paper and 4 sided cardboard shapes.

It’s for the greater good after all.
It’s for his friends. 

*****

“Hey, Henry!” Charles called from across the cafe. Henry looked around again in the voice's direction, finding Charles standing in front of a window table. The pilot waved frantically with a big smile and in Henry’s contrasting style, he silently raised his left hand giving it a subtle shake. 

He made his way around the tables of chit-chatting friends and busy students to Charles who was waiting, his hand still raised like a beacon for Henry to follow. Henry assumed it was for a high-five when he still hadn’t lowered it, and at first, he got a confused look which quickly turned into an even bigger smile than before. 
“It’s great to see you again too! How have you been Henry?” Charles beamed. 
“Staying out of trouble with some luck,” Someone else deadpanned. 
Henry leaned past Charles's big figure and behind him saw the opposite end of the table being occupied by not only his ‘favourite’ person but said person’s friend. 
“H-hi Henry,” Dave smiled coming out from behind his cup. 
Henry gave Dave a wave and Price … he tried to contain his natural response. He tried to hold back the weight that pushed down his eyebrows. 
They might be on better terms now, but after so many runs of not being… some habits were harder to break than others. 

He forced a wave and squeaked out a “Hi.” His voice had been steadily getting clearer and he was starting to sound less like a broken speaker and more like he had a sore throat. On a good day he could even pass off for talking as much as a normal person. Today wasn’t one of those days, however. 
Perhaps it was the tension in his chest making his throat dry & tight, or perhaps it was the sight of Rupert Price. Charles hadn’t mentioned anything about him being here. Or Dave for that matter. 

“Oh, I invited Rupert along. He doesn’t get out much, so I thought this would be good for him!” Charles said quickly, seeming to pick up on Henry’s lingering stare. “And he brought Dave with him too! I er… I hope that’s okay?”
Rupert huffed at Charles, “I’m only here because Dave wanted to go.”
“Well, if you want to keep telling yourself that, then maybe you’ll believe it one day! But we both know you came because you’re a good friend!” Charles beamed, pulling Rupert into a very unwanted hug.
The former police officer squirmed under Charles's grip, and after 2 minutes of failing to escape his embracing prison bars, he went limp, admitting a pouting defeat.

Dave laughed watching them, and Henry would be lying if he said the interaction didn’t make him feel the same inside. That was his Charles. Always looking out for others and holding his friends close (, whether they agreed with their friend title or not). Apart of him had always wondered back in those older timelines, if Price tolerated Charles, or was just embarrassed to admit captain-serious could be friends with a goofball-carefree pilot. 

Henry sighed, forcing his annoyance at the extra baggage into a warm smile. “That’s fine.”
“Awesome!” Charles bounced to his feet nearly dragging Rupert off his chair in the process. 
Rupert hissed only just catching himself, “CAREFUL, CHARLES!” 
“Ha, er… my bad!” He still beamed. Henry never got tired of seeing that smile. It was like a warm soothing nostalgia filling up his cold and bruised insides. The warmth soothing the aches of loss and pain and loneliness… he never really realised how much he missed being around the pilot until he. 

Henry & Charles took their seats across the table from Rupert & Dave. Henry let Charles go first and took the window seat facing the path Henry had walked to the cafe on. The road outside was as busy as before, but now the sun was peaking through the patchy clouds. 
Charles took the window seat, which left Henry- across from Rupert. 
Okay. 
He could live with this. He was still next to Charles after all.

“So, how have you been Henry?”
“Okay,” Henry said. He switched to sign for the longer parts, his voice feeling lazy. “ ‘Try figure out how make living without robbing bank’. ”
Rupert huffed, “Ever tried getting something called a job, Stickmin?”
Henry frowned at the comment. “Tried,” He said. “ 'Tried everything before criminal record. Harder now. Pardon not fix reputation.' ”
“Ah. Well, that sucks,” Charles said before a light fills his eyes. “I KNOW! What about bounty work? You were awesome with the Toppat Clan and how you took them down and rescued Dave! I bet you’d be awesome as a bounty hunter!”
Henry laughed softly to himself, if only he knew how right he was. 
“M-maybe the General might have more jobs?” Dave asked more than suggested.  
Charles nodded his head furiously up and down at the idea. He practically bounced out of the seat. “YEAH! YEAH! That’s a great idea Dave! I should totally ask him for you.”
“Volume Charles. We’re in public.” Rupert grumbled sitting with his body turned from them as if to not be associated by the staring eyes.  
“Oh, ha, er… right. My bad!” Charles cheered still loud. 

“General?” Henry asked. It wasn’t because he was surprised or confused, he of course already knew and was expecting it. Every timeline, every path he took. Whether a success or not Galeforce still managed to nap the title of ‘General’ somewhere between his adventure on the Airship & the Toppat Clans Rocket launch.

He actually asked because he needed a change of topic from him and his ‘success’ in finding & holding jobs. And as nice as the bounty hunter suggestion was, and as much as he’d loved the adrenaline-fuelled adventures he’d gotten to go on in the timeline where he’d followed through with that… Henry was here for the long haul. He was still waiting for all the pieces to fall into place. The pieces needed to complete his puzzle, to cross the finish line he’d longed for.

“Oh yeah, I totally forgot to tell you! Galeforce got a promotion! He’s a General now. Pretty cool right?! Oh! And Rupert is a Captain now too!” Charles tells him, snapping and pointing his fingers at the new captain. Another change in status Henry also knew would be happening. 
Rupert, much to his surprise, gave a modest shrug. “Happen’s when you're taking down criminals every other week.”
“Toppat?” Henry asked, suspicious that was who he meant. 
“Yeah, they’ve had us working our butts off like normal!” Charles laughed cutting off whatever else Rupert was about to say. “Those guys are always getting into trouble.”

Henry signs, “ ‘How going? Arresting Toppats?’ ”
“Tiering,” Charles said, suddenly going from happy to deflating into his seat like a literal balloon running out of air. “Suuuuuper tiering. We’ve raided like… what? 15? 16?…”
“21.” Rupert corrected.
“21 of their hideouts already, AND I think we’ve still got another 3 scheduled for the end of this month? It’s like… it’s crazy. They’ve got so many places to hide from us. Ha, it feels like we’re hunting for rabbits.”
“They breed like them too, with the way they keep appearing,” Rupert scoffed, then grumbled to himself, “Make you wonder if we’re actually making a dent in their numbers…”

Well, that was good and all, them making a dent. And while it probably didn’t feel like it, they no doubt were if they’d already raided that many bases. The Toppat clan had always been on the smaller side. He remembered that much from his time as leader, when Reginald was his Right Hand, in a time when he and a certain redhead hadn’t really met. 
Curly-moustache face had explained that the Clan’s numbers were only just back up to the high 100s, pushing into the low 1,000s. There had been a time, not in the too-distant past when the Clan had reached 4,500 members across all devisions. That time had been towards the end of Sir Wilford IV’s reign. 

When Henry had asked what had happened to cause such a sharp drop, it was the silent Right Hand Man who spoke up. 

“Terrence Suave.” He’d said glaring out one of the space station's windows. “You ever hear on the news of ‘bout some big explosion in east Europe in ’09?
Henry had. It had been all over the news for 6 months. This huge gas explosion had taken out an entire town. He remembered some terrorist organisation had claimed responsibility for it. He also remembered no one could ever prove it was them. A lot of people thought they’d just jumped in to take the glory of the tragedy. Most officials said evidence pointed towards a fault. They also said there wasn’t enough evidence to rule out foul play. 
“That was him,” The Right Hand said, then added with cold malice, “That wasn’t the first time either. Or last.”

It was at this point that Reginald had gotten up and left them, mumbling something Henry hadn’t made out in his hasty departure. He’d raised an eyebrow at the Right Hand Man, curious, but uncertain he’d get an answer.
To his surprise, the Right Hand Man sighed, “Touchy topic for ‘im. Lost his only livin’ family, and should have died in it too. He's lucky Schwarz is a fuckin’ loud mouth and caught ‘im trying to sneak after the away team.”

“Why tell me this?” Henry had asked next, still taken aback by getting personal information from the otherwise closed-off and stoic old Right Hand.
“You’ll need to know as a Leader. Suave made ‘few enemies with that one. Had a few revenge attempts, but nothing successful… yet.” He then continued on, surprising Henry even more. “You’re a lot like ‘im; Suave. Only difference is your plans work out.”
That was fair enough, he’d heard enough about that old leader to see the similarities himself, but without specifically telling the Right Hand Man why his plans always worked out, all Henry could do was nod. 

“It scares him, Reg.” Right added following a minute or two of silence between them, staring out at the stars and the earth spinning below. “Doesn’t want to be the reason the clan falls to ruin a second time. All 'cause he let some chainsaw-wheeling nut-job the Gov sent after us take lead.” He scowls at the chainsaw part, making it clear that, no. He still wasn’t forgiven.   
“I be careful. Promise.” 
Right huffed at his promise. “Ain’t me who needs convincing.”

Again, making a dent in the Toppat Clans numbers was good and all, but… “Any sign of leader?”
“Why the interest Stickmin?” Rupert frowned, “Last I checked you were just in this for your pardon. Which: You got.”
Rupert’s tone is cold and accusing to no surprise of Henry’s. The lack of trust is expected, and while the words are cold, it doesn’t bother him. 
Henry shrugged with a grin. “Illegal be curious?”
Price rolls his eyes, his old cop instincts showing how little he believes the lie. How little he believes it’s just ‘curiosity’. “Should be.” Is all he grumbles, before a soft elbow jabs into his side.
“B-but it isn’t,” Dave smiled shyly at him, in some attempt to get him to drop his well-placed dis-trust. “And um… I’d like to know too. You know, since um… I er, well, I know I’ll sleep better knowing they’re locked up t-tight…”
And at that, the last of Rupert’s resistance fizzles out in a long sigh. 
“Not yet Dave,” Rupert says, “But they will be soon if I’ve got anything to do with it.”

Dave never had been quite ‘right’ after getting away from the Toppat Clan’s imprisonment. In most cases he’d been there until the rocket launch and the time Henry had let him out earlier in the Airship he’d gone rogue and never had the chance or ability to see how he was doing in the aftermath. In the times he had been there after, Dave was always… on edge. He jumped and flinched at every sound, making him a garbage Toppat and on the other side of the line, all he’d gotten from Charles was he’d been in therapy, but was apparently doing ‘better’, but didn’t like to leave his house.

It was at least… something, that the side effect of rescuing Dave early to earn Rupert's trust was the guy wasn’t a complete and utter nervous wreck, nor afraid to leave his house. 

“Me help too. Take Toppat’s down” Henry announced, punching his fist into his open hand.
“We’re fin-“
“Hey don’t we have that BIG raid next week with the British guys Rupert?” Charles interrupts. Rupert scowls at being cut off, giving a singular nod. “Henry could totally tag along! I’m sure there’s stuff he could help with!”
“He’s…” Is the only defence Rupert is able to come up with. 
Henry snorts at him getting a cold glare, while he relishes in the fact Price can’t use him ‘going rogue’ anymore as an objection. To which, Henry decides he’s due some fun. “He’s not going to go rogue?” 
“Oi! Just caus’ you helped us once and behaved doesn’t mean you’ll do it twice. You’re still a crimina-“
Henry pulls out his pardon, smugly holding it in the former police officers face.
“Were a criminal.” Rupert corrected through gritted teeth.

“Alright, alright. Great to see you two getting along and all…” Charles somewhat laughs, reaching across the table to put a hand on both their arms, gently pushing them apart, “But er… I don’t know if we actually need more help, even if it would be cool to work with you again Henry. So um, why don’t we just let the General decide? If yes, then that’s great! And if not, free helicopter ride~”
Henry nods giving a big thumbs up, “Like that.”
“Alrighty’o! That’s settled then! I’ll pick you up at 8 this evening by the airfields,” Charles cheers, “And um, I dunno about you guys, but I’m starving!”
Rupert gives a quiet hum of agreement, and yeah, Henry would be lying if he said he wasn’t getting a little past peckish himself. 

Charles stood up and called over a waiter, (him being the natural choice, given all he’d been so far was loud). And Dave passed Rupert the menu and with some slight stutters suggested options of what they could have. 

Henry ignored them, too excited by the prospect of another mission with Charles, and his internal clock impatiently ticking down. 
He couldn’t wait for another adventure with the red-headphones pilot.  

Chapter Text

[6 Months since ITA - The Wall Complex - Henry Stickmin]

Getting captured by The Wall had been the best thing to happen to Henry all week. 

No, he hadn’t hit his head or anything, but ever since him and Charles had taken down the Toppat Clans Airship, he’d been secretly counting down the days until today. 
Counting down the days until he’d get captured. 
Counting down the days until he’d meet his other best friend for the first time, and now for the last time.

His head was a bit groggy from however he’d been ambushed by some of the Walls goons and he was sure Charles was wondering what had happened to him by now, after seemingly disappearing mid-mission. However, Henry also knew in a few day's time he’d be able to apologise, catch up and introduce his favourite pilot to his newest friend, Ellie Rose (all with a side of Toppat butt to kick). 

The past few months had been good to Henry. He’d been staying out of trouble (well, as much trouble as fate would allow him too) and he’d been working on and off with Charles on small missions here and there. The missions had been a pretty mixed range of things from bounty work to intelligence-based stuff, but mostly intelligence work, like breaking into some Toppat hideout, stealing their security codes and then getting back out again so they could send in the big guns to apprehend the criminals. If Henry didn’t know better he’d think General Galeforce was trying him out to see what roles he worked best in. Henry did know better, and that was exactly what Galeforce had been doing.

Henry & the Warden’s second in command rounded another one of the corners in this maze of a prison complex, to a familiar holding cell. Henry kept the smile to himself but felt overwhelmed by the butterflies trying to leap out of his stomach. Finally. 
He wasn't normally a patient person, and today he was really feeling it. That bursting feeling inside to get this over and done with. He couldn’t wait.

They walked in and the usual story followed. Henry was walked to the wall, Grigori ordered him to wait there and the brown-haired girl next to him kept smashing her handcuffs against the concrete-

The BROWN-HAIRED GIRL???

“HEY! Enough of that. I told you before,” Grigori complained. The girl continued regardless. 

This was a problem.
This was a BIG problem.
Where was Ellie? And more importantly, who was this?!

Grigiori scowled and grabbed onto her arm roughly. He unclipped one of her hands from the cuff twisting the arm behind her back. In a matter of seconds Henry saw a bright light appear from the free hand and she shoved it into Grigori’s face. He stayed steady despite her punching and blinding him. He grabbed her free hand crushing it shut which caused the bright light to fade. 
“For this you will be punished!” He roared at her. 
Henry heard the ticking of a timer he knew that sound all too well: A quick time event. 
This wasn’t part of the script! This was miles off the script, all of it! 

He glanced over the options available to him, the time slivering further away:

🛎️ Make a noise.
‼️ Punch. 
 Nothing.

None of these looked like good options. 

He chose the punch, or more swinging his handcuffed hands wildly in Grigori’s direction and… he missed. It didn’t seem to matter to much however, as the distraction was enough for the girl to get her hand free, blind the warden once more and shove him off of her. Henry then saw where the punch actually came in. He swung down hard on the back of Grigori’s head with his cuffs. 
He fell to the ground like a sack of coal.

Henry looked up meeting the girls eyes and she smiled brightly. She picked up the set of keys dropped in the scuffle and got her last handcuff off. She then came over and helped Henry remove his. Henry rubbed at his sore wrists grateful he wouldn’t have to smash them against some stone in the celling, cutting his wrist in the process of warping the metal enough to snap the lock. The girl nodded in thanks and went for the door. Henry wasn’t sure why, but he grabbed onto her wrist stopping her. He nodded up at the entrance to the ventilation shaft and said, “No guards.”
Her eyes golden honey eyes sparked. “Good thinking.” She whispered in a soft voice.

She helped boost Henry up first and he swung down on the ladder to pull her up next, the option to betray not there even if he’d wanted it.
Henry looked around the shaft hoping to find a plan. A plan on how to find Ellie. He ran through every alternative version of his trip into the wall, he must have seen her at least once right? Surely he’d seen her in another time when they hadn’t partnered up, surely.

Maybe… he didn’t have to find her. 
In the run he dubbed, ‘Convicted Allies’, him and Ellie had gotten into a room where he hit a button to open ALL of the doors. If he did that again and got up top quick enough, he’d surely be able to spot her with her bright red hair against white snow. She’d stand out like a sore thumb. Of course, earning her trust that way would be harder, but Henry knew Ellie well, and he was confident he could befriend her under any circumstance. 

He signalled for the girl to follow him down the path he and Ellie normally took. He didn’t know her and she wasn’t Ellie, but he’d still need help getting though the way him and Ellie had taken the first time, and… besides. If he’d learned anything from this adventure, it was you never knew when you need a friend.

“I can’t.” The girl said destroying Henry’s plan with two words. “I’m sorry.”
She looked at the path behind her then back. “I came here with a friend. I have to find her and make sure she’s okay. Some bad people took her… I can’t go with you, but thank you for your help earlier.”
Henry looked to the ground and made another split second decision. He signed his words first, but stopped halfway seeing her blank face: Right, not everyone knew sign.

“My friend here too.” He said with sounding like he hadn’t spoken in the last two months, which was fair. While he was confident around Charles and knew him well, he had to pretend not to know him. Which meant he had to slowly start using his words, to show a slow build up of trust. A trust, Charles didn’t know he already had.

“Oh…” The girl didn’t seem pleased by the preposition he was suggesting. “No. I’m sorry, these people that took her, they’re really dangerous and they might hurt you too.”
Henry shrugged and said, “Find friends together: Team.”
The girl still had a sadness to her eyes, but did back down. “Okay.” She said. “But only if you’re sure. If you change your mind at any point…”
Henry shook his head and said, “Lead way.”

The girl nodded and led him in the opposite direction to the path him and Ellie took. He felt hesitant going so far off his normal beaten path, but for Ellie, his best friend, he was willing to risk it all.

“I’m Kate by the way,” She said. 
“Henry.” He signed and said at the same time.
“Henry,” Kate said repeating the sign. “It’s nice to meet you Henry.”

******

The pair had been crawling through the vents for a little while now. Katie seemed to know where she was going, so Henry silently followed behind. 

The metal of the vent was freezing to the touch, and the occasional breath of air would blow through them sending shivers up Henry’s spine. He should have dressed warmer. It wasn’t like he didn’t know he was going to end up here. He sighed, stupid memory. He swore it had been getting worse lately too. If he had to guess, he’s found another side effect. Jumping back and forward in time so much, all the memories start to mush together and fill up the space in his head. Obviously something had to go to make room.

“Oh, sparkles.”
Henry turned to the side for a better look at what Katie was seeing. 
In front of them the vent had a grate over it. On one side was them, and on the other through the bars was the little light Katie had made and they’d been seemingly following.
Katie looked at Henry, then past him the way they’d come. He could see it in her eyes and nodded, they’d come too far to go back now.

“What should we do?” Katie asked. 
Henry looked at the bars and felt a familiar tingle run through his hands. 3 options flickered into existence.

🧨 TNT
🔎 Magnify Glass
🐜 Shrink Ray

Well, Henry knew how well Gabe’s gadgets had worked out for him in the past, so the shrink ray wasn’t happening. Also, last time he’d used that, hadn’t he gotten EATTEN ALIVE?!
He shivered. Yeah, no. No shrink ray today.  

TNT. They blow the grate open, only, in this enclosed space, wouldn’t he just blow the whole vent open and drop them out into… into what? A cell? A guard filled break room? The boiler room- no. No way this place had a boiler. Not unless it ran on ice.

And a magnify glass? Just what would he do with that? Find a small crack in the metal work where he could punch through it. 

No. None of these options are working, because he’s thinking about them wrong. He’s thinking about him. The original convicted allies. All the choices in there had one thing in common: Team work. Him and Ellie made the choice work. Even when he was seemingly alone, it was the pair of them that made the choice work. Not him. Not alone. 

He looked at Katie, but what would she do? She doesn’t have abilities like Ellie. 
If Ellie was here she could totally crumple that grate up like a piece of paper. All he’d seen Katie do was make small balls of light. She could make them bigger and smaller, adjust the brightness and was seemingly using the one on the other side of the grate like a tracking device but… how would any of this help them. It’s just… light. 
It’s light!

Henry touched the magnify glass. His hand burned like he’d put it in a fire, a shooting sensation shooting up and attacking his arm. He snatched his hand back holding it to his chest. 
The pain subsides quick enough, and when he looked over his hand he could have sworn just for a second, it was almost… distorted. 

“Wow…” Katie stared at him wide-eyed. “You’re… one of us.” She said. 
Henry frowned and signed, ‘Sorry?’. He remembered half a second later she didn’t know sign and was about to repeat his question verbally, but seemingly she understood. 
“Y-you’ve got abilities too,” She said. Her wonder slipped away into concern, “You didn’t happen to come from an orphanage called ‘Harmonious’ too… did you? The one run by twin Cross’s?”
Henry was about to answer no, he’d think he’d know a place with a weird name, and twin crosses? Surely that would rings some bells, but then he remembered something else. 
He… didn’t remember. 
He couldn’t remember. 
He couldn’t remember the name of his orphanage. 
He had come from an orphanage right? He was sure he had. He’d never know the name of his parents, he was sure. He’d had this discussion with Ellie and Charles a very long time ago, it was one of this things him and Ellie had in common, Charles too even. 

His memory loss from all this jumping around must be a bit worse than he thought it was.

Henry shook his head and the best he could and said, “Don’t remember name.”
“It’s fine,” Katie laughed nervously, “I-it was a silly question anyway.”
She picked up the magnify glass and spun in in her hand, she looked at her little ball of light, her own eyes glowing brightly with a closely followed smile. “OH! I know.”
She bought the little ball of light back through the grate and held out the magnify glass for Henry to hold. He took it, and let Katie adjust his position and angle. Once she was happy, she gave a big thumbs up.

She held both hands out surrounding the ball and it got brighter and brighter and ow, OW, OW!
Henry covered his eyes with his free hand. Katie didn’t seem to notice, nor be bothered by the intensity of the light, but he did feel her take his wrist and move it around in a circular motion. 

The brightness faded and when Henry tempted fate, he was greeted by the sight of a melted and molten metal mess: The remains of the grate. 
Katie next to him cheerily beamed with childlike glee, “I’ve ALWAYS wanted to try that!” 

With that obstacle out the way it didn’t take them long till they reached a spot where the little ball of light became brighter than it had been previously. 

Katie sat down in the vent. “Okay.” She said, “My friend should be somewhere below. I er… I need a minute to rest from making all this light, but um… this should be it.”
Henry nodded, knowing first hand how tiring these abilities could get at times. 
He looked down through the opening flap they’d stopped at and saw another generic prison cell corridor, which meant Katie’s friend would be in one of the cells lining it. With a bit of luck they were in one of the smaller corridors and not the one near the security office which had like… 50 cells lining each wall.

Henry looked at Katie again. She’d close her eyes and was hunched over still breathing heavily, as if she’d just run a short marathon. She looked completely out of it. 
They didn’t have time to wait, nor did Henry have the patience. Once they’d found Katies friend he’d need to figure out where Ellie was, and then a way to get her out of here too, in a way which didn’t come off as weird.

Katies smile faded away again and Henry wondered why she looked so sad suddenly. They’d gotten to where they were trying to go. Her friend and her would soon be reunited, so… he asked. 

She caught herself and forced a smile. “I’m just… worried about my friend. Some people, some really bad people from this organisation called the Chaos Containment Centre probably have her by now. Have you heard of them?”
Henry’s face fell from neutral to displeasure. 
“I’ll take that as a yes then,” Kate said sympathetically. 

Henry had had run-ins with these blue uniformed clowns in the past. They were the ones who cleaned up chaos by making more chaos. Chaos which normally occurred around him, like the chaos at the museum when he’d tried to steal the Tunisian Dimond. 
They’d sent a KILLER ROBOT one time, and another they’d nuked the whole building. And of course there was the time in another timeline with the Airship when they’d destroyed the whole universe with a black matter looking thing!

Henry knew them alright, and he didn’t want to get to know them better. He’d never had a direction confrontation yet, and he really hoped that wouldn’t change today. The last thing he needed was 3 powerful organisation to be worrying about. The Toppat’s and Wall (after today) was more than enough, thank you very much.

“Wait here,” Henry told Katie. He pointed at himself, then out the vent flap.
“You’ll go alone?” She frowned.
Henry nodded with confidence.
“You don’t even know what my friend looks like,” Katie announced stopping Henry in his tracks, with a hand placed against the vent.
Right… 
He was so used to knowing how things go, (or are at least suppose to go,) he’d forgotten that detail.
“Describe?”
Katie smiled and closed her eyes, “My friend, she's about this tall with red hair and a fiery attitude…“ 
No way. 
No, it just a coincidence. 
Anyone can have red hair and a fiery attitude. 
“Her name is Ellie Rose, just tell her your Katie Light’s frien… Oh, do you know her too?” Kate asked no doubt seeing Henry's eyes light up. 
He shook his head vigorously, “My friend, I look for too.”
Kate makes a surprised chirp, “How do you know her?”
Henry shrugged covering up his fast fingers. He then revealed the content of Kates pockets in the opposite hand. 
“You pick-pocked her? No way!” Kate laughed. “I'm impressed.”

Henry passed the rubber band and crumbled piece of paper back. 

“Alright. Well, it sounds like you know who you’re looking for and what you’re doing, if you’re really happy going ahead to find her, I’ll wait here.”
Henry gave Katie a confident thumbs up, stuck his head out the vent, and upon finding an empty corridor, he ventured out into it.

*****

Much to Henry’s pleasant surprised, it was a regular corridor he’d popped out into. One with a single line of cells on each wall. He started nearest to the vent and worked outwards peeping into the small viewing windows. Most cells were empty. One cell had two guys in, one with a beanie and the other glasses, and the cell right next to theirs had a red haired lady, sitting cross-legged on the bunk. 
She head was facing to the window and absently stared out. 
Henry took a deep breath and let it go with some of his pent up feelings: That’s her. 
He knew Ellie from a million miles away. 
That’s her, that’s Ellie Rose. The 3rd and final member of the Triple Threat. 

Finding Ellie? Check.

Now he had to open this door. He actually knew this door well. It was an electronic one, the door would open from the bottom, shooting up into the ceiling out of sight. On the wall next to it was an electronic card scanner. He didn’t have a card to swipe, but he did have lock picks. 
He felt his smile extend across his face; He’d done one this one before.
This one was a special event. This one choice was the one which had led him to realise he COULD change his fate. That he wasn’t limited to the options in front of him. He could in fact make one. 

Henry repeated the same ritual he had when locked up in the Toppat’s space station. Again and again, he force the lock pick option. His hand stung again, like it had the first time he tired this, however, the stinging was far worse. His whole arm was on fire again, and this time he felt nauseous. He pushed on regardless. 

It took another minute or so of gritting his teeth, bearing with the eye watering pain, but it worked. 
The whole door frame glitched in front of him, twisting and warping momentarily, only to be replaced by a door with a lock. 
Henry picked up the lock pick he’d dropped, ignored the fact one of his hand was still glitching, and focused on opening the door, at least he tried too, until the glitching hand picked up the lock picks and made said lock pick disappear.
Okay. That was… new. And itchy, he frowned, resisting the urge to scratch and find out what happened if he touched it with his non-glitching hand.
He pulled a second set from his pocket, and tho more fiddly, with one hand he one twist this way, another that way, push this one here up and… bingo!

He pulled the lock pick out and the door shot up, revealing his red-haired friend staring at him in confusion. 

“Ellie Rose?” He asked, voice as crackly as ever. 
“Uh huh.” She said eyeing him up, or more, the way out behind him. 
He waved for her to follow him.
When she didn’t, he added, “Katie Light friend.”
Ellie blinked at him more confused. “Er… okay?”
Henry blinked at her confused.
He checked over his shoulder, hearing what could have been footsteps. 
“Escape.” He tried instead. 
Ellie seemed to notice the sounds too and jumped out of the cell following closely behind Henry, albeit at a distance. 

They were about a meter from their escape vent when two guards rounded the corner. 
Uh o- 
AND a Quick time event. 

The time started to run as some new options glistened in front of him. 

⏳Unus Annus
🧟♂️ Zombie
🌹Force

Henry didn’t even think about the other two options, he went for the rose. 
He looked to Ellie and she raised her cuffed hands. They sparked but… nothing. 
She shook her head, “I-I can’t.”
The guards pulled out their weapons approaching them slowly.

No fail screen?
But it hadn’t worked, had it?
Henry looked at Ellie’s cuffs and it clicked; team work. 
He placed his glitching hand on top of the cuffs, they glitched and disappeared just like his lock pick. Just like the door in the Airship. Not only that, but Henry’s hand stopped glitching now, relieving him of the awful itch that had been building up and making his skin crawl.

Ellie briefly looked confused, but it quickly changed into a smile. Henry watched her pick the two guards up and smash their heads together like watermelons. 
The pair groaned and fell to the floor like rag dolls. Not dead, but would 1 million percent wake up with a splitting headache. 

“How’d you do that?” Ellie asked tilting her head with the question.
Henry shrugged, tapping his nose and signed, ‘Secret’. 
Ellie scoffed, but didn’t push more on Henry’s either broken or new ability. Whatever it was, it was annoying and apparently helpful sometimes.

*****

[40 minutes Later]

The pair regrouped with Katie who squealed in joy at Ellie, before proceeding to squeeze the life out of her and then rewarding Henry with the same treatment. With their reunion out the way, and Henry’s arms nicely crushed & bruised from her grasp, Katie lead the way up to the surface. 
The journey was long and unpleasant, but with Ellies help, the vertical vents had gone from impossible, to doable with a big breath of air. 

Once they’d got up to the surface, they pushed the last vent open and tumbled out into the thick snow which lined the court yard. 
Looking around, the yard was crawling with guards, which meant someone had totally noticed either the two unconscious guards, or Grigori. Probably Grigori. 

“Plan?” Katie asked Henry and Ellie. 
Ellie leaned out from around the wall which concealed them. She pulled her head back a few minutes later and shook it. 
Henry did the same and after a minute of seeing nothing, he saw a guard enter through the gates on a motorbike. That could work. 

“Henry?” Ellie asked. “That look means you’ve got a plan right?”
Henry nodded, signing and verbally saying, ‘Motorbike.’
“There’s a lot of guards over there…” Katie said nervously. 
Ellie patted Katie on her shoulder, “Hey, we’ve got this. Just wait here out of sight and will flag you over when we’re ready to blow this joint.”
Ellie looked to Henry and the pair nodded: They’ve got this, just like old times.

The pair ran out and some guards noticed them. Unsurprising, but they were ready.  
Henry jumped through two quick times, dogging once, and the second time he pulled out a huge foil roster pan. He skimmed the pan across the snow and as if knowing what he was thinking, Ellie jumped on, sliding the rest of the way to the motorbike. 

He saw the flash of another quick time, but when he reached for the option to duck it glitched under his hand and disappeared. 

He felt the barrel of a gun prod deep into his skin.
“Henry Stickmin…” Uh oh. “Why am I not surprised?” 
Dmitri Petrov, head Warden of the Wall.  
“I must say, I’m impressed. Really I am.” He said, starting a rather familiar sounding monologue. “You and your friends are the first ones to try escape The Wall in a very long time. You’ve certainly come closest to succeeding, but I’m afraid this is the end for you.”

A set of options appeared in front of Henry. He knew this set well, that’s why he was confident to let the timer run out. 

Behind him he heard the motorcycle, he pictured Ellie and her stop sign and turned waiting to watch her smack Dimitri over the head with it once more. 

The stop sign never came. 
Ellie drove past them, heading in Katies direction. 
She’d… she’d circle back.

The Warden laughed coldly, pulling Henry from his thoughts. “It must hurt, mustn’t it? You help the girl escape too, and yet she leaves you for her friend.”
No…
S-she’d… she’d come back. They’re a team. THEY’RE ALWAYS A TEAM. 
“Betrayal. That must really hurt,” A unsettling grin crept onto the wardens face. “I’m feeling a little generous today, perhaps it’s because I am impressed by your attempted escape. I have a proposition for you Henry.” 
Dmitri leaned forward over his shoulder, and Henry could feel the cold breaths of malice against his exposed skin. “Help me catch those two who betrayed you, and in return I’ll have your punishment ‘lightened’. Do a good enough job and I might even forget you were involved.”

“What do you say Henry?”

< BETRAY      STAY LOYAL >

Henry watched the two choices in front of him flicker. 
Behind him, he felt the cold metal of the pistols barrel. 
Above him a time slowly melted away. 

He couldn’t hear the motorbike anymore. 
He couldn’t see it either. 
They’d left him. 

Ellie had abandoned him.
Ellie had left him. 
Just like he’d left her.
 
She’d abandoned him the same way he’d done to her, so many times before. So many times that he felt sick to admit he’d lost count. That he’d done that to her. Put her through that so many times.
This must have been how she felt.
The cold hungry bitterness inside, the thirsty for payback, the thirsty to get even. To make another suffer…

He’d felt this yearning sensation through his veins once before. 

He’d felt the boiling pain and furry bubble up inside him.

He hated that ending. 

He didn’t see that ending. 

He saw the memory of a long, cold and bitter war. 

“YOU USED ME!” Ellie screamed, fist smashing against the walls that imprisoned him.“And you LEFT me. You left me there to ROT, just like I’m going to leave you here to rot, and make sure you NEVER hurt anyone again.” 

She turned to leave, momentarily pausing in the doorway. “You’re not fit to be the Toppat Clan leader, or leader of anything. Copperbottom was a good leader.” She said, “He gave up his position to you to protect his clan, to give them a fighting chance against the Government.”

“Maybe you should try that,” She added coldly. “Try thinking about someone other than yourself.”

Her angry words rang out across his ears, as clear as the time she’d yelled them. The times she’d yelled them. 

Why had he repeated that timeline so much?

Why had he forced himself, and those he cared for so dearly, to relive the worst days of their lives?

“I TRUSTED YOU! I-I… I wanted to trust you, Henry, I really wanted to. W-we… we gave you a second chance! I gave you a second chance.” Charles shook his head, the tears wielding up in his eyes.

He shook his head some more, pistol held out steady despite the shaking of his words. “I’m sorry. But… but this is my duty. I-if, if this is what it takes to stop you Toppat’s from hurting more innocent people in your stupid war… then, I’m sorry.” 

“I really do believe that there’s good in you Henry. That…” He moved his finger over the trigger, slowly pulling it back, “… we could have been friends.”

His broken words echo in Henry’s ears too. Loosing friends left, right and centre, leaving him all alone with no one to turn too. Things had been personal when Charles had become a valiant hero, but here… This was more. 
This wasn’t just revenge. 
This wasn’t just personal.
This was betrayal.

He believed right to the end, he believed they could have been friends. 

And- he felt sick -he’d shot Charles to protect his own ass. 
He’d wanted to win so badly. 
He’d been so stubborn that he’d win the war.
So arrogantly stubborn, that he wouldn’t even let memories of a long buried friendship get in his way. 
The war against the Government.
The war against the Toppat Clan. 

He'd slaughtered them all.

All in the name of ‘fun’.

It was all just fun and games for him back then. Something to entertain himself.

“Try thinking about someone other than yourself.”

< BETRAY      STAY LOYAL >

Henry felt his hand gravitate toward betray. 
He’d always been one to hold grudges, he’d always been one to get back at those who had it coming. He’d made sure of it when Reginald had dropped him. Him & his stupid cunning smile had haunted Henry’s last moments, and how he’d made sure it would be his face that haunted his. But… staring at the betrayal button now, he didn’t feel that same anger he did with the Toppat leader. 
He didn’t feel that hatred bubbling inside, nor did he see the Ellie who’d raged a war to find and execute him. Nor the Charles who’d been broken in every way, trying to stop the madness that surrounded him.

He saw the Ellie he lost. 
He saw the Charles he lost. 
He saw himself reaching out to Rupert to help him. To help him save them.
He saw the distrust in his eyes.
He saw the hesitation that had cost them both everything. 

Was he really ready to give up?
Was he really ready to give up on his old friend?
The happy ending they deserved? The happy ending he owed them, whether they remembered the suffering he had put them through or not?

He moved his hand back over the other option. 

Even if it wasn’t now. 
Even if it was still sometime down the line, Henry knew there paths would cross again. 

No one would keep the Triple Threat apart forever. 

< STAY LOYAL >

“Very well.”
Dimitri shoved the gun into Henry’s back hard and snarled, “Hands in the Air; Walk.”

Henry did as he was told, all the while straining his ears for a motorbike, hoping to see another way out flicker into existence in front of him. Nothing happened. 
No Ellie.
No abilities saving his butt once more. 
No Katie even.

Henry did hear something over the howling wind however. Over the sound of the incoming snow storm, over the sound of his shaking breaths and heavy heart.
He knew that deep whirling sound. He knew it from anywhere, but it couldn’t be… 
Charles was 5 hours away. 
Every time he’d called, it had taken hours and… he hadn’t called this time. They hadn’t gotten to anywhere he could call for help.

Maybe he was dreaming? Maybe it was desperation dragging him back to old times. Times when he could count on Ellie & Charles to have his back, as he’d do for them. 

Dimitri suddenly stopped, turned and moved out from behind Henry. 
Henry felt the gun barrel slip off his shoulder blades, altering him to his chance. He turned to see what was going on, only, he instead witnessed the back end of a AK-47 zoom into view and smack Dimitri square on, in the face and knocking him (& some of his teeth) clear out. 
Before Henry could react he felt a hand latch onto his wrist, pulling him upwards until his feet left the ground. 

First it was by a few centimetres, but that quickly changed into meters and the 10s of meters above the ever shrinking prison complex. 

A second hand latched around his wrist a minute later and tugged. Henry squirmed a little, then abruptly stopped when how hight up his was finally registered. 
He let whoever had grabbed him pull him into the metallic flying thing- 
A green flying thing?
It was a helicopter! A government helicopter. 

CHARLES!

Henry turned to be greeted by- 
“P-price?” 
Rupert looked equally surprised to see and actually hear him speak (probably because he didn't sound like he lived with a permeant sore throat anymore).
“And Charles!” His favourite pilot cheered from the cockpit with a big wave. 

Rupert held out his hand again, shock swapped for a confident grin and Henry took it, being pulled from the ledge to his feet safely inside. “Trouble really has a habit of finding you, doesn’t it Stickmin?”
Henry shrugged, not denying the statement. Instead he asked, ’How did you find me?’
A smile creeped onto Price’s face. He reached into Henry’s hoodie hood and pulled out some small black device. 
HE DIDN’T!
“Hey, someone’s got to make sure you keep your word and stay out of trouble.” Rupert shrugged, clearly taking joy in Henry’s face plastered with annoyance and disbelief. 
Henry shoved Price out of his personal space and huffed, ‘Trouble find me.’
“We er… kind of noticed that!” Charles laughed. “Back to base?”
“Please,” Rupert sighed exhausted sounding. He moved to the small bench and flopped down onto it like a sack of potatoes. “Make yourself cozy Stickmin, it’s a long way back to the US.”

Henry’s smile fell: Ellie. And Katie.

“Friends!” He said point back to the complex disappearing in the falling snow.
Rupert folded his arms, “No way Stickmin. We’re already going to be in trouble for coming to get you out of here. We can’t go picking up other criminals too! I’ll only get ear ache for you, anyone else’ll cost me my rank, and maybe you didn’t notice… but I just knocked out one of the guys in charge of that place!”
Henry scowled shaking his head. “No one left behind.”

He wouldn’t let Price be the reason he looses his friends; Not twice. 
He wouldn’t let the past repeat itself!

He ran forward and jumped out of the open helicopter door.
 

“HENRY!”

*****

The air rushed past and around Henry, flapping him wildly like a piece of washing on a line. Sharpe snowflake mixed with hail cut against his skin, but he ignored it all. He had one task. One single task and he wasn’t messing up now!

🧨 Rocket
✈ Paper Plane
⛱ Umbrella

He went for the paper plane. A rocket would be too hard to control. A umbrella could work too, but he’d have no ability to move and he needed to move. Below him was Ellie & Katie somewhere. He needed to find them. 

He created a huge paper airline, jumping into the centre of it. With two hand on each wing, he bent them slightly, allowing him some control over his decent. 

Henry descended through the thicker snow clouds giving him a clear view of the wall again. 
Red hair… Red hair… Red hair…
How hard could it be to spot a red-head in a place which was white and grey? 
Apparently very difficult. 
He couldn’t see anyone or anything red anywhere! Had they already gotten her? Had she already been captured and taken back inside?
No, they couldn’t have! This is Ellie he’s talking about. She’s one of the most capable people he knows. Actually… maybe he’s been looking in the wrong place. Ellie’s capable and… there wasn’t an abandoned motorbike anywhere!

Henry pulled a harsh left, turning and zooming off over the only road in and out of the Wall. A few 100 meters ahead of him, 4 vehicles came into view, and in front of them was a motorbike. 
A motorbike with a red-head. 
A motorbike with Ellie and Katie!

He’d found them!
But so had the guards.

🔮Marbles
🍞Bread Crumbs
⛳️ Hole-in-One

Henry’s hand flickered from marbles to bread crumbs, either of which he felt success with. 
He settled on marbles, swooping down low & over taking the wall vehicles ahead of him. He reached into his pocket and felt the nothingness inside shift into cold round balls of glass. He took what felt like a handful and dropped them onto the road below. 

Behind him, he heard tiers screeching and breaks screaming as the vehicles started to slide and skid off of the road. The first one went straight into a tree lining the road side with another plowing into its side seconds later. The third one danced itself right off the cliff edge with the fourth only just stopping in time to avoid joining the third. 

“H-Henry?”

Henry’ attention snapped forward from the chaos he’d caused behind. He found Katie starting back at him in disbelief, while the motorbike slowed aligning its pace with his own. 

“Henry?!” Ellie echoed a second later, turning to look over her shoulder. Henry waved with his free hand and promptly got scowled at. “We saw you leave without us!”
Ah. Right. That probably did look bad, didn’t it? 
“Friends.” Henry said, not daring to sign incase he lost his balance. “Told them, I come back with you.” He explained, getting a horrified look from Katie.
“You’re friends with the Government?!” 
Henry laughed, and shrugged modestly. “Long story. Friends meet us up ahead. Give lift out of here.”
Ellie in the drivers seat hummed, “Well, you did come back for us. So any friend of yours is a friend of mine.”
Katie behind made some noises of discomfort. 
“Relax K. You know I’ve got your back.” Ellie said.
“And me.” Henry chirped. “Friends nice, promise. One just big grump.” Not that Henry would really call Rupert his friend, but he knew Charles would have his back reguardless of Price's feelings about carrying extra guests.
Katie sighed, dropping her head before lifting it again to reveal a smile, “Okay. I- I trust you both.”

Chapter Text

[1 Day to Rocket Launch - Carol Cross]

Carol hadn’t asked to be third in command, but she might as well be today. 
She wasn’t meant to be doing this, she’d had her own tasks to do, her own stuff to organise in the American devision, with schedules, transfers, and the short-term game plans once they got up to space. 
She hadn’t gotten to any of it.

It had started this morning at about 5:32 a.m. 
It had started in the communication suite in the rocket. 
It had started with one careless Toppat. Some guy Curtis had helping him to cover most of his work while he did Right-Hand stuff. Said guy had fried the ENTIER COMMUNICATION NETWORK. 
She didn’t know the details, but she knew it started with a cup full of coffee, and ended with the fire suppression system on the whole of floor 11 going off. 
It had ended with Burt calling her for a favour she owed him, which, she’d reluctantly agreed to, under the pretence of the repair taking him ‘not long’.

It was mid-afternoon now. 
4:30 pm to be precise.

She’d been bouncing around the rocket’s numerous and extensive floors doing all the final checks he should have been doing. Cargo, supplies, Toppat crew, engineers and one pissed-off Swede after learning about another delay on the growing list.
Doomed to fail from the start. She’d heard a few people mumbling that. If she’d actually gotten her morning coffee, she might have told them good things can’t be rushed. Instead, she yelled at them for clogging up the corridors while there was work to still be done.

She hopped into the lift, hitting the button for the elite suites. Next on her list was to drop off their supply list with Sven and give him a quick briefing on how everything is going and more importantly, check on how everything is going for him. Check he’s remembered that the pilot being in tip-top conditions is just as important as the rest of the rocket.

“HOLD THE DOOR!”

Carol jumped, then lunged forward to cover the door’s sensors. She’d just caught it most of the way shut. The door reopened and fast-paced footsteps came to a stop, and… Mannaki. 

“Afternoon Cross,” He greeted, two cups in hand. He smiled brightly adding, “You’re a hard person to find, you know, but nothing I can’t handle.” He winked the last part and Carol wondered how ‘unfortunate’ it would be if he were to trip and spill two cups of hot liquid on himself.
“Uh-huh.” She stepped aside and let him enter the lift. 
He practically skipped to the control panel and hit the button for two floors up. At least she wouldn’t be stuck with him for long.

“Coffee?” He asked. Carol looked at the extended cup of steaming coffee then him, wondering what the catch was. 
“Do I seriously need to drink it to show you it ain't poisoned?” He said forcing a dead-panned frown over his grin. 
The Head of the Oceania devision always walked around with some kind of big grin plastered on his face. Even his non-happy face looked cheerful, and even when he was trying to not look happy, he still did. Apart of that was likely what made him highly approachable for the regular members. He just reminded Carol of a jolly clown.
“No,” She said accepting the cup. “Thank you.”
“No problem mate.”

Carol took a welcomed sip of the warm liquid and surprise, surprise, it was actually half-decent.  
“How are you getting on?” She asked, taking note of a file of papers he had shoved under one arm.
“Done,” Mannaki smirked. “Done a LONG time ago.”
Carol rolled her eyes mumbling, “Over-achiever much?”
Mannaki shrugged still in good humour despite clearly hearing her comment. “Eh, what can I say? It’s a talent and a curse.”
“A curse? Really?” She asked, her voice oozing scepticism.
Mannaki simply shrugged again, “ ‘Cause. That look in your eye is saying just how much you’d loooooove for me to help out with one or two of your own jobs~”
…
Carol folded her arms glaring. 
Mannaki’s over-exaggerated smile fell.
“Ok. Fine.” He laughed raising his empty hand in a ‘you got me’ position. “Maybe I ran into Curtis up on floor 11 and he told me you’d been covering his shift, and would appreciate a coffee.” 
That sounded more like it. 
“That was an offer by the way,” He winked. “I’ve literally got nothing better to do.”

Carol briefly mulled over the options in her head. She thought about how long it would take her to get her own jobs done after she was finished with Curtis’s, because right now? It wasn’t looking too hopeful that he’d be finishing up with the network anytime soon. 

She sighed in the end. “Okay. Can you finalise the crew schedule for my devisions roster?”
Mannaki flashed her with a wide grin. “I can do anything.”
Carol rolled her eyes at him & his ego talking, but otherwise left it be. 
Sure, he’s a bit arrogant and a downright jerk when he wants to be, but Mannaki is still good at his job. He’s a team player, happy to pick up the slack or relieve other people’s workloads when he can, and his ‘I can do anything better than you attitude,’ is infectious. 
Contrary to how Carol ran her devision by efficiency, he ran his by friendly competition. Which, she suppose worked fine when your devision was on as small of a scale as his was. The Ocean Devision was their smallest devision, having never recovered it’s number after it collapsed in 2007. 

“You know, I’ll be the last to admit it, but he’s doing a pretty decent job,” Mannaki said. “Svensson,” He clarified, upon seeing Carol’s confusion for his random announcement. “He’s doing a pretty good job at leading.”
Carol nodded. “That’s what Reginald had been training him for.”
“It shows. I bet he’ll be pretty proud once we fish him from his jail cell.” Mannaki said, making a motion of throwing & reeling in his imaginary line.

“How’s he been doing recently, Svensson? And don’t give me the same ‘he’s fine’ bs Curtis did. The guy clearly hadn’t been sleeping much on Monday’s meeting.”
Carol shrugged, “Aside from not sleeping well? He hasn’t told me much either. It’s probably just stress, nothing to worry about.” 
That was a lie. 
He’d told her enough. 
He’d told her enough to make her confident that getting the Witch to force him onto a short-term medical leave once they were safe in space was the right call. He’d told her enough to make her confident he’s neither in a good head space nor mentally fit to be leading as he currently is. 
The rocket landing in prison, she’d huffed to herself when he’d told her. Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. He’s paranoid. That’s all it is. He’s sleep-deprived and paranoid. 
Why on earth would you land a rocket in prison? A-and he’s the one piloting it in the first place, so just… why?! Where did he even get such a ridiculous idea? He should be worrying about something more realistic happening, like… hitting a satellite! Or a Government raid! 

The doors pinning, signalling they were at the next stop. 
Mannaki dipped his hat at her, stepping out and he disappeared off down the corridor with the confidence of a guy who knew the new layout like the back of his hand, and totally wouldn’t get turned around and end up back at the lift doors in 5 minutes. 

*****

Another 3 floors up from where she’d left Mannaki and the lift stopped once more, in walking another familiar face. 

“Slice.” Carol greeted.
Said Toppat looked up from his phone. “Miss Cross,” He smiled getting in.

She watched Slice’s hand flow down the control panel, finger wiggling over all the numbers before finding the one he was looking for. 
“Looks like we’re going to the same floor.” He smiled, stepping back from the control panel and leaning against one of the 3 metal walls.
More company. Not that she’d wanted it, but she was stuck with it.

The doors on the lift slid shut sealing tight, and in another 40 seconds, they were moving again.

“Is Burt still having no luck with the network?” Slice asked, breaking any silence before it could set in.
Carol hummed an affirmative. “Last I heard, yes.”
Slice pulled a face, “Man. Svensson must be losing his mind up top. First the network and now the cargo train.”
Seriously? “What happened with the train? I haven’t heard anything.”
“Oh, really?” Slice somewhat laughed, his expression lacking the same natural chirpiness of Mannaki’s. “From what I heard some juniors got into a big fight or some shit. And you know what juniors are like, they kept at it until some stuff got broken. Well, a lot of stuff actually. From what my bud said, Mr. Macbeth was pissed. Like tomato red pissed. They managed to bust up one of the carts- don’t know how -but they had to swap it out and shuffle all the contents onto the other ones which is what the delay is about. I think they set off like… 40 minutes ago.”
Carol checked her phone: 2 and a half hours behind schedule. 
“Of course he can’t keep his train running on time. Today of all days too,” She huffed to no one in particular.
Slice shook his head side to side, his hands flopping around in the empty air, “I mean… in his defence, everyone knows the newbies can be unhinged at the best of times. I think he did protest about having them on the cargo train crew too. We just… didn’t listen.”
“…” Still, it didn’t change the fact he couldn’t keep them under control.

The elevator pinged again at their floor and the pair got out walking down the long corridor in relative quiet. They passed a few other Toppats eagerly chatting and pointing at things. It was quite amusing to see them getting giddy and excited over the ‘fancy’ rocket interior. 
It wasn’t that special or over the top, but Carol guessed for normal people this was probably what they expected to see when you visited the Queen. Her colleague next to her certainly didn’t do a good job hiding his own staring, and he’d been an elite for 6 years now. He should be used to this by now.

The interior was quite standard in her opinion. Even with Reginald’s extravagance in the original design, and the designers following it to a t. While this was upper-class for Toppat standard, and expected for the Toppat elite’s, in the eyes of the rest of the world's elites this looked rather… mediocre. Impressive, but she’d seen better. She’d seen more extravagant, more show-offy, more ‘look how much money I’ve got to splash on pointless things’. 
She shook her head lightly forcing out the comparisons to her past. This was fine. This was more than adequate. It looked nice and was functional, that was all that mattered.

“Did you hear Wilhelm’s back?” Slice asked.
No, she hadn’t. Last she’d heard the Witch had been keeping him in physio as he’d been having some complications with his knee. Something hadn’t quite set right, and he’d been struggling with a bad limp. 
“No, I hadn’t, that’s good to hear. How is he?”
“Cheerful and happy to be out of the medical ward from what I could tell,” Slice told her, “He said he’s looking forward to getting out on some raids again once we're up in space.”
Carol smiled shaking her head, “Anyone would think he’d want to take it easy at his age and join Poshly in a desk job.”
“Nah, he’s a spring chicken at heart, you know what those Germans are like,” Slice chuckled.
He had a point there. Ahnoldt wasn’t much different. He acted like half his age 80% of the time and had the energy of a 10-year-old on a permanent sugar rush to go with it. How he’d ended up in an elite position was still beyond her.

Slice’s phone buzzed in his pocket. “Ah shit, that’ll be Dao. Better go before she cuts my head of for being late, unless of course…” Slice’s face turned cheeky, “You wanna go greet her for me~”
Carol scoffed at him, “I’d rather be stuck with Mr Macbeth all day than spend 5 minutes with her. At least he doesn’t think he’s an entitled ‘princess’.”
Slice laughed, “She kinda is somedays huh? Tho, I guess that’s what happens when you’re lucky enough to have life hand you everything on a silver platter.” He shook his head, “Lucky bitch. I would’a given anything for even a fraction of that back before I got into the clan. A warm bed, a belly full of food… Was it really so much to ask for?”
Carol awkwardly nodded at the ground. She couldn’t really relate to that. It wasn’t well known (and she’d done her best to keep it that way), but Dao wasn’t the only person to have not been picked up from the streets. She wasn’t the only person to have come from a life others could only dream of. She supposed that was what made the difference between them: life not having yet handed her a bad card. Life still giving her everything she wanted and taking nothing in return. 
Maybe there was something she could find to relate to with Slice about: Envy.

“Oh, right. My bad. Ranting,” Slice apologised suddenly. He looked down the split in the corridor and seeing Carol had already aligned herself with her path to the left, nodded to the other one on the right that he was taking. “I better go. Catch you later, Cross.”

Carol tightened her arms across her chest, forcing her shoulders down and relaxing the grip which crushed the outer walls of the styrofoam cup. 
She’s not thinking about this now. 
She’s not thinking about this today. 
She’s not thinking about her life before the clan.
She’s got better things to be doing today. She’s got better things to do than think about a past she can’t change. 

[Elsewhere - Mr. Macbeth]

Mr. Macbeth lowered his book with a silent sigh. 
He glanced over the control of his train and out to the rail ahead, all while the familiar chug-a-chug of wheels and carts drove along the rails. The engine was happily roaring away and he couldn’t hear any problems, nor see anything. Only the blur of fast country through the windows.
Everything is fine. 

The last of the cargo for the rocket is loaded, and the last of the members are pilled into the passenger carts. Despite an initial delay setting off, somehow they’re making up time fast. Somehow, the two dumbasses who’d caused the delay in the first place had gotten the message and were now keeping their heads low. Not that either of them could get into much trouble sentenced to spend the whole ride guarding the money cart (from the inside).
No problems to be seen, no problems to be reported.
Everything is fine. 

He picked up his book again, held it for a second before lowering it just like before. And just like the 5 minutes before that. And the 5 minutes before that as well. And- 
He sighed again, closing the book this time, and sitting it on an empty section of the dashboard. 

“Mirrors, huh?”

He eyed up his personal AR-15, then the laser modifications he’d added a couple years back, still feeling no less uneasy about it than last Thursday when Sven had brought it up…

“Could you just… take a regular gun with you?” He’d asked out of nowhere & in no relation to their current discussion of the transportation schedule for next week. 

Macbeth sat his notes down next to his long abandoned coffee cup. He didn’t say anything because he didn’t need to. Sometime a little patience was just as powerful as words.

“I was just thinking, it’s a lot more risky than a normal gun, since its modified. What if it breaks? Or jams? Or the laser could overheat and cause the whole thing to short circuit and explode, or someone might have a mirror, or-“
“A mirror?” Macbeth repeated, cutting the young Swede off and derailing where ever he’d been trying to go, with a mess of words tumbling from his mouth.
“Oh, erm, well, um… right, that sounds ridiculous doesn’t it? Um… never mind that part, the er… my point was I think you would be better with a normal gun, because of the er… risks. Ja. That was it. Very risky when it goes wrong and something happens.”
Macbeth shook his head, “That ain’t what I mean kiddo. I meant I’d never considered a mirror to be a threat to a laser before.” He chuckled, because that did indeed sound ridiculous. “ ‘m pretty sure it’d melt a mirror.”
“And when it doesn’t?”
When?
“You mean if,” Macbeth corrected, still chucking. He stopped when Sven didn’t join him.

“You worry too much. I know you’re filling Copperbottom’s shoes an all, but it doesn’t mean ya gotta worry like ‘im too. You’ll be fine.” He told him with a reassuring pat to the shoulder. 
Sven promptly pushed the hand off scowling. Apparently he’d hit a nerve?
“You didn’t answer my question.” Sven repeated. "I asked when it doesn’t melt it? When it reflects it back. I asked what happens when it reflects the beam back at you!” Sven asked, before not letting Macbeth respond anyway. 
He went on, “And when no one knows what happened to you, and then you're missing for days, and weeks and months, and I don’t know if you're okay or hurt, or arrested, or what! And then they find that stupid money cart. And the black ashes, and someone gets the great idea to find out what the black stuff is, and all the Right Hand Man can say to me is ‘It happens,’ like I’m just meant to get over it! Like you’re just another person who means nothing to me!”

Macbeth narrowed his eyes. W-what is he talking about? 
“Sven… the Right Hand Man is in jail.”

Sven visibly paused, frozen to the spot. He shook his head and still yelling, said, “You know what I mean!”
“No, I don’t.” This sounded like crazy talk. This was the weirdest story Sven had ever told him. Not that Sven created elaborate stories in the first place. “Where are ya gettin’ all this from? What’s this about kiddo, ’m lost.”

 

 

When Sven said nothing, Macbeth tried again. 
“Sven.”
Call it years of parenting him kicking in, or whatever you wanted. Sure, he’d been worried about Sven leading the last few months when he clearly hadn’t been ready for it, (and naturally no one would hear of it or give his opinion any time of day), but this had to be more the anxieties and nerves talking. 
“Are you feeling okay?” He asked, “Have you seen the Witch-“
“And then the rocket launch will be delayed and the Government will have even MORE time to prepare for their raid!” Sven snapped over him, swatting with his hand like the idea was an annoying fly.

At this point any and all amusement was long gone, replaced by a cold fear that crept down Macbeth’s spine. He let Sven rant initially, hoping he might get whatever this was out of his system, but he just kept going.
“-they always know, and it’s not like he’s on our side to take them down for us!”
“Y-you’re not making any sense-“
“Of course you don’t believe me! Why would anyone? Farther like son, right?” Sven fumed, jumping from frustration to accusation.
“No one ever takes what YOU say seriously, so why would they listen to me!? Burt’s convinced I’m only sleep deprived! Carol’s ready to force me onto medical leave! And you…” Sven narrowed his eyes at the far wall. “I thought you would have listened to me. I thought you would have at least understood what it’s like to not be believed, and hear me out.”
“Kid-“
“I’M NOT A KID ANYMORE! STOP CALLING ME THAT!” 

Sven turned his back on Macbeth, “At least my real farther listened to me and my brother when we saw a problem in his work! At least he didn’t treat us like something was wrong with us! He at least appreciated it while he was around to!”

Sven got up from his desk and stormed for the door. Macbeth was up faster, already seated nearer, and held it shut with his foot. 
Sven glared cold and angry, at least he tried. 
His eyes fell to his feet. 
Shoulders slumping, unable to hold his anger when all Macbeth returned was concern without malice for the outburst.

“Sorry…” He said softly. “I’m sorry, that was… uncalled for.”
Macbeth folded his arms, leaning against the closed door and waited.
“You’re a great farther, really. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, a-and I know you try your best, I just… I’m sorry Pa.”

“Ya done yelling now?” Macbeth asked when Sven said nothing more. 
The young leader nodded and Macbeth sighed himself, forcing some of the tension out of his body.
“Ya want me to treat you like an adult? Then don’t try storm out the door like a kid. You’re not 14 anymore. No one else is gonna tolerate that shit, and I won’t neither,” He scolded lightly. Sven nodded again, silent.

“You’re right, Sven: I don’t understand. So help me understand instead of yellin’ and accusing will ya? You know I love & wanna help you, but I can’t if you don’t help me understand what’s going on up here,” He said flicking the Swede in the head. “You know your brain work’s quicker than mine ever will. And you know I don’t do all this thinking head stuff, I just drive the train.”
Sven still said nothing. He turned back to the desk, picked up his coffee cup, chugged the last of it and laughed miscibly into the empty cup. “I think I need something stronger than coffee.” 
Macbeth snorted, tossing his own cup into the overflowing bin of degraded cups. “You and me both.”

Once confident Sven wasn’t going to make a premature break for freedom, Macbeth removed his foot and joined him at the table. He put a hand on Sven shoulder, held it there and smiled, which Sven did return, albeit more gloomy. 

He removed his hand and settled back into his own seat, copying Sven’s actions across the paperwork-cover desk. Sven dropped his hat on the desk, burying his head into his arm, his face nicely hidden under thick blonde bags and thick blue sleeves.

Macbeth knew Sven well enough to know more pressure wouldn’t help the situation. The silence alone would push out what he needed to know. He didn’t need to force it more. He won’t get anything if Sven got anymore hysterical than what he’d just displayed. He’d next start talking in butchered English and Swedish, creating a half-way language not even the Head of Communications could decipher, never mind him and his semi-fluent Swedish. 

What Sven had just displayed had been a minor crack, like touching a bruise kind of response. A few angry words he didn’t mean, a few more nasty ones which he’d keep apologising for over the next 24 hours, making sure Macbeth knew he didn’t really mean it.  

He’d done it before. He’d met Sven when he was 14. Scarf had talked him into becoming his guardian while they figured out what to do with the kid. Scarf choosing him of all people simply because he kept his secret. Because that action alone apparently made Scarf confident that, ‘I know I can trust you, and I know you’ll do your damn best to look after the kid. It’s only short term Mr Macbeth, only ‘till we find someone better suited.’
Short term his ass. 
It’s been 12 years, and the fuckin’ Right Hand still hasn’t found anyone better for the job.
Not that it mattered now. He’d been pretty much sentence to the farther role after the first year. 

The Right Hand had been right about one thing, the kid had taken to him. 
He must have radiated trustworthy or some shit, ‘cause the kid had quite literally clung to his side for the first 2 months. Even when they’d found others who could speak & understand Swedish better than he could, others who’d had kids and knew how to take care of ‘em, the kid refused to leave. 

Wilhelm said it was likely the trauma. 
The kid had a lot of emotional baggage and for once reason or the other had found comfort in Macbeth’s presence. Wilhelm had also suspected (and been right,) that Sven was a kind of prodigy kid (like Reginald had been). In truth he’d been acting those first 4 months. Playing to be shy and timid. Reading the room silently, learning who to trust (him,) and not to trust (Suave). 

He’d reverted into what Wilhelm called more ‘normal’ teen behaviour after 6 months. Hence where he learned the kid could been down right cruel when he wanted.

Of course, Sven was an adult now, granted, but he was still young and Macbeth remembered his own younger years being plagued by a temper worse than Sven’s. So, he’d made a point of never holding anything he said or did against him, and he’d hoped Sven would always remember that. 

When Sven still said nothing after several minutes of silence, Macbeth decided to nudge him.

“How do you know the laser could reflect off a mirror?”
“Huh?” He hadn’t even been listening. 
“Mirror, Sven. How’d you know it could reflect?” Macbeth asked again.
“I… I keep having these… weird dreams.” Sven said, voice hardly above a whisper. “These… weird dreams about the rocket launch, mostly going wrong. And that was one of them. The laser gun… reflecting off a minor.”
“Dreams aren’t real Sven,” Macbeth told him, and watched Sven shrink, tensing up again, “Or, am I wrong, and missing something else here?”
“Will you hear me out before you judge?” Sven appeared to instantly regret asking.
“ ‘Course.”
Sven hesitated, but nodded anyway. Perhaps edged on by the reassuring smile Macbeth was trying his best to uphold despite the direction this conversation had and was likely going.

“So um… there’s a bit of back story to this, so I don’t completely lose you.” Sven said more to the table than him, “How much do you know about… um, chaos energy?”
Chaos… 
Macbeth blinked, “You mean the voodoo stuff the Chaos Containment people dabble in?” Sven cringed, “It’s science, not voodoo.”
“All the same to me,” Macbeth shrugged, earning him a smile, ‘tch’ sound and head shake.
“So, um… you know nothing at all then?” Sven deadpanned.
Macbeth nodded. “Diddle squat.”
“Great start. Um…” Sven scratched at his head, looking for a place to start. “So, um… our world is made of energy, and there is two types which make up the balance: Chaos energy and Anti-Chaos energy. Living creatures like us also have an internal balance of the two, think of it like… a second heart. These energies exist naturally, and with the right tools you can easily extract the positive kind.”
Okay… “And the negative?” Macbeth asked.

Sven furiously shook his head side to side. “Nej,Nej! Too destructive & unstable. Makes it hard to control; Dangerous. Very dangerous.” Sven said still shaking his head. “My farther refused to work with it. He warned us not to enter the same room with sample, so dangerous.”
Macbeth raised an eyebrow, intrigued. 
“A colleague of his in the 90’s got exposed to it. Made their eye’s & hair go grey, they got weak and fatigued. The anti-chaos slowly eats away your internal energy, breaks the balance. It makes you ill once the balance is broken. The unlucky ones have painful, slow deaths. Other’s dead in hours. No cure either way, no way to repair the balance.”
Sven explained. “Not worth the risk was his point.”

“So you’re Pa taught you all of this?”
Sven nodded. “My father wanted us to work with him when we got older. Said we had good future with his business partners, the… the CCC.” Sven cringed again at mentioning the companies name. Hesitation needing no explanation given the relationship the Toppat’s had with the CCC. “He did some projects and stuff for them. I picked up a few things here and there between his tutoring.”

“Anyway,” Sven shook his head, refocusing the conversation, “From positive energy, you can make a refined version to use as a power source, very good for high energy consumption. He called this stuff, Chaos.X. He used it to power most his inventions.” 
Macbeth nodded, signalling he was still following when Sven paused, glancing at him. 
“One of his inventions exploded, something short-circuited and my brother got covered in the stuff. After that he… started having these ‘episodes’. Farther thought it had cause a rapid onset of epilepsy and the tests agreed, but… I think he always knew there was something else to it.” Sven explained. “My brother, he use to predict stuff happening. Things falling off shelves, experiments which wouldn’t work, or would.”
“He use to tell me when our father wasn’t around that one day my life would change. That I would get away from him and start my own adventure. I asked about him and he would tell me not to worry about him.” Sven ran a hand through his hair keeping it there, his gaze lost to somewhere beyond the table. “He told me- he made me promise -no matter what happened, if… if I got the chance to shoot our father, to do it. Not to hesitate, just shoot and I would be okay…” 
He laughed bitterly, “Funny how that actually happened. I use to call him crazy, say experiment fried your brain. I wish I hadn’t. He might have told me more, explained how he knew that some guy with broken Swedish and a train would keep me safe…”

“Me?”
Sven didn’t answer.
“That’s why you actually shot him? It wasn’t cause’a Suave pressing you?” It wasn’t just because he was a scared kid acting under peer pressure, like they’d all assumed this whole time?
Sven didn’t answer.

Macbeth just shook his head. “Why didn’t you ever tell me this?”
“I didn’t think you would believe me. I didn’t believe me. I still don’t want to…”
Sven fell silent again.

“Okay…” Macbeth sighed and knew he was going to regret it, but asked, “So what’s the relevance?”
Sven burst into a laugh, making Macbeth feel sick. He proceeded to trying and failing to hid his face back in his arms.
“Sven…”
“So um…” He rubbed at his neck now, head raised out of his arms. “That same stuff, I used it in powering the teleporter, and I might have been trying to improve the design, make it more efficient. Use less of the Chaos.X stuff since I was worried about how it would react with the atmosphere and stuff long term, and it’s still not exactly safe in itself. Better than anti-chaos sure, but there are safer alternatives I was trying to make work, and those stupid raccoons got in the vents again! And I might have… spilt some… on myself.” 
“You spilt it on YOURSELF?!” Macbeth yelled in pure disbelief. Sven shrank into himself more, and Macbeth quickly realised he was on his feet leaning over the small desk. 
He forced himself back into the seat.
“I-I got it off quick! I-I… I thought I did at least…” Sven defended, shaking his hands like that was suppose to ease every screaming voice in Macbeth’s head. 
“But it’s fine!” Sven said, convincing neither of them. “It wears off. T-the effects aren’t permeant. The dreams have been lessening, they’re about gone! A-and that seems to have been the only side effect, which is why I know it can’t have been a lot I missed.”
Macbeth folded his arms making it painfully clear he wouldn’t be convinced. Nothing about this was ‘fine’. Even less so that it had been 5 months since that incident and Sven hadn’t breathed a word of this. Not to him at least, and he was pretty confident Burt would have said something to him if Sven had mentioned any of this to him.
“I’m fine, really, I’m fine Pa.” Sven said no more convincing than the first time.
“Are you really?”

Sven said nothing, then asked, “Can you leave that gun behind. Please?”
“Sven… it’s, it’s not I don’t want to believe you it’s just…” Macbeth shook his head and sighed. “It’s just, you do hear how this sounds, right? It’s like me saying I spilt some magic engine oil on my hands, and I can now tell ya what you’re going to have for breakfast next week before even the chefs know what’s going on the menu, but only if Cross catches you gettin’ a coffee refill after 8pm tomorrow. 
It’s just, it sounds real fucking far fetched, don’t ya think?”
Sven scowled at the table.
“Look, I just think you should explore some more reasonable answers when you hear hoof beats, like horses, before you go looking for zebra’s is all. Like… too much caffeine.” Macbeth smiled nodding to the over flowing bin of what he hopped wasn’t just todays cups.

Sven got up and calmly walked to the door. “I’m going to bed. Perhaps I am just sleep deprived after all.”
Macbeth got up, “Sve-“
“I said, goodnight, Mr Macbeth.”

Macbeth picked up his AR-15.
He took the bottom section off with a twist and opened a hidden tube. Inside he reached and unconnected a couple of cables. Next twisting right once, left twice, he removed the small laser that powered the main beam. He dropped the laser into his pocket and retrieved a spare magazine from the back, refilling the weapon with that instead. He repeated the steps in reverse, and after 5 minutes had the gun put back together and leaned it against the wall he’d taken it from.

Maybe now he’d be able to focus on his book.

Chapter Text

[8 hours to Rocket Launch - Henry Stickmin]

“And… uh, welcome to base guys!” Charles announced, smoothly landing the helicopter between the rows of others. 
“What a wonderful trip on Calvin Airlines, I’ll have to recommend it to all my friends!” Katie beamed from the co-pilot chair she’d spent most of the ride in. 
Katie had taken a fascination with the helicopter and its workings not long after entering, which had prompted Charles to invite her up front, where he gave her a rundown of all the buttons, switches and whatever else was up there. Charles had explained it all to Henry once, back when he'd been interested- which totally hadn’t been out of the curiosity of how he could hijack one in the future. 

Charles smiled brightly leading Katie to the back of the helicopter where Henry, Ellie & Rupert were waiting, “Thanks, I er, just doing my job, ya know?”
“Best in fleet,” Henry added, getting an embarrassed shrug from Charles. 
“Really?” Ellie leaned towards him with a smile Henry quickly recognised, “Can you do any cool tricks?” Ellie asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Charles shrugged again, “A few,”
Katie’s eyes light up next, “Really? That’s so cool!”
“You’ve gotta show us some man!” Ellie cheered joining Katie.
“Ahem.” 
Price nodded at the door and Charles’s expression shifted from clueless to, ‘Oh!’.
“Oh, right, I totally forgot!” Charles laughed, “Maybe another time guys, we’ve got a busy day today.”

They opened the door, got out and-

“And just WHERE have you two been?!” A deep voice boomed. 
Uh oh. Henry thought Rupert was just exaggerating but er…
The General stood straight, arms folded with a cold stare.

Rupert turned to Charles, “I thought you said you were going to radio in on the way back!” 
“I did?” Charles blinked, “Oh, right, I er… I did say that didn’t I?”
Prices facepalmed. 
Galeforce, still no more impressed said 3 words, “My tent: NOW.”

Rupert & Charles lowered their heads and started walking. 
The General looked over the three not-solders next, seeing Henry, his expression softened. A bit more pleasant, he said, “You three as well.”

******

The Government camp was heaving with people the same way Henry remembered in all his Government-aligned runs. Or, maybe it was a little more busy than he remembered?
There were lots of soldiers going to and from, quite a few medical staff carrying supplies and even some Chaos Containment Centre workers which was… odd, but maybe he’d just never paid them any mind in his previous runs. 
Today was going to be a big day for everyone, so maybe they’d called in more than just the big guns for the Toppat’s rocket launch.

Aside from the busyness of the camp, everything was just the way Henry remembered it; All the pieces he’d been careful placing over the last few months were finally falling into place. 

After another 5 or so minutes of walking past rows of green tents, they reached one larger tent in the middle of the camp.
Henry & co entered the tent behind the two soldiers, and inside General Galeforce was seated waiting for them. 
The old and grey general looked the 5 of them over and sighed, “And just what am I supposed to do with you all? And you two,” He scowled at Charles and Rupert. “Disappearing on unsanctioned adventures, picking up unauthorised civilians & criminals, and remaining radio silent all while being absent the day before a major operation!” 
He shook his head, “Price, you should know better, you’re a captain for Pete’s sake, and Charlie, I expect better from you.”
“Yes sir, sorry sir,” The two soldiers said. 

Galeforce turned his attention to Henry next.
“Henry,” He said. “I didn’t think we’d be seeing you again after your disappearing act last week, tho I suppose The Wall had something to do with that, didn’t they?”
Rupert opened his mouth, head snapping up-
“Yes, I’m quite aware of what you two were up to already. I had quite the unpleasant chat with Warden Petrovich this morning,” Galeforce announced. “You can save your explanation of your actions for the report.” 
Rupert closed his mouth, lowering his head once more.
“It’s good to see you're safe and still staying out of trouble, son,” Galeforce finished. 
Henry nodded.

“I’m afraid there will be consequences for both of you, especially you Price. Need I not remind you again: you’re a Captain. And a Captain should set an example for others, as your punishment will. 
Price, you’ll be demoted to a lieutenant for the next 3 months, and after we’re done with the Toppat’s you’ll also be starting a 3 week stand down.”
Rupert scowled at the ground silent, letting the grass under his shoes suffer his wrath.
Galeforce turned to Charles next, “Charlie, you’ll be losing fight privilege without sanction for the next month.”
“Aw, man…” Charles mumbled, his shoulder sinking. 
That one was cruel. Charles loved to go out flying at every opportunity he could get. Whether he was with Henry & Ellie or not, he was always up in the sky somewhere, up with the clouds. He loved being up there. His life was up there.
"Both of you, consider yourselves lucky we need all the hands available for the raid and you are two of our best men. If it weren’t for that, you’d have far worse punishments starting today.”

“Now onto you two ladies,” Galeforce said. Katie sank back a little, Ellie remained unfazed. “While Henry has a pardon to excuse his false imprisonment, I can’t say the same for you two. You miss Rose have quite the rap sheet and you Mrs Williams, we couldn’t find anything for you. So I do have to wonder for what reasoning the Wall had to bring you in in the first place.”
“I-I wouldn’t know sir,” Katie said, failing to keep the strain from her voice as she fiddled with the edge of her sleeve. From what Katie had explained on the way here, it sounded like she’d been booked simply for being with Ellie at the time of her arrest. 
Henry had wondered if her abilities could have had something to do with it. It wasn’t exactly a secret that The Wall had a close work relationship with the Chaos Containment Centre, so that reasoning wouldn’t be surprising. 

“You’re not in trouble dear,” Galeforce reassured. “I am like yourself, quite puzzled about their reasoning. Regardless, I’ll have you and Henry arrange some transport home once we’re done here, however, we can’t just release convicted criminals. Unfortunately, you Miss Rose will be returning to prison to serve time for your crimes, even if it is not The Wall-”
“General,” Henry interrupted. “Toppat raid today. Ellie work like I did for Airship mission. Help me, help you with Toppats, get’s pardon. Us good team.”
“Tch,” Price huffed. “Like we need more criminals working for us.”
Galeforce looked Ellie over stroking his beard, “Hmmm, well, I suppose that is a possibility, as long as the raid is successful of course. Yes, I don’t see why we couldn’t make that work. I was going to ask for your help on this one anyway Henry. If you think Miss Rose will be able to help you get the mission done, then I can get that sanctioned.”
Henry gave Galeforce a thumbs up; just as he’d planned.
“Really? Nice!” Ellie cheered, then surprised Henry with a high-five. No doubt she was happy Henry hadn’t been lying earlier when he said he’d make sure she wouldn’t go back to prison. 
“When do we start?!” Ellie asked next, punching the air with her fist and a fiery glow to her eyes. “I’m ready to take down some Toppat butt!” 
The General smiled, “I like your spirit, Miss Rose. We’ll be starting soon enough.”

The General looked to Katie next. 
Katie laughed still a little nervous, “Oh, ha, er… no, not me. I’m no good at fighting, I do the opposite actually, I-I’m a nurse.” 
“Katie could ride with me,” Charles suggested. “In case something goes wrong, that is, or Henry & Ellie get hurt. That way we’ll have our own medic on the scene without drawing from the main forces.”
Galeforce tilted his head to the side, “Hmmm, perhaps,” He said, “However, I don’t favour the idea of putting a civilian like yourself in a dangerous position. The Toppat Clan are not a group of criminals to be messed with, but, I do suppose another set of medical hands will be needed and welcomed.” He nodded again, “As long as you are aware and happy to accept the risk, Charlie's idea would work.”
“Another?” Rupert raised a brow sharply, “Don’t we have enough medical staff? We’ve got double the standard personnel on base as it is!”
“Well, yes,” Galeforce agreed, “But the Toppats are rather notorious and no doubt still reeling from the loss of their Leader & Right Hand, so we are preparing for the worst outcome.”
“Which is why there’s also Chaos Containment Centre workers walking around?” Rupert continued to frown.
Henry saw a twitch of annoyance in the General’s expression. It was subtle, but he’d met enough variants of General Galeforce to know what that twitch was; Price had hit a nerve.
“Price, your only concern should be not getting yourself demoted to lieutenant, permanently. I suggest you focus on that.”
Rupert went back to scowling at the grass.

“The mission briefing is in 2 hours. I would suggest you and Price, Charlie, show these three to the food tent & sleeping quarters so they can rest up before briefing and mission.” Galeforce stood up from behind his desk, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m running late for a meeting; You’re dismissed.”

They exited the tent, Galeforce splitting ways off to the left somewhere, which, Henry believed was in the direction of the Tank, Big Boy. Maybe he had a meeting with one of their technicians?
It didn’t really matter to him. He’d succeeded in everything he’d set out to do. 
The Triple Threat was back in action. 
Him, Ellie & Charles. And… Katie now. 
…
The Triple Threat +
The old gang he’d grown to know & love, with a new addition. 
He’d totally have to suggest that name for their team name once this mission was over. 

The rest of them followed behind Charles and still grumpy- maybe even more grumpy -Rupert. 
“So uh… breakfast? Or is it lunch now?” Charles asked, bouncing back to his cheerful self in a matter of seconds (, like he hadn’t just been reprimanded).
“Well… I wouldn’t mind some food,” Katie said. 
“Me too. I’m STARVING! I think I could eat a whole soldier!” Ellie said, elbowing Katie with a wide grin.
Henry gave a thumbs up, signing, ‘me thee’.
“Very funny,” Killjoy-Price grumbled. “This way.”

Ellie and Katie broke off into their own mini conversation and Henry got the feeling from the way Ellie kept elbowing Katie, she was trying to distract her from the fact they were on a Military base, which was weird. If Henry thought anyone should be stressed out here, it should have been Ellie with a criminal record, but then again, Ellie had always been brave & fearless regardless of the timeline. He guessed this was no different. 
The pair to his right were talking about what they’d be having and how nice it would be to get some real food, before remembering soldiers are supposed to eat colourful slop- which they didn’t actually (, but the food wasn’t great either). It was all high-protein-filling-stuff, which tended to be much less tasty than a greasy-fat-covered-burger, or the 5-star meals the Toppat Clan’s chefs would prepare. A perk of being one of the greatest criminal organisations in the world, he supposed: Good cooks were easy to come by, and thus, his taste buds had been spoiled from the many Toppat-aligned runs he’d done.

Growing bored of Ellie and Katie's back’n forth about what foods they would eat if stuck on a desert island scenario, Henry turned his attention and ears towards the two soldiers ahead of them.

“What’s on your mind Ru?” Charles asked quietly so that if Henry had been focused in on the conversation with Katie and Ellie, he wouldn’t have heard.
“Nothing,” Price said looking out at some distant tents.
Charles walked around him, back into Price’s view, “That er, that doesn’t look like nothing. It er, it looks like a frown. Kinda like somethin’s on your mind. Like you’re thinking. Thinking reeeeeeeally hard about somethin-”
“Okay, you win,” Rupert snapped. 
“Don’t you just think it’s… weird. All the extra medics, the General wanting MORE medics, and all the chaos people. There’s normally one chaos worker around for an operation like this, ONE. But I’ve counted 15 different guys so far. 15, Charles. That doesn’t seem like a coincidence when those guys only turn up when something big & bad is going to happen.”
“Ha, I er… I think you’re overthinking it,” Charles laughed unfazed. “You’re not a cop anymore, you know. There’s no crime here waiting to be solved, no crime about to take place: It’s the military. This kind of stuff is normal and sure, I guess I haven’t seen this many CCC guys around before either, but I’m sure there’s a reason for it.”
Rupert folded his arm, looking back in the direction of two more chaos workers carrying some food trays, “I was a cop for long enough to know when someone isn’t telling the full truth. And this feels like there’s something bigger going on. There’s more to it than what Galeforce told us.”
“And I’m sure the general would have told us if there was another reason,” Charles said still as cheery and optimistic as ever. “They’re probably just here to help with the more ‘unruly’ Toppats, you know? Those guys were pretty aggressive at the last base we raided, so maybe they decided we’d need some reinforcements.”
Rupert nodded, but still said, “A cop learns to trust their instincts Charles; Something is off.”

Chapter Text

[26 years earlier (1992) - Research Facility Delta - Test Subject B-12]

“Good morning Directors,” The grumpy twin scientist said. “Today, Generation 1’s test subjects will be presenting the improvements we have achieved in skill and control over the last 6 months.”

“For those of you who have been here before, you have likely already noticed there are only 4 test subjects today, not the typical 5,” the second cheerful twin scientist said. “As you’ll remember from our last presentation, our goal was to find and surpass Generation 1’s chaos limits. Test subject F - 34 was able to successful achieve this, however, as suspected, a flaw in the vessels original design prevents these vessel from being able to sustain high chaos levels for any period of time.”

“We have already rectified this design flaw in Generation 2, who we will be premiering tomorrow,”  The first twin quickly added to soothe the sea of faces which stared down upon them. “While Generation 1 have a limit of C.E-6, we are quite confident Generation 2, with more training, will be able to surpass that and maintain a constant C.E-7, if not higher.”

“Not the typical 20 he means,” Test subject B-42 mumbled.

“Shush,” B-12 hissed under his breath back.

B-42 had a point. Once upon a time there was 20 of them.

Every time something went wrong it was always, ‘You’ll notice X amount less’. Each time the scientists decreasing the amount as if their friends before them had never existed.

There were 4 of them now; there use to be 20.

There were 8 of Generation 2 now; there use to be 35.

The two twins scientists stepped aside letting another younger one take his turn in presenting them. The youngest scientist, gripping a water bottle tight, explained the test subjects with a glow of excitement to his amber eyes. He straightened his glasses twice (as this scientist always did when anxious), and pointed to each subject as he addressed them.

“Test subject: B-12, sample age: 6 years. Its abilities are elemental in nature.”

A young boy stepped forward. He had short blond hair with brilliant buttercup-yellow eyes. He wore plain brown shorts with a t-shirt bearing a single white stripe over the company blue to distinguish his generation: 1. This was same t-shirt they all wore, which had a short sleeve over the right shoulder while the left was a straight cut revealing each of their identity codes, burned deep into their skin; his read B-12. His name. His identity.

He’s B-12. Always has been, always will be.

“Test subject B-42, sample age: 6 years. Its abilities are enhanced physical skills through the reabsorption & distribution of kinetic energy.”

His friend next to him, with wild red hair and matching eyes stepped forward. While B-12 was thin and tall, B-42 was short and already very broad for their age. Another difference between them, while B-12 stood tall and straight as they’d been taught, B-42 had his arms folded glaring at the judging eyes. He’d get reprimanded for this later, he knew that- they both did. But B-42 didn’t care, not if it would make their three tormentors look bad. Defiance was always B-42’s goal, or maybe he just enjoyed watching the literally smoke coming from Dr Don’t-Cross’s ears.

Not that his defiance made a difference.

He was test subject B-42. Always has been, always will be.

“Test subject C-13, sample age: 6 years. It is able to focus energy, creating rapid cell regeneration of first & second degree injuries.”

Next to B-42, another boy stepped forward. He pushed his glasses up, but never looked up. Teal eyes locked to his feet, teal hair draping over his eyes; he’s due a hair cut this week.

“I don’t want my hair cut, I don’t want to be able to see them.” C-13 had told him while healing the burns on his hands. “They always look at me disappointed. All I can do is heal scraps and simple stuff. I can’t help when you’re really hurt. I’m useless. At least you & B-42 can do combat, but I’m hopeless at that too.”

He didn’t want a hair cut.

It didn’t matter what he wants.

He’s test subject C-13. He always has been, always will be.

“Test subject F- 45, sample age: 6 years. Its abilities are telepathic and has been working with myself to expand its development into telepathic illusions.”

F-45 stepped forward lacking her usual bounce and smile. Like C-13 she didn’t look up, hands behind her back, head draped downwards. F-34 was her best friend like B-42 is B-12’s.

Not that it mattered.

She was test subject F-45. She always has been, always will be.

With each test subject named and labelled, he explained the same standard waffle they always went over, which B-12 assumed was for the few new cold and stony faces above them.

He didn’t like being watched, none of them did. Gen 2’s E-236 had compared it to how their pet fish must feel swimming around and around their own containment facility; B-12 couldn’t forget the comparison.

“While these 4 were the first refined versions of vessels to carry a chaos ability, the abilities administered were specially chosen in nature with the long term goal in mind: Super soldiers. One’s who will be able to help this company succeed in its goals & purpose.” The young scientist finished his the introduction stuff and a tightening in B-12’s stomach told him he knew what was coming next. It was that time: Show time.

The younger scientist turned to fully face him, flashing a quick smile; it wasn’t reassuring. “An elemental user is at its strongest in any environment!”

As trained, subject B-12 retold its story through the movements which flowed without thought. Years of training, the same dance on repeat. Never changing, only growing with new steps added every so often.

First with his bare foot, he stomped on the ground, picturing and manipulating the earthy substance of concrete and metal into a tall pillar. The scientist threw the water from the bottle he’d been holding at B-12, but not a drop fell on his skin nor the floor. The drops floated in the air around him.

With one hand, the test subject guided the drops into a stream which flowed around him, before hardening the water and charging it at the stone pillar he’d created earlier. A clean hole was cut through the pillar, the water jet on the other side not wetting the waiting scientist, but instead the water drops neatly marched like soldiers into the awaiting bottle.

The scientist gave him a pleased smile with a subtle nod. Even without the words, B-12 could hear the compliment and gratification of his countless hours of training through exhaustion and injury. At least one of the scientists appreciated their effort.

The scientist screwed the cap back on the bottle, next lunging it at the test subject.

Reacting on insist, he raised one hand, stopping the bottle inches from his face. His hand shook and the bottle began an unsteady decent to the ground. He regained his grasp of air around the bottle before it touched the ground, but it was far too late to redeem himself. He looked up to see one of the twin scientist glaring at him, the other twin looked disappointed.

The one thing they’d been told not to do under any circumstance: fail.

The younger scientist didn’t seem phased however, still smiling- tho more sympathetic -as he retrieved the bottle. “Air still needs more refinement of the 4 elements, but as you can see, it is more than made up for with the strength and level of control in water and earth.”

His red-haired friend next to him, flashed a smile in his direction and no doubt later that same smile would come with words of reassurance, but no words could save him from the twin scientists wrath in the training hall.

The red-haired test subject looked back to find the younger scientist waiting patient as always.

“Super strength, speed and-“

“You said 4 elements, yet you only had it display 3?” One of the old geezers behind the glass interrupted.

The young scientist paused, seemingly caught of guard. He recovered quick enough. “Er- Yes, with good reason. While B-12 can manipulate fire, his body isn’t well adapted for the handling of it. Long term use results in burns similar to what you and I would suffer if we were to attempt such a feat. That isn’t to say he doesn’t have a certain extent of resistance to it, it’s just not great enough for long periods of training to refine the technique to anything which is worth demonstrating.” The scientist then added, “In the even of an emergence where fire is present however, this 4th element is the difference between himself surviving and someone else not.”

“It,” B-12 heard the first twin scientist hiss.

“It.” The younger one repeated.

“Stand aside Dr. Welsh.” The first scientist said approaching, “If they want to see all 4 elements, we will demonstrate all 4 elements.”

The young scientists smile fell, “Dr. Thomas tha-“

“Stand aside Welsh.”

The younger scientist, Dr. Welsh, faulted for a moment. He looked at the B-12 who pleaded with his eyes, not that it mattered. Dr. Welsh lowered his head in defeat, stepping away from the 4 test subjects.

B-12 felt all eyes on him. He saw the fear flash in B-42 next to him, and in front of him the look of revenge in Dr. Thomas’s eyes and stale features.

He took an involuntary step back.

Dr. Thomas took a step forward.

The second scientist joined his twin, “Tom, I’ve got a lighter you really don’t need to.”

“It’s about time we gave it a challenge. Limits can not be broken if it is not forced to break them,” Dr. Thomas said, pushing the lighter back into his brothers hand.

His twin nodded, “Alright, just don’t hurt yourself.”

The second twin scientist, Dr. William, stepped aside to give the younger scientist some reassurance. Not him, not B-12, not the one who was going to be torched like a marshmallow on a stick.

The first twin scientist lights his whole left hand on fire. The flames stretching up to his elbows, burning the edges of his lab coat, they lurched out at B-12. The flames burning a bright yellow-white with hints of blue, no doubt coloured by the scientists feelings towards them.

Dr Thomas sent a wave of flames in his direction. B-12 raised his hands in defence dreading the tingling sensation that would cover his exposed skin. The tingle that would turn to a sharp sting like a thousand needles, and then a burning agony. 

What he didn’t expect was B-42 to lunge at him. To grab his arm and with sheer strength alone making them airborne.

“Don’t just stand there! Defend yourself!” B-42 hissed holding them both up in the air.

B-12 stared at his friend, feeling gravity take hold of them both and start their downward decent.“H-how?! He’s the one who can make fire! N-not me!”

“And?” B-42 laughed, “You’ve got three over abilities haven’t you??? Use them dummy!”

B-42 landed first, taking the full impact force for both of them, and creating a field of dusty air which compromised their vision. B-42 dived out of the dust leaving B-12 behind, lost.

“LEAVE HIM ALONE YOU BIG BULLY!”

“42!” B-12 hissed loosing sight of him. He’s going to get both of them put in the detention ward, or… or, OR WORSE!

B-12 felt himself stumble blind for a few more seconds, until the dust settled enough to find his bearings and friend. He found Dr. Thomas stood over a crumpled B-42.

“As you can see, B-42 has volunteered itself to demonstrate our upgraded disciplinary bracelets which are able to easily over power and immobilise test subjects through a combination of a high internal anti-chaos injections and controlled shocks,” The scientist explained to the watching eyes. He looked at B-12 with cold emotionless eyes and said, “Shall we find out if it also makes it fire proof?”

He sent another wave of flames at B-42, and B-12 was already moving before the flames had left the scientists hands. This wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. He had to move. He had to take it. That kind of heat would hurt his friend more than it could ever hurt him.

Hadn’t they lost enough of them already!?

The flames hit B-12 before he could start moving them out the way as he struggled against the wrath which fuelled them. They were always so much stronger than the ones he was trained with, it made this unfair. He wasn’t good with normal flame manipulation, he couldn’t… he’d never managed to control pyro ones yet!

He felt the flames licking against his burning skin and clothes, his eyes watered, his head became fuzzier and fuzzier.

He couldn’t do this!

He couldn’t!

He didn’t have a choice in not doing this!

He forced his hands forward into the biting flames. The flames teeth lost their grip, and were pushed back. With the flames at a same distance, he forced their path to divert away himself and B-42.

The power behind the force of flames fell away suddenly and B-12 stumbled forward landing on his knees. He felt his hand burning and a lingering sting radiate up his arm into his chest from absolutely over doing it. Forget breaking his limits, he was pretty sure he’d just broke something in his chest given all the pain he felt in there!

He hated fire so much.

His eyes stung as he tried his hardest not to cry out and scream with the pain which consumed him. He saw his hands were bright red and the skin was already peeling off the back, which explained most of what he felt. He just hadn’t been able to keep the flame back far enough, he hadn’t been able to keep them from fully touching his skin.

Asides from his hands, the rest of his arms hurt too, but his hands… it had been a while since they’d gotten this red. It had been a while since they’d gotten this burnt up.

Dr.Welsh had been in charge of his training for the past 2 months; He hadn’t forced fire training.

Dr.William had done the 2 months before that, and while he’d insisted on B-12 trying, he’d only ever had to manipulate candle and lighter flames.

Dr. Thomas had done the first 2 months, but fire training only ever lasted a week when it was his turn. His hands were always left too raw to continue.

Dr Ludwig was in charge of their health, and once she saw the first signs of peeling skin, blistered and 2nd degree burns, she had him removed from training till the injuries would heal. She at least didn’t treat them like broken toys which could be replaced within the snap ones fingers. 

“Enough Tom.” Dr. William stood in front of him, he glanced back meeting B-12’s watering eyes. “We’re not trying to decommission him for the next 4 weeks.”

The flames rising up Dr Thomas’s arm fizzles out. He took a few steps forward till the two twin’s were face to face,

“H-404c has made you soft,” He coldly said, just above a whisper.

“That has nothing to do with it. You're letting your frustration get the best of you.”

B-12 felt a hand on his back and found B-42 at his side still shaking and unsteady.

“Up, come on… get up,” He mumbled in his ear, while pulling on one of B-12’s arms.

“Who’s H-404c?”

B-42 shrugged, “One of our replacements, probably. Come on"

Dr. William smiled, patting his twin on the shoulder, “They’re watching.”

The two twin scientists went back to their original positions, Dr. William nudging Welsh from his awkward stance.

“C -13” Dr. Welsh said, not that the test subject needed to be told. He broke formation coming up to B-12 opposite side. He looked over his arms leading him to B-12’s shaking hands and raw skin. His own shaking as he looked over the damage.

“Hand?” He asked.

“Y-yEaH…” B-12 tried not to cry.

C-13 place his hands over the worst of the burns and held them there. A green glow transferred from his skin to B-12s. It moved over the whole area before settling on just the burns and growing in intensity. 

“As you can see, test subject C-13 is easily able to turn what would otherwise be 2nd degree burns into a minor first degrees one, that will heal on their own or with reduced medical intervention. This making it an ideal medic during a battle field or mission.” Dr. Thomas announced with his same flat tone from before, like he hadn’t tried to roast one of them alive.

“Test subject B-42 has already demonstrated the incredible speed and power it possess through kinetic energy manipulation. A fine example of the traits desired by the weapons department, put into action to produce the desired outcome. Just imagine this same fierce loyalty demonstrated, used to the companies benefit.”

Dr. Thomas cleared his throat and Dr Welsh took over, looking to F-45 and back.

Tho still hesitant, he cleared his throat and said, “W-which leaves us with F-45. Who will be demonstrating telepathic illusions to those of you wearing the red marker.”

“I’ll kill,” B-42 hissed.

“Shush!” C-13 snapped back, just above a whisper. “D-don’t get us all zapped!”

“It only tickles~” F-45 quietly giggled next to them.

The three test subjects jumped slightly at the sudden voice next to them and lack of source. F-45 was still stood in the same spot as before, head drooped, unmoving.

C-13 looked to her, then back to where the voice had come from. He let out a shaky breath and said, “Give us a warning before you do that.”

“You guys are no fun,” F-45 huffed fading into existence on their left. Her clone still stood in the same spot as before.

“A-an illusion? Can’t they see you here too?” B-12 asked still holding back tears.

“Nope! Well, actually Dr.Welsh can, but he always can. I haven’t found a way to fool him yet.” F-45 smiled cheerily, “Speaking of fools…”

“SNAKE!”

The group of observers squirmed and scattered from where they looked down, not at them, but their feet. Some had already panicked and left the room, others pinning themselves to the furthest wall and pointing at something on the floor none of them below could see.

F-45 burst out laughing.

The other test subjects watched her hysterical amusement unable to find their own.

“F-45…” Dr. Welsh said sternly, facing the group of them and not the clone. “I thought we agreed no scaring the directors?”

“Tch,” F-45 dropped her clone illusion and the two twin scientists snapped around turning to face the real her as well.

“You didn’t say I couldn’t have a little fun with them~” F-45 snapped her fingers and B-12 assumed that was her ending her illusion, based on the confused looking faces above them.

“Scaring people isn’t fun, F-45” Dr. William scolded lightly. Dr. Thomas just glared at Dr. Welsh like he was the one in trouble.

F-45 laughed, “Well, it is for me!”

“That… wasn’t real?” One of the faces asked.

“YUP! Pretty convincing, huh?” F-45 yelled, beamed up at the watching eyes.

The face who asked nodded, then brought their hands together and clapped. The other faces joining the first.

The two B test subjects looked at each other, then grumbled, “Favourite child.”

F-45 stuck her tongue out at the other test subjects, bathing in her sea of applauses.

B-42 ignored her, turning his back and adding, “I can’t wait till we find a way to escape this dump…”

[Present Day - Government Jungle Camp - Ben McCoy]

Ben tapped his metal fingers against his flesh elbow in a rhythmic pattern, feeling the seconds tick by. As per usual, he was responsible, he was on time; She was neither.

He debated going and grabbing his lunch ahead, he did after all have a tight schedule to stick too, however, knowing how his colleague could be, breaking a pinky promise would only end in disaster further down the line.

So he waited.

He waited and listened to the past. The memories which choose to surface, the memories which wanted to be remembered whether he did or didn’t.

Memories from all those years ago.

They were just another drop in the bucket. Just another stick thrown into their growing fire of reasons to break free from it all. They’d longed for freedom for so long, built so many plans. Talked about all the things they’d do once they were free; He wore a Chaos Containment Centre uniform, his shoulder still burned with his identity.

He’s B-12. Always has been, always will be.

“HEY! BENJAMIN!!!” A female voice yelled from practically the other side of the government camp.

Ben cringed seeing all the nosey Government soldiers staring, curiosity regarding the loud commotion. None of which got better when his colleague burst though a gap between two tents, waving frantically with one arm. “I’M HERE! I’m not late, I’m er…” She stared at her watch on her wrist, “I’m here!”

Ben rolled his eyes, “You took your time, Finn.”

“No, you’re just early!” Finn announced to the world.

Ben sighed, the eyes watching them shifting his appetite; goldfish in a bowl.

“Come on. Let’s get lunch, yeah?” Ben said. “And quietly. Indoor voices.”

Finn stuck her lip out, “But we’re not indoors.”

“Well, let’s pretend we ar-“

“Why?”

Ben blinked, “Because… I want to play the quiet game.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re loud and everyone is staring Finn!”

“Why?”

Ben caught himself from arguing more, “No. No.” He said, “I am not playing this game with you.”

“Whhhhhhhy~” Finn smirked relishing every second.

Ben shoved Finn to the side and she burst out laughing, running to catch up with him. “You’re no fun, B-12”

Ben froze, jerking as he did his best to hide it. “Not here Finn, we agreed to use our code names, remember?”

Finn folded her arms, sticking her lip out, “You’re still no fun.”

“Excuse me you two.”

Huh?

Finn and Ben turned to be greeted by some grey Government guy, a General if the collection of stripes and colourful plaques were anything to go by, and… he knew this one. He must be one of the important guys in charge.

The General looked them both over curiously, “I don’t think I’ve seen either of you here before.” He frowned, “Are you last minute additions?"

“No sir. I’m Ben McCoy sir, leader of the CCC’s Delta team,” also a genetically created experiment for a mission lost to the past. “And this is my team partner Finn Quayle.”

Finn saluted, posture straight as a poll upon hearing her name. Ben saw the gesture and while ridiculous looking, it did get a small smile to creep into the already friendly General’s expression.

“Ah, yes. I was told you two are the specialists for tricky missions,” He nodded, stroking his chin. “I’m General Galeforce, although, I imagine you are both already aware of that.”

Ah, that was why he looked familiar. General Galeforce was the one in charge of this whole operation. “Yes sir.” Ben answered.

General Galeforce nodded himself with a warm smile. “I’m looking for Dr Thomas,” He said next. “Do you two know where I can find him?”

“Tent 12, sir!” Finn said, still playing to be a solider-tree.

The General saluted to Finn playing along too, “Thank you, solider.”

He nodded in thanks to Ben as well, then head off in the direction of tent 12.

Ben watched the General leave, feeling a bitter pit in his stomach. Wherever Dr Thomas was, bad news wasn’t far behind. “What do you think he wants Dr Thomas for?”

Finn shrugged, “Don’t know, don’t care! Lunch?”

“Sure.”

*****

Ben & Finn walked to the food tent, got some actual food (and the not the everything-rich mush they were normally provided with), then went back outside. They found some trees on the outskirt of the camp where they could enjoy their lunch break in peace and relative cool & privacy.

“Mango-tango, I see a flamingo~!” Finn sang flopping into the long grass.

Ben, the more civilised of the two, sat down like a normal adult.

Finn stuck her tongue out seeing this, and Ben rolled his eyes.

Finn next muttered something along the lines of, "You’re no fun”.

Ben shrugged off her comment, and signed ‘I’m in charge, so I’m not allowed to have fun, remember?’

‘Kill joy,’ Finn flapped. Then once more, with great dramatics, she flopped into the long grass, laying sprawled out and staring at the patchy sky.

‘How’s the head?’ Ben asked, with slow & clear hand movements. ‘Is it better out here?’

“Much better.” Finn gave a thumbs up then signed, switching between mumbled response & lazy hand shapes. "They’re all so LOUD in there, it hurts my head. Too many emotions, too many people, too many everything!”

Ben smiled softly, taking her loud response as his cue for not needing to sign anymore. “I know Finn, I know. But cafeteria’s are normally like that and I imagine emotions are running pretty high given were hours away from their biggest mission of the year. I mean, it’s not everyday they get the chance to take down the worlds most notorious criminal group.”

“They’re still too loud!” And with that final huff, Finn picked up her sandwich and took an over sized bite, followed by a mouse sized one.

Ben gave a half smiled, but for the most part ignored her usually oddities.

He pulled out his list of targets, placing it on one lap to re-read and on the other he sat his tray of food: Some crackers, a sandwich and an apple. He couldn’t help but stare at them, apart of him wondering if he’d picked up the wrong food, but no.

It was his.

He picked up his sandwich and gave it a small sniff. He saw pink meat & yellow square hidden under the greens, and a quick peak under those didn’t reveal anything which shouldn’t have been there.

He took a bite and was greeted by a squishy-dry sensation, he chewed a little more finding the salty meat and a second stronger taste which overpowered the other flavours. The second flavour was sticky against his teeth, but soft, the flavour fell bitter and unpleasant… was that… cheese? He frowned at the sandwich. People really eat this stuff huh?

He glanced to his colleague who showed no such hesitation with her lunch. She simply wafted it down, showing off the hours since she’d last eaten with her speed.

Finn had had longer to get use to this ‘proper food’ stuff. It… Ben still didn’t know what to make of it. Apart of him really did prefer the bland taste of the protein bars and other manufactured nutrients he’d know all his life. but he couldn’t exactly eat those here.

“A luxury of being on the job” Finn would cheer, when he’d been handed his first apple. “The good stuff!”

He sat the sandwich down, exchanging it for the apple. He took a bite and was rewarded with a loud ‘CRUNCH’ and a flow of sweet juice within the flesh he crushed.

He gave the sandwich another look, then slid it to Finn who greedily excepted.

He’d get there… eventually. For now, he’d stick with fruit.

Ben went back to his work, apple in hand and shrinking.

He ran a finger down the target list again, checking and rechecking he was familiar with both his targets names, codes, details and physical image. As he re-read it, one particular name stood out. He’d glanced over before and hadn’t paid much attention to it; a fleeting glance at most. At the time of initial viewing, he’d been in a meeting with Dr Thomas.

The target was 2D. He was some young blonde kid, 26, and was- what Ben assumed -a little young for the position he’d landed in (by either sheer dumb luck, or bad luck).

The special notes had him down as anxious, slow physical reactions, but fast mental; ‘Dangerous outside of physical combat. High future potential’.

The name was what caught his attention after how young he looked: Sven Svensson.

He nudged Finn next to him, she looked up, mouthful of his lunch. “Whaft?”

“Svensson.” Ben slid the sheet with this guys face and name to her. “Wasn’t one of those scientists called Svensson? The one who came in like… once every month, and he tinkered with all the electronics and stuff.”

Finn gave him a blank look.

“He was going grey last time I saw him.” Ben went on, “The Swedish guy.”

Finn shrugged initially, then her eyes lit up “OH. HIM!” She exclaimed loud enough that a few soldiers curiously turned their way, before continuing their duties.

“The one who talked funny and…. Oh, yes him!” The lights in her eye glowed brighter, “He started appearing more after the big fiery incident- You remember the one, right? -and then he got assassinated!”

Ben shut his open mouth.

He… didn’t know that last part.

Of the scientists who’d worked on their project, he only knew about what happened to Dr Welsh (and of course Dr Thomas).

Dr Thomas was still the same grumpy sod Ben remembered, the only difference was now he was old and grumpy.

Dr Welsh… He was still one of them.

Still one of them who’d stood by and let everything happen. He had a choice in doing what he did to them and… he did it anyway. He was nicer about it, sure. He treated them better than the other 4 scientists, but…

Dr Welsh died in the fire.

As it turned out, them kids weren’t the only ones lost that day.

“…”

Ben refocused his attention on the first part of his thought: Dr. Thomas.

He hadn’t changed much in the last… 20… 24 years? Ben felt the lump in his throat harden, it was only a year or two for him, but everyone else…

He shook his head, pushing the thought away. 

Finn said he hadn’t changed at all. Well, actually, she said he had tried making new ‘vessels’ to replace them. However, after the fire and loosing all, but one… he’d only produced ONE vessel in all theses years, and even then, said vessel hadn’t even been successful.

Every chaos sample was rejected, the body incompatible: A living vessel without a purpose.

Thinking on it more, Ben had a vague memory of Dr Welsh telling him once about it. He said there was a special ‘glue’ needed to make the two energy types compatible, anti-chaos & chaos. This same glue was what made chaos ability samples stick to vessels, and give them their ability.

He was always very proud of it, Ben remembered that much. He was always happy to talk and explain stuff with words a 14 year old couldn’t hope to comprehend. He must have been the one to crack the formula, to find that secret ingredient; why else would they have let someone WITH abilities join their team? Why was H-404.F.45.A-36 ability-less?

“…”

“Why the curiosity Ben?”

“Huh? Oh, um...” Ben shook shrugged at his colleague, “I was just wondering if he was one of his Dr. Svensson sons.” He said he had son’s right?

“Normal kids look like their biological parents don’t they?” Ben added (a little unsure). “And he looks the way I remember Dr. Svensson looking.”

Finn blinked at him, then squinted at the photo first on his knee, and then in her hands. She held it up to her face a second longer, before dropping it in the grass. “Don’t know, don’t care. He’s high priority for some reason or other, just like this guy!” She pointed to a red-head also on the next sheet. “He looks like a cowboy!”
Ben chuckled spotting the other target she’d pointed at: The Right Hand Man.

The only notes for him was in a bright bold red reading: ’DO NOT LEAVE A BODY UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE!’

“AWWWW, how come you get the fun ones!” Finn whined upon realising the Right Hand’s name was circled as one of his targets.

“How come you get the easy ones?” Ben copied, pointing at Finn’s list with the Toppat elites who’d been number by priority of capture. The top spot going to Svensson, and last to some really old guy with a monocle and fluffy white-grey hair.

“Well,” Finn said, puffing her chest out, “I got the more important targets because I’m responsible-“ Ben tried not to snort, “-while you go off playing the lottery on finding H-404.d in the drips and drags of the Airship Toppats.”

“You don’t think he’s one of them, then?” Ben asked, a little surprised by the comment.

Finn paused in thought, tapping her long fingers against her sheet, “I feeeeeeeel like we would of recognised him by now if he was a Toppat.”

“Would we really?” Ben frowned. “You don’t look anything like I remember. Heck, I didn’t even recognise you when I woke up. I only figured out it was you by your trait signature, ‘cause you know… it’s different.”

“Well I knew it was you from across the facility!” Finn boasted, drowning in her own ego.

Ben rolled his eyes and elbowed the smug grin from her face, “Yeah? Only because you’ve always been the best at reading trait signatures. None of us kids could ever beat you and Dr. Welsh.”

“Because I’m the best!”

“Only because while you were doing that, I had to practice how not to get my hands burnt to a crisp!”

“And you STILL bad at manipulating fire, even WITH all that practice,” Finn rubbed in earning her a cold glare.

“Hey, it’s hard.”

“Please, it can’t be any harder than navigating the inside of peoples heads!” Finn argued, flicking Ben in the forehead.

Ben huffed knowing this wasn’t worth trying to win.

Finn seeing this flopped back into the tall grass, happily smug with her most recent victory.

Ben heard his phone buzz in his pocket. He leaned back from Finn to check what notification had come in, but he might as well have stayed where he was when Finn leaned in & over, blocking his view completely.

“Awww, you have to go.” She pouted.

Ben moved his phone, to see it was his alarm that had gone off. “Guess so. I won’t make it up to the Airship crew in time if I’m here too long.”

“You’ll stay safe? Pinkey-promice?” Finn didn’t really ask, jabbing her whole hand into Ben’s chest. He smiled, shuffling back to shake the finger. “Someone’s got to come back to make sure you stay out of trouble ’45.”

He ruffled her hair up with one hand, she laughed swatting it away. “Awww, anyone would think you don’t trust me~”

“I don’t.” Ben deadpanned.

He let go, waving as he got up and started his way back into camp.

“Hey Finn!” Ben called over his shoulder. She looked up with a curious tilt to the head.

“Follow orders this time, you hear me?”

Finn proceeded to put her fingers in her ears, grin widening as she got up walking away- in the wrong direction -but backwards.

“I mean it Finn! Follow orders. Doc Don’t-Cross’ll have us both put on ice if you don’t!”

“I can’t hear you~”

Ben sighed.

Some people never, EVER change. And Finn, well, she was one of them.

He diverted his attention back to the young Svensson on his sheet, weaving in and out of tents as he went.

They must be related; The ill-fortuned Toppat leader and Dr Svensson. Why else would they want him? Why else would he be such high priority?

Ben weighed a few different options in his head, giving points and demerits to each. Some reasons seemed more logical, like he is the current leader of the Toppat Clan. While others like, he’s only been in that position 7 months, cast enough reasonable doubt to make him think twice. To second guess his original thinkin-

Ben collided with something soft and dropped his papers. He stumbled back managing to keep his balance long enough to not end up in the dirt with them.

“Oops, um, h-hey, er…ha, sorry about that.” Ben said collecting the loose sheets before looking to see whether it was an unfortunate solider he’d bumped into, or a higher ranking personnel. “Sorry, I should have been paying more atten-“

“Yes, you should have B-12.”

Ben narrowed his eyes, picking up the last sheet of his intel. “… Dr Thomas.” He greeted quietly.

“…”

Ben kept his eyes at his feet, not wanting to see the silent stare down.

He cringed hearing Dr Thomas begin tapping a single finger against his wrist watch. “I um… General Galeforce was looking for you, he um… Finn said you were in tent 12.”

Ben peaked up and saw Dr Thomas had cast his eyes away, a look of disinterest coating his features.

Dr Thomas continued in the direction he’d initially been going.

Ben let the breath he’d been holding escape, only to choke on it when the scientist turned around suddenly.

“Do not fail.”

Chapter Text

[20 minutes to Rocket Launch - Ahnoldt Schwarz]

Ahnoldt pulled out his ID and YES! ONE SWIPE!
WHOOP WHOOP!
He slid his card back into his pocket and walked in the opening doors to the Orion lounge.

Inside the room were some of the Toppat Clan’s elites relaxing and eagerly awaiting their launch into space. He saw Macbeth reading some train book at the nearest table and on the middle table were 3 other elites. Slice doing some work on his tablet by the look of it, and Wilhelm & Manaaki in the middle of some poker game.

“Hey Schwarz,” Slice greeted. Wilhelm looked up raising one hand, Manaaki gave him a glance and Macbeth? He might as well have not heard him enter he gave such a grandiose welcome.
“Isn’t Cross here yet?” Ahnoldt asked, sure, she said she was coming up to this lounge in their elevator ride up from the Cargo hold to personal quarters.
“She was till she realised Curtis wasn’t here,” Slice answered. “She said she’d be back in 5 minutes with him so he doesn’t miss the show. She reckons he’s head-deep in paperwork or com lines.
Ahnoldt laughed to himself. That sounded about right. The guy practically lived in the communication room and now that he had a new state-of-the-art one, Ahnoldt doubted they’d see him for the rest of the week.

He looked around at the seats available and chose the top of the two between Slice and Macbeth. Macbeth glanced up momentarily, but said nothing, continuing to be enthralled by whatever was so interesting in his book. 
“That’s not how you use chairs you know,” Slice told him not not impressed, maybe amused?
Ahnoldt shrugged. “It’s how I use them!” He beamed.

“So Manaaki, what are you planning on doing once we’re in space?” Slice asked.
“Hmmm… I think I’ll head to the observation deck once it’s less crowded and send my whanau some pictures of my home country. Show ‘em I’m still thinking of them even all these miles away.” 
“Whanau?” Slice asked. 
“Family close & extended, community… it’s kind of like the Toppat Clan. We’re all family here; Whanau.” He said with a glow reminiscence in his eyes. 

Ahnoldt also didn’t know that word, but to be fair he didn’t spend much time with Manaaki given the lack of interaction between the Oceana & European devision, so he wasn’t too familiar with all of his jargon yet. Manaaki had also not been an elite that long, so at 12 in-person meetings a year, and another dozen or so over the screen, it didn’t give much time to get to know the new guys. The exception usually happened when the elites in question had frequent interactions through their devisions work, or said elites had been an acquaintance before their promotions.
Generally, tho, the rest of them (except Sven, Burt, Manaaki & Slice) were already in the average reign of double digits between 10 & 15 years. Macbeth was the longest actively working elite at present, with 20 years (, only a few shy from Wilhelm’s record of 23 years, before he passed the position onto Ahnoldt). Manaaki was still the newest at 4 years (despite his ego & confidence of a seasoned elite). Slice was approaching his 6th year and Ahnoldt was er… 13 years now? Prime time to be assassinated! Captured by rival clans! Or you know… shot on ‘accident’ by one of the promising department leads within his devision. 
The life of a senior Toppat elite, he sighed. 

“Nice,” Slice looked up at Ahnoldt next, “And what about you my accent dude?”
Ahnoldt shrugged. “I might get some actual sleep vithout vorrying about my location getting compromised every other night,” He joked. 
“Man, won’t that just be nice,” Slice said relaxing back into the soft bench seat. “Not having to worry about how many more bases are going to be compromised, or if you’ll be next. What a welcomed relief that feeling of safety will be!” His smile fell. “Still… can’t help but feel bad for all those guys who got captured.”
They had lost a lot of members in recent months, even if only the American & European devisions had been hit by the raids. He’d heard everyone in his devision knew someone who’d been arrested and Ahnoldt imagined the case was the same for the American devision. Everyone had lost colleagues, friends, family… they’d lost their leader and Right Hand too. The one guy who’d been so careful to rebuild what the clan had nearly lost once before.
That actually made the whole thing even worse.
The Orbital station had been Reginald's idea. His grandiose-over-the-top-a-bit-ambitious idea. It was his pet project. His way of celebrating 10 years as clan leader, 10 years since the Clan had dragged itself free from deprivation and back into the spotlight upon a podium of glory where it belonged. 
Reginald had built the clan a way to stay out of the reach of the ever-increasing threat of world Governments. A place where they could rest, plan out their mission and a safe house they could retreat to when times got tough. 
He should have been here to see it too. 
This was his project, his personal mission and it was going ahead without him…
Reginald Copperbottom and Right Hand Man should have been sitting here with them. 

The silence among them continued. The others no doubt fumbling over similar thoughts. The silence went on and Ahnoldt scratched his head for a change of topic, something to brighten the mood. Something he could shine in their current dark. A minute passed and the sound of turning pages returned; he had been listening. 

Ahnoldt leaned down to his right side, “Vhat about you Mr Macbeth?” He asked. “Vhat are you going to do once ve’re in space?”
Macbeth ignored the question turning another page in his book. 
Ahnoldt leaned over more and took the book. 

“HEY!”

Ahnoldt held the book in the air, easily well above Macbeth’s head given the height advantage of his chosen seat.
“So, what are you going to do once we’re up there?” Slice asked, confident Ahnoldt had ensured they had Macbeth’s full attention. “Read? A long nap? Me and some mates were planning to try out the sorna if you want to tag along.”
Macbeth made a sudden jump out of his seat grabbing his book back from Ahnoldt’s hand and successfully knocking his balance. The German rolled backwards crashing onto Slice who laughed it off with, “I warned you about not using the chair correctly!”

Macbeth sat back down and started flicking through the page with a slight grumble. He must have lost his page from how he’d grabbed it because Ahnoldt knew he hadn’t done it. He’d kept the book open in his hand with the intent of returning it once they’d gotten an answer.

“Well?” Slice asked again.
Macbeth sighed, “I plan on going back down to my train. Happy?”
“Seriously?” Ahnoldt frowned. “Are you scared of space or something???”
Macbeth stale face dropped in favour of mild annoyance. “I signed up to drive trains, not lounge around with the couch potatoes.”
Manaaki dropped his handful of cards glaring over the top of the chair at Macbeth. “Got a problem with us takin’ a well-deserved rest Mr Macbeth?” 
Ahnoldt sighed. He really had to learn how to talk in a way which didn’t upset people. 
“He meant, he’s just a workaholic,” Slice quickly corrected. “We know where Svensson get’s it from.”
He got a couple of chuckles from the other elites in the room and even a chuckle from a still-scowling Manaaki. As usual, Macbeth didn’t join their fun. He looked from his book to the door, then back. If Ahnoldt had to guess he’s currently debating who’s more pleasant to spend the launch with. Them? Or the lower ranks?

The speaker crackled to life disturbing their mild argument before it could pick up again. A familiar voice filled the air. “The rocket will be launching very soon. Please get onboard immediately.” Sven said, then added, “I will not hesitate to leave you behind!”
Manaaki across the table snorted. “Wow. Intimidating~”
“Kid’s tryin’ Manaaki, give him a brake.” Macbeth defended not looking up from his book.
“He’s doing a decent job too if you ask me,” Slice added. 
Wilhelm across from him simply nodded and placed down his hand of cards. “I believe you’ve lost both our game and the conversation.”
Manaaki looked annoyed but brushed his pride down quick enough, “Looks like it. Good game old timer.”

Macbeth got up from his seat. 
“And where are you going? He just said we’re about to launch?”
“Ta find Cross.” Macbeth answered keeping his back to them. “She said she’d been looking forward to the launch, but she’s gonna miss us enterin’ orbit if she’s any longer.”
“Both miss it if you get her,” Dao told him entering the room from the other side.
“She’s got a point, you know. You’re the last person she wants to hassle her Train Boy. Unless... ending up with a face full of her fist is yer aim~” Manaaki said with much amusement. “In with case, I’d like to come and watch the show. Might be more interesting than some colourful blurs going by.” 

Ahnoldt sighed to himself. While Macbeth had well-placed intent as usual, the others had a point. Carol wouldn’t be pleased to see him out of all the elites who could go and see if her & Curtis were coming or not. Which meant one thing…

“I’ll go.” 
Ahnoldt jumped out from his spot next to Slice and gave Macbeth a friendly smile hoping it would come across clearly he wasn’t doing this to be malicious. “She went looking for Curtis right? So the communication office?”
Macbeth nodded.

“Back in 5!” Ahnoldt called a bit too loud over his shoulder with a wave. A couple of the people in the room winced, and one, no doubt Dao, complained on his lack of volume control again.

He ignored the comment and continued on to the nearest elevator. Behind him, he heard footsteps and saw a Macbeth. He raised an eyebrow at him.
“I'm going down the main viewing lounge,” He said taking to the wall next to the elevator. 
Lower ranks it was, then. 
Ahnoldt hit the call button and once the lift came up, he got in.

“You coming?” Ahnoldt asked when Macbeth still hadn’t followed.
“I’ll catch it on the way down.”
“Vov! Any excuse not to spend time with your best friend, huh?” Ahonldt laughed failing to keep a straight face.
“You’re not my friend Schwarz. Go already.”
Ahnoldt slapped his chest dramatically, refusing to be infected by Mr Grumpy, “AH! You hurt my feelings!”
Macbeth rolled his eyes ultimately ignoring the Head of the EU devision. 
“Fine.” Ahnoldt huffed.
He hit the button for his floor, then lunged out the door at Macbeth, latching an arm around his and pulled them both into the lift in a tumbled mess. 

Macbeth elbowed him in the face, shoving the rest of Ahnoldt off of himself next, only getting up in time to see the lift doors closing with both of them inside. 
He glared coldly, growling under his breath like Ahnoldt had just poked a bear with a stick- and to be fair, he kind of had. 
“5 minutes von’t kill you.” Ahnoldt said with a toothy smile; Macbeth’s expression said otherwise. 

The train driver picked up his hat and brushed down his ruffled clothing and hair, all while giving Ahnoldt the expected cold shoulder. 

“Come on Mac~” Ahnoldt wined. “Have a little fun vith me! Just like old times! Back vhen ve vere the two youngest in a room full of senior elite grumps. Ve use to get into so much trouble, or…vell, I guess I did. But you vere always there to laugh vith me about it. Don’t tell me I need to remind you how to have fun?!”
“It’s Mr Macbeth, Schwarz, not ‘Mac’. And it’s called growing up. You should try it.” Mr Grumpy grumbled, leaning back, arms folded against the furthest wall from him.
“Not if it means being a killjoy like yourself.” Ahnoldt huffed back.

Ahnoldt shook his head and sighed. He couldn’t even remember the last time the pair of them had ‘hung out’ and had some fun. It must have been literal YEARS! 
“Seriously,” He complained, “Even Cross is more fun than you are now. Did you break your funny bone or something?”

Macbeth’s frown filled the silence.

“You done now? Ready to act like actual Toppat Elite yet?”
Fine! If he wanted him to be grumpy, he’d be grumpy!

Ahnoldt huffed loudly, folding his arms and crossing his legs from where he still sat on the elevator floor. “I’m just saying: You used to be more fun than you are now. Seriously, vhat did Danny say to you??? It’s been like… 8 years since he left and you’re still… this.”

The elevator suddenly came to a harsh stop causing Ahnoldt to lose his balance and tumble over. He looked up to see Macbeth stepping out of the opening doors. 

“H-hey! Vhere are yo-“
“I’d rather walk back down.”

The door closed again, and all Ahnoldt could do was watch as Macbeth walked away, the door covering the last few centimetre when he froze at a turn in the corridor. 

If that was him changing his mind, he was too late to catch the lift.

*****

“And…?” 
“It’s stupid.” The Head of Communications and acting Right Hand mumbled.
“If it’s worrying you, it's not stupid,” Carol corrected.
Burt glanced back at the monitors again. “Do… have you had any weird dreams about the rocket launch?”
Carol angrily scowled, “Not you too! And here I was thinking it was bad enough having Sven convinced his dreams are real!”
“Oh. He told you too,” Burt said.
“Of course he told me! I wouldn’t be surprised if he told Macbeth, he was so desperate to be believed.”
Burt shrugged, “He hasn’t said anything to me about it if Sven had.”

Carol huffed, in what looked like a failing attempt to keep her anger under control, “Look Curtis, I don’t care what kind of delusional dreams he thinks he’s having: They. Aren’t. R E A L. 
And his paranoid delusions aren’t a valid excuse for you to miss a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity I know you’re looking forward to. You said you loved space as a kid.”
“I didn’t say they were real-“
“Then why are you in here?!”
Burt tried to glance back at the monitors, but Carol moved, blocking his view.
“I promised Sven no matter what happened, that I’d be there. That if something is going to go wrong today, I’ll be here and ready to catch it before it does. It’s also my job now, Right Hand and all, but… he’s still my best friend, so if me being in here during the launch will give him some peace of mind, then this is where I’ll be.” A slight smile lifted Burt’s neural features on the edges, his cheeks dappled a slight red. 
Carol just nodded at him silent. No laughing. No mocking. All he saw in her eyes was admiration. “He’s lucky to have a selfless friend like you,” She said.
“And you,” Burt added.
“I don’t have friends Curtis,” Carol shook her head. “Just a bunch of annoyances.” She pushed Burt’s hat down over his eyes playfully, and when he reemerged, his smile had grown a fraction more. 

Ahnoldt smiled watching them. It wasn’t often he got to see Curtis displaying visual emotions, or Carol doing something other than glaring and ordering people around. It was a welcomed visual seeing them get along so well.
Behind their interaction a red light started to flash, and flashing red lights were usually a bad thing weren’t they?

“This is cute and all…” Ahnoldt interrupted leaning into the doorway, “But vhat is that flashing?”

Carol spun around with murder in her eyes. 
Ahnoldt threw his hands up, “I- I vas just coming to make sure Curtis vas alright. I van’t spying! You vere taking a vhile, that’s all.”
Carol continued to glare, while Burt glanced at the monitor over his shoulder, then suddenly spun around nearly taking out her kneecaps in the process.
“HEY!” She yelled, thankfully not at Ahnoldt.
Ahnoldt jumped into the room, hands out- he retracted them waaaay out of Carol’s range before he could catch her from the stumble.
“CURTIS! WHAT THE HELL!” She stomped right where his foot would have been.
“No, no, no, no…”
“Vhat?”Ahnoldt asked just in time to watch Burt slam the keyboard with his fist. 
“I’m locked out of the system.”
“Vhat? How? Everyone except us 3 and Sven are supposed to be in the viewing lounges.”
Burt pulled his headset fully back up, moving to a different computer. “Hey Sven?” He asked, the nonchalant mask cracking, “I just got locked out of the system. Did you hit a button or something? Hello? Sven?”

“Sven, mår du bra?” He tried again, “Är du där? Vad händer där uppe?”
Ahnoldt glanced at Carol; at least she wasn’t scowling at him anymore.
“Sven? Är du där? Vad händer där uppe?”

Carol moved over to the second monitor, she flicked through the tabs open and paused on one in particular. It was a map displaying a small rocket icon and the projected course; Oh cool, they’re flying over Canada.

“Burt…” Carol tapped him on the shoulder. He closed his mouth ending whatever line of Swedish he’d been repeating. He eased one headphone off. 
“Did Sven ever tell you about the dream where the rocket crashed?” Carol asked with an edge of caution to her voice.
“Which one?”
“What do you mean, WHICH ONE?! He said he kept having the same dream!” 
“The same 16 dreams…”
Ahnoldt blinked at them both, “Vhat are you two talking about???”
Carol looked away ignoring him, Burt opened another tab off of the map one. The new tabs had some facts and figures and… a set of co-ordinates. A familiar set. 
Where had Ahnoldt seen those before? A mission, right? What mission brief was it? It was a recent one, surely. He wasn’t too good at remembering numbers so why else would he recognise this one?
OH! OH!
“That’s north Canada…” He said, his joy of remembering fading into a sinking pit of terror. He’d only had one mission report from that area since Canada technically fell over Carol’s devision. The exception was Cool Joe was from his devision. 
Cool Joe had been doing some information gathering before being ambushed, where they’d lost all contact until one of their inside guys had found him.

He knew he was right, but asked anyway, a part of him hopping the other two elites would correct his faulty memory, “Isn’t… that the state vhere the Vall is?”

Ahnoldt didn’t get a verbal answer- Burt leapt out of his seat. “Comms are down, we’re going to have to warn everyone manually. E.A is 10 minutes, start evacuating, NOW.”
“Vait, Vait a minute! It takes 20 to get to the overside of the rocket from here. It can’t be done-” Ahnoldt argued. He’d only gotten here as quickly as he had because the Orion lounge was 2 floors down! Everyone else was in the cafeteria, 16 floors away and TWO elevator changes.
“We’re Toppats: Find a way!” Burt yelled as if only now remembering his position.

Carol grabbed Burt’s arm before he could charge out of the room, “Curtis! Where ar-“
He met her eyes. She nodded and broke eye contact, understanding something Ahnoldt couldn’t.
“Be safe.” 
She let go.

And just how were they meant to get to the cafeteria in 10 min- maybe they weren’t. Ahnoldt pulled out his phone, shaky fingers scrolling through his contacts. M… M… M- 
Carol hit Ahnoldt on the head, earning her his full attention and glare, “V-“
“Don’t just stand there!” Carol roared, “You heard him too!”
“I’m not standing! I’m calling Mr Macbeth,” Ahnoldt said finding his contact and hitting call. “He vas heading down to the cafeteria vhen I left him so-“
His phone beeped and Ahnoldt checked the screen: It hadn’t even gone through. The call would have gone to voicemail if he’d turned his phone off, so why did it just disconnect? 
“That idiot never leaves his phone off…” Carol mumbled looking over at the screen. “He might have run into someone.”
“There’s a good chance. He vasn’t taking the lift,” Because Ahnoldt had annoyed him out of it…

Carol snapped her fingers right in front of his nose, then with his attention again, pointed down the corridor. “Evacuate, let’s go.”

*****

The pair ran through the corridors yelling at anyone they saw on their way; 1 nurse and 2 clearly lost newbies.
The pair came to a stop at the fork in the corridor. Right to the elevator’s up, Centre for the elevators down and left for the rest of this and the next 3 surrounding floors.

“I’ll head to the Orion lounge and get the elites, they should all be up there still. You take the main viewing lounge,” Carol ordered. Ahnoldt folded his arms in dismay. How come he had to go to the furthest to reach room???
Carol rolled her eyes and sighed, “Everyone will hear you better than me if that party of theirs hasn’t crashed on their heads yet.”
Oh. Right. That’s why he had to go. The cons of having a loud voice.
Ahnoldt turned his frown into a smirk imagining how creative he’d get to be in crashing the party; he’d always wanted to crash a party. “Ja. See you on the other side Cross.”
“You too Schwarz.”
The pair tipped their hats, Carol turning for the right corridor, Ahnoldt the left.

Now, the main viewing lounge was 16 floors down from communications and technologies, so while common sense would say the two 5 minute lift and pray for a miracle, he chose the stairs. Ahnoldt knew the set he wanted, a maintenance one similar to those in the Airship. He could jump on and slide all the way down in about 45 seconds, saving him 5 minutes and as long as he timed his stop right he’d have long enoug-

!BAM! 

.
.
.

Chapter Text

[20 minutes to Rocket Launch - Henry Stickmin]

“That’s Hatgirl, we… don’t exactly know where she came from. As far as I know she just turned up one day. Kind of like you, except she didn’t cause us all that trouble.” Sven said, frowning at Henry as him and Ellie walked down the rockets corridors. 
Henry laughed a little shrugging, “Trouble find me.”
“Yes, it seems to doesn’t it. First the Government, then the Wall and finally us. You’re lucky the chief offered you two a place in the clan. I’ve heard rather unpleasant things about the Wall, and knowing what the Government is like, they’d probably throw you both in a prison cell once you were done being useful…”
Well, that wasn’t 100% true. If him and Ellie had gone with the government they would have both been given pardons and left to go on their merry way. As for the Wall… he’d pass on being put on ice again.   

“Man, this place is HUGE!” Ellie exclaimed as they entered the observation lounge.
Henry nodded in agreement, pretending to feel the same awe he had upon his first walk through the Toppat’s rocket. If he remembered correctly, his first trip here was in the ending he dubbed ‘Toppat 4 life’ and then on his second he’d turned this place into a resort, giving him ample time to take in the views between his shifts and other responsibilities.

Sven shrugged at Ellie’s comment, “You should see some of our other outposts if you think this is impressive. The outpost in the Alps is rather noteworthy, as is the outpost in the Scottish Highlands.”
“I mean… the whole ‘IN SPACE!’ thing totally helps with how cool this all is…” She stopped blinking at the blue-hat Toppat.
“Sven,” He said, then added, “You’ll need to remember that since I’m in charge of you two.”
“Seriously?” Ellie bust out laughing. She grabbed Sven (much to his displeasure) and started ruffling up his hair, “How can YOU be in charge of us, you’re like… 20? You could be my younger brother!” 
“24 thank you very much,” Sven said pushing her off and flattening his now frizzy hair. “And I’ll have you know, I’m an elite, which means technically I’m in charge of you two, AND higher rank than you both are, and will be for at least 6 years.”
“Awww~ You sound just like my younger brother,” Ellie mocked, fluffing up his hair again. She turned to Henry, “Can we keep him Hen? I really like this one~”
The blue-hat Toppat turned a deep red, “E-Ex- I- You- WHAT? I’M NOT A PET! I’M AN ELITIE MEMBER OF THE TOPPAT CLAN! It doesn’t matter if I’m physically younger than you! I’m in charge. You take orders from me! A-and I’m not just going to follow you around like some lost puppy!”
“Sure you are~” Ellie cooed, patting Sven on the head like a good dog.
Henry laughed watching Sven grow more frustrated and confused.
“Teasing,” He said. “She teasing.”
“Uh-huh.” Sven huffed, blowing his cheeks up, which got another round of amused giggles from Ellie.

Henry smiled watching this timelines Hatgirl run down the corridor with Tintin and a couple of Toppat kids in quick pursuit; Somethings never changed. 
The kids happily playing, the adults busy working.
It was almost peaceful. The happy noises that made up a thriving clan. 
Henry felt a little sick knowing they were about to ruin it all. 
That there wouldn’t be anymore kids playing, adults busy working. Laughs and giggles, happy voices chatting.
They’re going to shatter it all, leave the clan lost in a consuming silence of darkness. 

“Coast is clear,” Ellie said pulling Henry from his thoughts. She stepped out leading the way from their hiding place to the next set of maintenance ladders. Behind them they could still hear the sound of fading footsteps, echoing voices and giggles; the rocket felt so alive…
Henry forced the thought away.
He’s here for a reason. 
He’s doing this for a reason. 
He looked to Ellie, he heard the cackle of Charles voice in his ear; he’s doing this for them.

“Alrighty, this one’s a BIIIIIIIG ladder, so er… its gonna take you guys a while to get to the top.” Charles said over the radio.
“You’re looking for floor 7,” Katie added. 
While she waited on the sidelines as their personal medic, Charles had invited her up front again to help him with reading the map of the rockets layout and the route himself and Henry had planned out this morning. It wasn’t because Charles needed the help or anything, it was just Katie hadn’t really become any less anxious about being on a Government camp since they’d arrived. She said it was the guys in blue, the CCC. She said they gave her the creeps and she couldn’t help but feel unsettled with their presence- another reason she’d eagerly agreed to come with them on the mission instead of waiting at base for their return.

Currently they were on floor 23. 
Henry frowned, him and Ellie exchanging looks after locating the number painted on the side of the wall: This was going to be a long climb.

Ellie stuck her head up the shaft, looking first up, then down. “You know…” She said, “I could just lift us up there so we don’t have to deal with all those stairs.”
“Could,” Henry said, “Safer if use ladder and you ready in emergency to catch.” It wasn’t that Henry didn’t appreciate the offer and all, it was just… the memory of the tightness around his throat wasn’t a welcomed one. They’d also found better ways for Ellie to use her abilities back in the Triple Threat timelines: a parachute, they stand on snowboard. Other ways which gave her a better grip to lift, and them a safer trip up. 
Unfortunately, as much as Henry wanted to suggest a way which didn’t involve nearly chocking him out, the gap up the ladder shaft was only just wide enough for a person.

Ellie sighed, “Truuuuue.” And started her way up the shaft first.
Once she was up a good distance Henry started climbing behind her. 

“So… er, question Ellie,” Charles said. 
“Yeah?”
“I was wondering how you ended up here. You know, a er… a criminal? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.” Charles said, “Like, Henry told me his story with his financial problem that led him to us meeting and all, and I was just curious what your story was. If you don’t mind sharing, which you totally don’t have to do if you're not comfortable.”
Henry saw Ellie above him shrug, “You’re all good man.” 
Ellie hummed, “Well, I’ve always been on the wrong side of the law, ever since I was kid. So erm, Katie, I don’t know what happened to you after our orphanage burned down, but I ended up on the streets for a few years till I met these guys with these SUPER cool looking bikes and I tried to steal one. They were so impressed I was able to hot-wire and ride one, they took me into their gang.”
“Oh,” Katie said solemnly. “Me and Sam got taken in by this old farming couple and they helped get us to college and where we are now.”
“Sam?” Ellie asked with a frown.
“You know Sam, he was the boy who was good at copying people.”
“OH!” Ellie said a little too loud in the shaft, “No way! So have you guys seen any of the others?”
The line was silent for a minute. “No. Not until I bumped into you last week.”
“Oh.”

The pair of ladies fell silent. The only sound being Ellie and Henry’s feet as they climbed the long ladder up. 

“So…. What happened next?” Charles asked.  
“Next?” Ellie repeated. “Next once I was old enough to manage on my own, I left. I wanted to get clean, have a fresh start, but… I just haven’t been able to. For one reason or another I always ended up back. It’s like the criminal underworld just won’t let me go…"
Ellie had told Henry and Charles about her past in previous timelines. She’s told them both how she’s jumped around from place to place, petty crimes and robberies (far more successful than Henry’s first attempt). There was other stuff too, but even at their closest, Ellie had asked Henry & Charles not to ask her about it. She said there was somethings in her past she wasn’t proud of, and simply wanted to leave behind her. 
Henry had never asked what those things were, and to his knowledge Charles hadn’t either.

With Ellie silent again, it was Katie who spoke up. “We um… we ended up in the Wall because… um, I’m not actually sure.” Katie laughed softly, her nerves leaking into her voice. “We kind of just bumped into each other a couple of days ago and we’d gone to gone to get lunch and catch up when those Wall guards appeared and arrested us both. No questions asked, or anything really.”
“Weird.” Charles said. 
Henry nodded in agreement. And although he said nothing, he couldn’t help but wonder in the back of his head if it was Katies abilities which had been the reason why she’d been arrested.  

*****

Henry got to the top of the ladder and Ellie was ready waiting for him. 

“Next you guys need to go straight 50 meters, take a left and then at the split in the corridor, you wanna take a right which will take you to the next set of ladders.”
“Mooooore ladders?” Ellie frowned. “Remind me again why we can’t take the lift?”
“ ‘Cause there’s a higher chance you’ll get caught it anyones walking around and stuff.” Charles said.
“If it makes you feel any better, it’s the last ladder and then you get to go up a lift,” Katie added, but based on Ellies expression, it didn’t. 

Henry nudged her with his arm and she sighed loudly following behind him. He wasn’t really frilled about all the ladders either, however, between him and Charles they had found this to be the best route up, ladders included.

For the most part, the path they’d taken had been practically the same as that he’d used in Special Broverts, starting down in the cargo hold and making their way up to the top via maintenance ladders and the odd elevator. 
Despite the slight change of path, Henry wasn’t particularly worried. Not after how escaping the complex went. That was VASTLY different from how he’d done it the first time, however, it had worked out in the end, so that was all that mattered. He supposed it was the addition of Katie that had made the difference to the pathing, and it was likely the addition of Katie again which made some alterations to their plan now. 
Even if she was just stood by on medical duty, chilling in the helicopter with Charles, he guessed that must have been enough. 
Like the flap of a butterfly wing causing a tornado, the butterfly effect was a weird thing he didn’t try to understand.

“You good?” Ellie asked at the first turn in the corridor.
Henry nodded, giving his signature thumbs up. The sleeves on his hoodie slide down most the way revealing a sliver metal bracelet. Ellie frowned seeing it. 
“I still don’t trust that thing,” She said. “Are you sure you don’t wanna take it off? You can put it on before we leave, I won’t tell, not even Katie.”
“Trust General,” Henry said. 
Ellie shook her head, not impressed. “When I said I trust you and your friends, I meant Charles. I wasn’t extending that out to some General, or that grouchy Captain guy.” 
Henry shrugged, rising his hands he signed, ’General good guy, dose what right. Rupert always like that, use to be worse when cop; was jerk.’ 
“If you say so.” Ellie said, and they kept walking.

The bracelet thing was a bit of a change from how this went in every other run, but he was probably over thinking it. 
It’s like Charles said: There’s a reason for everything.
Galeforce had given Henry this weirdly heavy bracelet thing to wear right before he’d board the helicopter for the mission. He said it was some sort of tracker so they could monitor where he was on the rocket in the event of an emergency. Ellie however, had whispered to him how it’s probably cause they don’t trust them being together, all alone, two criminals inside a rocket full of criminals who they could join if they wanted. 
While Henry hadn’t dismissed that idea, he doubted it. Surly he’d proven himself trustworthy by now, but if what Ellie thought was the real reason… then why hadn’t he given Ellie one?
He also doubled that it was some kind of panic button for if Ellie went rogue on him. He didn’t see any obvious buttons and if it was that, then why wouldn’t the General have pulled him aside to quietly tell him? 

Henry pulled his sleeve back over the bracelet ignoring it once again. He was probably overthinking it. It probably was just a tracker in case the Toppat’s took them hostage or… something. A way for the Government to find and rescue them. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had a tracker put on him before *cough* Price *cough*. 
At least this one was with his knowledge.

Henry just needed to focus on keeping his cool. 
In and out. 
In and out.
They’d be in and out of here in no tim-

“HEY! You’re not Toppat’s!”

Henry reacted on instinct. 
He knew that voice from anywhere. 
Why couldn’t it have been anyone, BUT this guy?

🪞Mirr-
 
From his pocket he produced a small mirror and held it out in front of him.
Following next, he didn’t hear the zap of lasers, or a scent similar to burnt pork; He heard a bang. He heard glass shattering. He felt the mirror in his hands collapse, his face and exposed skin getting slice open by the flying fragments, and then a force push into & through his upper shoulder. 

Across from where he’d stumbled upon impact, he saw an equally stunned Mr Macbeth mirroring his expression. He mouthed something Henry couldn’t hear (, it might not have even been audible), but years of signing had also taught Henry how to be proficient in lip reading. 

His grip visibly tightening on his weapon. ‘He knew.’

Now… as cryptic as that was aside, Henry knew Mr Macbeth had always been perceptive (a little unsettlingly so), but this? This might have been a new record. He’d only ever ONCE, in all of Henry’s runs, ONCE, guessed something else this accurately. 
Henry remembered the timeline and run well because after that he’d taken the hint, and he’d not deliberately gone out of his way to befriend this guy again. He’d done it that one time only to learn more about the guy for his Toppat Clan notes and never again. 

He guessed you could say he’d been spooked out of wanting to befriend him or know him personally after that. The risk seemed too great…

“You got some real crazy lucky, you know. You're always getting out unscathed, despite the odds. It’s like you know what’s gonna happen. How?” Mr Macbeth asked Henry, after signalling him over from the away team which had arrived from another successful raid. 
Henry shrugged, joining Mr Macbeth by the train boiler he’d been working on. “Luck?” 
Mr Macbeth frowned at the answer. He wiped some black oil looking stuff from his hands with a rag, and dropped it on top of the bonnet. Arms folded, he leaned back against the train giving Henry his full attention. 
That’s… not ideal.

“No one is that lucky Stickmin. Not even you, so I’ll ask again: What gives?” He narrowed his eyes, mouth forming a hard line, “If you’re working for the Government and tell me the truth now, that might just be the difference between whether I’m puttin’ the first bullet in your foot or head.”
Henry swallowed hard. Great. He’d been making good progress with this run and it was a long way back to his last save file. He really didn’t want to re-do it all. 
Maybe he could still salvage this?

“Believe in time travel…?”
“You serious? Do you take me for stupid or something?!” Macbeth scowled, anger flickering into his features.
Henry raised his hands seeing a glimpse of the Mr Macbeth from Little Nest Egg in front of him. What he expected next was to be riddled with bullets again, instead he watched Mr Macbeth say, “You seriously believe you can time travel?”
Henry let the timer with his possible responses run out; none of them sounded good.
Macbeth shook his head and sighed, “Why do I always get the weird ones to mentor?”
“…Believe me?” Henry forced himself to ask.
Mr Macbeth shook his head, face twisting from angry, to displeasure, to annoyance. “No. I don’t, but you certainly do.”  
“On Toppat side.” Henry insisted to little avail. 

“Do you know why we have a mentorship program for newcomers, Stickmin?”
Henry… he actually didn’t. He’d always figured it was one of their weird tradition things which had lost its meaning to time. 

When he didn’t answer the train driver did.
“It’s so we can pull out the weeds from the crop. Find those thistles pretending to be carrots… It also allows us to find those who need a little more water to reach their full potential.” Mr Macbeth explained. “See, potential doesn’t present itself as exceptional. It’s a glimmer of what could be. With the right amount of sunlight, water and a bit of care, even the weakest flower can blossom into something magnificent.”
His fond smile fell. “But you?” He said.
Mr Macbeth looked Henry up & down again, “I honestly don’t know what to fucking make of you. Something ain’t right with you, that’s for sure. And maybe you think no one else notices, but I do. You know too much about clan affairs, you know too much about the Government, and you know way too fucking much about us as individuals!”

Macbeth stabbed a dirty finger at Henry, the whole time watching his expression like some kind of school teacher grading a paper. “You weren’t phased the first time Cross yelled at you. You didn’t wince the first time Schwarz talked to you either. Everyone flinches or winces on their first time. No one just nonchalant takes it like you did: You weren’t just expecting it, it was like you’ve experienced it before.”
He pulled his finger back, seemingly satisfied in making Henry uncomfortable, “The way you interact with folks is like you’ve known ‘em 6 years Stickmin. You act like you’re a seasoned member of the clan, but you ain’t even been here 6 weeks! So I’ll ask you once more, and once only: What’s going on here, and don’t give me time travel shit.”

Henry just laughed nervously at Macbeth’s accusations & question. He shrugged an ‘I don’t know’. He just… he really didn’t know how to counter that. Any of that. 
All he did know was he’d probably been over doing it for someone to have caught on, tho he was surprised it was Mr Macbeth of all people, he’d been expecting Reginald to catch on. 

When he still said nothing more, instead of being riddled with bullets, Mr Macbeth… backed off?

“I don’t know what to make of you Stickmin,” He sighed. “But I wonder if you even know what to make of yourself. You seem lost if you ask me. Like yer jumping from life to another. Hehe… maybe it is time travel shit.” 
He shook his head, a rare smile creeping into his stale features, him seemingly able to find amusement within his concerns of Henry being a double agent spy.

“You’ve got the potential to be something wonderful for the Toppat clan Stickmin, you could be our greatest weapon, but could also be our greatest threat. Tho… I guess if you are tellin’ the truth, you already know that,” He narrowed his eyes at the last part, but it didn’t last long; He looked bored of their conversation.
“I know I’m suppose ta be giving you guidance since I’m your mentor an’ all, but this ain’t a choice I can make for you: What you do with your life, that is.
You’ve gotta decide who you wanna be Stickmin, you can’t keep living multiple lives. Choose one and stick with it: 
You’re ether a Toppat, or you’re not. 
You’re with us, or not. Understand?”

Henry nodded. 

Past the clearing walked the group of Toppats Henry had come back from the raid with, they waved him over to come back with them. They were planning on getting drinks and had invited him along. He was going to invite Ellie along when she got back from the raid team she’d been placed in. He needed to strengthen their friendship as he’d been focused on learning more about the elites this run. 
This ending revolved around them two as close friends. He needed to focus on that too or the whole ending could collapse before he got what he needed from it.

Henry waved them off, messily signing he’d catch up.
Mr Macbeth watched the group leave with a bitter displeasure. Henry saw this and realised he was probably the reason for the reaction.

“I just ask before you decide, you take a good look around ya first,” He said, nodding to the group of Toppats leaving. 
One of them tripped up another, which resulted in two of the others tackling the tripper leaving them vulnerable for the tripped to steal their hat and run off with it, waving it in the air like a treasured gold. They laughed, chasing after the guy with the hat.

“This… it ain’t just a clan of criminals Henry: It’s a family.” The train driver said, “We’re all one big family of misfits and outcasts here: the poor, the rich, the lonely and abandoned… everyone has their reason for staying. Most folks come here from broken homes and for others, this is the only life they’ve ever known. We’ve made this place our home, we’ve found people who care about us here, people we’ve got a reason to care for back.”
The train conductor tightened his fist, “I won’t let you take this away from ‘em, Stickmin. I won’t let you take this away from my family. If you are working for the Government, then you better be ready to get loose.”
“You have family here?” Henry blurted out.
Mr Macbeth smiled at him, seemingly unoffended by the comment. 
“Stick around long enough and you will too.” He said.
Henry pretended to nod, but in reality, he laughed. He’d never have family with these people. They’re the one’s who ruined his perfect ending. They’re the one’s who cost him everything. They’re the reason he’s here without his Ellie & Charles.

 

“Come on newbie,” Mr Macbeth said, closing up the boiler. “A little redbird told me you’ve got a crap shot. Let’s see if we can fix that, yeah?”
“You teach me shoot after threatening kill me?” Henry deadpanned.
Mr Macbeth chuckled, “If I don’t give you a chance, then I might as well make your choice for you. So, until you give me a reason not to trust you, I’ll keep waterin’ you like all the other carrots.”

“-HENRY!”

Apparently Mr Macbeth had recovered from his shock before Henry had, as he hadn’t notice him re-aiming his gun. A row of options flashed into, then out of existence with the timer ending. Fortunately Ellie reacted quicker than him. 
She had Mr Macbeth in her force grip, feet dangling off the ground. When the chocking sensation Henry hated wasn’t enough to stop him trying to get off another shot, she threw him across the corridor into the far wall. 
He grunted, dropping his weapon with the impact. 
With his weapon free from his hands for a second, it was all Ellie needed to bring it into her own hands.
“Nice gun,” Ellie smiled, raising and aiming the weapon.

“Thank you,” Mr Macbeth said, joining Henry from where he'd been watching the earth spin below them.
Henry blinked, then signed, ‘For what?’
“For not taking this from them. You chose Toppat… right?”

“No shoot!” Henry blurted out louder than he meant. 
Ellie looked confused, and the bruised train driver even more so.
“Capture only.”
“But he SHOT you!” Ellie whined, “They won’t miss ONE Toppat. They probably won’t even notice he’s missing for hours! Maybe even days!”
Henry felt his fist tighten.
He knew a few people who would. A few people who’d immediately notice and find his absence weird. A few people who would ring him to check why he’s late. A few people who’d got looking. One who’d start panicking, concern ruling his every waking hour until he found out the truth. 

How long?
How long had he spent as a Toppat?
How long had he spent as a Toppat to make him think about this stuff?
Why was he even worrying about this in the first place!

They won’t miss this guy, but…

“We’ve found people who care about us here… my family.”

…someone else will.

“Capture only,” Henry repeated.

Ellie frowned, “Fiiiiine,”
She dropped the gun, only to kick it back into the air and use her force to smash it into Macbeth’s face, knocking him clean out.
…
“What?” Ellie asked looking offended, “You said not to shoot. You didn’t say I couldn’t use the gun in other ways~”
Henry shook his head and laughed. “Clever.”
Ellie shrugged going through Macbeth’s pockets. She pulled out some old looking phone, dropped it on the ground and stomped down hard until it gave one big satisfying ‘CRACK’ sound. 
“That should buy us some more time.”

She took Henry’s hand next, pulling him to his feet. “Come on, we’ve got a mission to finish.”
Henry nodded, following Ellie’s lead as Charles radioed back in with their next directions & status. 

Henry felt a familiar tingle run through his hands. He looked back to where they’d left the unconscious train driver and saw 5 words (only he could see) floating above him. 

‘Mr Macbeth will remember that.’

That’s fine. 
He can remember all he wants, but he’ll be doing it from the inside of a prison cell.

He’d taken his advice, he’d made his choice. 
This was his life now. 
This was his future.
He wouldn’t let himself be distracted by the cheerful chatter they’d heard sneaking past the cafeteria. He wouldn’t let himself be distracted by the children they’d seen running down the corridor. He wouldn’t let himself be distracted by memories of a future that never happened, that will never be!

This was his choice. 
This is his choice and he’s chosen not.

*****
 

The rest of the journey up to the cockpit was uneventful and Henry spent most of it trying not to think about the train conductor and those ominous last 5 words. 
It probably meant nothing. 
He’d gotten that same message with Ellie, and even then, not all of his endings where effected by leaving her behind. This was probably just the same thing. It just meant he had to play his cards right from now, make sure the Toppats went straight to jail and stayed there permanently.

They’d had a few more Toppats to careful sneak around in the meantime, but nothing him & Ellie couldn’t manage. The biggest challenge had actually been climbing the ladder with his left arm out of commission thanks to Mr Macbeths still-as-good-as-ever shot. 
They didn’t think he’d shot though anything too important, and with the best description they could come up with, Katie sounded pretty confident it was a flesh wound at worst.
Henry didn’t know what kind of wound it was since it was rare for him to take any kind of long term damage with his abilities. What he did know however, was it bloody hurt and his favourite jacket was ruined.

“You ready?” Ellie asked, once they were safely hidden inside the elevator going up to the cockpit. 
Henry gave a thumbs up and grinned, “Born ready.” 

The elevator doors pinging, then opened and in they came. 
At the helm they could see a blonde haired guy with a deep blue Toppat: Sven Svensson. He was the leader of the Toppat Clan in this run- well, acting leader actually. If Sven could have it his way in any of the timelines Henry had met him, he wouldn’t be the leader at all. He didn’t want the position. He NEVER wanted the position. 
He still got it. 

“What? Who’s tha… YOU!” Sven yelled. 
Before he could dispute anymore Ellie and Henry had him pulled out of the pilot chair. Sven swung at Ellie and missed. Henry left her to deal with him, quite confident this would go as smoothly as it always did. This had always been the easiest part of the mission. Sven wasn’t a threat to anyone, and certainly not in a hand to hand confrontation.

Henry sat down in the pilot chair and got to work on setting the rockets auto pilot first, and then changing co-ordinates to his favourite frozen waste land up north. With a bit of luck, this time because of all that extra information he sent them, they should be able to keep each and every Toppat member locked up for good. Locked up until the end of time. Never to be seen again by anyone, never to cause trouble to himself or friends. Henry had after all, done everything in his power to find out EVERYTHING about anyone even remotely competent enough to lead the Clan, or form a revenge plan. He’d befriended all the Toppat elites, he’d learned everything he could about the Department Heads and gone out of his way to find and write a list of all promising members within each departments devision. In essence: He’d covered all his bases. 
The Wall was armed with a powerful little USB full of knowledge. One which would keep all the dangerous Toppats locked up far away from his precious Triple Threat-

BANG!

“Ellie-“

Henry saw movement of red out the corner of his eye, turning around in the pilot seat, he saw red hair and liquid spill across the floor. He saw blue, red and blonde standing over her, the gun in the Toppats hands turning on him. 
“You won’t take this from me, Henry,” Sven said coldly. “I won’t loose to you again. This is my game to win, not yours.”

BANG!

Henry didn’t feel the incoming bullet. He didn’t feel anything, but the cold empty pit inside of him. 

The world around him faded out into a white haze leaving him stood alone in the middle of it. A hole in the centre of his chest, red blood frozen in place from where it dribbled out.  

He felt nothing. 

He felt cold.

Alone. 

Angry.

Devastated. 

His plan hadn’t worked. 
There was no quick time event. 
There was no decision to be made. 
There was no way for him to intervene.

This was how this timeline ended: With his and Ellie’s death.

Henry felt his legs grow tried and he sank to his knees. His fists clenched tight, he smashed them into the nothingness. 

What now?

Chapter Text

[Rocket Launch - Henry Stickmin]

Henry watched his choice flicker and glitch. 

[Res͜e̸t] ̕

Reset. Reset would take him back to the start of completing the mission, wouldn’t it? Back to the start of today, but what if it didn’t? He hadn’t made any bad choices this run. He’d chosen correctly, and the one time he hadn’t, Ellie was there. Ellie had his back. She always did.  

What if reset took him all the way back to the beginning? What if it took him all the way back to the Airship. Could he really wait to do all this again? Would he even be able to pull this off a second time? He’d bearly managed to break reality the first time, he’d bearly managed to change Dave’s fate. What if he can’t do that again? 
Resetting might not fix his broken abilities, it might just put him back at square one and force him into reliving the Triple Threat ending. Force him to relive out an ending he knows is doomed. 

What if… 

Henry looked at his hands bearing the scars and scrapped of his adventures, recent & distant. 
He wasn’t giving up. He hadn’t gotten this far by giving up. The reason he was here in the first place was because he’d refused to give up. He was stubborn alright, but being stubborn was one of his biggest advantages. It meant he wouldn’t settle for less than what he wanted, and right now? He wanted his friends safely by his side. He wanted to secure them a happy future together, one which wouldn’t end sooner that it had begun. 

Henry held both hands out in front of him, eyes closed.
If he could create a new path forward to the cells in the Airship, a new path forward to save Dave, then why couldn’t he create a new way back too?
This was his future, this was his fate for him to decide. 
And NO ONE would stop him. 

He felt a tingle of pain shoot up his arms. His arms becoming heavy, his mind fuzzy, but he wouldn’t let it stop him. He wouldn’t let any of this stop him!

The invisible walls around him crumbled away and Henry fell forward into the nothingness. The white void swallowing him, then spitting him back out again.

[Res͜e̸t] ̕    [̷̱̘̠̗̳̯͉̺̼͍̟̺̳ͧ̿̏ͪͥ͗ͯ̒̆̊͐̉̍R͆ͧͯ̔̾͊̽ͣͭ̚̚͠҉̞͉̲͙͖͎̼͕͓̱̕ͅe҉̞͍̳ͅẗ̾͐͋͌ͤ̅͐̃ͨͥͣͯͪ̀͏̦̞͎̰̝̟͕̼̙̤̣̺͍ͅr̷ͬ̏̔̐͊̔̌̊͒͂ẏ̢̡̢̬͇̘̠̋̎̓]͖͙̦̰̣̪͉̘̼̭̻̩̩̩̃ͭ͑̾͋͊̅̋ͤ͊̂ͩͪͥ͟

Henry whipped the sweat from his face, that was what he wanted: Retry, but retry from where? The last choice he made… hadn’t that been back with Mr Macbeth? 

He could live with that. It wasn’t too far back to go. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t actually looked at his choices at the time, he’d just heard the guys voice and on instinct went with the mirror. That had been the right choice the first time they’d met.
Regardless, Henry was pretty confident he could get it right this time. This time he knew there were no lasers no reflect, just real bullets to doge. 

Henry reached toward the button and lightly tapped his choice. 

[̷̱̘̠̗̳̯͉̺̼͍̟̺̳ͧ̿̏ͪͥ͗ͯ̒̆̊͐̉̍R͆ͧͯ̔̾͊̽ͣͭ̚̚͠҉̞͉̲͙͖͎̼͕͓̱̕ͅe҉̞͍̳ͅẗ̾͐͋͌ͤ̅͐̃ͨͥͣͯͪ̀͏̦̞͎̰̝̟͕̼̙̤̣̺͍ͅr̷ͬ̏̔̐͊̔̌̊͒͂ẏ̢̡̢̬͇̘̠̋̎̓-

[WARNING: CRITICAL DAMAGE DETECTED. IF YOU PROCEED WITH THIS ACTION, YOU MAYBE UNABLE TO RETURN]

[̷̮̹̞͚͍͍̤͕̕ͅPͦ̐̽ͦͭ̓̽̿̇̚R͉̱̫̦̱̖̹̫͖̻͇̫̿ͥ̓̅̄ͬ̂ͣ̈́͒ͤͮŐ̸̝̹̯̯̯̻̯ͣ̋̐́͊͒C͟E͈͚͔̳̜̭̰̳̹̫͕̗̰̻͆̃ͣ́ͦ͋̿̿ͯ̉ͨͣ̎̾̌ͅE̶ͬ̈̍ͦ́̚D̐̀]̴̟̬̲̮͔͚ͮͦ̈ͧ̈́ͫ͢      [RETURN]

A large warning box appeared, flashing a bright red only a few inches from Henry’s nose. He had to take a few steps back to see and read the whole thing, frowning once he’d done so. 

So, what it said was essentially was he had two choices from here:
Go back and re-do everything from (probably) the Airship, or go back to Macbeth and risk never being able to reset again.

Risk losing the chance to go back, in return for another chance to go forward.

Henry smiled reading the warning over one last time: Those sounded like his kind of odds. Luck did tend to be on his side, and this time he knew what was going to happen. 

This time he’d be prepared to deal with Mr Macbeth’s bullets, 
This time he’d know to warn Ellie about the gun.

[̷̮̹̞͚͍͍̤͕̕ͅPͦ̐̽ͦͭ̓̽̿̇̚R͉̱̫̦̱̖̹̫͖̻͇̫̿ͥ̓̅̄ͬ̂ͣ̈́͒ͤͮŐ̸̝̹̯̯̯̻̯ͣ̋̐́͊͒C͟E͈͚͔̳̜̭̰̳̹̫͕̗̰̻͆̃ͣ́ͦ͋̿̿ͯ̉ͨͣ̎̾̌ͅE̶ͬ̈̍ͦ́̚D̐̀]̴̟̬̲̮͔͚ͮͦ̈ͧ̈́ͫ͢

*****

Henry felt a sharp stab-pain in his wrist. He glanced down quickly, seeing the bracelet thing the general had given him smoking. Weird, it must have overheated or something…?

“What? Who’s tha… YOU!” Sven yelled, pulling Henry back to reality. “WAIT A MInu-”
Before Sven could dispute anymore, Ellie and Henry had him pulled out of the pilot chair. Sven swung at Ellie and missed. Henry left her to deal with him, quite confident this would go as smoothly as it always did. This had always been the easiest part of the mission. Sven wasn’t a threat to anyone, and certainly not in a hand to hand confrontation.

Henry felt a sharp pain in his chest and fell against the pilot seat. 
Why was it so hard to breathe suddenly? Why was he struggling to take a single breath?
The world around his spun, his ears rang unbearably loud, everything was just screaming at him.
 
You shouldn’t have done that. 

You shouldn’t have done that.

YoU sHoUlDn’T hAvE dOnE tHaT~

“HENR- HEY!” Ellie grabbed Sven’s hands pushing the gun’s barrel away from her chest, “GIVE ME THAT!”

Come on, get up, get up!
Stupid pain, just let him get up already!
He needs to help her!

“Why are you doing this?!” Sven demanded, wrestling with Ellie on the ground over the gun. “You could be one of US! You don’t have to live in fear, or on the run anymore Ellie, you can have a safe place here. We’ll give you a home, a place you can belong!”
Henry froze mid-attempt at getting up.
How does he know her name already? There’s no way he should know that!

“You don’t know anything about me Blondie!” Ellie argued tugging on the gun. 
“Yes, I do!” Sven insisted. “I know in another world we were friends! You and Henry joined us as recruits. Us three were a team! We… we were more than a team, we were friends!”

Sven stopped tugging on the gun, but didn’t let go. “A-and in another world you became our second in command a-and you were happy! You told me that yourself! You said you were the happiest you’d been in years because you finally found somewhere you belong, somewhere you weren’t made to feel like a freak because of your abilities: With us. With the Toppat Clan.”

Henry tripped on thin air, stumbling a little. 
He… 

“How’d you get out?” Henry asked
Ellie shrugged, Sven quickly mimicking. “You know us,” Ellie winked. 
Sven shook his head, “More just Ellie,” He corrected.
“Hey, we wouldn’t have gotten out there in the first place without your quick thinking & plan, which, was awesome by the way.” Ellie said, playful shoving the Swede.
Sven raised his shoulders shaking a red blush away, “Ah, Ja, well, I am Head of Strategy, so… it’s my job.”
“Awesome plan,” Henry grinned, holding in his free hand the reward of their latest raid they were walking up to the Chiefs office: the Namibia Amethyst.

“Seriously,” Sven said, “You’re like… the biggest trouble magnets I’ve ever met! You’ve been here nearly a year now, and I don’t think we’re ever had anyone in Clan history who could find trouble as easy as you two can. It’s like… every other day something happens, and one or both of you are in the middle of it!”
“Hey, it’s a talent, but totally Henry’s doing,” Ellie said, throwing him under the bus.
Henry huffed loudly signing back, ‘Get in most trouble when with you.’
Sven shook his head at them, still smiling ear to ear. “Please, you two are ALWAYS getting into trouble. You’re like walking double trouble. Ha, we should make that your new nicknames! I bet they’d stick too!”
“Na, ah, ah. You’re in this too man. Us three are the Triplets of Terror! MAWHAHAH!” Ellie laughed.
Sven shook his head, unable to hide his smile, he said, “No, no, no, no! There is no we, just you two. Leave me out of your trouble! I get enough ear ache from the other elites for what you two drag me into!”
“But you’re not denying it! Us three are totally a thing!” Ellie argued, ruffling up Sven’s hair, “You’re the bold-action plan man, I’m great at kicking ass and Henry’s a great improviser!” 
Ellie’s smile fell, she looked at Sven who shrugged, then nudged Henry, “Hey, you good man? Did we say something wrong?”  

Sven just perfectly described his Toppat Recruits run, but… how?

Ellie stopped wrestling for the gun too, just as bemused as Henry, “How do you…”
“Because we were friends!” Sven insisted, “Let me show you. Join us, you can have it all again. I’m in charge, I can do that! No one will be able to stop you if I say you’re one of us now!
You can have it all again, everything you’ve lost… safety, family, a place you belong.”
Sven pointed out the window where Charles helicopter was now visible- shoot, they were meant to check in with him already, weren’t they? 
“You don’t have to work for people like them, people who only want to use you as pawns to win their game! A-and it’s all for what in the end? A flimsy piece of paper to keep the cops from shooting you on sight?! That won’t change anything for you!
People will still see you as a criminal, they’ll never truly believe you can change even if you were to turn over a new leaf! They’ll never truly give you the second chance you deserve!”

Sven risked holding out one of his hands, compromising his grip on the gun.
“Please Ellie,” He begged, “I know you can’t remember any of it, but you can’t tell me you don’t feel it inside. You can’t tell me you can’t also feel that all this… it’s wrong, it’s not where you’re meant to-“

Henry skidding in and kicked Sven in the face- mostly to shut him up -causing him to let go of the gun, dropping it into Ellies hands. He rolled out the way, missing Henry’s attempt to grab him, and jumped back to his feet. 

Sven jumped back a meter or so, far enough that he had time to recover if Henry went for him again. He pulled out a small vile of some black-sparkly-goo stuff next, and chugged it in one go. 

He dropped the empty container, it bounced once, echoing in the silent room. It came to a stop in the distance between him and Henry. 
Henry glanced down at it once. That was… VERY different from how any of his confrontations with Sven had gone. Even in Triple Threat where they were sworn enemies. 
What was that stuff anyway?

Sven raised his hands into a defensive position that looked oddly reminiscent of the fights Henry had had with Manaaki, the clans Head of the Oceania devision.   
Sven didn’t know how to fight.
He… he didn’t. 

Did he…?

“WHY IS IT ALWAYS YOU?! WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO RUIN EVERYTHING!” The acting leader fumed whipping at his bloody nose with the back of his hand. “WHAT IS YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM HENRY?! You chose the Government over us, AGAIN! I don’t understand what’s wrong with you!”

Henry tightened his fists, he has to shut Sven up. He has to shut Sven up before he says something which will undo all his hard work. He can only write off so much of what’s been said. Only so much can pass for the delusional blundering of desperation. 
He can worry about how Sven knows all this, how he’s able to remember all this that no one else has ever, EVER, been able to later.  

“You could have had everything! You could have led us into orbit,” Sven said, dogging Henry’s punches better than he should have been able to. “You could have been our leader Henry! You could have had it all! Why did you give it up to be a Government lap dog again, when you could have been our king?! You should be here leading us, not me! Stood by our side, laughing with us, having fun with your friends-“
FRIENDS?!?

“DON’T DARE TALK ABOUT MY FRIENDS!” 

Henry tackled Sven into the glass, smacking his head hard into it. 
“YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING!” He yelled at the Swede through his cracking voice.
“YES I DO!” Sven argued back. 
He pulled one arm loose, elbowing Henry directly in the face. “I know what we put you through, and I know what you put us through! A-and I know you remember the other timeline too, because that’s the same dumbfounded look you gave me the first time!”
The first time…
Henry moved his hand to his chest. 
Sven smirked; He remembered the failed ending.
That’s…
That’s not possible. 

“Will you listen to me now Stickmin?!”

“Henry? Ellie? What’s going on?” Charles asked, “Are you two good? I can see you down there, you er, you look like you’re in a stale mate. Need a hand?”
Henry ignored the row of options that flashed in front of him. 
He ignored Ellie’s concerned gaze. 
He moved his hand over his ear, taking the ear piece out and dropping it into his pocket; one problem at a time.

“Know me well as say, should know I don’t negotiate with murders,” Henry growled low.
“Funny, I could say the same for you, yet I want to be the reasonable one,” Sven laughed coldly. He took a breath and sighed, “Believe it or not Henry, but I want a good ending for both of us and in truth, I know how this will end. Nothing I can do will stay a permeate change if you don’t want it to be. So, I want to compromised. Offer you a deal…”

Sven took off his hat and held it out in front of him, offering the hat & what it symbolised to him. “I know you want this. You always want this. I don’t want to be leader, I’ve never wanted it and I’ll never be as good as you were. As good as you are…”
“Take it,” Sven said, throwing his hat into the space between them. “Be the leader you were born to be. Be the leader this Clan deserves.”

Henry walked to the hat, stopping with it at his feet.
He looked down at the blue top hat, then back to Sven’s hopeful face. 

He felt temptation tug at him. 
He felt the memories lurch into the front of his mind. He felt the emotions crash into him like a powerful wave: love, hate, laughter, anger, joy, stress, responsibility, respect, belonging… a purpose. Being wanted. Being needed. 

Colleagues, co-workers, friends, family-

“Stick around long enough and you will too.” Mr Macbeth said to him with a wistful smile.

Henry stared at the hat touching his foot. 
He could get that all back. 
He could get it all back. 
He could get it back without putting himself in Reginald's bad graces. Without creating the life-time grudge Right Hand Man would hold over him, regardless of when and where. He could be the leader without needing to earn the elites trust. Without feeling the need to constantly watch other his shoulder. To expect them any day to over throw him. To leave him behind. 

A clean slate. 
A fresh start. 
A once in a lifetime- no, a once in a multiverse opportunity. 

To be their leader, their king, with Ellie at his side and Charles-
And Charles with the Government. 
…

Henry kicked the hat away. 

Grim faced, Henry forced the words out… this is for the best! 
He… HE DOESN’T WANT THIS!

“I told Mr Macbeth, and I tell you same.” Henry said, through gritted teeth, his throat tight. “I made my choice. I chose not Toppat.”
Sven’s face darkened, “Pa- Macbeth… what you do to him?!”
Henry smirked; that’s what he needed.
“Saw Macbeth on way up,” Henry shrugged with a dark grin, “Had a nice gun~”
“He…” Sven went pale and Henry took his opportunity to pounce, tackling Sven to the ground and pinning him there. He pulled Sven’s arms over his back to cuffed the blabber mouth. Once he was out of the way Henry could deal with the fall out of everything they’d both said. 

He’d just tell Ellie he didn’t know what he was talking about. 
He’d just tell Ellie the guy was talking nonsense.
He’d just tell Ellie they had a history he didn’t want to talk about.
Ellie had always trusted him. She wouldn’t push if he said he didn’t want to discuss it further, that here and now was a bad time and place to discuss it. That it was a past he’d rather forget; she had her own past too, she wouldn’t push to learn about his.
Worst case scenario any of this would at the very least buy himself some time to make a better lie up. 

Henry patted his pocket only to find a lack of handcuffs within. He must have dropped them in their shuffle. Great.

“Ellie?” Henry patted where he’d put them on his trouser pocket, figuring she would understand and be able to get them for him. 
…

Nothing.

Henry glanced over his shoulder, feeling the tight pit in his stomach- she’s fine. Phew. 
She’s just stood watching them. She just looked confused; she probably is. 

“Henry…” Ellie said, “What is he talking about?”
Yep~ Just what he was expecting. 

“He’s lying,” Henry told her, “Says anything to not loose.”
“R-right, just like you, hey Henry,” Sven spat back.
Henry pushed harder on Sven’s back, feeling anger bubble up within him, “Don’t pretend to understand; Quiet.”
Sven laughed undeterred, “Right, c-cause you didn’t kill everyone I cared about too. You didn’t make me relive the pain of loosing the ones I care about over and over again.” 
“What…?”

Sven glanced at Ellie who now had her arms folded, and Henry felt sick recognising the shift in her, then Sven’s expression. “He didn’t tell you? He didn’t tell you about what else he’s done? Ha, maybe you should sit down.”
Sven smiled coldly, a shit-eating grin which said, ‘Fine. We’ll do this my way.’ 
“Didn’t he tell you how he crashed the Airship into the rocket and kill everyone on board? Didn’t he tell you how he turned my dad into a pile of ash for money! Or how he abandoned you in The Wall! OH! I bet he left that little detail out, didn’t he~?
How he left you to rot until you came to us, and WE helped you get your revenge?! A-and that he’s done all this, not once, but more times than he can even remember!”

“How many times have we relived these different lives, Stickmin?” Sven asked, “How many more times are you going to put us all through this loop of yours till you get what you want? HUH?!”

How does he know this?
How does he know any of this?
He’s the only one who can remember his run. No one else has EVER been able to remember his timeline jumping. There’s no reason Sven should remember now, but… he does.
Why?

“Shut up,” Henry hissed at him.
“Why? Cause you don’t want you're so called ‘friend’ to know the truth?” Sven spat in Henry’s face, “Don’t worry I’ll tell her everything you won’t~”

“Ellie?” Henry tried again. 
She still didn’t move.
The ear piece in Sven’s ear started to make noise. Henry pulled it out, throwing it across the room. 
“Ellie, please.” He said again. 
Come on. 
He- He can’t loose this all because of this guy again, he CAN’T!

“What does he mean we’ve done this before?” Ellie asked coldly.

Henry bit his lip, watching two options crackle into life in front of him.

[́T́el͢l͏ ̛h̢er]      ͜[̴Li͠e]

[̴Li͠e]

He went for lie, knowing fully well deep down she wouldn’t believe him; No one ever did.  
The button glitched under his hand and sent a shooting pain up his arm again, only this time it was more intense. He pulled back holding tightly to his painful arm, but the pain wouldn’t subside, it just kept going and his hand was glitching too. His chest felt tight again, his breathes escaping him once more. 
What was wrong with him?

Henry didn’t know what to do other than grit his teeth and wait. It had subsided last time, so maybe it would now? It had to!

Sven took his chance and elbowed him in the face, pushing Henry off, he made a mad break across the room. “BUR-“

!BANG!

Sven dropped the remains of the shattered ear piece, holding his bleeding hand against his chest. He froze, looking back at Ellie with small eyes and a face full of fear. 

“Don’t move.” She warned, gun in one hand, cuffs in the other.
Sven looked around once, then raised his uninjured hand in the air, keeping the other tightly pinned against his shirt. His light blue undershirt, slowly growing to contain a dark crimson patch.

Ellie walked forward placing herself in the middle of the space between Henry and Sven.
She looked at the Toppat, then the criminal. 

“I don’t know what either of you two are talking about, but you’re not getting out of here-” She said to Sven, then to Henry, “-and you’ve got A LOT of explaining to do.”
Sven’s face lost all it’s fear, turning dark and stormy, “Y-YOU’RE LISTENING TO HIM! HE’S THE ONE WHO’S DONE THIS TO US-“
Ellie shoved Sven against the glass window with her force. He fussed and shook, but couldn’t break free. Ellie walked behind forcefully moving his hands then cuffing him.

“I’m not going to pretend I understand half of what either of you two were yelling about,” She said angry herself, “But if he chose me, over the chance to be a criminal overlord king then… I’ll assume this Back To The Future nonsense isn’t happening just for his benefit.”
She dropped Sven and when he stayed on his feet, she kicked him in the back of his shin then once he fell down to his knees, she knocked him out with the back of his gun.

“You also talk too much,” She added, looking down at the unconscious leader. 

Ellie sighed filling the silence in the cockpit. She looked at Henry from where he sat on the ground. “You chose me over being a criminal overlord, huh?” She shook her head, “You must be even more stupid than goofy.”
She pocketed the gun and calmly walked over, offering Henry a hand up. 
He shook his head, “Prison door,” He said, remembering how that had glitched out and disappeared when he’d touched it.
Ellie nodded, “That’s er… that’s not meant to do that then?” She frowned.
Henry nodded, looking at his hands sadly, “Broken, I think?” 
“How’d you do that?” She asked, then her face turned bitter, “Don’t tell me: You jumped around in time too much like Blondie said?”
Henry broke eye contact, looking at the ground.

“Jesus Christ, Henry…” Ellie mumbled. “Just how many times have we done this song and dance?”

He must have over done it, or maybe he’d caused too many extreme changes from the original timeline? Whatever he’d done, his abilities hadn’t been right since Right Hand Man had grabbed him back on the Airship. He’d grabbed him right as he’d chosen his choice for that set of options. He grabbed him right as his choice would have been creating a save point. A point he could return to if future choices when wrong. 
But even then, his abilities hadn’t been THIS broken. 

Henry had a bad feeling about it all, a very bad feeling, but he pushed it away. Now wasn’t the time or place to contemplate over his recent actions. 

“Thank you.” Henry said.
“Huh? Oh, no, no, no~” Ellie laughed. “You don’t thank me for anything until you’ve got a good explanation for everything that came out of the Blonde’s mouth.”
“Meant, thank you for trust me,” Henry clarified. “I… I thought… was going to loose you again.”
“Again?” Ellie asked, pulling Henry to his feet by a non glitchy section of his arm.
Henry open his mouth, then raised his hands to sign, but Ellie suddenly shushed him. “You know? I’ve had enough cryptic timeline time-travel stuff for one day. You can give me the whole story from the start when we're back at camp, yeah?”
Henry nodded, then letting his feelings get the best of him he pulled Ellie into a hug, careful to hold his glitching hand far away. 

Ellie laughed a little at him, the sweet way Henry remembered making his eyes water and run. 
“Alright goofball,” she said pushing him off. “Let’s get out of this dump. I dunno about you, but I don’t fancy another trip to The Wall anytime soon.”

*****

The pair jumped out of the emergency escape hatch, and after a minute of free fall, Charles was there, waiting and ready to pick them up as always. 

“Hey! Are you two okay? You went quiet on us for a while, we were getting worried.” Katie said running out from the front with Charles. 
Ellie nodded and Henry gave a thumbs up, glad his arm had stopped glitching before they got inside the helicopter. That wasn’t something he wanted to try explain to anyone. Ellie had been easy to understand because she’d been there when it happened the first time and she was also more familiar with abilities being… weird. 
At least she’d told him that once, but he wasn’t sure this is what she’d meant in that timeline.

“Yeah we’re good,” Ellie said, Henry pretending not to see the side eye she gave him. “The leader guy gave us a bit of trouble, but nothing we couldn’t handle.”
“That’s good,” Katie smiled. “Henry, you got shot right? Let me see. I should be able to have it wrapped up and sorted before we land.”
Henry nodded and sat down on one of the benches at the back. 
Ellie sat next to him on his other side watching as Katie confidently made a start on his shoulder.

“Nice job out there you two. I was worried when you went radio silent on us, but I guess everything did work out in the end,” Charles announced from the front. “So, er… Henry, where’d you set the rocket t- WHOA!” 
The helicopter suddenly jolted to the right and through the open doors they saw a red blur shoot past them.

“W-what was that?” Katie asked still holding onto Henry’s right arm for dear life.
“It looks like an escape pod,” Charles answered, leaning out one of his side windows. “It er, it looks like there are more of them, too. A lot of them actually. I think the bad guys are er… I think they’re escaping.”
Ellie huffed, “I told you we should have killed that first guy, cause Mr.Talk-Too-Much sure won’t have woken up yet.”
Henry scowled at Ellie, then looked out the door at the pods. 
“Did you know him?” Ellie suddenly asked, “The guy with the neat gun.”
Henry kept scowling out the door. After a minute or so of listening to the helicopter rotors over everything else, he nodded. 
“Ah,” Ellie said. 
Katie gave Henry a curious look first, then Ellie. Charles didn’t say anything, so Henry assumed he couldn’t hear them with his head probably still out the window. 
“It’s er… personal,” Ellie said. “You know, like us with our past.”
“Oh,” Katie said. 

That’s what he got giving mercy. 
He should have known that would have happened, it didn’t workout well the last time he’d showed mercy so why should it have this time? Why should have returning the same kindness another version of Mr Macbeth had given him made a difference here? 
He shouldn’t have let those old memories get to him, convince him not to let Ellie take the guy out. Why couldn’t they have run into LITERALLY anyone else?! He wouldn’t have felt bad if it was bossy Carol Cross. 

“Hey, it’s no biggy Hen,” Ellie said, nudging him with a smile. “I guess we’ll just have a few more adventures together, huh?”
Henry forced a smile and nodded. Sure, but… that’s exactly how he’d lost the Triple Threat the first time. It started with a few rogue Toppat’s… 
‘Nothing the Triple Threat can’t handle, I’m sure.’ Galeforce would tell them with a proud and confident smile. A smile which would be lost, replace with a grim sadness. A solute, a stone-faced funeral and two gave stones watching the waves below them. 
Charles favourite spot. He was yet to share it with them. Yet to make it his and Ellie’s favourite spot too. 

“Hey,” 
Katie poked Henry in the arm. “Are you okay? You look really sad? If you want to talk about it, you can, or… if you’d prefer to talk with just Ellie I can go up front, or we can both stay here if you’d rather talk to Charles. We’d understand! You have know him longer than both of us.”

Henry looked out the open door and feeling escape pods. Red blobs shrinking. Re blobs becoming fuzzier as they got further away. 
He looked back to his two new allies: Trust. Charles always said friendship was about being able to trust those around you, and… you can’t have friends if you’re not willing to trust them with your problems. Share your fears with them…

“Scared,” Henry said. 
“Hehe, me too,” Katie smiled, sitting down on Henry’s other side. “But you know, I…” She stopped and looked at Ellie. Ellie raised a brow, then something clicked and she nodded. 
Katie continued, “I knew someone once. He… he wasn’t the best person and… he did… a lot of bad things, but… I was always a really scared kid. I was scared of the wind and needles and everything, I guess I still am a bit.”
“A bit,” Ellie scoffed.
Katie leaned forward and stuck her tongue out at Ellie, before continuing. “Anyway, he always use to tell me that, it isn’t the absence of fear that gives us courage, it’s facing what scares us.”

She shrugged, “And um… yeah, those villain guys seem kinda scary, and knowing they’re escaping and could come back and get us is erm, even more scary actually, but um… you’re not alone in this. That’s what I’m trying to say. That’s what the person I knew once always told me: I’m never alone, and neither are you Henry,” Katie smiled, holding one of Henry’s hands in her own. “We’ll get through this: Together.”

Ellie smirked at them.
“What?” Katie frowned.
“You’re still AWFUL at the whole reassurance thing~”
“Tch,” Katie huffed, “I don’t see you trying.”
“I don’t need to try,” Ellie said, puffing out her chest, “Henry already know’s me and him, we’re going to pummel those Toppat’s so bad, they’ll wish they had taken their free trip to prison~”
“Hey, you guys better be leaving me some fun for me too!” Charles called from the front.
“And let the worlds best pilot miss all the action?” Ellie scoffed, “We wouldn’t dream of it man.”

An alarm starting singing up front and Charles jumped, snapping around to the control. He grabbed the controls and the helicopter lurching up suddenly, flying shrapnel from the opposite side of them hitting the side panelling and rotor blades. A couple pieces flew in through the open door, but Ellie was quicker, holding them back. 

She dropped the fragments of metal. 
“The fuck?” She said picking the edge of one up. She flipped it over revealing a red side and her frown grew into concern, “Hey, Henry…” 
Henry got up, joining Ellie nearer the door.
“…is this what I think it is…?”
Henry took the metal, and saw the damaged white numbers on the red metal. He felt a pit in his stomach deepen. Why did it look so familiar?

He jumped around everything he’d seen this run. Not finding the answer there, his mind jumped around the over timelines till he settled on one: Valiant Hero. 
The end of Valiant Hero, the moment when everything went wrong, when he- 

“Who shot that?! That was waaaay to near to my helicopter! That could have knocked us out the sky! A-and we weren’t given orders to shoot anyone!” Charles yelled not at them.
“W-what?!” He said next, “I-I wasn’t told about this! Yes, yes, I was there! He didn’t say anything about it to me, I was just told about the… well, he didn’t.”
The three in the back frowned at each other.

“Charles? W-what’s going on up there?” Katie asked, cautiously joining him up front.
“They’re shooting the Toppat Clan’s escape pods,” Charles then even grimmer added, “General’s orders.”
“What? Why?” Ellie frowned, “That wasn’t in our briefing.”
Charles lowered his head, mouth in a hardline his hands tightened on the controls, “…I know it wasn’t. I KNOW it wasn’t, Ellie. And… I didn’t agree to scaring them out of their rocket just for the Chaos Containment Centre to do target practice.”
“T-the CCC,” Katie took a step back, flashing Ellie a look of fear.
Charles shook his head, ”I didn’t sign up to the Military to slaughter people…” -then suddenly punched the dashboard, “I didn’t agree to this!”

Henry pushed his way past Ellie and Katie into the cockpit, he put a hand on Charles shoulder holding it tight. “They’re just criminals-“
“JUST CRIMINALS!” Charles yelled at Henry, pushing his hand off, “Well so are you two!” He yelled at Henry and Ellie, “Why is it fine for you two to get a second chance at living a good life, but not them?!”
Henry opened his mouth to argue, “I- "
“You and Ellie said you saw kids! How come they aren’t allowed to get the chance to grow up and have a normal life and family! Most of them didn’t sign up to be there! Everyone knows the Toppat Clan takes in orphans! That their members have their own kids there!”
Charles kept shaking his head, his eyes filling up with tears, “We’ve never been able to pin a crime on them! A-and the only crimes we know they’re guilty of are theft! Arson! Heists! N-not murder! Not genocide! So… so WHY IS THIS FINE?!”

Ellie pushed Henry out the way, “It’s not fine.” She said, “So let’s do something about it. You’re friends with General Galeforce right?”
“He’s been a father figure to me since I lost my own dad…” Charles said to his feet. 
Ellie nodded fully of confidence, “Then let’s get down there and talk to him! If you two are that close he’ll listen to you.”
“Yeah…” Charles said, “YEAH! You’re right!” His eyes lit up with determination, “M-maybe he doesn’t even know about it! Liam never said which General gave the order.”
Ellie punched Charles in the shoulder, “Then let’s go already!”
“YEAH!” Charles smiled, “Buckle up guys, this ones going to be a turbulent ride!” 

Katie politely squeezed past Henry & Ellie, sitting in the co-pilot seat and Ellie, nudged, then grabbed Henry dragging him to the back. 
‘What?’ She mouthed. 
Henry shook his head, with trembling hand’s he signed, ‘Not now.’

Henry stared out the window behind them, away from Ellies confused gaze. He saw another explosion, this time seeing first hand an escape pod being blown into fiery fragments. 

Why?
Why were the CCC shooting the Toppat Clan? What had they done? What had changed? What had he changed? They’d never been bothered by the Toppat Clan before now, never in another timeline so… why? Why now?
Why were they such a big threat now?

Chapter Text

[15 minutes to arrival - The Rocket - Carol Cross]

Carol and Slice pushed their way through the corridors. They were busy, but not as crowded as you’d expect considering their final stop was prison.

They counted the escape pod door numbers, as they passed.
21, 25, 29…32! 

“There you two are,” Wilhelm called. “Time to go.” 
He nodded his head to the luxury pod reserved for the clan’s elites. Inside was Poshly, Wilhelm and Ahnoldt?
Slice entered taking a seat by the younger German but Carol didn’t. She remained outside the pod and frowned, “Schwarz? That was fast. How did you-“
“The party finished early,” Ahnoldt answered a lot quieter than Carol had been expecting. 
She waited another 30 seconds, but he didn’t add anything else. 
Weird.

The statement he said sounded plausible, she could see someone with half a brain cell noticing  (not all the lower ranks were out of control train wreaks, after all). She could see that creating a mass panic and exodus. That was more than likely what had happened if it was empty or mostly so when Ahnoldt got there. Still… something felt ‘off’. 
Something about him seemed ‘off’ actually. 

A quick peek. Just enough to settle that weird feeling. Just enough to give her the reassurance it was nothing. Probably stress running rampant in her mind, making her imagine things. 
Carol closed her eyes and focused. She felt the air around her settle, the panic of one place fade out as she focused on another-

!BUZZ!

That was the 15 minute alarm: Time to get out of here. 

She opened her eyes, feeling a deeper scowl than normal fill her features as she looked over the Head of the EU division again. He looked the same as when she’d seen him 5 minutes ago, well, minus the addition of a darkening bruise on one cheek.
Weird. 

“Have you seen Mr Curtis, Carol?”
“He’s not back yet?!” Carol snapped at Poshly.
The older gent took her temper in his stride, simply shaking his head. “No, I am as yet to him today.”
“He didn’t enter the Opinion lounge after you left either.” Wilhelm added.
“Don’t look at me,” Slice said. 
Ahnoldt said nothing. He had his head down in his phone, typing something with one hand. 
Weird.

“The fuck’s going on?! I’ve been try’na call in an intruder and no one’s picking shit up, and then I run into Dao and find out we’re evacuating?” 

Around the corner appeared a panting Macbeth. He dropped out of his jog, walking the rest of the way to their escape pod, where he leaned heavily against the door. He had a generous sided gash across one of his puffy red cheeks and gun out, strung over his shoulder.

“You saw an intruder?” Slice exclaimed, “When?!”
“Right after I left Schwarz in the lift on floor 8. There was two of ‘em. Some red head girl and a guy in a blue hoodie. Might’a been government, might have been something else, but they weren’t Toppat’s, that’s for shit sure,” He wheezed. 
“I thought you said you were heading down to the main viewing lounge?” Wilhelm frowned.
“Trust me, I was trying,” Macbeth scowled, spitting the last part at a blank looking Schwarz. 
His gaze lingered on Ahnoldt for a second longer than it should have, a scowl pushing its way into his tired features. 

“What’s with the colour contacts?” He frowned. “This part of some ill-timed prank of yours?”
Ahnoldt shrugged, pale blue eyes smiling innocently.
Huh. That was a good spot, and now that Carol thought about it… hadn’t teal eyes left her at the split in the corridor?
Weird. 

Macbeth didn’t seem satisfied with the answer. He leaned into the escape pod door, arms folded, “I know you better than that fuck-face. What’s wrong with you? You loose all sense of responsibility, or somethin’?”
“Well aren’t you a clever one~” Ahnoldt said, leaning into Macbeth’s face. He put one hand on Macbeths shoulder, clamping down hard, Carol just heard him whisper, “Do your self a favour and mind your own business. It would be a shame if the Swedish boy had to lose his dad today~”
“Ha, Ha, okay, very funny Ahnoldt,” Slice pretended to laugh also hearing the threat. He tugging Ahnoldt out of Macbeth’s personal space and back into the escape pod, and away from the door before Macbeth’s confusion had a chance to shift into anger. 
Slice patted Ahnoldt on the shoulder and added, “But erm… how about you save it for when we’re not in immediate danger, yeah?"
“Tch, you’re no fun,” Ahnoldt huffed, still giving Macbeth a cold stare. 

“I heard you ran into intruders, Train boy,” Mannaki grinned upon spotting Macbeth as he rounded the corner. 
“You seriously couldn’t take care of two intruder. Unbelievable, or maybe it isn’t?” Mannaki mocked, shoving past Macbeth into the escape pod. “And to think, you're suppose to be able to defend the cargo train from 10 times that amount of people~”
Macbeth gave Ahnoldt a cold glare back, but ultimately didn’t say whatever he looked like he wanted to. “Not my fault one of ‘em has telekinesis Mannaki. How the fuck do you expect me to get out of a choke hold when I can’t reach the ground, anyone or thing?”
The Head of the Oceania devision just scoffed at Macbeth, “Wow, what an excuse for being useless~”
Macbeth’s cheeks immediately went a dark red, “Please, I would’a liked-“
“ENOUGH!” Carol yelled over the pair. “No one here has seen Burt and Sven, correct?”
The elites around her nodded. 
Great.

“Alright, go ahead. I’ll get a different pod out.” She ordered.
Poshly shook his head from the back of the pod. “We need to get out of here now Miss Cross. Those two will have to find their own way out.”
Carol shook her head, “We all know Burt won’t leave without Sven, so someone needs to be there to drag him out of here if it comes to it.”
“I’ll go,” Macbeth said stepping forward. “I’ll go look for ‘em, you get outta here with these guys.”
“Please! If you can’t take care of an intruder-“
“Shut it Mannaki! It’s not like you would have done better!” Slice yelled at him.

Carol pushed Macbeth back into the door frame with a sour glare, “I don’t need, or want your help. Leave.” 
Ahnoldt got up from his seat next, “How about I tag along with you instead-
Macbeth shoved Ahnoldt back inside, “Stay. Here.”
“Or else, what?” Ahnoldt snarled back, matching Macbeth’s tone.

Carol rolled her eyes and walked off. She didn’t have time to deal with those two being childish. She didn’t know what Ahnoldt thought he was accomplishing by antagonising Mr Macbeth, but she didn’t have the time, nor the patience to deal with it.

“I’ll make you.” She hear Macbeth threaten. 
“Wow intimidating~”
“Shut it Mannaki!”
“Aww, how cute~” Ahnoldt laughed cruelly. 

Carol bet Mannaki put him up to this or something. She’d never known Ahnoldt to deliberately upset people. His pranks he loved so dearly were always about getting a laugh out of someone, a smile, lifting their mood or that of those around them; There was a distinct lack of laughter behind her.

“What’s wrong Macy~” Ahnoldt said next, “Anyone would think you don’t want me to make sure our leader is oka-“

!CRASH!

“Mr MACBETH!” Wilhelm yelled, followed closely by Mannaki’s, “The fucks wrong with you man!? He’s just being an asshol-“

Silence.

Carol stopped at the elevator up, she glanced at her phone: 10 minutes. She looked down the corridor behind her, then back to the lift; She could spare two minutes. 
It would be no good if none of the elites got out of here because one of them decided to initiate a fight for shits and giggles. 

She sprinted back down the corridor turning the last bend to see what the hell was happening down there, and…

It was just Mr Macbeth. 

He stood outside the closed doors of where the escape pod had been, hands shaking, he ran them through his hair a few times, and he might have been mumbling something too. Not that she could hear from back here.

“What did you do?!” Carol yelled down the hallway, snapping him out of whatever trance he’d been in. 
Macbeth shook his head, “That ain’t him,”
“What do you mean, that ‘ain’t him’?” Carol pressed.
Macbeth shook his head more, “I don’t know, I don’t fucking know! But that wasn’t Schwarz.”
“Of course it was!” Carol argued, “He just hit his head, or Mannaki paid him to do that, or… something!”
“Fine, don’t fucking believe me!” Macbeth suddenly snapped, walking past her into the next corridor. “None of you ever cared to listen to anything I have to say anyway!”
“HEY! And where do you think you’re going?!” Carol yelled following behind.
“Cockpit.” Macbeth yelled back.
“No way! I already told you, I don’t want or need your help.”

Carol didn’t want his company, let alone to be followed around by him like he was some lost puppy. Macbeth raised his hands in surrender no doubt seeing her growing anger, clearly aware she wasn’t against using force to make him do as she ordered. 

Macbeth stopped in the elevator, holding the door open while he waited for Carol to step in too. 
She didn’t. 
He bit his lip. “Look Cross, I know you can take care of yourself and ya don’t really need me with ya. But something is going on. Someone’s had this well planned out and we’re walking into a trap or already in the middle of one,” Macbeth reluctantly explained, despite Carol’s tightening fist. 
He never was bothered by any signs of aggression. Others would take the hint and high-tail it out of there. Put as much distance between themselves and herself as possible. 
Not Mr Macbeth. 
Nothing ever seemed to phase him. 
Yet… Ahnoldt just had. 

She stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the nearest floor to the top.

Carol held up three fingers on her opposite hand, dropping one to leave two. 
Two minutes. He’s got two minutes.
Macbeth understood. 

“Look, this is gonna sound crazy, but one of those guys I ran into had a mirror, like they knew I’d shoot ‘em with my laser gun and the thing would reflect back on me.”
“But it didn’t. You’re clearly alive,” Carol frowned, a part of her wishing the laser had reflected back.
 
She lowered another finger.

Macbeth shook his head at her, “Only ‘cause Sven warned me. Only ‘cause I swapped the laser for bullets-”
“You can’t seriously believe his wacky dreams! He’s just been sleep deprived and stressed-“
“They aren’t just dreams!” Macbeth argued, “He said he spilt this stuff on his hand, and I didn’t believe him- because it sounded crazy, but the shit he said would happen did, and is happening!”
“‘Stuff’?” Carol skeptically repeated. 
“He called it er, ‘Chaos X’ or somethin- what?“ Macbeth frowned.
“. . .”

“Why do you keep your pen ink in a weird container? And why did you add glitter to it?” Carol asked, looking at the black as night ink sparkling with deep blue stars.
“Hehe, ah, please don’t touch that Caroline, it’s not pen ink. It’s called Chaos X. We use it at my work.”
“For… writing invisible notes?” She frowned. That didn’t seem like something university professors would do. Her farther said they were all old boring people, which is why he never bothered to tell her what they did at work. 
The man shook his head, “No, no. It’s a power source. Like the stuff in batteries, but stronger without the corrosive nature.”
It’s not corrosive, so then… “If it doesn’t burn you, then why can’t I touch it?”

“Um… one of my colleagues son’s, he got some on himself and he… hasn’t been doing very well since. So I would rather, if you’d like to help me clean my lab, you do the paperwork side-“ He said lifting the vile off his desk, “- and I’ll do the chemicals, alright?”
“Yes, father.”

“JESUS CHIRST, IS THAT WHAT HE’S BEEN PUTTING IN HIS COFFEE??? IS HE TRYING TO DIE?!”
“H-he’s been consuming it?! He said he just spilt it once-”
“You’re SURE he said ‘Chaos X’?- You know what? Don’t answer that.” Carol said over Macbeth. “THE FUCK IS HE THINKING??? When I get my hands on him, he’s going to wish he was dead-”
“You know what that stuff is?”
Carol stopped, her anger fading into a confusion to rival Macbeth’s blank face.
“What do you mean you don’t know what that stuff is! Everyone- Of course you don’t.” Carol fell quiet. “My father was a scientist’s he-“ Carol shook her head: not now. Not with him. 
“Ugh, it’s not important. Just… get out of here. I’ll give that dumbass ear ache for you.”

The lift dinged, and she got out, walking in the direction of the next lift up to the cockpit, but stopped no sooner than she’d started. 
She stuck out her arm out suddenly, blocking Macbeth’s path forward. 
She glared; last warning.
He held her eye contact unwavering. 

Silence. 

A cold front meets a cold front. 

A brick wall verse a brick wall; Only one would crack. Only one would break.

Her phone buzzed again; 5 minutes. 
She doesn’t have time for this.

“I’m worry about Sven, Cross,” Macbeth eventually said. “I just… I wanna see he’s safe.”

Carol felt her scowl fracture. She saw the reflection of her own motivation and fears in her colleague: To be concerned for someone else’s well being; the curse of caring for someone else. 
For Macbeth, he’d signed himself up for this years ago. 
For her… had she ever got a say in the people who inserted themselves into her life?

A parents love for their kid. Macbeth’s love for Sven. Two sides of the same coin.
They’re suppose to do this. Parents are suppose to want to do everything in, and beyond their power to protect the ones they love. They’re suppose to go out of their way and face any obstacle, to do whatever it takes to protect them. To keep their loved ones safe. 
That’s how it’s suppose to work.
That’s how it was suppose to work.

Carol dropped her arm, and… moved to the side. 
“Fine.” She said. “But ONLY because I don’t want to listen to hysterical Swedish for 20 minutes.”
“Than-“
“I’m not doing this for you!” She snapped, only just holding down the anger that made her want to punch him. 

She’d never do anything for him. 
She was ONLY doing this because he wanted the same thing she did. 

“Now move it before I change my mind!”

 *****
[Elsewhere] 

“You good Schwarz? That was a hell of a punch Macbeth threw.”
“Just what were you thinking?” Wilhelm scolded. “What made you think making him angry was a good idea? I’ve never seen you ever try anything so immature in all the time I’ve known you. Those were the kind of actions of actions I would expect from a junior-“
“Or Mannaki” Slice interjected with a big grin. 
“Tch. The blunt prick deserve it!” Mannaki growled, “He talks down to us all like we’re all lazy fucks and he’s the only one pullin’ his weight around here. If he’d get his head out of his ass, then maybe I wouldn’t wanna punch it all the time.”
“It’s still no excuse for your childish behaviour. You are an elite, a young one or not,” Poshly countered. 
“Yeah, you keep telling me.”
“Perhaps if you listened, you would understand why we feel the need to keep repeating our concerns.”

“Ahnoldt, here,” Wilhelm said. He extended his hand offering a hankie. 
“Huh?” Ahnoldt rubbed at his nose, pulling his hand back to realise it was now bleeding. “Um… thanks.” He mumbled taking he hankie. 
Wilhelm frowned. 
“Hehe, I’m not surprised you burst a blood vessel with what a disaster today has been,” Slice said giving him a sympathetic smile. “I think we’re all gonna remember this one for a while.”
“That’s if you get out of here alive.”
“Less morbid humour please, Mr Schwarz.” Poshly politely requested. 

“You good old timer, don’t tell me you get travel sick?” Mannaki teased, failing to get across he had actually been asking a serious question.
“Ich habe gerade herausgefunden, dass ich farbenblind bin. Die Nachricht kam aus dem Lila!” Wilhelm said. 
Mannaki blinked, “Say whaty?”
“Ahnoldt,” Wilhelm loudly said, drawing Ahnoldt’s attention from his phone.“Ich habe gerade herausgefunden, dass ich farbenblind bin. Die Nachricht kam aus dem Lila!”
Ahnoldt blinked at Wilhelm blankly, then shrugged. Wilhelm pulled out his pistol, taking aim, “Translate, NOW.” He ordered.
Ahnoldt rubbed at his head, “My head hurts, later-” 

!BANG!

Wilhelm fired a warning shot above Ahnoldt head, just clipping the top of his hat. 
Ahnoldt gave Wilhelm the same cold glare he’d previously given Macbeth.

“Krighaus!” Poshly exclaimed.
Wilhelm ignored him, “What did you do to Ahnoldt Schwarz?”
Mannaki tried to grab the gun, but Wilhelm pulled it away, maintaining his aim. “He’s right there Will, put the gun away before you actually hit someone!”
Wilhelm shook his head, “I trust Mr Macbeth’s judgment, he thought something was wrong, and I’m inclined to agree. Had you understood what I sad, you wouldn’t have kept a straight face.”
…
“Well… fuck,” Ahnoldt said with a big grin, “And here I was thinking you guys were as stupid as you looked with these dumb hats.”

The other three Toppats in the pod pulled out their own guns.
“Wow… I’m so scared~” Ahnoldt laughed, wiping at his running nose again, “The best of the best of the notorious Toppat Clan. Ha ha, what a joke.”
“Who are you and what do you want?”
“And why should I tell you that~” Ahnoldt smirked, “That would ruin allllll our fun!”
“So you don’t end up with 3 different pieces of lead in your head,” Mannaki said, walking forward to place the barrel against Ahnoldt's head.
Ahnoldt pushed the barrel off unfazed, he leaned forward, smirk growing and coed, “Then you’ll kill him too~”

The 4 Toppats looked to each other, fear and concern filling the air. 
Ahnoldt stretched in the seat, putting the phone away, and announced, “You Toppat’s have already lost the game. Not that you had a chance at winning in the first place~”

A force barged into the side of the escape pod sending it tumbling into the ground with a loud CRASH!

For the most part the Toppat’s inside were uninjured, a scrape of two, a few larger cuts and bruising from the impact, however, they were mostly just dazed.

“AH! Those idiots took their sweet time~” Ahnoldt said through gritted teeth. 
He opened the door and jumped out, Wilhelm the next nearest jumped out following behind.

“HEy…”

The older German stopped in the middle of the clearing their escape pod landed in. Surrounding them and the escape pod were a row of men wearing protective gear over blue, white & grey uniforms all bearing the same vibrant patch: The CCC.

 “DROP YOUR WEAPONS, WE HAVE YOU SURROUNDED!”

Wilhelm lowered his gun. He drop it, then kicked it out of his reach.  
Ahnoldt kept walking forward. 

 “DROP YOUR WEAPON TOPPAT, WE WILL SHOOT!”

Wilhelm raised his hands above his head, he tried to get in front of Ahnoldt to block him from walking forward. “Ahnoldt, I know you’re in there-“
Ahnoldt laughed turning around to face Wilhelm. His smile growing wider upon seeing the older Toppat’s concern. “You ACTUALLY think he can help you?! Ha! HA! Wow, WOW! You Toppats are sooooo dumb. You can talk to him alllll you want, but he can’t do anything, but listen to your pitiful cries and screams as-“
“F-45.” 

Ahnoldt’s smile fell into a cold frown, he turned to greet the approaching CCC official.
“Dr Thomas,” He said miserably.
“Where is targets 2B & 2C?” Dr Thomas demanded. “These are not the individuals I require."
Ahnoldt huffed, “Target 2B caught on and sent the pod out before I could pursue or get off. He must know this one better than your information said he would! That or he’s got some undocumented chaos ability that helped him see me.” 
The scientist scowled, his eyes flashing an angry flame orange, “You were meant to apprehend the two targets, not assist in their escape-” 
“Awww, Doc, you’re assuming I was done playing with my prey…” Ahnoldt laughed coldly. 
He pulled a small device from his pocket holding it up for the official to see. It displayed a dark screen with bright green gridlines, and one flashing red dot. “I always know where my mice are hiding~”
The scientist glanced over the screen and nodded once. 

“You appear to be approaching your limit, I will send another team to continue pursuing them.” Dr Thomas said.
“I’m fine! It’s not my fault this meat bag can’t handle it! They’re so weak and pathetic when they don’t come with a fun ability to play with. And besides! Me and accent are having fun~” Ahnoldt whined. “He likes playing as my puppet and he’s really good at it too when he does as he’s told.”

Dr Thomas continued to frown. He pulled out a clipboard and flicked through a few pages of mugshots stopping at the last one, “He is not one of are targets, do as you wish with him, but I want target 2B & 2C apprehended within the hour, clear?”
“Cystally-crystal clear!”

Ahnoldt walked off past the CCC official, he waved, calling over his shoulder, “SAY GOODBYE TO YOUR FRIEND!”

Dr Thomas’s cold eyes flickered up at Wilhelm who stood alone and surround. The CCC official scanned him over briefly, then turned to presumably the one in charge of the other men present. “Record their C.E levels, any exceeding the threshold come with us, the rest leave with the Government for transportation to The Wall.”

“Just how in over our heads are we…” Wilhelm mumbled to himself, hands raised awaiting his fate.

Chapter Text

[- 5 minutes to arrival - Carol Cross]

Carol & Macbeth ran down the corridor from the last elevator up. They didn’t pass anyone on their way, which meant everyone was hopefully in the lower decks by now, either filing out of the rocket, or blissfully unaware of what was going down.
Ahnoldt said he’d warned people, but… 

“What do you think was up with him?” Carol asked.
“Huh? You mean Schwarz?” Macbeth repeated, then coldly laughed, “Why the sudden interest in what I think? Normally you don’t give two flying fucks for my opinion.”
Carol growled, “Stop being childish, and just tell me already you overgrown toddler!” 
Macbeth glared back for a long cold second, “The fuck did he say to you to make you unnerved?”
“…” Carol glared at a wall. Was she really that interested in the answer? How would she even go about explaining the weird feeling he gave her? He wasn’t one of them… he didn’t have it. She might have fighting chance with someone who had it, but HIM? She wasn’t going to explain it to him anyway. And even if she did-
No. She’s NOT explaining it to him.

“He was fine when I left him.” Carol didn’t answer.
Macbeth raised a brow, his expression painfully clear he wanted the real answer, but he accepted the one she gave him. 
“When?” He asked.
“Not even 10 minutes ago.”
Macbeth touched the cut on his cheek, “I wonder if that other intruder had an ability too or somethin’?”
“And what makes you think they did something to him?”
“The same reason you’re asking for my opinion.” Macbeth bounced back, but Carol didn’t budge. She scowled this time, and he took the hint she wasn’t budging on her answer.

“He seemed ‘off’, and not ‘off’ like stressed or panicked,” Macbeth explained. “Which would be weird for him to start with. He ain’t normally one to loose his cool, and knowing him, he should have been making some god-awful jokes and reassuring everyone back there, but he was just… quiet.” Macbeth shook his head, “I could be reading into it too much, but… all his tells and mannerisms were off. They were like that of a whole ‘nother person I don’t know.”
“And the change in eye colour?” Carol asked, more surprised it wasn’t the glaring obvious that Macbeth had caught onto.
“There’s that too.”
“And him threatening you?”
Macbeth shot Carol another cold glare, “… drop it Cross, ‘m done talking.”
EXCUSE HIM? “YOU CAN'T JUST SHUT DOWN WHEN THE TOPIC GET'S TOUCHY-“

“SKITA!”

Swedish? 
Carol came to a stop, but Macbeth didn’t.
“That ain’t good.” He called over his shoulder, bolting down the corridor.

“Curtis?” Macbeth called rounding the next corner before Carol. She joined him a second later to find Burt shaking his hand up and down, mumbling a variety of swears across a variety of countries.
He was stood next to an open electrical panel with a couple doesn’t wires hanging out, and if Carol had to guess, the scene in front of her would suggested they’d just missed witnessing him get a reminder he’s a sound engineer, not an electrical one.

“La puerta esta cerrada. ¡A-Alguien anuló el código de seguridad!” Something, something and something, Burt said.
Macbeth put a hand on Burt’s shoulder squeezing it slightly. Parent instincts? “English kid, english. I’m only so fluent.” He said, revealing he also hadn’t gotten a word of the flying Spanish.

“Er-“ Burt just shook his head, eyes shut for a moment, likely looking for his words in a language all of them understood. “Door's locked. Someone’s overridden the security code. I can’t get in.” 
Of course it was, Carol frowned. Everything that could go wrong was going to go wrong today, wasn’t it?

Macbeth stepped in front of Burt glancing into the open electrical panel. He shook his head at it after minute of frustrated facial expressions, leaving it alone in favour of the closed doors. He gave the door a good punch with his fist, a loud hollow echo followed along with a scowl.
“I could blast the door down…” He said, “But that won’t get us up the elevator shaft, or send the lift back down. Time?”
“We’re already 5 minutes over, we have to go.”

Macbeth hesitated slightly. Carol only just caught a glimpse of his shoulders tensing before he was nodding, and stepping away from the doors.
Burt froze mid-step back, and started shaking his head.
“W-we can’t leave him…” 
Macbeth put a hand on his shoulder again, “'m sorry kid.”
Burt pushed it away. “I’m not leaving him here!” He yelled in one of the few instances that reminded Carol that Burt too, was capable of more than mid-volume monotone responses.
“Calm down kid…” Macbeth ordered, trying to do something which reward him with a punch square to the face and, “I’M NOT GOING ANYWHERE!”

“Boys, we don’t have time for this,” Carol said. She stood back watching the pair tango for a minute. Macbeth stumbled back, but not far enough for Burt to get out of his reach. He grabbed the Head of Communication’s & Right Hand’s arm, twisting it behind his back and forcing Burt to the ground. He ended the ‘fight’ in about 45 seconds.

“GET OFF!”
Macbeth ignored Burt’s complaints, wiping at his watering eyes and bruised face with a free hand. This seemed to only make Burt angrier. “HE’S YOUR SON. AREN’T YOU EVEN SLIGHTLY WORRIED ABOUT HIM? DON’T YOU CARE AT ALL?!”
“Of course I do!” Macbeth tried, and failed not to yell back. “But I can’t help him if I get myself arrested too! And nor can you Curtis.”
Burt stopped fidgeting. “I-I said I wouldn’t leave him…” 
He lowered his head, pressing it against the floor, “I promised.”

Carol frowned. It was back to this again: A promise of close friends.

“Look Curtis, I know you’re close an’ all, but you can’t help him if you get yourself arrest too. We need to get out of here. This rocket’s only going to prison, not the deepest pit of the ocean. You’ll get another chance to save him,” Macbeth comforted, “I… I promise. An’ you know I don’t give those out to anyone.”
“…Ok.” Burt mumbled.

Macbeth let him go. 
He ignored Carol’s outstretched hand- which had actually been for Burt anyway -and got up to his feet. He brushed his shirt down, rubbing at his face once again, and based on his expression, was probably wondering how someone who spends all day in front of computer monitors could learn to punch like that. 
Burt meanwhile ignored the hand as well. Sitting silent and distant.
Carol scowled at Macbeth, who stopped rubbing his face and blinked at her.
She looked down to Curtis next and Macbeth’s eyes followed.

“I didn’t hurt you did I?” He finally asked.
Burt shook his head.

The Head of Communications took Carol’s hand, then pushed past the pair not looking back. “The nearest escape pods are this way.” He said.

Once Burt rounded the corner, Carol scowled at Macbeth, “You really have a way with words, don’t you farm boy?”
“Shut it Cross,” Macbeth scowled right back. 

*****

They walked a short distance down the corridor to where the wall was lined with a row of untouched pods. That didn’t bode well for the other members. There shouldn’t be this many pods left, even if everyone is on the lower decks. There was also another problem with this version of escape pod. Sven had discussed this design with Carol briefly when reviewing Reginald’s original plans. 

“These are the smaller ones. Are you going to be ok Burt?” Carol asked.
“Huh? Uh, yeah.” 
“They might be smaller, but they’ve got better piloting.” Macbeth said, apparently familiar with the design too. “We’ll have a higher chance of not being seen, and out manoeuvring anyone who tries to follow.”
Carol ignored Macbeth, still watching Burt.
Sven and Burt had been together since they day they meet. Like a moth drawn to a light, they just had this unbreakable bond. They didn’t ever spend long apart, always assigned to the same base, the same devision site. Even with their added responsibilities as acting Leader & Right Hand, they’d still managed to keep in close contact. They always had each others backs and now… Burt was breaking their unspoken promise. 

“Orders Right Hand?” Macbeth ask- 
“Don’t call me that.”

Burt looked out the window watching the Canadian border pass beneath them; they’re running out of time. 
“We’ll re-group back at the Cabin in 1 month. From there we can figure out numbers and strategies. Till then, lay low and gather any intel you can.”
“The where?” Carol frowned.
“The Cabin’s an old base from the 40s. I heard Wilford talk about it a few times. It’s been decommissioned a long while now. I think it’s somewhere near the Blackfoot Indian reservations; Montana.” Macbeth explained.
“I’ve never even heard of that base, and if anyone should know about all the bases within the American devision, it’s me! So, if I don’t know that one, no-one else is going to either,” Carol frowned. “What about the backup base? Or something more common knowledge?”
Burt shook his head, “Too risky. I think we have a leak. Someone gave the Government information they shouldn’t have. There’s no other way this could have happened- at least… nothing reasonable.”
“You better not be about to suggest Sven’s dreams are real either!”
“No, I wasn’t. But a leak could explain how the Government was able to capture the last chief & Airship Devision so easily. Regardless, a leak wouldn’t know about the cabin base, it hasn’t been used since Randy’s rein, so it’s not in any modern databases. 
That was Sven’s logic behind it at least…”
“A leak might explain how two intruders got in unnoticed,” Macbeth added.
“Intruder-“
“Later,” Carol cut Burt off. “We need to go, right NOW." 

Burt turned to face them instead of the window he’d been talking to.
“I trust you two. Get the word out on some backup channels, and anyone who’s trying to re-group will know the spots where to find you. The comms in the pods should still work, they’re on a separate system. You’ll have communication with any other escape pods within a 48 mile radius.” Burt added, "Comms are recorded, no weapons, no shields; Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Not plannin’ on it,” Macbeth chuckled half-heartedly. 
Carol looked between her two colleagues. Both had gone silent staring off in their own directions, bitter faced. 
This wasn't the outcome any of them had wanted. 
It wasn't the outcome she'd wanted.

Carol held out her hand, “It’s been an honour to work with you two so far, hopefully it won’t be the last time either.”
Macbeth let his scowl drop if favour of a smirk taking the hand, “You make it sound like I won’t get another chance ta beat ya at poker.”
“That’s because you won’t,” Carol deadpanned. “Next time you’ll be the one buying drinks.”
“As long as you two promise to give Sven a fair chance at winning,” Burt chirped in taking their hands.
“Hey, it ain’t our fault he’s bad at the game,” Macbeth laughed sadly. “Why don’t you play next time Curtis? Maybe you’ll be able to teach my kid a thing or two?”
Burt gave a half shrug, his attention being drawn back to the window.

The 3 let go.
They tipped their hats and went into their respective pods. 

Burt took pod 91, Carol pod 92 and Mr Macbeth pod 93

Carol ran a few of the basic checks, and once satisfied the pod wasn't going to blow up with her in it. She hit the launch button.
As the door closed, she could have sworn just for a second, she saw the security camera move.

*****

The escape pod blasted free of the rocket and Carol worked to set a quick auto pilot in the opposite direction to The Wall Complex. She ran her hand over the radar, only 2 other escape pods appeared. Weird, but maybe with the speed of the rocket they'd already gotten out of range from the others and they were like… 10 minutes late from the safe exit time Burt had calculated. They’re probably the last ones to escape. 

“Pod 91, all systems operational,” Burt’s voice said, crackling over the speaker. 
"Pod 93, lookin’ all good at my end.” Macbeth said a minute later.
“Pod 92, I’m reading no other aircraft in the vicinity. We might be the last ones off.” Carol announced over the speaker. 

Carol glanced at the radar: Nothing. 

Neither of the pair said anything in response, so Carol moved onto her next problem: Where to go? She pulled up a map of Canada and started by pin pointing her current location & The Wall. With her current trajectory and speed, The Wall was a 2 hours flight north-west. So, if she had her geography right… then the main Canadian outpost was an hour to the east. The next nearest American outpost was the much larger base, 16a, just an hour shy of the Canadian board so… about a 3 and a half hour flight directly south.

The Canadian outpost was nearer, however, given its smaller capacity, they didn't hold more than a months worth of supplies at a time. Resources were also much lower given it was an outpost, not a devision base, and it was located most of the way up a mountain range, only accessible by hiking or train (providing the train was stationed at the bottom of the mountain). 
If she was willing to take the risk of crossing the boarder, outpost 16a was an hours drive from the county’s devision base. A location that would be much better equip to device a plan from. 

Carol glanced at the radar again: Nothing. 

The problem was, if she risked going south now, the area could be swarming with the US Government soldiers. They'd no doubt gotten word of what was going on by now (, if they weren't the direct cause of it). Her risk of getting arrested could outweigh the benefit of a larger outpost. That outpost could also get compromised if they find or decide to trail any Toppat's who also know of the outposts location. 

Carol checked the radar. 
Pod 91 was heading east, so Curtis must have been aiming for the Canadian outpost. 
Pod 93 was heading south, so Macbeth must been gambling on getting over the boarder unnoticed. 

She could tag along with Burt- she probably should tag along with him, or should she? 
Two pods had a higher chance of being seen than one, sure, but they wouldn't fly straight there; that would be stupid. They’d stop in some discreet location somewhere, take out the escape pod survival kits with their gps and walk the last couple of miles to the train station and prey the train had been left down there or hope someone was still at the base to send it back down. Otherwise it would be a very long, and unpleasant next 6 hours. 

It wasn’t a bad plan. Half decent actually, and the two of them together would make more progress than alone. And given recent events, Burt likely needed the company, wanted or not. 

Carol moved her hand to the communicator, she’d check with Burt first, that that was indeed what he was doing, and if not, offer him to tag along with her back to the US base, or she’d offer to tag along with him to wherever he was going-

“BOGY INCOMIN’!” Macbeth yelled over the com line.

Carol checked her blank radar. 
Burt must have seen the same thing she didn’t; “There’s nothing on the radar-“
"Look out ya bloody window!”

Carol looked out the window and- there it was. Coming towards them at a high speed from the south: One blue helicopter and something else.

Carol grabbed the controls, switching from auto to manual and pulled up fast, watching and listening to the sound of a loud engine louder than her’s whizz by underneath.

“That’s…” Burt fell quiet for a few seconds, “The missile isn’t showing up either.”
"Fowl fuckin’ playing government!” Macbeth grumbled.
Carol looked back out the window, adjusting her pods angle to follow the missile visually. It kept going straight for a bit longer, then took a sudden right. “POD 91, 9’o clock!” She called.
Macbeth saw it too, “You’ve gotta be joking. A tracking missile?!?” 

Carol watched Pod 91 jump about on the radar. Her own grip tightening on the navigation controls as she watched.

“I’ve got this. Sven taught me a thing or two,” Burt reassured. “You two just get clear, 1 helicopter can’t follow 3 pods."
"Not happenin’ 91, you owe me a game of poker first.” Macbeth retorted back, with one of the worst arguments a person could come up with and Burt seemed to agree. “That’s an orde-”
“Fuck your orders!” 

Carol rolled her eyes, hitting the com button, “Stop trying to be a hero 93, and do what he says!”
Was he really just determined to die today? Did he actually think because he could survive a mirror & laser, a missile would be as forgiving??

“These pods, they’re the one’s with the lock-on driving right?” Macbeth didn’t ask.
Burt’s com line flickered for a moment before he spoke. “Yes, but you need an experienced pilot and the only one who’s qualified for that is-“
“Perfect. 91, buy us some time.”
…
‘Buy US some time’? 
Why did Carol not like the sound of that.

“92, any penalties on ya licence?”
"You’re kidding,” Carol frowned back, making her displeasure as verbally clear as possible.
"Depends how badly you wanna get our asses outta here alive?” 
“Mac-“
"Trick question.” Macbeth said over her. “Get ya pod in close with mine, if you get further than 5 meters out the signal will drop.” 
Carol gritted her teeth: He had a plan then, and Carol had a bad feeling she knew what it was. 
She remembered Sven talking about this experimental feature a while ago, a feature for the upgraded escape pods in the Airship. It was a feature which would allow one escape pod to control another given the right distance and speed. It could make for a great asset in emergency escapes, or transporting injured individuals. 
That was the condition the lock-on driving was meant to be used under, not whatever half-baked plan Mac-idoit had brewing.

“Distance?” Carol asked looking between the window and radar. She watched the missile follow Burt's pod around the sky in a dance of death. In a game of tag with the grim reaper.
The helicopter drew her attention as it hadn't come any nearer than the last time she’d looked. 
Why was it hanging back? What was it planning?

"I’m in.” Macbeth told her, “Switching controls to you. Left hand should be your pod, Right mine.”
Carol saw the conformation pop up over the monitor, ”This is a bad idea…” She mumbled accepting and adjusting to the dual controls.
She heard Macbeth take a few unsteady breaths in and out. “Relax.” He told her (and himself),“Now get us in nice and close to that missile.”

Carol begrudgingly did as she was told, all the while checking where the helicopter was. It hadn’t moved or… anything. It was like it was just observing them. Just watching the show. 
The longer she looked at the it, the more uneasy she felt. 
Something was horribly wrong here.
 
“Shouldn’t that helicopter be firing missiles at us too?” She asked.
“Maybe it’s out?”
Carol glared at the microphone, “Seriously 91? Name one helicopter that carries one missile???”
“…If they’re shooting at us…” Curtis said, “What’s to say they haven’t been shooting at everyone else?” 
Macbeth grumbled, “You ain’t seriously suggestion we’re the only ones left, right?” 

Carol said nothing. 
Neither boy continued.

She glanced from the monitor to out the window again, expecting to see the helicopter still in the same spot as before, instead her jaw practically hit the ground as she smashed the coms button with her fist. "This is insane! Do you know how high up we are?!? What if you fall out?!?” 
She watched Macbeth head peak out from the open hatch door on his escape pod, before the rest of him appeared.
Macbeth actually laughed at her and said, “We’re the Toppat clan, what were you expectin’?” 
"You're a FUCKING MORON!” Carol yelled to make sure he heard her.
“So lady like~” She just heard Macbeth mumble back, and Burt add, “Thank god Sven’s not here…”

Carol kept shaking her head watching him. He’s more than a moron: THIS is madnesses. This is suicide even! Did he leave all his brain cells in that dammed rocket??? She could see exactly what he was doing and when he pulled out his custom rifle it was pretty damn obvious what was going on in that head of his. 
He’s going to try put a dent in that thing. He’s going to try puncture the missile skin and ignite the thing from the inside out.

“Alright 91, I see ya down by the tree line. Pull up. Once we reach you, I’ll take care of ya friend,” Macbeth told Burt over the comms. 
“Are you sure?” Burt asked. “If I pull up, it will be able to half the current distance and I won’t be able to get back down. I still think if I can get lower into the tree line-”
“I got this 91, trust me will ya?”
“…okay.”

“92-“ Macbeth said next.
“You’re out of your mind!” Carol interjected over the stupid train driver, “Do you have any idea how hard it is to shoot down a missile? Never mind with an AR-15!”
“I can do this,” Mr Macbeth insisted. “I’ve got the laser back in & set to high, that’ll melt right through the outer shell, no problem. My range is about 600 yards, you might need to nudge us closer, but I can make the shot. We’re just pushing it from back here is all, even for my marksmanship.”
Carol watched Burst pod rising on the radar. He said he couldn’t go back down so… 
“If you miss…”
“I won’t.”

They silently watched Burst pod rising, the missile halving the distance just as he said it would.
Carol kept glancing between the helicopter- no change -, Macbeth- adjusting something -, and the radar. The distance between them slowly dissipating.

“Hovadina"

“Pod 91?” Carol asked. What did he say?
“What happened?” Macbeth asked, clearly understanding more than her.

No answer. 

“Some English Curtis, I can hardly hear out here!” Macbeth added after another minute of silence.
Carol checked the radar again, Pod 91, Pod 93 and one missile- A missile?

“Burt!” Carol yelled. The missile was only 30 meters behind his pod.
Burt’s comm line flickered twice, then stayed on. “My steerings locked up, I can’t turn.” He said.
“What?! What kind’a fuckin’ joke is that???” Macbeth leaning over the pod to look at whatever was going on just below them. 

“92 get us in closer, I’m still outta range.”
“You won’t make it,” Burt argued.
“CROSS!” Macbeth yelled over him.
"I’m trying!” Carol yelled back, not needing to be told twice. "If I accelerate too quick your pod will slip out of range and you’ll fallout!”

She looked between the radar and the stability on the controls as they flashed, pushing into the red. 
Come on, come on, just a little longer.

She counted this distance. 

670 yards…
660…
650…

They’re not closing enough distance.

She pushed the controls forward more, bitting her lip. Something behind her starting flashing red. Something behind her was disagreeing with this. 
Something behind her was agreeing with her head.
She ignored them both.

620…
605…

“I trust you two,” Burt said, “Regroup with the other elites and fill them in on the plan.”
Macbeth still wasn’t having it, “Stop talkin’ shit Curtis you're coming with-"
"Get out of here. That’s an order!”
“Yeah? And I said fuck your orders! File your complaint ‘bout me with the boss!”
“File my complaint with Sven?! ” Burt laughed coldly, “YOU MADE ME ABANDON HIM ON THE ROCKET!”
Carol rolled her eyes: now of all times they choose argue.

590.

Carol hit the comm button hard, a shooting pain stabbing through her hand, “93 under 600 yards, take the shot!”
Macbeth didn't move.
“TAKE THE SHOT!”
…
“MACFLINCH!” Carol yelled and Macbeth’s head snapped up- That got a reaction. 
“590 yards!” She repeated, “TAKE THE FUCKING SHOT!”

Carol looked back to the radar. 
The missile was 5 meters out.

Macbeth held the gun up, holding it steady. 
His hand was over the trigger.

“SHOOT, DAMN IT!” 

She looked to the radar. 

0 meters…

The missile disappeared from the radar first.
Pod 91 disappeared from the radar next.
A second later she felt a shockwave hit her pod jostling it.

No…
No…
No…

T-that… that can't be right.

She pressed the comm button.
“What happened?! Did you hit it?”
…
“Mr Macbeth?” She asked again.
…
“Hello? Are you there?!”

She looked out the window to Pod 93 where Macbeth refused to answer her.
She saw him lowered the gun. He lifted his hands and sunk his face into them. 

It didn’t…

He looked to her pod suddenly and almost immediately broke eye contact. His eyes closed tight and just kept shaking his head, digging a hand into his hair.

Did… did he miss?
Did he even… he didn’t shoot… did he?

HE DIDN'T SHOOT, DID HE!?!

Carol went for the microphone, but didn't reach it. The red lights from before were joined by a screeching siren this time, blaring about something important. She turned around to the corresponding panel in time to see the light of the monitors around her flicker and fail.
That didn't say engine failure, RIGHT????

Something behind her threw her forwards into the radar panel.
She wasn’t sure what happened. 
Her head suddenly hurt, she felt sick and dizzy. 
Really dizzy…

She’d just close her eyes for a minute. 
She’d feel better in a minute.
.
.
.

Chapter Text

[??? since rocket launch - ??? - Mr Macbeth] 

“CROSS? CROSS!”

Macbeth stood alone listening to his echo and heavy breaths dance across the forrest. The mighty trees around him stretched for miles into the clouding sky. The tall grass soaked his trousers all the way to his knees with the dew of a previous shower. Behind him was a small clearing he’d managed to land his pod in after loosing that copter somehow. 
He didn't know how. It was behind him one minute, and gone the next, and that was part of what no doubt had his blood pressure running a mile high. 
If the helicopter had left him be, that meant one of two things: 
They’d run low on fuel and had to give up the chase.
They’d had a target (which wasn’t him,) and for once, trouble wasn’t looking for him. Somehow he was sure he’d find it again anyway.

You know what? Never mind any of that. Not even his top problem right now.

He looked around and of course everything under the canopy looked identical, and he couldn't see nothin’ through the thickening foliage line of greens and browns. 
If he wasn't careful he’d get himself turned around and lost in no time. 

Someone with a bigger brain than heart, would turn around and find their way back to civilisation rather than risk getting lost out here with minimal supplies, but he wasn't that someone. 
He was the idiot who’s only concern right now was where the fuck he’d seen Cross’s pod go down.

He ran directly forward a few 100 feet or so more, keeping careful watch of his direction and surroundings. He stopped again, straining his ears for anything. Wind, birds… at least he didn't hear any helicopters. He didn’t hear anything useful either, but smelt something twice as distracting.
A foul stench filled his nose and he quickly snorted it back out. Yuck. Who the fuck was burning rubbish out here? 
They’d had plenty of rubbish fires back at his childhood farm, it wasn't a stench he could forget, nor easily misplace. Burning plastic’s and the chard remains of metal. What a God awful smell. 

No. 
He was asking the wrong question. 
It wasn't who was burning, it was why?

He felt the pit in his stomach deepen and ran. 

He pushed through the bush line with a new found stamina, all the while following the intensifying stench of smoke and burning. He saw an orange-yellow light flicker through the tree line. His pace slowed to a stop.

Had… had he found what was left of Curtis’s pod…? 

His fist shook tightly, jaw clenched shut, mouth forming a hard line.
His fault… 
His fucking fault…

He should have made that shot! 
Why didn’t he take the shot? 
What was wrong with him?!
He should have…

He wouldn’t find anyone there, but…

What if it’s not Curtis. What if it is Cross?
What if it’s the smouldering remains of her pod. 

His fingers dug deeper into his palms.

He should have listened to Sven. 
He should have let Cross go alone.
He should have left Curtis on the rocket.
He…

‘ABANDON HIM ON THE ROCKET!’

“…”

Did he really want to find out?  
Did he really want to find out if Cross was also…
He knew one of them hadn't survived, did he really want to find out if the other hadn’t too? Did he really want to find out if he’d gotten two people killed because he hesitated? Because he hesitated on his shot like a fucking newbie!
…
But even if he’d made the shot, would it have worked? He told Cross it would so she wouldn’t argue with him, but…
Could he even have made the shot? The distance was closing so quickly, even if he hadn’t… would he have been able to get his shot aligned and sent off in the first place? 
…
Was… was there even a reality where Curtis could have been saved?

Why Him? 
He was still young and had so much going for him, why not… why not himself? Why couldn’t it have been his pod to get blown out the sky? Sven wouldn’t miss him, he’s just a grumpy old good for nothing train driver, he…

Macbeth shook his head hard: Focus. FOCUS. FOCUS!
Come on.
Smouldering wreak in front of him. What’s he doing? Is he investigating? Is he putting as much distance between him and that huge smoke signal as possible?
Cross might be dead too for all he knows. 
Maybe it’s pointless even looking.
He might just be going to find a body. 
He might be just going to find her crippled and broken body. 
He might just be going to spend her final moments with her, listen to her tell him how this is all his fucking fault, how he’s the last person she ever wanted to see! How he’s destroyed 3 lives in just under an hour and- 
“Just… 
SHUT UP! 
SHUT UP! 

SHUT UP!"

The forrest silently waited for Macbeth’s temper to fizzle itself out, like the last fizz in a can of soda. The last spluttering embers of a fire. The last of the tears to run dry.
The air smelt smokey.

He heard the fait echo of his words in the distance, his heavy breaths still bouncing off of the trees who silently ignored him, their only focus on the subtle shift of branches and leaves in the wind. 
He felt his heart thumping away, and a pain setting into his knuckles and palm from how tight he’d let his grip get; Too tight. He pried his hands open, soft shakes to his hands easing the strain from his arms. The pale pressure marks faded, taking the discomfort with them.

He could still smell the smoke in the air, the fire still crackling away. 
That seemed to do the trick. 
The burning sensation in his nose again, the sent of danger. A loud reminder that no matter how angry and upset he got with himself, with the world around him, it wouldn’t change anything. 

He needs his head in the game. 
He needs to focus.

“… you couldn’t have made that shot, and even if you had… you knew it wasn’t going to work.” Macbeth said to himself. He sighed in bitter defeat, just except it: It wouldn’t have worked. 
He couldn’t have made that shot work, that was the top and bottom of it. 
…

Macbeth took another breath in. 
Another breath out. 

So… on to the next question. 
Macbeth looked in the direction of the smoke and flickering flames which taunted him with his failures, then back the way he came.
“Fuck it,” he said, picking up his pace again, one foot in front of the other. 

He couldn't just stand here, and he couldn’t just walk away either.
If… if there was a chance Cross was okay, that one of Sven’s friend was still out there… if Burt had managed a miracle… he had to take it.

*****

Macbeth burst through the last of the foliage and got a clear view of the not-blow-to-pieces escape pod. The pods number was scartched off it places, but not enough to make it illegable; Of course it was fucking Cross’s. Why wouldn’t it be?

“CROSS?!” Macbeth yelled, immediately regretting it with lungs full of smoke. 
He covered his mouth and nose the best he could with his sleeve. It looked like the engine compartment had ignited and was currently burring through the last of the fuel reserves.
The door was open too. 
So, was she in there, or not? Had someone else already found and extracted her?
If this whole thing was as organised as he thought, he wouldn’t put it past whoever the fucks’ behind this having ground crew waiting- Shit. He hadn’t even thought about that. He could be walking into a trap. He’d just walked into a possible trap and made the loudest display of noise he could have. 

Surely no one was this willing to gamble on Toppat loyalty, right? To gamble that he’d come looking for his colleague instead of saving his own skin.

Macbeth looked around and didn’t see a whole lot asides from smoke, broken trees and his vision growing blurry. He wiped at his stinging eyes, taking the hint his body wasn’t going to let him just stand here and ponder more of his life decisions. 

Macbeth kept moving forward, straining his ears for sounds.

The fire crackled and pop, roaring mighty as it gutted the pods insides. The grass around the pod was littered with patches of broken metal, fire and among them… 

“CROSS!” 

“Carol? Can you hear me?” 
Macbeth ran over to her and knelt down besides her. With no response to his calls, he moved his hand to feel for a pulse, unable to make out if she was breathing in all the smoke.  A hand reached up and slapped his away before he could find one. 
Dead bodies can’t move so… 
“Are you hurt anyway?” Macbeth asked, “Anything broken? Anything bleedin’?”
Carol lifted her head from the grass, shakily pushing herself to her elbows between ragged cough. One of her hands gave out and she fell back into the grass. 
“Carol?!” 
She ignored him, turning her head in the opposite direction.
For god’s sake! Macbeth huffed, “Can’t ya give me the cold shoulder later when we ain’t in a life & death situation?!”
Carol just kept coughing. 

With Carol either being unable to, or not cooperative, Macbeth put his first aid training into motion. 
He scooped her up as gently as he could and spotting a familiar shaped tree in the distance, he headed in that direction with the goal of getting as far from the smoking wreak as possible.
He had no idea if she was actually injured, or had just been flung out the pod and was dazed, or just being… her. Normally he’d ask, then check to make sure he wasn't making an unknown injury worse, but if they didn’t move away from this placed she’d either get burnt alive when the fire spread, or they’d both pass out & die from the smoke inhalation.  

Cross in his arms either didn’t, or couldn’t complain at being carried bridal style. However, the glare she gave Macbeth between her chocking coughs was crystal clear: Any other circumstance and you'd be a dead man. 

*****

They got out of the range of the smoke and Macbeth slowed his pace, taking a moment to clear some of the smoke from his own lung. 
He felt Carol put her head down against his chest. Her breathing was still heavy and unsteady, spluttering with ragged coughs.

“Cross?” He tried again. “Hey, stay with me now. Are you hurt anywhere? Anything broken?”
“I'm going…” She wheezed, “To fucking… kill you.”
Macbeth smiled; She’s fine. A bit much smoke inhaled sure, some mild burns and bruises too no doubt, but otherwise she’s fine. She’s even fine enough to be angry with him.
“You’ve got a mild looking burn on your left hand. Anything else you need me to treat before you do that?” He asked, not bothering to counter the threat.
“I can… walk,” She spat.
“You ain't walking Cross,” Macbeth told her sternly. “Not wheezing like that you’re not.”
Carol scowled at him. “PUT. ME. DOWN!” She pushed against Macbeth's arms, before deciding his face would be a more effective target. 
Macbeth rolled his eyes at her, “Alright, alright, but I’ll only end up picking you back up again, you know. You need to let your lungs rest, not strain them with physical exertion. You were in there a whole lot longer than I was.” It wasn’t that her weak & floppy hands hurt or anything, it was more he didn’t want to try his luck when she was already well past pissed off.

Macbeth helped Carol down against a tree, and she did indeed, not only stand, but successfully walk a few steps away from him. She stopped about 3 trees away and started to violently cough again.

“See?” Macbeth sighed. He joined her by her side, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Come on. You can walk in a bit when you ain’t coughin’ like that-”
There was a rush of air past his ear and he felt himself flinch. Reacting to the flinch, he moved out of the way of her recalibrated punch. 
“I’M G-GOING TO K-KILL YOU!” Carol snarled between more coughs.
Macbeth caught one fist, then the following one as well. Carol tried to pull them free, but to no avail.

“We don’t have time for this, Cross. We’re stood next to a huge smoke signal in the MIDDLE of the woods. Someone up there is gonna see that shit, we need to go, NOW.”
“WE? WE!” Carol roared at him. “T-there’s no we! T-there’s just m-me and a murderer!” 
She pulled her right hand free and swung again, this time Macbeth grabbed her wrist holding it firm so she’d stop trying to hit him in her blind rage. 
“Are you listenin’ to me Cross? Do you see how big that smoke cloud is over there? How long do you think it’ll take someone to see that, and send someone to investigate?”
“You killed Burt!”
“I didn't kill no-one. Them bastards up there did!” Macbeth argued back. “Get a hold of your emotions, will ya? I know you're upset, I’m upset too, but if we stay here we’ll only get arrested.”
Carol kept trying to free her fists, “You didn’t even try to save him!”
“I- I couldn’t have made that shot! It was accelerating too quick, and even if I did shoot it woulda missed, and even if it didn’t, there’s no way to know if it’d actually have worked!” 

Macbeth sighed, “ ’m sorry Cross… I don’t… I don’t think there was anything we could have done.” 
He couldn’t have made that shot. That’s why he’d hesitated. It was because he knew inside he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t save him.

Carol’s already ragged breath became hitched, her already red eyes watered, and she lowered her head. The quiet sniffles turned into a soft sob, her tears falling onto their hands.

Macbeth continued to hold her shaking wrists. He looked at her, then around like the forrest would tell him what he's suppose to do now. 

He let go of her wrists, retracting his hand and looked away, wondering what the fuck he was suppose to do once more. She’d hit him if he even thought about any kind of physical comfort, and she was already disregarding anything he said.
Well, it seemed the answer to his question was to stand there.
A hard force collided with the side of his head, and Macbeth stumbled back, falling into the overgrown foliage and grass.

“Fucking hell!” He shouted pressing a hand to his stinging cheek, “The fuck was that for?!” 
“T-that was for Burt y-you asshole!” Carol yelled at him, fist shaking in front of her wet cheeks. 
She turned her back on him and seemingly went back to her quiet sobs.

Macbeth rubbed at his cheek some more; that bloody hurt. She could have knocked him clean out if she’d landed that a bit higher. Tho, it probably didn't help he’d dropped his guard thinking he had a waterfall to deal with instead of a hurricane. 

He got out from the bushes and back to his feet, now damp all over, and wondering once again: What was the fuck he suppose to do now?

“Feel better with that off your chest?” He asked bluntly. “Ready to actually get outta here and to, oh I don't know, go somewhere we won’t get arrested before you hit me some more?”
Carol turned harshly scowling at him. She opened her mouth ready to yell at him again, but didn't.
She froze on the spot. 
She stayed deadly still for a few seconds longer, her eyes glistened a bright violet, that was… weird to say the least. 

Macbeth strained his ears looking around also, but didn't see anything to elicit that kind of freeze response. Carol took a step backwards blinking away the glow- or was that just the light playing tricks on his smoke filled brain?

“We’ve got company…”
“What?” Macbeth looked around again. “How do you know that? I don’t see or hear nothin’,” 
Carol didn't answer, she turned and shot off in the opposite direction from where she’d been staring.
“Cross? The fuck? Where are you going?!” Macbeth called running after her, much to his burning lungs displeasure. "You can't just run off in the middle of a fucking forrest! This is Canada! They have bears, wolfs, cougars, moose! It’s a fucking death sentence! Are you listening to me??? You’ll get yourself killed out here!”

Macbeth gave up on yelling and trailed her at a distance. His sides hurt and he was starting to wonder if it had actually been him to be fished out of a smokey wreck? There’s no way she should be able to move around, forget out run him for this long. 
Maybe she didn't breath in that much smoke after all. 
Maybe his age was just showing. He is like… 5 years, or something older, right? 
Does 5 years actually make that much of a difference? 
Maybe it was all those years of farm work wearing his body down earlier?
Maybe this was just the nonsensical ramblings of a madman chasing someone who told him twice she’d kill him, and successfully punched him once.

Ahead of him he saw Carol come to a stop, leaning heavily against a tree. Her hand slipped and she fell down to her knees disappearing in the tall grass. He saw her make an effort to stand again, her knees shaky, but not even a step forward and something failed.

“Cross? You alright?” 
He dropped out of his sprint, jogging the last meter or so to where she was bent over breathing heavily again, each breath followed by a wheezy-spluttering cough. He stopped by her side, and waited a minute to be punched, or kicked, or insulted…
Nothing happened. 

“You alright? Carol?”
She either didn’t hear him, or more likely chose to ignore him.
Macbeth sighed, and moved one hand to her back and the other over her upper chest, “Bent over like this ain't helping you get you breath back: You’re squishing your airways. You need to sit upright, Cross.” He gently pushed on his hand, forcing her to sit up right. 
She said nothing. Perhaps too focused on breathing, perhaps unable to hear him over the immense pain she’s in.

A couple of drops of red splatted against the her hand, and Macbeth couldn’t help his following frustration. “I told you you couldn't walk, never mind run!” 
Carol ignored the hanky he offered, despite clearly seeing her own bloody noise dripping onto her lap. 
“I-I don’t… I don’t… t-think we l-lost them,” She wheezed between more ragged breaths.
Macbeth frowned again, “Lost who?" 

“HEY! VAIT FOR ME!”

… Schwarz?

“Vhat?” Ahnoldt frowned, stopping about a meter away from the other two Toppats. He looked over his shoulder from where he’d come, then back just as confused, blue eyes shimmering. His face suddenly dropped, “IT’S NOT A SPIDER, RIGHT?!”
He jumped on the spot, spinning around, examining his arms in a flailing panic “I RAN THROUGH A FUCKING SPIDER VEB! VHERE IS IT?! IS IT ON ME??? IT’S NOT A TARANTULA, RIGHT?!? I DON’T VANT TO DIE BY SPIDER!”
Macbeth felt his hands raise on their own, “H- e-easy, it’s not… it’s not a spider.”
“Phew!” Ahnoldt laughed, but kept bushing his selves with shaky hands anyway. “So um… vhat’s vith the staring?”

Macbeth glanced at Carol, hoping to get a second opinion on the situation, but she wasn’t paying attention. She seemed too focused on her ragged breathing. She seemed too focused on the sound of her wheezing lungs, each breath harsher than the last. 
Her hands were shaking badly from where she had them pressed against her upper chest too.

“You goo-“
“L-leave. Me. ALONE!” 

Carol took a few steps away from Macbeth, finding a wide tree to rest against. 
She glared back at Macbeth once, her pained eyes still red and watering. She looked at Ahnoldt next, her frown growing in proportion. 

“W… w-what happened t-to… you?”
“Me?” Ahnoldt blinked. He shrugged, absentmindedly whipping some of the excess blood from his face. “I vas hoping you’d tell me. One minute I am leaving you in corridor, the next I vake up taking nap in grass field covered in all this,” Ahnoldt gestured to his rather blooded nose and lips, then down to his upper shirt where the excess had been collecting. “I look like I had fight vith you and lost!” Ahnoldt laughed, nodding to a less than impressed Cross. 

His ears also looked like they had some fluid coming from them too. Concussion?

“You don’t remember anything from the escape pod?” Macbeth asked, the words slipping out with an uneasy breath.
Ahnoldt twitch slightly in response, his blank-faced confusion shifting quickly into an uneasy laugh. “No? Should I?” He shook his head, but the action was out of sync with the words. 
The body language was more there than before, but it’s sloppy. The sloppiness could be a result of head trauma. Head trauma could explain where some of the blood came from. 

It seemed to be him. There was a lack of German words, but otherwise, it really did seem like him. It really did seem like the Ahnoldt Macbeth knew. 
Was whatever what happened back there just temporary? 
If it was, why were his eyes still blue?

“So, vhat happened to you guys?” Ahnoldt asked changing subject. 
Forcing a smile he added, “You two look er… upset.”
“…” 
“…”

“Okay, so…” Ahnoldt rubbed at the side of his head next and looked out into the forrest from the direction he’d appeared. “I saw a road back that vay, and roads led to civilisation, or at least out of here. Vherever here is…” 

“What’s with the contacts?” 
“Contacts?” Ahnoldt frowned, his lips twitched. “I’m er… allergic to contacts, you should know that.” Ahnoldt shook his head, “Vhy does it matter? Can’t ve just focus on getting out of here? That fire over there is going to attract people.”
That wasn’t an answer. That was evasion. 

Carol pushed off the tree, feet still unsteady she made her way to Ahnoldt, “I’m… I’m ready to get a-away… from HIM.”
Seriously??? “You can’t just trust him THIS blindly!”
“I trust him more than I’ll EVER trust you!” Carol yelled in Macbeths face, “MURDER!”

She turned her back on Macbeth and walked past both him & Ahnoldt, stopping at a tree a few feet away. 

“S-schwarz, l-lets GO!”

Ahnoldt lazily waved her off with one hand. 
Carol’s scowl turned into a fiery anger, but she said nothing. She leaned back against another tree, resting her head on it, fingers irritably tapping a displeasured rhythm into the bark.  

Ahnoldt noticed Macbeth watching him and shrugged. He went to pat Macbeth on the shoulder, a gesture that was meant to be reassuring, but Macbeth felt himself flinch back, using the motion to make Ahnoldt miss completely. 
“…”  
“Okay…” Ahnoldt laughed. 
He pulled his hands back, holding them up in a ‘I didn’t do anything position’, which provided little comfort. 

Ahnoldt suddenly winced, putting one hand to his head and shook it a little. He next coughed a little, and- what absolutely looked like more blood, was wiped over the back of his sleeve.
“…stop it…” He mumbled, “…I help…”

Something seemingly clicking, something inside shifting. When Ahnoldt raised his head, Macbeth was greeted by a small sympathetic smile.

“You’re still mad about the elevator, ja?” He asked, then nodded, “Fair. My outburst vas rude, I just… I vorry about you Mac. You looked a lot happy back then, before… you know… friends are suppose to look out for each other and tell the other vhen they think something is vrong.”
Macbeth felt his first tighten again, nails digging in his palm. He ignored what Ahnoldt said. It wasn’t relevant. It wasn’t important. 
“… You remember that, but not what happened in the escape pod?”
“Nie, just… blank up top,” Ahnoldt said. He hit his head with one hand playfully, then added stalely, “Und fühle mich scheiße.” 
Hehe. Macbeth failed to contain the tried chuckle; He was so tired, the adrenaline must finally be wearing off. “I’m not surprised you feel like shit; you look like it.”
“Ja, and you!” Ahnoldt beamed back. His smile falling weary. 

He went to elbow Macbeth next, then stopped half way in the action, pulling it back. “You gut?” He asked suddenly, as if remembering something. His face shifted sad, “You don’t normally flinch for me.”
Macbeth felt the tension ease in his shoulders. More German, sprinkled in the way it normally was: a few basic words here and there, but not so many that a non-speaker would be left clueless.

Was he just… over thinking this?
Was Ahnoldt really just… fine now? 
He’s acting like nothing happened before. He’s acting like… him.

His gut isn’t twisting itself into painful knots either. It’s just swaying uneasy.

“…It would be a shame if the Swedish boy had to lose his dad today~”

Was he just remembering what happened wrong?
Was he just… 

…

He glanced to check on Carol and she hadn’t moved.
She was still by the same tree. She even looked like she was patiently waiting. She was resting her eyes and her breathing pattern looked like it was easing based on the speed her chest was rising and falling.

She’s fine… at least, physically.   

…

Macbeth let a shake breath out, “Fucking shit show today is. I… really screwed up.”
Ahnoldt dug his fingers into his own arm, “Ja, tell me about it… just… don’t beat yourself up, okay? Need to be strong!” Weird. He looks anxious.
Macbeth rolled his eyes, “Thanks, but Cross’s doing all the beating up for me.” 
Ahnoldt didn’t laugh. 
Cross didn’t comment. 

“Makes sense,” Ahnoldt said after a moment. He rubbed his temple, “Her & h-him vere close. I heard she doesn’t handle grief vell, s-so… good luck.”
“ ‘Good luck?’” Macbeth repeated. “And where do you think you’re going to be- How do you…” The words fell silent. The pit in his stomach returning, the sickly feeling of dread clawing at his insides.

Ahnoldt wasn’t there. 
They hadn’t told him. 

Schwarz shook his head, forcing a smile, he whispered, “I’m going to make you day so much fucking vorse… s-sorry in advance…”
Macbeth tilted his head, shoulders raised tense again, “Meaning?”
“…”
“Schwarz?”

Ahnoldt put his head in his hands shaking it, face screwed up in pain. His nose looked like it was starting to bleed again. 
What is going on with him? Is this really all just a head injury talking???

Macbeth tightened his fist, and chewed on the edge of his lip. 
He need to do something. 

“Let me check your head Schwarz, you might have somethin’ serious going on. You don’t seem all that here, and you’re obviously in a lotta pain.” 

Macbeth still felt uneasy, but he ignored the feeling. A physical check-up was more important right now than his guts constant twisting and whining. His fellow elite probably had a concussion at the very least- that would explain none of this some of this. 

Maybe he had some blunt force trauma? All the blood had to come from somewhere after all, it can’t just have been from his nose. An open gash or cut was a pretty good bet, and if there was one it must be pretty well hidden in all that mud and gunk he’s covered in. He looks like he’d been rolling in the grass fighting with something. 

Macbeth tried to check Ahnoldt over, but the younger German pulled his head back profusely  shaking it side to side. 

“Don’t… gefahr head…” Ahnoldt mumbled, “…nicht ich… head hurts…ugh… STOP IT!”

Macbeth pulled his hand back, German words switching to their English counterparts.

Danger. 

He took one step back, then a second.

Not me.

*BANG*

The bullet had missed both of them, flying over Ahnoldt’s right shoulder with decent clearance. Despite that, he still stumbled forward yelping in pain. 
His eye’s shimmered an angry blue and he snapped around to face their shooter. Blue tentacles appearing from nowhere, they shoot outwards, slamming Carol into the tree behind her, her gun lost to grass.

“CROSS-“

“YOU TIPPED THEM OFF!” Ahnoldt yelled- or maybe he didn’t. 
“OH! You think you’re so cleaver being a little hero don’t you! They wouldn’t have been any the wiser, it would have just been a little pinch, then night-night~ But NO! You won’t make anything easy, will you!”
Ahnoldt shook his head at himself, “…get out…von’t vin, von’t let you…”
“You Toppat’s have already lost Accent! So, STOP FIGHTING ME!”

Macbeth watched the two way conversation, his unease transformed, crashing into him as wall of terror. 
So… he was half right, and he was very right something was off, but possession? That hadn’t even been on his radar. Nothing this outta the ordinary had happened in a few years, and certainly not to him. He had a knack for avoiding this kind of crazy. 
At least… it wasn’t suppose to come in the train driving package. 

The fuck was he meant to do about??? And how did Cross know? 
She doesn’t know German- speaking of who…
 
Carol was still face down in the grass; He’s on his own. 

“I ALWAYS WIN MY GAMES!!!” 
Not-Ahnoldt snapped around to face him, blue eyes glowing furiously, a pair of tentacles waving up and down with sleek precision, “You’re MINE Green-Hat.”
Fuck.

Macbeth stood his ground, fists raised ready. He wasn’t going down without a fight. Toppat’s never surrender and he’s no coward.

“Awww~” Ahnoldt voice laughed, “You wouldn’t hurt me, or you’ll hurt him~”
Macbeth let a nervous laugh escape, forcing a grin to follow, he pushed all his confidence to the surface, rolling his shoulders back ready. “I’ve always wanted an excuse to beat the shit out of him for all his stupid pranks. Guess I just got my excuse~”

Not-Ahnoldt’s smile fell into a cold frown. “I’m starting to really hate Toppats…”
“S-same vith YOU!” Ahnoldt winced back at himself.

Not-Ahnoldt lunged at him, but an immediate power struggle over where the fist should land gave Macbeth adequate time to react and return the favour. 
His fist landed clean to the head, and Ahnoldt fell into the tree they’d been tangoing around, smacking his head with an audible !CRUNCH!

…whoops. 

That might have been a bit harder the he meant. It’d been a long time since he’d fought with anyone he didn’t want getting injured so… it seemed his power control was a little rusty. 
It was that, or Not-Ahnoldt hadn’t expected him to seriously hit his friend. Maybe it thought he was bluffing? Or Maybe apart of Macbeth really had just been dying to get some sweet revenge on the Clan clown~

His German colleague fell forward after hitting the tree. 
He landed on his knees and stayed there for a moment, perhaps dazed.

“V-verdammte Scheiße! H-have you been practising?!” Not-Ahnoldt groaned. It pressed his hand against his upper left cheek. The act was better this time, almost convincing. Almost.

When the imposter tried to get up, Macbeth swooped in and with one swift kick to the side. 
Not-Ahnoldt went down properly. It coughed and wheezed, swearing like a German sailor-

…double whoops.  

Ahnoldt looked up at him teary eyed, “S-stop, vill y-you! L-let me talk- “ He wheezed, coughing more. “…b-before you beat the c-crap out of me!”
Macbeth stopped mid-second kick. He put his leg back down, foot lightly resting on the overgrown foliage, ready to be deployed again. Ahnoldt waved at him and Macbeth followed the sloppy instructions Ahnoldt’s scrapped up hands gave. They gestured a ’back up’ and continuing to do so until both parties were well and truly out of reach of the other. 

“N-not going to beat it like this…” Ahnoldt said, shifting in the grass to sit upright. He dropped his bruised arms in his lap, his head flopping back against the tree behind him. He screwed his eyes shut, “Tired. I… really fucking tired; It too. It got sloppy, von’t make same mistake twice… don’t know how long I got control. I did… something?”

“Okay…” Macbeth absently ran a hand through his messed-up hair, “So how do I get that thing outta yer head?”
“Hehe…” Ahnoldt shook his head, smiling up at the sky. “You don’t,” He said. “You knock us out & go.”
Not twice. 
NOT FUCKING TWICE. 

“I’m not leaving you here to suffer with that thing Ahnoldt-”
“Vant’s YOU Mac.”
It…

“Don’t know vhy. Can’t find memory vith answer… something about re-vrite reality…” Ahnoldt’s words crumbled to a pained stop, “… er… fuck…” 
“Re-write reality? The fuck have I got to do with THAT?! I drive a fuckin’ train! Not a Time Machine! Do I look like some kinda ‘Doctor Who’ to you?!”
Ahnoldt didn’t answer. He just groaned, head in his hands.

Great. Wonderful even! As if this day couldn’t get any better. Not only is his friend possessed asking him to leave him for as good as dead, but he’s got a big red target on his back because some fucker thinks he can re-write history, or some shit. 
Apart of him isn’t even surprised! It’s not like this was the first time someone brought up time travel nonsense this month. Sven said something about it too, or… at least that’s what he was implying with his crazy ‘seeing the future’ dreams stuff. 

Ugh. That annoying dull thud from before just kept getting louder in his skull. It’s like someone’s trying to drill a hole through his temple. 

Quiet. That’s what he needs. 
Peace and quiet. A coffee too. 
A nice quiet room where he can sit and process all this fuckery. 
This is getting too much. 
Sure, he can handle a lot of crazy, and a lot of stuff going wrong. It comes with the whole ‘Toppat Elite’ package, but THIS? TODAY?! 

He sighed. Come on: focus. 
Head back in the game. 

“Hey.” 
Macbeth looked to Ahnoldt, realising he must have spaced out for a good minute. 
“Got an idea… help me up.”

Macbeth got within arms reach of Ahnoldt and extended an arm. 
Ahnoldt smiled at him, but the blue eyes didn’t make him feel any less unsettled. Actually, they made him feel ill. He felt physically ill. So much so, he turned away from Ahnoldt’s lingering stare. 

He looked over his shoulder, but wasn’t able to locate Carol. 
They must have moved quite a bit to one side, enough so the tall grass and distance hid her. He hoped she was okay. He didn’t think she’d gotten hit that hard. It… sounded bad, but… if Schwarz has got that thing under control, maybe he should loop back and check on her- No, he should call first. 
She might be awake and just dazed. 
She might just be hiding, or more likely sulking still. 
Either wouldn’t surprise hi-

Ahnoldt grabbed Macbeth’s arm suddenly, yanking him downwards into the grass. Macbeth shoved his elbows out, landing hard on his right and he felt the left make contact with Ahnoldt’s body. Ahnoldt pushed down on him, his right shoulder slipping out with his balance, so he landed in the grass twisted, and crushing the arm.


“You Toppat’s trust too easy~” Not-Ahnoldt mocked, sliding one hand around Macbeths neck, the other pinning his left arm down. He forced Macbeth’s head back, fingers digging sharply into his skin. His neck crunched under the force, and the thing leered down at him, with a sickly wide smile.

Macbeth moved his left arm the best he could, trying to feel in the grass for something which isn’t grass. He needs a plan before this thing break his neck!

“You two are friends right?” Not-Ahnoldt asked. “Ha ha! Aww, that’s so sweet, heartbreaking even… to watch you struggle. I bet you’ll start begging next. That’s what the others in your situation do. They beg, then plead and cry as the ones closest to them hurt them. Break them. 
I just love it when both parties involved are aware of what’s happening. Your agony tastes so delicious~”

Grass. 
Grass.
Gra- wood?

“A shame really. I have orders not to kill you, but… I don’t have thing about your lady friend.” Not-Ahnoldt pushed down harder on his neck, his throat tight and burning. 
Shit. Shit. 
“Ooooo! I KNOW!” Not-Ahnoldt practically sang. “We can string her up and make you both watch as we cut her open and see what’s inside. OH! I always wanted to have a proper biology lesson, and now I’ll-“

The grip on Macbeths arm loosened momentarily and he took his chance, pulling his arm free and swinging it inwards, smacking himself and Schwarz with the stick. It didn’t do a whole lot, but the distraction had been enough to salvage his right arm and push Not-Schwarz off. 

Not-Ahnoldt fell back in the grass, a brief glimpse of surprise shifting into a fiery rage. 
“LET’S PLAY DIRTY THEN!” It roared.

Not-Ahnoldt tackled Macbeth into the grass. The pair rolled for a minute, struggling, arms around wrists, pushing and pulling, their weight shifting from side to side. Macbeth was pretty confident he could over power Ahnoldt. He’d alway been the stronger of them back in their younger days when they sparred, back when they were junior elites. Ahnoldt use to whine how it wasn’t fair upon loosing, that he wasn’t brought up doing manual labour for a living. He’d then demand they go to the shoot-range to make it fair, as he’d grown up ‘helping’ his parents in their. He’d then take his turn winning (well, at least for the first few years).

Macbeth just had to keep his arms free and keep Not-Schwarz off his airways. He’s got this- at least, he did.

A tentacle shoot out of nowhere and with a sudden jerk-flinch to the side, it sliced through a chuck of his hair instead of face. The punch which followed missed as well, but Macbeth realised too late why it had missed by such a large margin.

He felt something smooth and cold wrap around his left wrist. Neither feeling lasted long, the cold sensation turned into burning, and then into a scratchy itch, scrapping away at his skin.

He pulled on his arm. 

Get off, 

Get off,

Get off, 

How does he get it off-
.
.
.

Macbeth stumbled back, breath heavy and head light. Shit- He’s loosing too much blood to deal with this-

Why is he loosing blood? Why does his wrist’s feel so heavy and skin like it’s on fire? How much blood has he lost? Why is he loosing blood? When had that thing managed to maul hi-

“LEONARD MOVE!”

Macbeth felt his blood run cold, frozen to the spot. N-no. I-it, it can’t be. He hasn’t heard that voice in years. It’s- it’s not possibl-

Something hard hit Macbeth head on and sent him flying into some wooden crates. He collided against them with a THUD, smacking his head enough to daze him once more. 

He spat blood onto the metal deeply embedded around his wrists. Not sure when or why there had been the attempt at bounding him with some warped looking pipes. He- he wasn’t sure about a lot of things right now, and the addition of his head spinning certainly wasn’t helping him find the clarity he oh so desperately needed. 

What is happening? 
Where is he? T-this isn’t a forrest.
Why did he think he’s in a forrest??? He’s in the middle of a raid, and he’s going to bleed out, if whoever the fuck he’s up against doesn’t kill him first!

“Leave him out of this-“
“Oh, do SHUT UP, Arthur!” Another voice boomed. With a flick of the guys wrists, Macbeth was dragged off the ground and towards him. The metal digging painfully into his wrists as it attempted to carry his weight across the distance.
“Don’t you think you’ve cause him enough pain, with your whole ‘friendship’ act?” The guy said coldly, the words holding years long animosity. “Everyone knows you were only being nice to Macbeth because you owed Copperbottom’s old man a favour! Don’t act like you’re better than me for using him.”

Shit! “H-“

Macbeth got frown into another stack of crates, these ones buckling under the force of the collision. Not that their wooden exterior broke Macbeth’s fall anymore; It still fucking hurt. 


“You should have taken up my offer, Mac. You could have made a great Chaos Worker, but…” The guy who’s name Macbeth can’t keep a grasp of, shakes his head sighing. “You’re just too fucking loyal. But don’t worry…”

His smile looks familiar, the ache in his chest suggesting some level of camaraderie Macbeth couldn’t place. Just how fucking hard had he hit his head?

The guy walks over, bending down to force Macbeth head up, so he can stare back at this guys hollow green eyes. “I’ll make it quick, for old times sake~”

His head is thrown downward towards the concrete floor, but before it can hit, the force pushing him is gone, and he’s able to barely catch himself. His face still hits the ground hard, but instead of- probably smashing every bone in his face - he’s pretty sure it’s just his nose. 

“You’re the one who killed A-03...” A new voice says. A female one he’s sure he doesn’t know. A hand brushes against his scalp, before it grabs his hair and yanks his head back. 

“AGHK-“

Two angry pale blue eyes stare down at him. The figure itself he can't make out. They're simply a blue outline, but those eyes... He knows he’s seen them recently, but he can’t place them. Why can’t he place them? Why do they fill him with so much fear?

She reaches forward and places her second hand against his cheek. 

“You know… it’s unfortunately, really. Dr Thomas want’s you back alive and ‘preferably’ physically unharmed,” She pouts the last part, but only for a second. Her eyes glimmer and she digs her nails into Macbeth’s face, slowly pulling them down, like chalk on a chalkboard. “But lucky for me, he didn’t say anything about your head~”

She yanks Macbeth onto his knees, his face so close to her’s he can feel her every breath. 

“I’m going to make sure every time you wake up, you regret not taking  A-03 up on his offer to join us…”

Chapter Text

[Meanwhile - Carol Cross]

“Re-write reality? The fuck have I got to do with THAT?! I drive a fuckin’ train! Not a Time Machine!”
.
.
.

“Ugh… w-what?” What is he yelling about?

Carol pushed herself up to her elbows, ignoring the pounding in the side of her head. She took note of the spot rubbing her hand against it and pulled it back clean; It feels worse than it is.

She took in her environment next, her senses kicking in. The smell of damp in the air, her clothes wet and sticking in places, tall unkept grass with sharp shrubs cutting into her exposed skin. She was laying in grass and on a root at the base of many large trees. 

Ugh… right. Escape pod crashed in the woods, failed rocket launch and… Burt.   
That was how she’d ended up here. 

What was that thing on Schwarz’s shoulder anyway? A-and what was that Mr Macbeth was shouting about re-writing reality? That sounds more like something the CCC would be apart of, not him- …because it is something they’d do. 

“LET’S PLAY DIRTY THEN!”
Uh oh. 

Fumbling up to her feet- she’s fine, she just… she double patted, then triple her pockets; no gun. Damn it, where had she drop it? It couldn’t have landed that far. 
She was a tree or so forward when that thing hit her, so… THERE!
She scooped up the dewdrop-cover gun, bushing the excess moister off against her trousers leg. 
She quickly checked the chamber, and yes, all bullets still there. No one had had a chance to temper with it; She took the safety off. 

Next locate her target- which, wasn’t going to be a hard task with the continued ruckus of a commotion a couple 100 yards to her left. She didn’t have a visual on them from back here, but with the grunting, snapping of a stick and more grass rustling, she didn’t need one. 

She approached at a fast, but cautious pace, and in a 80 yards she got her visual. 

Ahnoldt had Macbeth pinned down and whatever that thing on him was, had produced tentacles it proceeded to grab him with. 

The thing was distracted with Macbeth, not hearing her approach. Or, at least… it gave no indication of hearing her.
The pair of Toppat’s were still suddenly, a little too still. That thing on Schwarz was just hovering over Macbeth. It looks like it’s… the way it’s silvering up his arm… it looks like its jumping ship: It’s swapping hosts.
Great. 

Biting down on her lip, Carol wondered why? Why dose she have to do the right thing? Why does she have to save his ungrateful ass to make sure that thing won’t win? It’s not like he deserves it. They’re in the mess because of him! Because he wouldn’t… Because he couldn’t…

Carol raised the gun adjusting her grip. 
Her finger hovering over the trigger.

She hated being responsible.

Where was it? Roughly a littler over the Schwarz’s right shoulder, that’s where it had been last time she looked, so… it should still be there. 

She closed her eyes, feeling the air around her settle, the panic of one place fade out as she focused on another. The darkness around her moved, colours bringing it to life, this unseen world of the living around her, and in the middle of it all that thing was: Aqua blue (it) intwined with faded teal green (Ahnoldt), hovering over grass green (Macbeth). 
One parasite, one sick colleague, and another heading on a oneway trip to the same fate without intervention. 

She adjusted her aim accordingly, tapped the trigger once, then pulled. 

!BANG!

She opened her eyes, watching the thing turn its attention to her.

!BANG!

It and Ahnoldt stumbled forward, letting Macbeth go in favour of her: The distraction. 

Macbeth suddenly jerked, rolling onto his side and coughing violently; she focused on the target, on whatever the thing she’d angered was. 
Whatever it was heading her way, it was radiating a potently sour hate she could taste from back here. She held down the urge to gag, and took aim again.

!BANG!

Ahnoldt stumbled, falling down upon the next shot she sent through it. 
He’s not here then; No control. It’s just her vs that thing. 

It twitched, and Carol pulled the trigger again. How many bullets would it take for this thing to stay down?!

!BANG!

!BANG!

!CLICK!

!CLICK!

Out of bullets.

Carol kept the gun raised, holding her bluff. Holding the bluff she had more bullets to come. 
It didn’t get up, but it did move.

The slow raising and falling of breathing. 
Unconscious breathes in and out. 
Breathes marching to their own beat, separate from its hosts. 

Schwarz didn’t get up either. 
He did move. 
Slow staggered chest movements…
Maybe he’s sleeping?
She hoped he was sleeping.

Somehow, she’d managed to kill neither of them. A good thing, and a very bad thing. 
Somehow that thing had also managed to not kill either of her colleague.

Mr Macbeth, unlike the other two was moving. Or more, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. A leaf which should have been stripped from its safe branch, yet despite the odds, it still only just held on. 
Her colleagues current behaviour matched that of a frightened child, not the grumpy no-nonsense train conductor she’d been forced to get to know. She’d never seen him shaken before, it was… a little unnerving. She’d only ever seen him confident, grumpy or pretending to be friendly. Other emotions were a rarity, glimpse seen from the corner of your eyes; He’s just the Clan’s grumpy train driver.

Ultimately, Carol rolled her eyes at the scene in front of her, looking between Macbeth whom she didn’t care for, and unconscious Ahnoldt with his unwanted passenger.

Re-write reality huh?
Carol sighed, “So much for abandoning you…”

She’s stuck with Mr Macbeth for awhile. She can’t just leave him here after the stunt that thing and whoever it worked for just tried to pull. That kind of stunt took planning: Lots of it. And she didn’t feel like being responsible for somebody rewriting reality in their image, especially if that somebody was the CCC. 
She knew what they are capable of. She’d seen what they’d had planned all those years ago, and no doubt with the time, those plans had only gotten worse. Got more brutal, more delusional, more insane. Not better.
No. She wasn’t having a part in it, which meant… angry with him or not, they’re stuck together. 

“Oi, Fuckface,” Carol called, folding her arms with her most ‘welcoming’ scowl. “Let’s move.”

Nothing.
 
“OI!”

Nothing

“Mr Macbeth!”
He just kept shaking. 

Carol came over, and knelt down momentarily to gave him a good clipping across his ear with the back of her hand. He flinched first, then pulled away from her, loosing his balance and falling on his butt in grass. 
He blinked a few times, as if trying to get his bearing.

“Focus will you!” Carol ordered. “You can space out later, when we’re not sitting ducks!”
He said nothing. He just kept breathing heavily. 

“HEY!” Carol said louder, her lack of patience wearing thinner. “I said F O C U S! I’m not going to be responsible for the CCC rewriting reality, ‘cause you’re too busy sulking about how fucking USELESS YOU ARE!” 
.
.
.
Nothing. 

The bubbling anger and frustration in Carols chest fizzed out, words and thoughts clicking in her head to form a solid conclusion: He’s not ignoring her on purpose. He’s breathing heavy and fast, shaking, a hand pressed against his chest. 
They’re all common symptoms of a panic attack. 

“Mr Macbeth?” Carol knelt down next to him in the grass. “Hello? You’re fine asshole. You're… you’re just in shock. Breathe will you?” 
He said nothing, so… that didn’t work. 

“Hey, look at me. Eyes up!” Carol tried again. She held up her hand next, moving her fingers in time with her words. “Focus on my hand, and do as I tell you. Breath in, and hold, 1… 2… 3… Breath out, 1… 2… 3…”

Macbeth silently followed her instructions.
That was… an improvement at least. 

*****

The wind around them whistled, blowing up fallen leaves and shaking large droplets of water free from the trees above them. 
The drops fell like little bullets against their exposed skin. Big wet blobs trying to make them more wet. Not that either of them could get any wetter after sitting in the grass. 

After a few more minutes of repeating the breathing count in and out, she tried again.

“You with me?” Carol asked. 
Macbeth gave a single nod; Good enough. 
She patted him on the shoulder hard, getting a wince. She forced a half smile herself, which Mr Macbeth tried to return. His expression overall didn’t read well. Destress and stressed was all she could make out, but the attempt spoke for itself: He’s not panicking.

She turned her attention from her wet clothes and him, back to her other colleague: Ahnoldt Schwarz. 
Whatever that thing was wrapped around him, it reminded her of a leech. Except a leech didn’t have tentacles, and they don’t leave those weird grey-vein like marks running up people’s skin. 
Its tentacle were tightly wrapped around his ligaments, pulsating to their own beat separate from his. It looked like some alien parasite from one of those crappy horror movies. One of those things which drained the life out its victims. 
Draining the life out of him…

“He’s not dead,” Carol found herself saying quietly. “I don’t think I kill that thing either, and somehow I doubt putting more bullets in it would help even if I had more…”
Mr Macbeth said nothing, and for a long minute Carol wasn’t sure if he was listening or had gone back to panicking.

“O-okay.” 
Quiet and shaky, she’d hardly heard him. Her scowl must have said it all, as he repeated himself louder and more sturdy. “Okay.”

Watching that thing pulsating on Schwarz made Carol feel unease and sick inside, but turning her back on it and not knowing what it was doing felt worse. It wasn’t like Macbeth was watching it. He was staring at his hand, the one the thing had grabbed. 
Visually the arm looked free of injury. So why he kept staring at it was beyond her.

She took a breath in, then back out herself, feeling the tight strain in her chest and scratchy throat. She tried to relax them both. She needs to relax them both. She’s a Toppat Elite: Head of the clans biggest division. She’s been through worse than this. She’s handles worse than this.

Take charge of the situation, you’ve got this.

 “Alright genius,” Carol announced, “It’s your fault we’re in this situation, so you better have a plan to get us out of it  A L I V E .”
“…”
“Do you know how far we are from civilisation?” She asked next, organising the questions in her head. “I’m assuming you have at least half a brain and checked before you left your pod. Or are we heading back to your pod and taking that out of here? I don’t care which, whatever gets me away from you fastest.”
“…”
“Hello?” 
Carol frowned at Macbeth more. 
He either ignored her, or didn’t hear her.

She waited and….

… he wasn’t listening again. 
Why didn’t that surprise her? 

“OI!” Carol fumed, snapping her fingers in front of Macbeth’s nose until he pulled his head away. “I said STOP spacing out! F O C U S.” 
“I’M TRYING!” Macbeth shoved her hand away. “I-I… ‘m trying, just… ” He dropped his head digging his fingers into his hair and groaning. Frustration boiling into overwhelmed? It was anyones guess what he was frustrated with. Carol could think of plenty of thing, the only one who could come up with more than her being Sven. She smiled bitterly realising something: He looks just like Sven when he was frustrated. Farther like son, much?

“… sorry,” Macbeth eventually said. “Just, give me a minute.”
Carol shook her head, her frustration escaping in a long sigh. Maybe it was the sight of seeing a trait she was use to seeing in someone else, but… “Fine. Whatever. You’ve got 2 minutes to get a hold of yourself, okay?”
Macbeth nodded, continuing to avoid eye contact.

“I really don’t understand why you’re so bothered by it,” Carol added, brushing a patch of dirt from her coat. “Last time I checked you are an elite, a senior one at that. Not some newbie!” Seriously, it wasn’t like that thing cut his arm open, or started pulling his flesh apart or something. It made contact with his skin, that’s it! “It ONLY touched you, big baby. Grow up.”

Carol heard Macbeth's breath hitch, and paused halfway into standing up. “WHAT?” She scowled, “I saw the whole thing! What did it do OTHER than touch you?! I’m listening.”
“I… um-” 
“I WHAT?”
One of Macbeth’s hands returned to his hair, digging in and pulling little. He shook his head slightly, mouth pressed into a hardline, and quietly said, “… I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Yeah! Because you’re making a mountain out of a molehill!”

Carol got up out of the grass, shoving Macbeth to the side on her way. “TWO MINUTES.” She repeated, and left him to mope. 

She turned her attention to the second problem.

Carol picked a stick from the grass up and poked one of the tentacles with it to test the water. To see how this… thing, would react. If it would react. Maybe with that information she could devise a way to get it off her other colleague; She didn’t want to be stuck alone with Mr MacSulk.

Said tentacle let go of Ahnoldt’s hand, coiling around the stick instead. After a few seconds of contact it starting slivering further up the wood towards her. 
Carol tried tugging the stick back with one hand, but it held tight. She then tried with both, tugging, and then yanking: the tentacles didn’t let go, but nor did she. 

Their short tug of war only ended when the stick cracked, crunched and snapped, splintering into two pieces: One in her hands, and the one the tentacle had.

She watched as after a minute of the tentacle owning the stick, there was more crunching, and the tentacles dropped the splintered fragments of its part of the stick, returning to its original position around her Schwarz’s hand. 
Carol frowned at what remained of the half-stick it had gotten. Okay, well… that’s not going to work then. How else could they get that thing off Schwarz? If they even can to start wit-
“How do you know what that thing is?”

Carol discarded her half of the stick, turning to give Macbeth some of her attention, while the rest remained on watching the tentacles. “I don’t.” She answered.
Macbeth’s curiosity shifted into confusion, “But you knew where to shoot-“
“Neon blue & glowing, seemed like a pretty obvious target DUMBASS!” Carol pointed at the very obvious blue (and now not glowing) thing on Ahnoldt. 
“… name callin’ ain’t needed. You’re not 6."
Carol huffed angrily: she’s done with him. 
Time for a new plan. 

She grabbed Macbeths’ arm without warning, and roughly pulling him to his feet, “Come on Asshole: WALK and B R E A T H E.”
Macbeth blinked at her, then twisted looking back over his shoulder. “W-wait, wait, wait. We can’t just leave him-"
“That thing wouldn’t have been so cocky if it didn’t have reinforcements coming, and no doubt it’s betting on clan loyalty that we’ll be sticking around longer,” She pulled on Macbeth’s arm harder. “You can’t do anything for him. You don’t have a med kit in your pocket, we don’t have back up coming, and we don’t know how to remove that thing without it latching onto one of us!” 
“But-“
“BUT NOTHING!” Carol interjected, “That thing wasn’t even on YOU for more than a minute, and look what it did! You’re still shaking!” She pointed at his twitching hand, which he promptly shoved in a pocket. “You really want to find out what happens when you play hero? When it get’s a proper hold of you? When I don’t have any bullets left to save your sorry ass with? Cause I don’t. ” 

Macbeth apparently wasn’t going to be swayed, “He’s our friend, w-we can’t just leave him with that thing!”
Carol stopped walking. 
Why does he insist on arguing!? He didn’t have any problems leaving Burt to die! Why should Schwarz be ANY different???

“Let me rephrase,” Carol gritted her teeth, trying and mostly failing to keep her anger under control. “I don’t, and will NEVER forgive you for what you did to Burt. If I had it my way, I’d have put one of those bullet in your head for what you did. And let’s make this crystal clear right now: I’m not his friend, and I’m certainly NOT yours. The only, ONLY reason I saved you from his fate is because you’re more valuable living. Understand?”
“…”
Carol shoved Macbeth against a tree, forcing him to make eye contact, “I said, U N D E R S T A N D?”
“… Ye-“ Macbeth’s miserable face shifted into confusion, confusion pointed in her direction. 
Before she could ask what this time, he grabbed her arm yanking her away from the closest tree. “HEY-”
A colourful dart planted itself into the bark where she’d just been stood; They took too long.

*****

The pair ran, dogging between trees and occasionally catching sight of a red dot, or missing dart as their pursuers attempted and failed to predict their next move. 

They need a plan. They can’t just keep running. She can’t just keep running.  
Her lungs were screaming at her, she can’t keep this up. Every step she took, every breath, each was one becoming harder than the last. 
Macbeth who’d slipped in front of her along time ago wasn’t doing much better. He’d stumbled twice over some tree roots, and nearly face planted into the ground once. 
They NEED a plan. 

The pair of Toppat’s burst through a thick line of shrubbery, the branches scratching their skin and pulling at their clothes. Macbeth got through first and stubbled back into Carol as she burst through the shrubbery next. She fell back, but Macbeth was quicker, steadying her with an outstretched hand. She slumped onto her knees, wheezing and feeling light headed from the lack of air she was able to pull through her tight throat and burning chest. She looked up, seeing why they'd stopped, “Y-you’ve got… a plan, RIGHT?” 
They both looked across the raging river, which blocked their path to safety. It was too wide to jump, too strong and deep to swim across. There weren’t even any tree branches handing most of the way over for them to use. 
“Other than run?” Macbeth wheezed catching his own breath, “Fuck no.”


That's it then; All this for nothing.
The freedom that had hung in front this whole time, nothing more than a ruse, a cruel trick. They could have just stayed on the rocket if this was the outcome they were going to get. If this was inevitable. At least Burt would still… still be here. One person less victim of being around her. 
It wasn’t fair. 
This wasn’t fair. 
IT'S NOT FAIR!

“Toppat’s don’t give up…” 
What?

Macbeth turned to her, a determined glimmer in his eyes. “Can you swim?” He asked, looking from Carol to the river. 
“W-WHAT! W-we can’t…. Y-you’ll drown… us… b-both!” Is he mad AND STUPID??? He’ll get them both killed if they put a foot in that water. 

The footsteps were growing nearer, shouting orders growing louder, growing clearer, 'Don't let them get away!'.

They needed another plan, something less idiotic.
“Fuck it.” Carol heard Macbeth mumble. He grabbed her arm suddenly and jumped into the water, dragging her with him. 
“NO. GET OFF! I AM NOT GOING IN THERE TO DIE WITH YO-“

*SPLASH*

The water was freezing upon entering, taking her breath away for a moment. She gasped, instantly regretting the mouthful of cold water. 
Up.
UP.
Carol spun around in the water. 
Which way was up?
WHICH WAY IS UP???

She’s going to drown. 
She can’t breathe, her lungs are full of water. 
She going to drown!

Something grabbed her arm from behind, the water next to her parting in all directions. 
She didn’t care who it was, friend or foe, she grabbed it back, clinging to it.

The arm pulled on hers, moving her in a direction she hoped was up. A direction which was up. 

The water parted around her arm, then face, giving way to the air she let fill up her lungs between ragged water-filled coughs. 

“Are you-“
“Fu- fucking… IDIOT!” Carol spluttered at Macbeth, coughing up half the river.

SHE’S GOING TO KILL HIM! 
SCREW REALITY! 
SCREW EVETHING!

HE’S DEAD.

Macbeth ignored her angry stares, his gaze locked onto the shoreline. He looked like he had a plan. He better have had a plan before throwing them in here.
Carol pushed with her free arm, the other still clinging into Macbeth’s own. She looked around, trying to see over her watery view back where they’d come from. She heard a deep rumbling roar of water start to grow in volume, but ignored it, her eye’s stealing her minds focus at the sight standing where they’d just come from. 

“W-we’ve got… a p-problem,” She wheezed. 
"A waterfall? Yeah, I noticed.”
“W-W-WHAT! NO!” Carol snapped, turning to see the source of the rumbling sound she'd earlier ignored. 
Macbeth looked nearly speechless, “You don’t call a waterfall a problem?!”
Carol wanted to laugh, a waterfall wasn’t a problem in comparison to what she’d just spotted.
“Okay…” Macbeth clearly regretted it, but asked, “What is it then?”
“The Chaos Containment Center.”

Mr Macbeth stared at her silent; disbelief or caught off-guard. He pushed the water away with the arm she wasn’t clinging to, using the motion to manoeuvre himself. Just as she had, he located the spot from which they’d just come and what was there now. 
Stood on the bank were NINE shrinking figures in blue. Some had regular uniforms on, some wearing what looked like high-tech mech-suites.

They weren’t joking around. 
They’re pulling all the stops to to capture him.
Which raises the question: What DOES he have to do with rewriting reality??? He’s a train driver! Their head of transportation! And… and last time she checked, Mr Macbeth didn’t have some dodgy background before joining the clan. As far as she was aware he was JUST a farm kid who somehow landed a train driving job in a high ranking position.
Not important right now. 

“Well, the good news is they can’t see us from here,” She said when Macbeth made no comment on their new issue. “The bad news is we’ll have to get their attention if we don’t want to go over that waterfall.”
Macbeth turned back to her scowling, “You said they want me to re-write-“
Carol rolled her eyes, clueless idiot. “Yes, but they’ve won! Don’t you see it? It doesn’t matter what we don, we’re the losers! Either we call for help to not die, or they’ll fish our dead bodies from the water at the bottom!”
Macbeth shook his head slowly, “A dead body ain’t no use to no one-”
“I can assure you of one thing Mr Macbeth,” Carol laughed cruelly, “If anyone can make a dead body talk: it’s them.”

"..." Macbeth looked back to the waterfall. “Do you trust me?”
“No!”
“Well you better start now Cross. Hold on tight, and when I squeeze your arm take the biggest breath you can, alright?”
Carol looked between him and the nearling falls, “W- WE CAN’T SURVIE THAT!”
“YES, we can! Trust me!”
“LIKE YOU TOLD BURT TO TRUST YOU???" Carol yelled BACK, "FUCK NO!" She pushed against his arm, trying to get it off. Maybe if she made enough noise their hunters would hear them? Except- they were too close now. They were going over that fall, with or without help.

“Ready?” Macbeth asked as they approached the edge.
“I-I hate you,” Carol said feeling her eyes water. This isn't how she wanted to die. Of all the ways she'd pictured in the past, all the close calls she'd ever had, this wasn't how she wanted to go out. S-she couldn't. She still had too many things to do, too many goals unaccomplished….

"I'll make you proud, farther!"

 
It's his fault. It's all fault!
Carol buried her head in Macbeth’s shoulder, trying to hide her tears, "I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!” She cried.

Macbeth ignored her, 
“Hold tight, Cross!”

The water beneath them disappeared, giving away to air and gravity. Carol closed her eyes, not wanting to see the bloodied-mangled mess they were about to become. 
She heard a deep gulp of air next to her and felt Macbeth squeeze her arm, her cue to do the same. 

Did it really matter? 
They’re going to die. 

At least she’ll finally get to see them again…

Burt…

Carlos…

The family who’d sent her away… 

She doesn’t want to go. 
She doesn’t want to leave her home behind.
She doesn’t want to see the disappointment in their eyes. 

‘Please… don’t take me yet.’

Chapter Text

[1 Hour Since Rocket Launch - Henry Stickmin]

The Government camp was chaos. 
Soldiers and Chaos Containment Centre workers, people running, people yelling. Supplies carried from one location to the next. Injured carried from location to the next. The dead carried away…
Henry was beginning to understand why Katie had insisted on waiting within Charles helicopter. 

Despite the chaos of the camp, there was some degree of order. Captains and Generals doing their jobs, trying to contain what madness they could. The Triple Threat had found General Galeforce with two other General. He wasn’t barking orders at them, but he did appear to be very much in command of the chaos going on, or the attempt at a solution to it. 

When Charles had tried to tell him about the escape pods being shot down and it being some sort of mistake, the three of them had been silenced and shepherded to Galeforce’s tent. On the way Henry had caught sight of Rupert, but he’d been sent in the opposite direction by another General. There was a coldness to his eyes. A panicked concern. 
Henry had only seen it once: when the first Triple Threat had fallen apart.

Outside of Galeforce’s tent, Ellie and Henry reluctantly waited. 
“This won’t take long,” Galeforce had reassured them, taking Charles inside alone. 

It had been nearly 5 minutes.

Another group of Chaos workers walked past the pair paying them no attention. Their causal pace was quite the contrast from that of hurried sprints and tired jogs of the Government soldiers. 
It was like they didn’t care. 
Like they had all the time in the world. 
Like whether people lived or died it made no difference to them. 
They just seemed so… indifferent.

Henry was yet to have had a confrontation with their organisation. In all his runs they’d been doing their own thing in the background, and while their paths had briefly passed on occasion, it never ended in confrontation. Something Henry didn’t want to change.

He got a bad feeling in his gut where he stared at the uniformed men for too long. When he studied their logo for too long. A sickly pit in his stomach he couldn’t explain, as if instinct alone was screaming at him to keep away. As if they secreted a stench he couldn’t smell, but his subconscious new the dangers of all too well.

In the CCC workers hands were some bloodied Toppats being escorted to who knows where. Prison probably. 
One of the Toppats looked up in Henry’s direction for seemingly no reason. He wore a solum mask of hurt and defeat like every other Toppat Henry had seen pass this tent in the last 5 minutes. His face had a dried-out gash down one side, and above a dark bruise was forming. The Toppat looked old, in his late 50s (, and had likely been looking forward to the retirement the rocket launch would have meant for him). His grey-white hair was thinning out, the original colour long since faded away to age, but a hint of brown to his moustache suggested a similar colour to his eyes had once been present.

The Toppats eyes lingered on Henry, defeat falling away to a glowing spark of recognition. It took Henry a minute longer of holding the eye contact till he realised why he’d caused the Toppat to have that reaction.
It was Wilhelm Kreghaus. The senior elite he’d bone melted back on the Toppat Airship 8 months ago. Henry was aware he always survived the incident, but he hadn’t been expecting to see him so soon after.

Wilhelm opened his mouth, ready to call out, but Henry broke eye contact looking away. He knew Kreghaus well. He’d been the easier Elite to befriend. The most willing to trust. 
He was always so open and friendly. His veteran member year count had made him a fantastic resource for Henry to learn about the elites who wouldn’t open up to him, or how to make those who were more stubborn drop their guard. What Henry also knew about him was his incredible memory and knack for facial recognition. 

Wilhelm remembered him. 
He remembered him, and wanted answers.

“Move it Old Timer.” A Chaos worker ordered. 

Henry risked looking up again, and saw Wilhelm already out of sight. 
Behind him were 4 other Toppats, who also looked at Henry, but none of them showed the same recognition. Not that they should. Henry hadn’t met any of them in this Triple Threat run; Slice, Mannaki, Dao and Albert Poshly. 4 Toppat Elites, 3 of whom were devision Heads. 
That must have meant they nearly had them all, right? 
Or maybe they already did?

Sven Svensson would still be on the rocket. Reginald Copperbottom and his Right Hand were locked up in some Government facility, which left 4 elites unaccounted for: Ahnoldt Schwarz, Burt Curtis, Carol Cross, and Mr Macbeth. 
Henry had gotten to know 3 of the 4 well, so he wasn’t too worried about not knowing their exact locations

Burt Curtis is Sven’s best friends. The pair are very close, exceptionally close, with a relationship that could rival that of Reginald and Right Hand Mans. If Henry had to guess, Burt is still on the rocket looking for Sven.

Ahnoldt Schwarz is generally regarded as annoying by those who don’t look past his volume and boisterous nature. He’s normally partnered up with some unfortunate elite, so if he’s not here with Wilhelm, Henry put his money on him bothering Mr Macbeth. 

Mr Macbeth is grumpy, blunt to a fault and from outward appearances comes off as all bark and no bite. Despite what he does and doesn’t let show on his surface, he’s fiercely loyal to the Toppat Clan and its members, which he cares for deeply. He’s likely still on the Rocket, either out cold from Ellie, or has Ahnoldt assisting him with evacuation efforts.
Which left Carol Cross. 

Carol Cross is short-tempered and not afraid to give you a piece of her mind for simply looking at her funny. Henry didn’t know enough about her to make any assumptions. He’d tried to befriend her several times, but she refuses to trust anyone, even those she appears to have known for years, giving Henry no chance. 

He hoped she had already been apprehended.
Of the the 4 elites Henry hadn’t accounted for, her and Ahnoldt were the only two with the relevant experience to run the Toppat Clan, and only Carol could do it successfully. 
Ahnoldt with his unique accent and volume was great for commanding large teams and operations, that’s why he was on every major heist. But he severely lacked the quick thinking and strategic skills that came naturally to the better leaders like Reginald, Sven and Carol. Quick thinking & strategic skills that would be vital for the Clan to recover and have any chance at rebuilding their numbers. 
He could lead sure, but not as well as those three and even then, there was no guarantee even Cross was fit to save the Toppat Clan: She had her faults too.

How can people trust a leader who won’t trust them in return?

“How long were you one of those guys for?”

Henry winced, turning his attention to Ellie. 
She hadn’t spoken to him since they’d gotten off the helicopter and Henry had hoped that meant they weren’t going to be doing this today. That, she wasn’t going to want her answers today. 
This evening. 
Right now.
Here.

Henry sighed, “In total? Maybe… 7… 8 years?”
Ellies jaw slacked, “Seriously? And you gave it all up for me and that Government pilot?”
“Not all time was spent as leader…” Henry argued, figuring that might be what had her almost speechless. “Only 4 years leader, and 2 of that with you as my second in command. Rest is guess for odd runs and shorter stays.”
“And you just… gave all that up?”
Henry kicked at the ground, “…” He didn’t need the reminder.

“We… really mean that much to you?” Ellie looked away. “It’s just… it’s a weird concept for me. To have someone who cares about me. Someone who’s still half-stranger, you know?”
“Not stranger, family.” Henry said.
“To you, I’m willing believe that,” Ellie countered. “But try put yourself in my shoes.”

When Henry couldn’t find the words to answer, Ellie spoken again. 

“Why did you start? I mean, going back and redoing everything? Why do in the first place it if you were so happy with this ending?”
Henry signed, “Curiosity.” 
…He’d have to get this out of the way eventually. 

“First time was Toppat Leader alone. I died a few times to get to the end, so knew I had power to go back. One day… I got curious. Wondered what would happen if I had done something differently, so I reset everything and tried again. Tried something different.
Second time I worked with Charles, became Privet Investigator for Government; That was fun. It was all fun to start with, I wanted to know what other options there were.”
Ellie tutted, “That’s stupid, there’s endless possibilities of how things could g-“
“16,” 

Ellie fell quiet and stared. 

“16 endings where I live. Guess this one now makes 17.” Henry explained.
“That’s…” Ellie looked at the ground briefly, “So, one of these 16 endings is where you, me and blondie were friends then? 
“6th ending,” Henry nodded. “We were Toppat recruits. Sven suppose to be your mentor, but didn’t work out that way. You liked him, we dragged him along on our missions, became close friends, he was like our Charles, but…” He wasn’t. He wasn’t anything like Charles and the more Henry realised that, the more sick it made him feel to see the blonde Toppat. “Didn’t go further than that. Got curious again. Reset to try different set of events.”
Ellie didn’t press for him details.“So, what about this one? With me, you and Charles?”
“Triple Threat General called us: Best team in Government- we were…” Henry’s smile fell cold. “This… this isn’t the same. Never heard of Katie before this week, Rupert doesn’t hate my guts, Toppats shouldn’t be escaping Rocket, the CCC shouldn’t be here,” Henry said listing off the errors. “Us three friends together same, but…” how long would it stay like that?
The Toppat Clan was escaping, and to make matters worse, they’re being slaughtered. 

The Clan had been angry and had a grudge against him last time for just getting them arrested, but… now? When he’s actively apart of the slaughter of their countless friends and family?
Henry shivered. 
He wouldn’t put it past the clan to hunt the three of them down like witches in the 1600s.

“What happened to us?” Ellie asked, with a look of concern, “The triple Threat, I mean. Was it the Toppats? You really seemed to hate blondie.”
Henry gritted his teeth and spat, “His fault.”
The weakest member of the Toppat elites. The one who everything went wrong for no matter what ending, no matter what happened. Every time Sven fell into leadership the clan fell to pieces around him. 
And yet…
Henry didn’t know how he did it. 
How he beat him. 
He shouldn’t have been able to.
He- 

“Why not just go back and stop the Toppats then? Why… why all this?” Ellie waved her hand at another group of soldiers running past with a pair of injured Toppats. 

“Couldn’t stop it. I…” Henry rubbed at his face with the back of his sleeve, to stop the tears before they had a chance to start. “I couldn’t beat him. I couldn’t beat Sven. Tried and tried and tried. Always ended the same. Nothing I could do, nothing I could change. In the end… I always lost you both.”

“This… this was last hope. Last chance.” Henry explained, acknowledging the mess he’d helped create around them. “Thought if I make big enough change at the start, prevent an event which I can’t fix later from happening, get Rupert to trust me this time… I thought I could outdo Sven. I thought if Rupert trusted me… we could save you both this time. But…”
Ellie put a hand on Henry shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile, “But it will work this time, right?”
He didn’t… 
He couldn’t… there was no way to know, if… “Sven able to remember too. Didn’t know he could before. That changes things. He shouldn’t. No one else can remember, but…” Henry locked eyes with Ellie, “Maybe explain why I couldn’t save you before. Maybe he could remember then too. Was able to adjust to changes I made somehow?”
“That would make sense. Well, as much sense as time travel and alternative timeline can make,” Ellie laughed. “He did seem pretty upset. Do you know what exactly we did to hi-”

The flaps of the tent flew open, Charles storming out first, Galeforce close behind. 
“Charlie, my hands were tried. There was nothing I could do! This… this is the best outcome-“
“BEST OUTCOME! You call all this hurt and death the ‘best outcome’?!?”
“Please, would you listen to me Charlie. The Chaos Containment Centre were going to blow the rocket out of the sky and kill EVERYONE, which would have led to thousands of innocent deaths in the towns below, and even more Toppats. This was the better option!”
Charles shook his head, “You lied to me! You told me we were going to stop the Rocket from going to space by changing the coordinates, not preparing it for a mass funeral! A-and, and… why was THIS the best outcome! I get their the bad guys and it’s our job to stop them from hurting others, but you still haven’t told me why this was the answer!?”
Galeforce looked at Ellie and Henry. Ellie folded her arms scowling. Henry raised an eyebrow. They wanted answers too and they weren’t helping Galeforce out of his own hole.

The general sighed defeated. He held open the flaps to his tent again, seemingly an invite to all this time. The Triple Threat didn’t move. 

Galeforce dropped the flaps taking the hint. 
“The CCC wouldn’t tell me the details asides from the Clan’s plans for world domination through the use of some weapon called ‘Supreme Dominance’-” 

WHAT!

That… that wasn’t right. 
The Toppat Clan didn’t want world domination. 
They… they wanted safety; security. That was all the Space Station plans had ever been about: A safe place they could retreat to away from the worlds powers. And ‘Supreme Dominance’ wasn’t a weapon. It was just the fancy name Reginald had given their asteroid defence system.
 
Henry shook his head and cut the general off from where ever he’d gotten to, “Information from where?” He crocked. 
Someone must have been framing them. Another Clan maybe? Maybe the CCC made it all up. None of it was right, someone had done it on purpose-
“They got information from The Wall, Henry.” 
No, no, no… it- it can’t be… 
“An anonymous source sent them a USB full of information about the Toppat Clan and its plans once the Rocket got into space,” Galeforce explained. “Given the nature of what was on it, they decide the Toppats were a threat which must be neutralised immediately.” 

Henry felt numb.
He felt sick. 
He felt ill.

Charles shook his head. “But… there’s no evidence to prove that’s what they were going to do! It could have just been someone’s idea of a prank, or… or… one of their rival gangs trying to get rid of them.”
“That wasn’t a risk we could take Charles-“
Charles threw his fists against his sides, “Which makes lying to me okay?!”
“My hands were tied, I needed you on the team. You’re the best pilot we have. The mission couldn’t have been done without your and Henry’s co-operation. The lie was… necessary to guarantee our success.” 

Galeforce sighed, “Scaring the Toppats into fleeing with escapes pods was the best option we had to minimise causalities. We have the codes for their cameras from the anonymous information, we tracked who went into which pods, allowing us more control in only targeting those with members who’d been picked out as the highest risk.”
Galeforce put a hand on Charles shoulder, his eyes softening. “I would have preferred to arrest them all too, but… Yes, it still kills some innocent Charlie… but less."
“Don’t call me ‘Charlie’, it’s Calvin,” Charles announced pushing the hand off. “And with all due respect sir, I’ve heard enough and like to be dismissed now.”
“Denied.” Galeforce said, his voice stern. 
Charles glared with the coldest eye’s Henry had ever see- no. He’d seen them once before. He’d seen them in that ending. When they’d been sitting together in that bar. The cold snow storm raging outside, the mission above them waiting to change everything; he’d only done that ending once.

Charles turned around and one foot in front of the other, he walked away. 
“Charlie, I said denied.” Galeforce repeated. 
“Charles!” Galeforce followed him. “CHARLES CALVIN!”

“You okay?” 
“Henry?”

Henry felt Ellie elbow him and he looked up. 
“What?” She whispered. 
Henry broke eye contact and looked around the at the chaos. The chaos he’d caused. “This wasn’t part of plan,” Henry said quietly. “Back up plan. Extra info on Toppats was backup plan in case… so they wouldn’t escape from The Wall… it wasn’t meant to… I didn’t mean for this.”
Ellie’s eyes widened. “You gave them that information!”
“I-I… I wanted to be sure. I… I couldn’t… I can’t keep reliving this over and over. I can’t keep watching you die again and again! I thought…”
Ellie shook her head, “Fucking hell Henry. What have you done?”
He didn’t mean for this, he- “World domination isn’t true. I didn’t put that in it, I-“
Ellie glared at him coldly.

“I’m going to go talk to Charles,” Ellie said looking away. “Maybe I can talk some sense into him before he does something stupid.” Ellie said.
“Ellie, I-“
“You!” Ellie snapped, “You can start thinking about how you’re going to tell him the truth! We are NOT keeping this under the rug, you hear me!”
Henry stepped back, “H-he doesn’t need to-“
“Yes he does. You need every ally you can get right now. Do you have ANY idea how much danger we’re in? How much danger YOUR in? The Chaos Containment Center and Wall are F R I E N D S!”
Henry shrank back.
“What do you think’ll happen once they find out the information came from you? Do you have any idea what they’ll do to you if they know you’ve got the ability to manipulate time?!”
“…”
Ellie lowered her shoulders, her anger slipping away. “For a guy who supposedly knows a lot, you don’t know much about anything Henry.”
“…”
“Do you know why Katie is so scared of the CCC?” Ellie asked. 
Henry shook his head.
“It because we both know what lengths they’re willing to go to get what they want, and this-“ Ellie said, pulling off her fingerless gloves to expose her wrists. “This is just the start!”

Henry had seen the scars on Ellies wrists before, deep rough skin that went all the way round, like they’d been tightly bound and cut into for years, but…
She’d always said… 
She’d always refused to tell him…

“I didn’t mean to cause this…” Henry whimpered, his voice shaking. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

Ellie put a hand on Henry’s shoulder, and met his eyes. “You chose me over blondie. Me over the chance to be a criminal overlord king,” She said plainly. “I might not know you that well yet, or what the fuck was going through your mind when you thought THIS was a good idea, but… I’m willing to take a chance on you. You had to take a chance on me to even start this mess and… we are the Triple Threat, aren’t we?”
Henry nodded, wiping at his watering eyes. 
Ellie flashed him a smile, patting him hard on the back. “Then let’s go fix this.”

Galeforce came back into sight and blocked their path.
“Not you,” He said to Henry, the bitterness from his argument with Charles still present. “I… we need your help Henry.” He met Ellie’s eyes next, “And you as well. Henry will need a friend on this one.”
“Sir?” Henry frowned. 
“It’s the Toppat’s, the ones from the Airship devision-“ 
Henry felt his eyes widen. No, no, no. 
“We’ve just received word they’ve escaped.”

Chapter Text

[ Elsewhere during the Toppat Raid - Ben Mccoy]

“The Toppat’s have breached the Government confinement, large group heading due west. We have confirmation they are armed. Delta B-12 begin your pursuit.”

Ben raised his finger to the receiver in his ear, “Order received. Following at distance, will engage & terminate once target is located.”

He removed his hand and took a deep breath in and out.

This is it. If one of his friends is in that group of Toppat’s… he’ll find them.

One is Government, one is Toppat. That’s the theory they’re working on.

One H-404.d, the other an unknown Gen 1 or 2 test subject.

They’d narrowed down the airship crew the best they could, albeit limited without informing the Government to the extent of their reason for searching. They’d done their best to narrow this list down to an approximate age group, prioritising members with an unknown or vague background.

As far as they could tell, only three members of the Airship devision had escaped initial arrest, so their odds of finding them were pretty high. Narrow them three down again by approximate age and what they had on record left one possibility: some young elite going by the alias ‘Slice’. He fit the assumed description, age & lack of background for H-404.d, but so did 12 other Toppat’s who hadn’t escaped the Airship devision. And none of that even touched on the fact that the unknown Gen 1 or 2 could have simply lied about their background in the first place.

If H-404.d isn’t that escaped elite, he’ll find them, and he’ll bring them home. And if not… well, he’s still got the mission no.2: Target 2A, and the chance of running into to an unknown Gen 1 or 2 test subject was still on the table.

Ben pulled out the picture of the target 2A he’d been given. An individual who’d been flagged in their work with the Government. A dangerous Toppat who could be just what one of their clients had been looking for, and given the timeline information they’d scrapped off that USB the Wall had received, well, his job was as easy as locate & retrieve the Right Hand Man.

Ben’s phone buzzed in his pocket, causing him to pause a moment longer on the ledge he perched on. He pulled the phone out and quickly flipped to the new message.

[Ben - 14:25] Are we really doing the right thing?

[Finn - 14:53] :)

He frowned at the response. He’d almost forget he’d sent her that on the way here. He hadn’t gotten a response immediately, so he’d assumed he must have missed her. That she was already working on her part of the plan with the Government and their guys. They must be done by now then. The Toppat’s rocket sitting pretty in the Wall’s courtyard.

He was about to put the phone away when it buzzed again.

[Finn - 14:54] 🩺🚫❌ in ur 🎧?

Ben glanced up checking the Toppat’s direction & pace in the distance. Phone still in hand he started trailing them, glancing up every few seconds.

[Ben - 14:56] That obvious?

[Finn - 14:56] :D

[Finn - 14:57] 🩺👿🔥 = 🫵

[Ben - 14:58] Use your words.

Ben typed back annoyed, not wanting to play her usual games while he’s on the job with his attention and focus needed elsewhere.

[Finn - 14:59] *LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG sigh* Kill joy :(

[Finn - 15:00] You worry too much and the old doc is grouchy regardless of what we do or say :P

Doesn’t matter if it’s ✅ or ❌. U the one who say all that matter is with have each other, remember? Besides! This is fun 🫠

Well, she had a point there and he had told her that. Regardless of what had and would continue to happen, they did and would always have each other.

The Phone buzzed again.

[Finn -15:04] How u doing? 🔭

[Ben - 15:05] Pursuing Airship hats. How’s everything your side?

[Finn - 15:06] 2C body secured, tracking target 2B. Government cleaning up, lol 🧹

Ben’s fingers paused over the screen, before he started typing again.

[Ben - 15:07] Finn…

[Ben - 15:07] What did you do?

[Finn - 15:08] 🚀+ 🧨 = 🎆 💀 x2

[Ben - 15:09] FINN!

[Ben - 15:09] We needed at least ONE elite ALIVE.

[Finn - 15:11] Technically only need one body. They do to him, what did do you 🙃

Ben stared at the screen in disbelief.

She can’t…

She can’t be serious?

[Ben - 15:12] Just because they can do that, doesn’t mean they should!

[Finn - 15:13] But u fine :P

[Ben - 15:13] Not the point!

Ben relocated the Toppat’s, seeing they’d reached a clearing; Time for the next phase of the plan. He signed, lifting the phone up one last time.

[Ben - 15:15] We’ll continue this later.

He put the phone away and shook his head. Unbelievable. Unbelievable!

He knew he should have pushed harder for them to be on the same team. He knew she’d do things her way and not follow orders, but no. What does he know?

…

Nothing Dr.Thomas wanted to hear at least…

[Meanwhile - Right Hand Man]

“How much further?” Right Hand Man asked.

Reginald Copperbottom elbowed him softly, his glance telling him to relax, to be patient. No offence to him, but they both knew the only person here capable of being patient right now was Reginald, and even then, he wasn’t managing the relax part.

“There’s a mineshaft not too far after this river. Once we get in there we’ll be able to lose them.”Herb, the Airship’s crane guy told their group of 16.

“And ourselves.” Thomas Chestershire grumbled from the back of the group.

“Relax Chester’, I grew up playing in mines and I spent my time working in them before joining the clan. As long as you guys stay close you’ll be fine.”

“And the guards?” Someone else asked.

There was a collective wince from the group. They’d been trying to forget about them. They’d nearly been out gunned about a half-mile back and were now low on ammunition and options. It wouldn’t take long for the guards to catch up. Not while their group was on foot with injuries from that blast.

The blast.

Whether it was a terrorist attack on the prison or… whatever it was, that blast had given them the opportunity they’d spent the last 8 months waiting for: A way out.

They’d grouped up with all the members they could find, Reginald leading the way as they made their way out of there before the reinforcements had come. Some of the prison officers had pursued them, but between himself, Hanz Spearman, Quickdraw and Sureshot Sherman, they’d made quick work of them. If Right had to guess, Quickdraw’s crappy shots mustn’t have killed one, and one was all it took to radio in their position and send the actual armada after them.

Herb shrugged at the question. “A couple of well placed cave-in’s should do the job for anyone dumb enough to follow us.”

“And if that doesn’t work, or get’s us all flattened?” Hansom Harold asked continuing to fan the flames of skepticism in the air.

Herbs pace slowed, “Well um… I hope you’re all good swimmers.”

Right saw Reginald tense and took his turn to give a reassuring elbow to the side.

“Relax, no-ones going for a swim as long as I’m here,” Right announced to the whole group, mostly for Reginald’s peace of mind, but also everyone else’s. Reginald had told him about his ‘not’ fear of fast following rivers, as clearly evident on the leaders expression at the mention of ‘swimming’. Besides, that ravine down below them wasn’t exactly enticing with those sloshing grey waters, and he’d swam in those enough times to know that looks didn’t tell you anything about the danger hidden under the surface. A fast current, jagged rocks, underwater cave systems you could get sucked into…. Yeah, no thank you.

Reginald nodded in quick agreement to Rights statement, his confident smile gaining them some smiles back from the weary group of escapees. The leader moved from the mid position in the group to walk more upfront with Herb, and Right could hear him asking some more questions regarding the mines and options once they got out at the other side.

They had briefly discussed their options beforehand, which, while limited, seemed to be enough to get them to the nearest Toppat outpost to rest. From there they could make contact with the rest of the Clan and hopefully disappear off the authorities radar for a while.

This calm discussion came to an abrupt end when a tree to their left was blown to smithereens, the shattered branches flying around them. Panicked screams and shrieks erupted, as some got hit by larger branches knocking them over, and all felt their expose skin get torn up by the flying shrapnel and splinters.

Uh oh.

“Not again!” Thomas cried duking into the nearest tree line with Geoffrey and others close behind. “I thought we lost them!”

“FUCKING HELL!” Quickdraw screamed from the back of the group over Thomas’s panic, “They sent the bloody CCC after us!”

They-

Right came to an abrupt stop turning to see exactly who Quickdraw was pointing at.

It was one CCC worker. One single CCC worker stood on top of a ridge looking down at them. The blue uniform gave them away, and the over-advanced laser gun the person looked to be holding in their left arm only clarified it further.

Right felt sick looking at them. From here he couldn’t figure out exactly who it was, but given that familiar pit in his stomach, he probably wouldn’t be wrong in assuming they’d know who he was with enough observation.

God damn it!

He hadn’t had to deal with these bastards in 12 years.

“Right Hand Man?”

Reginald hesitated in his movement, the other members having more sense to follow Herb yelling about a shortcut under some tree cover.

Right tightened his fists, “Go. I got this.”

Reginald didn’t move and Right was quick to figure out why.

This was just like back on the Airship when he refused to leave. He’d blown up, gotten angry and although he’d gone through with his orders in the end, he’d done so dragging his his feet. He didn’t want to leave Reginald behind- he wouldn’t EVER make that mistake twice, but here and now he was asking Reginald to do the same thing: To leave him behind.

Reginald walked forward until the pair were face to face. He took Rights right hand in his own and guided it up to his neck and down the chain he wore, leading to the ring attached at the end. Opening his hand, he closed Rights around his wedding ring.

He said nothing. Gloved hand tightly gripped over his own. 

“I gotta do this, the Clan goes first, remember?”

Reginald laughed coldly, “I did say that, didn’t I?”

Right careful moved a stray curly lock from Reginald’s eyes- he needs a hair cut, “I’ll be right back. ‘m gonna go burn some pent up energy, is all. You know I’ve been itching for a little violence~”

“You always are,” Reginald smiled.

Sureshot paused at the edge of the tree line with Sledge MacRush. “Chief?”

Right gave Reginald a little peak on the lips, “Try stay out of trouble till ‘m back.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t make any promises about that~”

Right let go, and took a few steps back. “Oi, you two! Don’t let ‘im get shot. I’ll catch up!”Sureshot glanced at MacRush, “But, if that’s the CCC… you know what they do to guys like you right?”

MacRush nodding in quick agreement, “Every Toppat which has ever had a run in with ‘em has never been seen agi-“

“Of course I know!” Right snapped over the pairs concerns. “But they don’t know what I’ll do to ‘em.” Right smiled punching into his fist with a crackle of red sparks exploding around the collision site.

The pair didn’t seem particularly convinced, but they didn’t need to be.

Reginald stepped back towards MacRush & Sureshot, “Alright,” He said. “We will wait for you at the entrance to the shaft, but if your not with us in 10 minutes-“

Right huffed at him and smirked, “I only need 5. Now move it!”

Right turned from Reginald and walked into the clearing towards the hill their hunter was on. Once he couldn’t see the other Toppats, he lifted his hands from his side, ready: He’s got this.

He punched into his hand feeling the excitement bubbling up inside him. It had been SO long since he’d gotten to beat some good guys up. He couldn’t wait.

“DOWN HERE YA FUCKING COWARD!” Right called, “COME AND GET ME!”

The guy on the hill nodded and jumped forward, riding a small avalanche of rocks down its face to the bottom.

He was a CCC worker alright. Vibrant yellow eyes, snow white hair and a smile ready for action. What Right thought was a gun from the distance was actually a cybernetic arm- which could prove to be a problem. This guy also had some weird looking scar going up the left side of his face. It was kinda like the one Striker has (,one of the guys in the clan who got struck by lighting on his first day & lived to tell the tale).

The CCC guy looked familiar, there was something about him Right couldn’t place. Some weird feeling nagging at him in his gut. He knew this guy, he just couldn’t place a name to the face. He couldn’t place anything to the face. It was the energy he gave off, it was the feeling in the air. It hinted at something instinctual. Something he couldn’t explain.

He knew this guy, whether he remembered them or not.

The guy across from him had a similar expression of curious confusion. However, based on the frown it was fair to say nothing was clicking for him either.

Welp, none of them would be getting answers then, and given their current opposition positions, they weren’t going to ask the other what was so familiar.

It didn’t matter to Right. Anyone who worked for that company… they were all the same in the end: Better off dead.

“So, you’re the Toppat Clan’s Right Hand Man,” The guy said. “Your mugshot doesn’t do you justice. I’ll ask ‘em to retake it for you when I bring you in.”

Right just laughed. “Bold of you to assume I’ll go down without a fight.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from the Toppat Clan’s Right Hand~” The CCC worked smiled back, cracking his real knuckles. “Tho tell me Mr Right Hand…” The guy stretched out his robotic arm next, “Do you know anything about a Project Harmonious? We’re looking for a kid by the name of H-40-“

Right was moving before the guy had finished his question. The word ‘harmonious’ enough of an indication of how much trouble he was in; They hadn’t given up looking.

The CCC worker dodged his first punch, and caught the next. “Touchy subject?”

Right snatched his fists back, “I ain’t helping you with your messed up plans, so don’t bother askin’!”

“I dunno~” The CCC worker smirked, “Maybe I’m wrong but that seemed almost personal.”

Right went in for another swing, the worker blocked the first, but missed the second.

Right landed a hard punch in the guys gut, “You made it personal when you started attacking’ my clan-mates Cyborg!”

The worker recoiled, stumbling back a few steps, “Y-you know what I meant Mr Right Hand.”

Right narrowed his eyes.

“And the name’s ‘Ben’.”

“Uh-huh.” Sure, whatever.

Ben recovered quick enough. He was quick on his feet and easily dogged Right’s following attack.

Despite everything, his smile remained steady.

“I’ve got orders I can let you and your friends go if you answer my question. I’m here looking for information, not a fight.” Ben explained.

“I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’!” Right tightened his fists and they collided with great furry against Ben’s blocking arms. Ben rolled his eyes at the attempt, jumping back a few meters so Right couldn’t keep bombarding him with blows. “At least hear me out.”

Right’s silence was taken as permission for Ben to continue. “The individual we’re looking for is highly dangerous and skilled. Their abilities are highly unstable and could cost the lives of everyone. We’re trying to apprehend them before they cause irreversible damage. The kids name is H-404d, they’re roughly in their mid 20s or 30s.”

Pale hair, blue eyes, shy and quiet-

Right forced the image away with a shake of the head, “Kid’s aren’t dangerous. They just get scared, especially when you corner and provoked ‘em into overreacting!”

“That doesn’t matter! We’re trying to prevent a disaster. We’re trying to save our world from falling into ruin.” Ben’s calm face flickered with frustration. “Look, there won’t be a Toppat Clan if there isn’t a world for them to exist in, so help me out here. It’s in your best interest to cooperate!” 

Right nearly chocked on his own laughter.

His best interest?

HIS BEST INTEREST!

Right Hand Man just laughed coldly at the guy. “You really think I’m stupid? You think we don’t know what you get up to with your secret objectives? The stuff you carry out in the shadows? The Clan has eyes and ear everywhere. We know what you guys really do, so don’t try sugar coat it with all that goodie-two-shoes bullshit.”

Ben said nothing. 

Right continued, “You’re hunting him cause you can. This ain’t got shit to do with ‘saving the world’. It’s all about what he can do for you. What you need him to do to make your fucked-up experiment successful; We’re done talkin’.”

What a load of bs. Right might have laughed more if how brainwashed this guy was, wasn’t borderline concerning. The higher up’s really kept the guys doing their dirty work in the dark, huh?

Or maybe he genuinely didn’t know. Or actually believed the stories they’d been fed.

Nothing wouldn’t make a difference to how this would end.

“ ‘Him’.”

Huh?

Ben smirked and repeated himself. “You said ‘him’. You do know something. You know who H-404d is, and if I had to guess, you know where I can find them too, or maybe… maybe he’s stood right in front of me~”

… shit.

“I ain’t tellin’ you nothing!” Right argued, feeling his anger bubble, feeling the crackling energy that zipped through his veins. He wants nothing more than to squish this guy like an ant.

“Ooooo,” Ben said with a mocking interest. “You’re WAAAAAAY too angry to be him, but that doesn’t mean you don’t know him for another reason. Now that I think about it, that kind of temper better fits B-42~“

Right shut his mouth, teeth firmly held together. Where was Reginald when you needed hi- right, he sent him away for his own safety.

Shit.

Reginald could defuse this whole thing in 10 words or less. Brush it all off as a misunderstanding, or whatever he fancied and people would believe him. Reginald had a way with words which remained a mystery to Right, despite all their years together. His other half could get anyone to eat out of the palm of his hand with the correct combination of words and phrases. Right was more suited to cause destruction with his.

Still, he hadn’t spent the last 10 years as Right Hand and not picked up a thing or two.

“You think too much Cyborg,” Right shook his head in a fashion which mimicked how Reginald told off the clans kids for running in the hallways. “Maybe I know about you’re not-so-secret project ‘cause ‘m the Clan’s Right Hand, cause I’m second in Command, and I have to read ‘bout the shit you sicko’s come up with.”

“Well then…” Ben said, his friendly smile falling away. “I guess we are done talking.”

The cyborgs arm shifted, mechanical parts whirling and humming. His pushed his shoulder outwards, extending his fingers, one by one, they opened out, coming together to form the barrel of the gun.

Uh o-

Right jumped to the side dodging a blast from the cyborg arm, then the following three which forced him back into the tree line; He needs to take that gun out, NOW.

He pulled out the pistol he’d taken from one of the guards back at the prison, then frowned at it briefly. He ignored the feeling of disappointment with the small size, and returned fire; any gun was better than no gun.

Ben dodge the first bullet, and the second ricochet off the metal work of his arm.

The third bullet was even more off target than the first two, landing somewhere between two sections of metal.

There was a loud crunch, and Ben scowled down at his arm for a split second; a weak spot.

Right used the tree cover to his advantage, dogging the incoming blasts and taking cover from those too near. He fired a few more rounds off, but Ben must have caught on, keeping the area he’d initially hit unreachable.

He’ll have to get closer, and for that… he needs a distraction.

“You seems to enjoy talking ‘bout this little project of yours, so why don’t you tell me more about it.”

The CCC worker gave him a sidewards smile, as he twisted something on the metal gun-arm.“Last time I checked, the villain gives the monologue, not the hero,” The worker frowned.

Right sputtered, then broke out into a hardy laugh. “Please! You’re anything but a hero.”

Ben’s eyes flashed a bright sunflower-yellow. “YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT ME TOPPAT!” Right smiled: there we go.

Right causally shrugged, moving a tree closer. “Well last time I checked hero’s don’t going experimentin’ on kids, and breakin’ their limbs just to see how they’ll react.”

Ben’s eyes glowed bright again, his weird face-scar also looking oddly brighter. “I wasn’t apart of that!”

Ha, oh, Right had the perfect come back. Reginald had told this to some poor sucker a couple years back: “Oh, so you’re just looking for one of them to give ‘em an ‘apology card’ for your boss, how sweet of you~”

“You think I have a choice in this?! Do you think I do this because I want to hurt people!”

“Everyone has a choice Ben,” Right said moving forward another tree to doge an incoming blast. “No one’s makin’ ya do this. You can walk away, I might even let ya if you say ‘please’.” He wasn’t letting him walk away.

“Like I said: You don’t know anything about me,” Ben spat out.

“Then educate me!” Right yelled back, not because he cared about this guys sob-story, but because he could see the more rilled up he was getting, the less accurate & frequent his shots were becoming.

“HOW ABOUT YOU JUST STAND STILL AND LET ME SHOOT YOU!”

Right dodges the blast that came and felt a second miss behind him. The second must have hit a tree as he found himself blinded by wooden splinters and dust.

He didn’t see the third one coming, but he felt it.

Right lay on the ground for a minute longer than he wanted. He wasn’t sure where he’d been hit, but the left side of his face was consumed by a dull burning sensation, radiating up into his head and down into his left shoulder.

He had no idea if he’d been hit directly, or just grazed.

Opening his eyes didn’t help either. He vision was fuzzy and a mush of red blurry filled the left hand side. Actually, all opening his eyes did was create a stabbing headache as his vision failed to clarify.

“H-hey- y-your eye, are you okay?!”

Right’s vision cleared enough for him to make out the CCC worker coming towards him.

The knelt down next to him and apart of Right almost couldn’t believe his luck and this guys stupidity.

He grabbed Ben’s arm, pulling him off balance and down into the dirt with him.

“H-HEY! Get off!”

Right rolled over the guy, holding him down long enough to empty his guns load in the cybernetic shoulder. Ben struggled briefly under Right’s weight, but stopped once his shoulder sparked, and the life faded out of it.

That was one problem less.

“W-what?” Ben stuttered. “You think you won just because you unarmed me?!”

Right huffed, and pushed the guys head back down. Fucker did something to his eye, he couldn’t see shit. “They shouldn’t send inexperienced newbies out to do their dirty work.” Right grumbled, “I thought they would have learned that by now.”

“I’m NOT a newbie!”

“Uh huh,” Well you certainly fights like one.

Right adjusted his grip on the CCC worker, so he could feel his face with one hand, try asses the damage. It didn’t feel like anything was missing, just… wet. Wet and squishy. 

“You ain’t got it in you to kill kid, you’re too nice, too naive. Someone either sent you after us on a suicide mission, or thought you could be something you not.”

“…”

Right got off of him, gun still aimed and ready just in case.

“Go home kid.” He said. “Go home and get a different job. You’re lucky I ain’t in the mood to get blood on my hands anymore.”

Ben got up and brushed down his jacket, he briefly checked, and yes, Right had been successful in disarming the cybernetics. The arm hung at his side uselessly. The lack of another reaction suggested as he suspected, this guy didn’t have a handheld firearm on him.

Ben tighten his none mental hand, staring at the ground intently.

“‘Go home’,” He laughed. “You’re funny.”

He shook his head and looked back at Right Hand Man with a sad smile. “You make it sound like failure is an option for me.” Ben said, using his foot to removed his shoes.

Right watch him silent and tense. What is he planning?

“The guy in charge of this all, his name is Dr Thomas. He’s the only one left from the original project Harmonious from the 90s. Or maybe he’s the only one of them who wouldn’t give up on their deluded dream.” Ben shrugged with a bitter smile, “Or maybe you're right, and he really does just enjoy breaking limbs to see peoples reaction.”

Ben lifted his gaze from his feet to meet Right’s eyes. “If you walk away from this… then do yourself and H-404d a favour; Leave. You won’t win this war. He won’t stop until his dream is our reality. You can’t fight what you can’t stop, and this…” he pointed at himself and gave a half smile, “This isn’t the life anyone wants.”

What is this guy getting at?

“Why are you tellin’ me this?” Right asked when Ben said nothing more.

“You asked.” Ben rubbed one of his feet in the dirt absently, “You’re also wrong.”

“About…?”

Ben stomped his foot down and a pillar of rocks and dirt shot out at Right, he jumped back only just avoiding the collision.

Ben looked at him, determined eyes glowing a vibrant yellow, the crack on his facial scar radiating the same glow. “I can kill. I just don’t like too.”

3 more pillars of rock shot out from the ground next, each one grazing Right as he stumbled half-blind out of their way; this is bad. His vision is partly compromised, he doesn’t have a hope in hell of landing an accurate shot from anything but point blank and he ain’t getting in that close now. And none of this is even touching on the fact the CCC worker is a MANIPULATOR! The hell’s that about??? The company is working to eliminate their kind, so why are they hiring them suddenly???

Right dogged another rock column.

With few bullets and one functioning eye, there was only one way to make this a fight he stood a chance to win.

Right bent his knees, feeling the tingling sensation from his veins concentrate. He watched the next pillar of rock heading his way and counted down.

3…

2…

1…

He pushed his legs up releasing the energy which sprung him into the sky.

He lingered up there for a few seconds while his internal energy balanced itself with gravity, him using those precious seconds to evaluate and plan.

He smashed back into the earth with as much grace as a boulder being dropping into a lake.

The dust flew around the pair, but in those few seconds of arial view, Right was able to locate and punch Ben with the excess energy from his jump.

The dust settled quick, and Right could make out Ben wheezing a distance back.

“Y-you’re a manipulator too.” He chuckled coldly, “I thought the energy coming off you felt familiar.”

Right collected his energy again, this time punching through the incoming attack. The splitters of rock went everywhere, and the momentary distraction was enough for Right to get a kick in.

Ben was quicker, expecting it and blocked with ease. Another foot movement create a wall between them, preventing further conflict and giving the opposition a chance to recover.

Right frowned at the wall of mud and rock.

He’s using his feet to manipulate his attack, so he must need physical contact with the ground. Right glanced around looking for an idea, when he remembered something he’d seen while airborne. He sighed; Reginald is going to kill him.

“A manipulator working for the Chaos Containment Center,” Right announced. He jumped over the wall to regain a visual on his attacker. “They’ve really got you well and truly brainwashed, huh?”

Ben clenched his jaw. He split the wall in half and tried to crush Right with the wave of brown. Right jumped out the way of one half, then gathered his energy and smashed through the second with a half-turning kick. “Your quite suddenly, why’s that, can’t deny the truth?”

Ben lowered his head, avoiding Right’s eyes.

Right smirked: got him.

He gathered all the energy he had left and pounced.

Ben either didn’t see, or expect Right to turn himself into a human missile as the pair collide and tumble over the ledge.

The free fall was only momentary as it was interrupted by a !SPLASH!

The pair slipped through the mirky waves into the grey below. Pushing and shoving them deeper into the grey. Right had been expecting it, using some spare energy to launch himself up and through the surface into the cold air.

Right surfaces first and…

He’s the only one to surface.

He let the water carry him down stream for a bit, treading water as he waited. Searching the sloshing beast around him for signs of life. He expect Ben to surface any second now, gasping and spluttering, but he never does.

Still, Right finds it hard to relax, even if he’s won.

His attention is drawn back to the burning sensation in his face, the pain he’d shoved to the back of his mind, a pain dampened by the adrenaline of the fight.

He ran his shaky hand over the left side of his face and, yeah. Now that it was cleaned up of the dried blood and mud, it felt as bad as the pain was suggesting; Reginald is going to more than kill him.

At least the Clan is safe now.

At least he’s safe.

At least Reg is safe.

Right Hand Man looked around for the nearest ledge. It wasn’t too far off, and if he swam with the current he’d have enough energy left to get to the ledge and hoist himself out.

He chuckled, at least that was one advantage that came with him and his broken ability. Even if he can’t absorb extra energy from around him anymore, he still has full control over how his body uses its energy reserve.

Right begins a slow swim towards the side, when the odd churning of the water catches his attention. The water sloshes back and forth, the rhyme unnatural. Changing faster then slow, only too late does he realise why.

He can manipulate water too.

Walls of water shoot up around him, then crash down, forcing him back under. He feels a hand grab his arm, pushing it off to find Ben attempting to pull him down deeper.

Can he breathe under water- no, he’s holding his breath. Cheeks puffed like a chipmunk. But if he can manipulate dirt and water, what’s to say he can’t do air too?

He need to get out of this river.

Right kicks out, breaking free of Ben’s grasp. But no sooner than he does, the water above him rushes down spinning him around and back into Ben’s reach.

They tango in the water some more, both fighting to not drown in the currents. It becomes apparent that no, Ben can’t breathe underwater. He simply has a larger air capacity than Right Hand Man and his own abnormally large capacity.

Somethin’ ain't right with this guy.

A chaos manipulator who works for the CCC, voluntarily! Every manipulator Right’s ever talked to would rather die than help those sicko’s, so what gives with this one?

Right doesn’t have time to pursue the idea any further. He feels the squeeze of his lungs, the lightness in his head, his energy dwindling away. He needs air!

He manages to slip under Ben, spinning him around in the process. He used the guys disorienting to his advantage, kicking the heal of his boot down hard into the guys skull.

He doesn’t look down to see if it works. He looks up. Kicking with all the strength he has left, moving all the droplets of energy he has left into his legs.

The surface grows nearer.

The edges of his sight grow darker.

The colours above grow stronger, but so does the urge for air, the urges he can’t control.

He needs air.

He gasps.

The water rushing into his mouth and lungs.

That’s not air.

H-he can’t-

.

.

.

[Ben McCoy]

Ben walks down the staircase of water to the bottom of the waterfall. He easily steps off and onto solid ground, then pulls all the water from his clothing, collecting it in a dozen small balls. He discards the water-balls back into the river, ready to continue with his job.

It doesn’t take long to locate a bloodied body bobbing up and down in a rockery patch of the waterfalls base.

In truth, he doesn’t know what happened. If he had to guess, the Right Hand Man must have blacked out from a lack of air, as when Ben had surfaced, clutching the back of his skull which felt ready to split in two, he saw the Toppat Clan’s Right Hand go over the edge.

He pulls the Toppat from the water, and examines the damage.

Mangled left arm, bloodied and crushed left side of the face, and from a fall like that leading to a bed of hidden rocks, he wouldn’t be surprised if the guy was paralysed too, or at the very least had some spinal issues.

Despite all this, the Right Hand Man clung to life. His chest shakily rising and falling, water dribbling from his open mouth. He just clung to life.

Ben looked at him and couldn’t decide if ‘lucky’ was the word he wanted to use to describe the guys situation or not.

Ben raised his hand to his ear piece, took note of his shaking, then gave himself a moment to get it under control.

H-he… he’s fine. The Right Hand was just saying all that to get under his skin (and it worked). He probably got lessons from the Clan’s leader, his file had him down as a smooth talker. The pair were married, a close bond and all that jazz. It would be ignorant of him to assume they could be in that kind of relationship and not pick up skills from their other half.

That’s all that was, just a ploy to distract him in an attempt to get the upper-hand.

That turned out well for him, didn’t it?

“…"

He tapped his ear piece once, “T-target 2A, disarmed and ready for transport at 5.2 miles south from the original rendezvous location. Have medical on board, the targets injuries are serious, a-and I’ve got reason to believe there could be internal bleeding.”

“Heading to your location now, B-12. Stand by, arrival in 10 minutes.”

Ben looked down at the Right Hand. Does… does he even have 10 minutes?

He sighed, releasing some of the tension from his shoulders. Why does he care? He shouldn’t. The Right Hand was Right about one thing: He isn’t cut out for this line of work, he just… he doesn’t have a choice in it.

Maybe Dr Thomas thinks sending him on these missions will harden him up or some shit. Might him tougher. Make him feel less, like him… Well it doesn’t.

It just makes him feel worse every time he’s assigned one of these stupid missions. It’s just makes him regret the past more. It’s just another body on the list who’s voice will haunt him at night.

A bullet slices across the side of his left cheek. Ben doubled tapped his comm, the SOS to ‘hurry the fuck up’, then turned his attention to the unwanted guests.

Oh course they came back for their Right Hand, why would the Toppats make this easy for him?

One of the two Toppat’s jumps down from the ledge above, spear in hand and starts wildly stabbing in Ben’s direction.

Each stab seems completely unplanned, the randomness making it impossible to predict where to not move to avoid being hit.

The pair slide towards the river and waterfall base, and despite receiving no direct hits yet, the Toppat nearly succeeds in landing one. The blade cutting though Ben’s jacket & shirt, slicing the top layer of skin below.

Ben pushes the Spear-Toppat back with a waves of rocks, then creates two tight-together walls to jam that stupid spear with, and render it useless before he get’s something worse than a surface wound. One on one should be easy, but-

The bullets return from above this time. A few graze Ben’s shoulder, some getting stuck there, but none hit deep enough to immobilise him. The Toppat looks confused when he keeps moving, not crumpling in pain or reacting. Ben imagines they guys face if he knew that he was custom built to handle these kinds of injures the same way the Toppat would handle a paper cut.

He pushes the thought aside, noticing the river is directly behind him.

Ben dips one foot back into the mirky grey, creating a waver of water he sends upwards.

The Toppat falls out of the sky, landing back on the ground- he looks pissed. His expression mirrors that of the Right Hand upon finding out he had manipulator abilities.

I guess it really is frowned upon in their world, huh?

The Toppat moves his hands in a clapping motion, then pushes them out in Ben’s direction.

One ball of air hits him, pushing him back more over the river beds ledge. He increases the waters density to not fall in.

The next two shockwaves of air he blocks with a second wall of water. The Toppat blocks this one with ease, protecting himself and the spear guy, whose’s desperately trying to free his weapon.

Ben takes the few second he has to examine his new opponents: One is a spear welding Toppat, the other an air manipulator, and his abilities appears to let him harden air. That could be used defensively or offensively. 

He can work with this.

Hardening air isn’t control over it, so, if he’s right…

Ben takes a deep breath and holds it.

He raises one hand, and pictures the air molecules floating around them. With a solid picture in mind, he closes his open hand and pulls.

The air comes rushing towards him in a gale like wind, and both Toppat’s are oblivious to what he’s doing until it’s too late.

Their hands go to the throats and they start gasping, like fish out of water.

An easy victory.

At least the Right Hand Man had given him a challen-

!BANG!

Ben’s abilities fail, and the two Toppat’s in front of him fall down to their needs, coughing.

He tries to reactivate it, but his first breath in is shallow, and the left side of his chest burns.

He moves his hand to location of the pain, cautiously taking shallow breaths to minimise the stabbing sensation. He finds a wet patch, his jacket is turning a dark blue and his hand comes away with a warm red smudge. Shit.

Ben slowly turns around to locate the shooter, however the movement is still too quick, and irritates his chest with a second wave of pain.

He finds the Right Hand Man, laying up right, grinning like a cheshire cat.

Right smirks, “I-if ya gonna k-kill me… do the job right the first time.”

Ben stumbles back as a shockwave hits him. He takes a sharp breath and is hardly able to compose himself under the following wave of pain and nausea.

The Air Toppat is back on his feet, he’s grinning too.

Next to him the Spear Toppat has retrieved his spear.

That Toppat does a few test stabs at the air, then also grin, his a lot wider and a lot more unsettling compared to his colleagues.

Double shit.

Ben tries to manipulate the air, it’s the only chance he has on a fight 1 vs 3, but he can’t. He’ll chock himself out too if he can’t fill his lungs with air first.

He backs up to river bank edge. He can’t harden the waters density, he needs to focus on containing the blood filling his left lung. Keeping it inside his veins and not letting his self drown in it.

Ben looks the three Toppat’s over once more, and yes, he can’t win this, and he doesn’t intend to throw what life he has away trying.

With what energy he can muster, he create a large wall of mud and rock, using its cover as his chance to escape.

By the time the Air and Spear Toppat have knocked down a section of the wall to get through, he’s long gone, or more, well hidden. He watches them from within his tree canopy cover. Apart of him expects them to pursue, which one tries to. The air Toppat is halfway across the river when the Spear one calls back, and signals to the direction they’d left the Right Hand Man in.

The Air Toppat looks annoyed, frustrated even, but he relents.

Ben turns away from his view, fairly confident he’s safe. He leans back against the trees trunk, finger double, triple and quadruple tapping his comm.

His eyelids fall heavy, and he knows what’s coming next. He activates his tracking beacon and willingly lets the darkness consume him.

Chapter Text

[Elsewhere - Charles Calvin]

Charles jumped out of the helicopter first, then when Katie tried to follow, he stopped her. “Wait here,” He ordered. “It er… it could be dangerous, and there might Toppats around. Really angry Toppats.” 
Katie hesitated mid-step out of the helicopter, then pulled her leg back in. “A-and what if someone comes while you’re gone?”
“Hey, I’m right over there,” Charles beamed pointing to his catch. “Just yell and I’ll come right back!”
Thos hesitant, Katie nodded, retreating inside the aircraft. 

Charles sighed. 

He wasn’t actually THAT worried about some Toppat’s turning up, they were all probably… yeah. 

What he was worried about, was if he’d just fished a mangled corpse from that river and having Katie see that. Sure, it looked like whoever it was had been thrashing about, but given the strong current it was hard to tell if it was them, or the current. 
Man, if he knew he’d be body finishing he wouldn’t have let Katie stay on board, but he didn’t want to make her walk back through camp alone, not when it was crawling with those CCC guys that creeped her out, and… he didn’t want to be there a second longer than he had to. 
He just wanted to leave, so he did. He got out of their and into the sky to try forget about everything? Process what had happened. What he’d done. How he’d been used, how-

Not right now.

Charles approached the place where he sat the net down and luckily, he heard coughing, and a lot of it. So um… whoever it is, isn’t a mangled corpse then. 

“Hey, hang on, I’ll get you out!” Charles called, running over to the tangled mess of moving net. “Man, you're lucky I was flying over and my friend spotted you fall in the river, you just were just getting ready to head over that waterfall! That er… that probably wouldn’t have been pretty if you’d hit the bottom…”

Knelt beside the net, Charles could hardly make the person out through it and everything else he’d scooped out the water. The guy, from what he can tell, has white hair and some orange shirt on. It didn’t really look like military colours… did it? Unless they were wearing that under neither and had took off his top layer?

That’s not important right now. 

“Wow er, haha, you’re er, you’re pretty stuck,” Charles laughed, after a few minutes of them both failing to untangle or pull the guy free. The guy made what looked like a silent nodding motion.
“You er, you don’t seem like you’re doing too good either,” Charles frowned. He looked at the tangle of net in his hands and then the quiet guy trapped inside; he’s breathing hard. It could be from the amount of water he swallowed or the net could be tight around his neck.
Charles reached for his Swiss pocket knife, “Hold still, I’m gonna cut you out.” 

Choosing a safe spot to start, he dug the bade in and using a sawing motion, cutting the net loose from around the guy’s neck first. He carefully made his way down revealing the guys blue or green button up shirt. It was hard to tell with the fading light, but it didn’t look much like a CCC uniform either. Does everyone in the CCC wear a uniform? Don’t they just need a patch on their shirt somewhere?

“Dankeschön… erhm…”
Eh?
“I’m Charles.” He smiled, looking up from his cutting. 
He’d just finished around they guys face and could see the guy clearly now. He looked in really rough shape, lots of bruises and cuts on his exposed skin, and dull grey eyes squinted back at him. Despite that, he got a nod, tired features unable to hold a smile, but the guy managed an, “Ahnoldt.” Between his shaky coughs.

Charles didn’t recognise Ahnoldt’s name or face. His memory wasn’t always the best when it came to faces, and they had so many new ones wandering around he wouldn’t put it past himself to have already forgotten this guy. 
He’s squinting a lot.

“Did you er, loose your glasses, Ahnoldt?”
“Huh? Er… nie, no glasses. Just can’t see vell; you’re blurry. Maybe dirt in eyes?” Ahnoldt mumbled, with a thick accent and sloppy English- Was that German? 

Ahnoldt whipped at his face with one of his free hands, and Charles got the other out of the net giving him a second to rub his eyes with. 
Neither seemed to help. He continued to squint, now moving his hand to and from his face.

“Hey, there just a bit around you ankle now, so I’ll have you out in a minute and er, I guess I can get you back to your guys and they can check you out. ”Charles said, moving to get the last big knot out. “You’re from the CCC right? You’re not in Military uniform and I think I saw some of your guys earlier not wearing the standard blue’s.”
“Huh? How I got in the vater?” He confusedly asked, then shrugged, “Could have swon I vas swimming vith friends, but…” He shook his head, “That vouldn’t make sense. Last I actually remember, I just left Slice in the elevator and vas heading back to my quarters, and then… I blink and I’m in moving vater, can’t see shit and feel like shit.”

Charles pulled the cut net off. 
Okay, so… maybe this guy had a bit more than a concussion. He could work with that. Ahnoldt seemed nice enough, and he was pretty calm for just being fished out of a river racing. 
Maybe he’s in shock? 
A bit delirious? 
Shock and delirious?

He helped Ahnoldt to his feet and out of the net, getting his first good look at him, and-  he was defiantly not wearing military uniform and where’s the CCC patch? Isn’t that always on the upper left shoulder?

Ahnoldt stumbled forward, taking two steps before his legs gave out and he hit the ground. 

“H-hey! A-are you alright-“ He’s wearing civilian clothing. He can’t be from any of the organisation here, but-
Ahnoldt shook his head, face suddenly angry, “Just vait till I find vhich junior Toppat though this vould be funny! Probably laced my coffee or some shit, and thought me vaking up in river vould be funny. Tch, should tell them how you do prank safely, not dumb shit like this! Just vait till Cross get’s them, then they’ll-”
Charles took a step back, hand moving to his sidearm, “You’re a Toppat…”
Ahnoldt stopped rambling. He blinked hard. Rubbed at his eyes again, then squinted at the patch on Charles shoulder.

“…der Fick!”

The Toppat scooted back from Charles the best he could, finding himself unable to get up and run for the hills like he clearly wanted to. He pulled out a gun Charles hadn’t seen, holding it shakily. “Vhere am I?! Vhat did you do to me?!”
Charles raised his own fire arm. “I-I didn’t do anything. I told you, I saw you in the river and pulled you out. I thought you were a Chaos Containment Center worker!”

Who’d fallen out of their own aircraft and not been picked up again by their own. 
Of course he wasn’t. They would have swung back for him by now.

Ahnoldt held his gun shakily. He can’t shoot, can he?
His eye sight is compromised. That gun is his last resort. 
Maybe…
Maybe he can still talk him down?

“You probably hit your head on something in the river. Maybe they threw you out of their ship after picking you up from an escape pod.”
Ahnoldt shook his head, “CCC? Escape pod? Rettungskapsel von was?!”
What is that suppose to mean??? 
How’s he suppose to negotiate if he’s jumping between English and German???

“The er, you know… your Toppat rocket,” Charles tried again. “We, er… we raided you guys like… 2 hours ago. Today is- was, your rocket launch… do you remember that?”
“Y-you’re lying!” Ahnoldt’s eyes softened. “You’re…”
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

The Toppat dropped the gun, putting both hands on his head, face screwed up in pain.

“Are you-“ 
“N-NICHT BEWEGEN!” He yelled, “Ich werde schießen! Ich werde- ich werde-”
He patted around the ground in front of him, unable to see the gun not even a foot away. He might have a serious head injury. 

Charles put his sidearm away and slowly knelt down in front of Ahnoldt. He ignored Ahnoldt’s gun, despite it being within grabbing distance. Instead, he kept his hands raised above his head. Ahnoldt might not be able to see details, but he should be able to make out shapes still.

He’s got this. Nice and slow, nice and steady. 
They don’t need to have more violence.
They don’t need to have more bloodshed.

“Let me help-“
“HELP?!” Ahnoldt laughed, fingers skimming, then latching onto the gun. Shit.
He held it out shakily again, the aim sort of in Charles direction, but sort of not. “YOu… government… you…”
His words crumbled away into more head shakes and wincing; He needs a doctor.

Charles bit his lip watching and waiting. He’s got this; Confidence. That’s what Rupert always said: You have to be confident in your actions, leaving the opposition with no doubts about your skills! Or… something like that.

 
“Ahnoldt,” He said softly. “I joined the Military to help keep people safe. I always wanted to be a hero like my dad when I was a kid. I wanted to be the good guy like him. He saved people out in the middle east, he kept them safe from the bad guys who were hunting them down and killing them. He did the right thing, even that meant going against his orders.” 
He watched Ahnoldt expression remain stern. “I didn’t agree to killing Toppat’s today. I agreed to arresting you guy so you wouldn’t hurt anyone, not…. not all this.” 
Charles lowered his right hand slowly, held it out, and waited. 

“Let me help you, please. It’s… it’s the least I can do for being apart of… all this.”

Ahnoldt said nothing.
 
Charles tried again, “You need a doctor, Ahnoldt. At least let me get you medical help. I have a friend who’s not from the military. She’s a nurse, she can- ”
Ahnoldt laughed bitterly, “…and then you lock me up, right? Take me back to your camp and arrest me. Send me off to some cold cell for rest of life. Great help. Just vhat I needed.”
“…”

They would arrest him once Charles returned to base with him, wouldn’t they?
Of course they would- that was a stupid question. 
That’s their job: Kill and destroy, capture and lock up.

Charles eyes dropped to his own hand.
Even if he hadn’t actively taken part in shooting and killing these guys, even if he hadn’t been apart of the slaughter… if… if he hadn’t helped get Henry and Ellie to the rocket in the first place… then… none of this would have happened. 
None of this would be happening now. 
No one would be hurt. No one would be this badly hurt…

“No.” He said. “If the General won’t make this right… if no one else is going to make this right, then I will. I’m not going to arrest you.”
He took his hand back and pulled his dog tags from around his neck. He held them in his hand, seeing his faint reflection in the metal; he knows what he needs to do. 

“You guys are always looking for new recruits, right?”
Ahnoldt glared at the tags in Charles outstretched hand; He said nothing. 

“I guess not Government then, huh?” 
“…” 

Ahnoldt dropped the gun and held both his hands out in front of him. “Get it over vith." He said. “Tired of playing head games.”

Charles got up, pocketing his tags. He took both of Ahnoldt’s hands in his own, and pulled him to his feet. The Toppat stumbled forward again, but Charles was there this time and pulled the guys arm over his shoulder to help him stay steady. 
He flashed the weary Toppat a reassuring smile. “I got you. Let’s get you to a medic, yeah? You er… you look like you really need one.”
Ahnoldt just hung his head, defeated. 

The pair walked slowly towards the helicopter. Every so often he heard a small whimper from the Toppat. He looked so tried, and confused. Any fight he’d had let he’d already used up. He didn’t seem to care any more. 
He really was just going to except whatever fate Charles decided for him.

Is this really what being a hero feels like?

“Hey, I know it hurts right now, but you’ll be fine! You probably just hit you head, like, really, REALLY HARD! I’ve done it myself too a few times, mostly when I crashed my helicopter- actually, I probably shouldn’t tell you that when I’m about to fly you out of here and all. But don’t worry! I won’t crash! At least not on purpose.” Charles laughed awkwardly. 

“…” 

“…”

“Talk too much.” Ahnoldt mumbled.

Yep. That worked great. 
 
“Er, yeah…” Charles sighed, “People say that sometimes. Sorry.”
“N-nie. Meant head hurts,” Ahnoldt clarified suddenly, with a burst of volume. “Quieter be nice.”
“OH!” Charles said, getting himself a side-eyed scowl. “Right, it probably does, huh? Alrighty, I’ll be quiet now!”
To Charles surprised, Ahnoldt shook his head. 
“Nie, keep talking, just quieter, er… es ist fine.” He forced a grin and added, “Quiet people don’t plan murders aloud.”
W…
What?

“Quiet people don’t…” Charles burst into a fit of giggles, “Ha! Ha! T-that was a good one!”

The Toppat shrugged lazily with one shoulder, eye’s drooping. “You do your job. Don’t be sad about it.”
“… you were cheering me up?”
“Don’t like sad faces. Never have.” 

"..."

*****

Charles got into the helicopter, pulling Ahnoldt up with him. He saw Katie peer around the wall of the cockpit, first aid kit in hand, but held the way you’d hold a baseball bat. 

“It’s just me!” Charles called, “I’ve got our guy with me, he’s er… he’s looking pretty rough. Think you can check him out?”
“Sur- oh, oh. What happened to him?” She asked scrambling to get the first aid kit open by the bench Charles laid Ahnoldt on. Charles stepped back to let Katie in to work. “He doesn’t remember.”
“Was he awake when you found him?” She moved from his pulse to his eyes, clicking on a pocket flashlight.
“He was a minute ago. He’d been talking too… what?”
Why dose she look so scared suddenly?

Katie turned to face Charles, “Is… is he a member of the CCC?” 
“No? He said he’s a Toppat, and he’s not got one of their patches, so… I don’t think he was lying. And he freaked out when he realised I’m Military, too.”
Katie nodded, but didn’t look convinced. 
“I know you er, don’t like those guys, but if you can just make sure he’ll be okay till I can get him to someone-“
“No, no, a doctor never turns anyone away,” Katie interjected. “It’s just… I’ve never seen this illness in anyone who isn’t from the Chaos Containment Centre.”
“Illness? He’s just got a bad head injury, hasn’t he?”
“Charles, he’s… really sick.” Katie said fiddling with the edge of her sleeve. “I think I can stabilise him with what I’ve got here, but… are we going back to the base, or a hospital? What’s the procedure for this?”
“He should go back to base, but…” Charles sat on the other end of the bench. Feeling his tags inside his pocket dig into his hand. “If I take him back to base there’s no guarantee they’ll have the resources to help him. If I take him to a hospital he’ll get the treatment he needs but, he’ll also be arrested too.”

Katie walked over to Charles, and took his hands in hers. She smiled. “I can’t make that decision for you Charles and I’m needed here or he’s not going to make it to anywhere, but… I trust you.” Katie moved his hand over his chest. 
Charles met her eyes. “Do what your heart thinks is right.”

She let go returning to the Toppat’s side.

Charles took a deep breath and returned to the cockpit. 
He sat in the pilots seat, flicking through his start-up checks.

Okay… 
He’s got this, he….

Charles looked up from the controls seeing his tired reflection in the glass. He smiled at the reflection, it returning the same confidence and determination.
He has a plan. 
He has the perfect plan. 

Chapter Text

[6 Hours Since The Toppat Raid - The Wall - Dr Thomas]

Dr Thomas opened his phone, “Report.”

“Dr Thomas,” Wilson Stone greeted through the receiver. “I got that updated on the Toppat situation you wanted. It… it could certainly be worse, but we’ve got 28 Toppat members from the Rocket launch unaccounted for, and an additional 20 members of the Airship devision… including the Leader and the Right Hand Man.”
“B-12 was suppose to have captured Target 2A.”
Wilson sighed, “There was an ‘incident’-“ Dr Thomas scowled “-It’s believed based on it’s injuries and evidence at the scene, it was attacked by multiple chaos manipulators. Likely the Airship Toppats. I’m on my way to get an in-person report now, but the it should be fine from what the doctor told me. You really built those things to take one hell of a beating, huh? I’m pretty sure anyone else would be dead from the mess those guys made of it’s lung.”
“And what of F-45’s Target?”
“Target 2C’s body has been recovered. Target 2B last visual was by the river with another Toppat, his tracker stopped sending signals not long later, so we have strong reason to believe they ended up in the river. However, based on the injuries F-45 described, it is likely that too will be a body recovery.”

Unbelievable! “We needed Target 2B alive. We need his memories intact!” Dr Thomas fumed, “Why didn’t F-45 apprehend the target before they reached the river?”
“F-45 was found unconscious, sir. It’s believed it’s host gave it more than it had bargained for. Rather impressive given he wasn’t a manipulator, but perhaps it’s fault for underestimating his willpower.” Wilson added, “Regardless, it is currently in the medical devision receiving treatment for hypochaotic and over exertion.” 
“And the host?”
“Deceased, sir. It insisted on personally disposing of them, but even if that Toppat did survive the rapids, he was in the early stages of anti-chaos poisoning, so he’s dead regardless.”
Dr Thomas rolled his eyes, “Of course F-45 did. Anything else?”
“No. I’ll let you know if anything changes. Good luck with target 2D-”
“I don’t need luck, I need B-12 & F-45 to start succeeding in what they were built for!”

At the entrance stood Dimitri Petrov, he smirked. “Things not going your way, Thomas?” 
“Incompetent subordinates.” Dr Thomas spat.
“Ah, so the usual. Come.” 

Dr Thomas followed the Wall’s Head Warden into the high security building.  

“Tell me Petrov, do you know the individual called Henry Stickmin?” Dr Thomas asked, watching the wardens expression darken at the name.
“Henry Stickmin, yes I know him,” Petrov said coldly. “We brought him in a few weeks ago, but he escaped before we had even finished booking him.”
“How much do you know about him?”
“Enough,” Petrov said. “He was arrested for breaking into a bank. He escaped prison, is responsible for the disappearance of the Tunisian Diamond, and he had some incident with the Toppat Clan a few months ago, although we’re not exactly sure what. Our intel had conflicting reports.”
Dr Thomas gave a singular nod, “Yes, he worked alongside the Government to take the Clans Airship Devision down, and in return got a pardon you ignored, was what General Galeforce told me.”
“Yes, I have been informed, as the General has of my opinion for the flimsy paper they hand out: The only good criminal is one locked behind bars!” Petrov spat, pride burning.

Dr Thomas gave a singular nod again, moving on. “Were you able to obtain a chaos sample before his escape?” 
Petrov smiled widened with intrigue. “He must be quite special if you’re interested enough to want one of those."
“Did you get one or not?”
“Of course not,” Petrov scoffed. “Our intel was of a master thief with impressive accomplishments. There was nothing about chaos related powers, nor did we observe evidence to suggest he possesses such capabilities.”
“No matter,” Dr Thomas sighed, “We were able to acquirer a partial blood sample, it will have to do.”

“What did Henry do?” Petrov asked, “I’m rather intrigued why a simple thief has caught you interest.”

Dr Thomas was silent as they walked, and for a long moment it appeared the Warden wouldn’t be getting an answer. 

“You have some of our Grade-1 chaos bracelet readers, and know how they work, correct?”
“Of course, that is what you supplied us for the High Security Ward prisoners.”
Dr Thomas nodded, then said, “He was able to fry one.”
“Fry one?”
“He successfully overloaded it,” Dr Thomas explained, “My engineers have never seen such a feat accomplished before, the insides scorched, even the data backup was destroyed. The only way such a task is even remotely possible would be for him to have produced a significant level of C.E; A level not possible.”
“Henry continues to impress,” Petrov smirked. “We’ve never had any issues with that model. I suppose that does warrant your curiosity. Unfortunately, I have passed all information I have onto your people. Both that we were able to salvage from the rocket, and our anonymous donation. I don’t believe I will be of much more assistance.”
“You have already been of great assistance containing the Toppat Clan, Mr Petrov.” Dr Thomas reassured. “No doubt over 70% of their manipulators would have escaped, if not for your work.”

At the end of the long corridor was an elevator. The pair waited patiently for it to arrive, then stepped in. 

“Tell me, Dr. Thomas. I was never informed if you were able to trace the source of the anonymous information?” Petrov asked. 
“There was very little usable data on the USB. And that which there was had all been locally added.”
“Hmm, interesting.” Petrov commented, entering the lift code. “They must have been studying the Toppat Clan for quite some time to gather all of what they had. Perhaps a mole within the highest ranks, given the sensitivity of the contents?”
“Perhaps.”

The pair rode in silence for the short journey. The only sound the clicking of each floor they pasted on their decent. 

The lift doors opened at some distance below, the Warden gesturing for his company to exist. 
“Door 61, on the left hand side,” Petrov said. “Take as long as you require, I will be waiting in my office to discuss his transfer, should he agree willingly.” 

Dr Thomas nodded, turning around, he started his decent down the corridor. Behind him he heard the doors close and the elevator travelling back towards the top floor.

He came to a halt outside door 61, being located not far from the elevator.
First he swiped the door card, then using the key and provided code, disabled the alarm and locks. 

He didn’t knock. 
He opened the door, walking in and closing it behind him. 

Inside the cell, sat one small person. 
One Toppat pressed into the corner of the room. A young male adult, knees pressed against his chest, head resting on top. His face was obscured by his long blond fringe.
He had a dirty suit on, the blue colour faded into a mushy grey by what little light the rooms only small window provided.

“Sven Svensson,” The scientist said. “I am Doctor Thomas Cross, Head of the Chaos Containment Centre’s Research department.”
No reaction.
“I worked with your farther, Nils Svensson, before his untimely demise. Perhaps you remember me? I do recall you being rather infatuated with our work during your visits when you were younger. It is… rather unfortunate to see how your life has changed for the worse since our last meeting.”

The young Svensson didn’t look up. He kept his head low ignoring the scientist at first, but Dr Thomas knew it would only be a matter of time till he cracked. 

“What do you want from me?” The strained voice cracked. 

“Straight to the point. A perfect copy of your farther.” Dr Thomas complimented, taking in the boys reaction. His face darkened. Ah, so those two had parted ways on a negative note, as he’d suspected. 

“I am here to offer you a proposal, one which I am sure will not only suit both parties involved, but will relieve you of your current ‘predicament’. ”
He waited again, but this time the young Svensson didn’t crack.

He lifted his head, tear stained cheeks framing his deep blue eyes. They had an unusual glow to them, one more accustom to the faces of manipulators. 
A fascinating observation.

Sven glared coldly. “I WON’T betray my clan.”

“Is that what you think I want from you?” Dr Thomas chuckled. “On the contrary, I have no interest, nor use for the Toppat clan. Just you.”
“… I…” Sven broke eye contact. There we go. “I’m not my farther, i-if you think I can be his replacement your wrong.”
“Hmmm, I seem to recall I said I was interested in you, not your biological relation to your farther.”   

“I was always curious what happened to you, upon your fathers murder. I suspected there was some kind of criminal clan involvement, how else could they have made you fall off the face of the earth? Still, it is a shame what they’ve done to you. You were a very bright child, your father shunned you for your potential out of petty arrogance, for needing to be the smartest person in the room. It’s rather similar to now, isn’t it? Even the members of the Toppat Clan don’t give you the respect you deserve.”
Svensson lowered his head.
Dr Thomas knelt down and place a hand on the boys shoulder. “You’re still young with potential for a bright future, Sven. The Head Warden here is a man set in his ways, who won’t be easily persuaded to change them. However, I have the power to make him agree to my changes.”
Sven met Dr Thomas’s eyes cautiously, “…What do you want from?”

Dr Thomas smiled. “Tell me, what do you know about Project Harmonious?”

*****

[Elsewhere - Henry Stickmin]

Henry sighed, another failed timeline. 

He’d made a mistake. 
He’d made a BIG mistake.
He’d been impatient and it cost him this run. 
It cost him his chance of success the first time. 

This timeline…
It’s a lost cause. 
The ripple effects of one impulsive decision too great, waves he can’t hope to over come. 

He hasn’t destroyed the Toppat Clan, he’s only made them angrier, stronger, more dangerous. Once the dust has settled, they won’t just be out for revenge… they’ll be out for blood. 
His blood. 
His friends blood. 

Copperbottom tried to kill him just to get leadership back. So just what would he do when he found out Henry was the one responsible for, not just getting the whole Airship devision arrest, but hurting his family? And Reginald has his Right Hand Man at his side, UN-cyborged; Henry shivered. 

Charles. 

He- he didn’t know this would ruin his best friends life. He just watched him throw his whole career away in a heated argument with Galeforce. He practically quit on the spot! And sure, Galeforce was more lenient with Charles because he was his dad’s best friend and all but, he’s still a Government General. He still has a job to do, and discipline to uphold.

How was Henry suppose to know Charles would do that anyway?! That he’d react like that?! Charles, h-he, he always hated the Toppat Clan! He did! Henry knew that based on how he’d reacted in the Valiant Hero ending, when the clan had-

… when they’d hurt someone Charles cared about. Just like how the Government had now hurt people the Toppat Clan cared about. 
“…”

Maybe…

Maybe Charles was never angry at the Toppat Clan back then. 
Maybe Charles was angry people got hurt. 
Good, innocent people got hurt in a way there was no coming back from. Got hurt in a way which wasn’t apart of their job descriptions.

Toppats…

Government…

Friends…

Family… 

What was it his Charles always use to say?
“The only difference between the Government and Toppats, is one hurts innocent people, while the other protects them.” ?

Henry couldn’t help but wonder what his Charles would say to this if he was here. Would he agree with Galeforce, that this was for the ‘greater good’? Or would react just like this Charles did?

Ellie. 

She wasn’t meant to find out. 
Stupid blabber-mouth Svensson. He never had known when to shut up, ranting down anyones ear about how he didn’t want leadership, but never got any say in it. The last thing Henry had expected was him to weaponise his inability to shut up!

He loved Ellie, he really did, but… she couldn’t know.
She couldn’t know about his abilities, not when she wanted him to tell Charles! Not unless he wanted to ruin a friendship & add another reason to why this is a failed timeline. And all this isn’t even touching on the Chaos Containment Centre. 

Ellie might be wrong about him ‘needing’ to tell Charles, but she’s right about one thing: He’s gotten careless. He’s gotten impatient. He’s relived these lives over and over and over, it’s all become so second nature: Reset. Live a different life. Reset.
He’s let himself get sloppy, because he didn’t need to be careful when it was a run he knew was going to get reset in the end. But this run now is different. 
The next run will be his last.

The CCC

Hey had never thought about the CCC because… they’ve never been a threat until now. They’ve always just… been there. In the background doing whatever they do and, while Ellie hadn’t said it outright… with a gift like his… he needs to stay out of their way in his next time. 
He needs to stay off their radar. 

What exactly do they do again? 
Right! They monitor chaos levels. And knowing his luck and what can happen in the past, his abilities must effect that. 
Yes, next time he has to keep on the down low, or they’ll probably try exterminate him like everything else they deem ‘too chaotic’.  

Ultimately there is only one thing he can do. 
One way to fix this: Reset. Try again. 

Checking his surroundings, Henry remained alone. 

Him, Rupert & Ellie had arrived at the location of the Airship Devision’s last known location 20 minutes ago. They were here on a mission to track down the escaped Toppats, so upon arrival, he’d suggested they’d be able to cover more ground if they split up (, not that Henry had any intention of finding them).

Naturally Price wasn’t onboard with the idea, but Ellie had pushed for it, and told Henry quietly she’d keep ‘Captain Grumps’ busy so he could have some time alone to clear his head. Ellie, of course, made him promise not to do anything stupid, or try reseting, insisting they could still fix this. 
Henry had promised, but only because he knew he wouldn’t have to keep a promise he’d made with a version of Ellie that wouldn’t exist in 10 minutes. 

There’s no saving this timeline. 
He’d been over it again and again in his head. 
This is the best corse of action. 
To start again and use what he’s learned from his mistakes to get his happy ending. 

Henry reached out feeling for his reset button.
His skin pin and prickle, tingling under the familiar sensation. 

The button glitched and flicked into existence. It looked much more warn down than the last time he’d used it. The colours had lost their vibrancy, the shine that made its surroundings glow had faded to a mer dim light. 

Had he nearly worn the button out?
Or had he nearly worn himself out?
He’d been at this for so long… but that didn’t matter now.

“Once more.” Henry said aloud, hand hovering over the button. “The next run will be the last.”

[̦̭͈̰̰̔ͨ̄̅̆R͂̋̈́̋ͬ̽͑ͯ̅́E̵ͮͣͤͨS̹̬͎̹͞Ę̼͎̟̙̱̘̼̣̈͌̄̌̓̐͊͗͜T̢͍̝͟]͍͎͈̠̻͎̳̳̬̳̣̈͐̏ͨ́̊ͣͬ̔̽ͩ

.
.
.

Nothing.
NOTHING?

Henry spun around checking his surrounding. 
No.
No.
No.
This… This can’t be right, h-he’s…

“…I’m stuck here.”

Chapter Text

[1999 - 8 months before the Accident - Ethan Welsh] 

“How’s the thesis coming along, Welsh?”

The younger apprentice jumped from the chair, knocking his notebook off the desk, “D-Dr Thomas!” 
The older scientist with glasses chuckled, shaking his head. “Wrong twin, Welsh. I’m William.”
“O-oh, right. Apologies.” Welsh picked his chair up, “The um, thesis is coming along well. I’m about done my research stage, I was um… just reviewing my notes before I write it up."
“Good. I’ll pass your progress onto Professor Slater, he’ll be pleased.”

Welsh looked up, “Um, about that. I was wondering when I’ll be allowed to return to my studies on campus. It’s um… I’ve been here over three years and- It’s not that I’m not enjoying my studies here, I do feel I’m learning a tremendous amount from the in person experience, but um…” Dr William narrowed his eyes and Welsh fell silent. 
“You’re lucky the company offered you a position instead of containment, Welsh. I would suggest you show some gratitude for the gift you’ve been given. You are after-all, only the second manipulator who’s ever been allowed to work here, instead of being worked on.”
“Yes, Dr William. I- I am grateful, really. I just miss my fa…” The younger scientist lowered his head, “Never mind. I apologise for speaking out of place.”

William’s expression softened. “I’m just warning you from experience, Ethan. I know how much trouble me and my brother had maintaining our positions, upon his C.E level coming to light. Be patient. Once you proven to the company you can be trusted, you’ll have as much freedom as myself and the other scientists here.”
“…”
William patted Welsh on the shoulder, “It get’s easier. I promise.”

Dr William picked up the dropped notebook and skimmed over the notes. He glancing back to the apprentice who quietly sat staring at a far wall, one hand nervously placed over other.

He shut the notebook and sighed. “It’s better practice to refer to the children by ‘it’. If Thomas sees you’re notes, you’ll get quiet the scolding.”
“Right, sorry.”
“It’s fine, I’m guilty of it myself. It’s easy to forget they’re no different than the bacteria down in lab 27, especially when you’ve got your own running around at home, or like yourself, are still quiet new to the Project.
“You have kids?” Welsh frowned, “That seems a little… counterintuitive given the nature of Project Harmonious is experimenting on children…”
“Ah, um, yes,” William laughed awkwardly. “Tom likes to remind me of that… a lot. Life has a funny way of letting things happen. Both the intentional and less so. But never mind that,” William passed the notebook back. “The difference is, people like you and my brother are real. You both just have… an unfortunate defect. Speaking of which, how’re the gloves treating you?”
Welsh shrank into himself, “I- I don’t know. No one will touch me, even with them on.”
“Even Thomas?”
“…”

Dr William pulled out a second chair, then pushed his sleeve up, offering the arm.

“Go on.”
“…”
“Come now, Welsh. What’s the worst that can happen? You know what I want to have for dinner tonight?”
“… I… guess?”

Reluctantly, Welsh lightly touched Dr William’s arm with the tip of his gloved fingers.

“Alright.” William smiled, “Now! I’m thinking of a number between 1 and-
“It doesn’t work like that…”
Dr William huffed, “Yes, I know that. I’m teasing you.”

Thomas looked up from the paper he was writing and scowled, “For the last time, I am NOT your personal marshmallow roaster! Dad’ll kill me if he finds out I’m using my abilities again, you know that. They’re dangerous! I’m dangerous.”
William shrugged with a big grin, “I dunno. I think ‘personal marshmallow roaster’ is a pretty good ability to put on your CV. What kind of boss doesn’t want freshly roasted marshmallows whenever they want~”
“All of them.”
“I’m teasing you, Tom. Lighten up.” William shook his head, “Besides your ability has to be good for something asides from getting you in trouble, right? And roasting marshmallows…” He pulled a packet out of his bag, followed by two sticks. “Is a pretty good use if you ask me!”

“…” Welsh removed his hand holding it close to his chest.
“Well?”
“You um…” Welsh cringed, already aware how poorly this was about to go down. “You used to roast marshmallows with Dr Thomas when you were kids, and um… he was worried about getting in trouble.”
“Ah. Yes, that… is correct.” Dr William then added, “I was thinking about how similar you are to Thomas. Both of you are so serious, and he never got my teasing either; he still doesn’t.” The scientist then mused aloud, “It’s quite fascinating how you’re able to get glances of a person’s memory based upon what they’re thinking. A shame you have so much potential, otherwise I’d be able to figure out how you do that.”

“…”

Dr William glanced at the apprentice, as if just remembering who he said that too. “Ah. Right… My inner scientist tents to get the best of me; Apologies.”
Welsh nodded… slowly. 

“Can you still see anything now that you’ve stopped making physical contact?”
Welsh shook his head. 
“Good. Excellent even! That’s an improvement. We may need to get Nils to install a stronger setting? Or perhaps a C.E sedative to work alongside the gloves? That being said, the sedative option maybe a while off, F-32 had quite the nasty reaction to the last batch, and you know how that ended.”

“Is um… is there anything else I can do for you Dr William? I um… I would like to get back to my thesis.”
“No, I don’t- Oh, yes, actually! I was thinking… you should join me and Thomas for our presentation to the shareholders tomorrow.”
The colour drained from Welsh’s face. “N-no thank you. I’m quiet content working behind the scenes, and I’m a Level 1 scientist, so Dr Thomas wouldn’t hear of it.”
“Yes, well, you forget I am also in charge of Project Harmonious, so I have equal say in the decisions made,” Dr William explained. “I think it would be good for you. It’ll get your name and face out there, which would help speed up the process of getting the trust you want from the company.”

Welsh said nothing. 

“Well, what do you think Ethan?” William coldly added, “I need an answer now so I can make the necessary arrangements. Or am I perhaps mistaken in my assumption of how eager you are to return to a normal life?”
“…okay.”
“Perfect. 9:30am in the atrium tomorrow. Don’t be late."

Chapter Text

[2006 - Airship Meeting Room - Reginald Copperbottom]

Reginald ran a hand over his face. “Terrence, did you listen to a word I just said?”
“Yes, yes, I just…” He taps the thick pile of papers Reginald had given him. “I think there’s too many words! All of this is simply worrying for the sake of worrying.”
Terrence opens his closed hand from around the papers, letting them slip out across the table, one by one. “When I asked for your ideas, I wasn’t expecting to be given a health and safety manual.” He frowns, saying the last part slow and cold.
Hadn’t he read any of that?
 
Reginald sighed, “It won’t work! There have been too many risks with these recent missions. We can’t keep taking all these risks, when we’re loosing Clan members like flies. We need safer options. Options for safer raids, preferably low stakes, low risk ones.”
Terrence shook his head and laughed, “Low stakes, low risks, low gains. We’re the Toppat Clan! We go big and bold! This small stuff…” Terrence gestures loosely at Reginald scattered hard work, “It’s for Toppat wannabe’s Clans, not us. We go all the way to the big league! There’s nothing we can’t accomplish, aren’t I right?”
 
The other 7 elites in the room, tho mostly not impressed, 6 nod, their varying speeds giving indication of their confidence in their leader. Which for the most part is positive.
The only elite to not nod looks bored, his smile has shrunk in proportion since the meeting started 20 minutes ago(, tho still present). He eyes the door occasionally, giving no indictions if he simply doesn’t agree, or isn’t listening.
 
Reginald shook his head at them all. Was it not clicking? Why could no one else here see the problems he could. “This ‘big league’ stuff is getting us on the Governments radar.” The Right Hand informed the room sternly, “We NEED to lay low for a while, not… not jump into the centre of the spotlight!”
“Kid, look we appreciate ya concern, really, we do, but the Chiefs got it under control.” Danny, Head of the American devision tells him. He signalled with his hand for Reginald to sit back down- which he doesn’t.
 
Albert Poshly, their Head of Finances is the next to join the nodding bobble heads. “I am inclined to agree with Mr Suave as well: The higher risk raids are simply better for the Toppat Clan reputation, and will impress our patrons far more than the ‘junior’ ones you have. However Mr Copperbottom, if you wish to take some smaller away teams on those to gain some more field experience, I don’t see any reason to object.”
Reginald felt his jaw slacken.
E- EXCUSE HIM!?
 
If the lack of trust in Reginald’s skills, and Terrence’s word being taken over his own was not such a regular occurrence recently, Reginald might have actually gawked at Poshly. Him. Him of all people to not only agree with Terrence, but to go the extra mile and summaries Reginald’s concerns to a lack of ‘field experience’.
If ANYONE here should remember leadership under Sir Wilford IV, having seen him rise to power and success, after the mess the previous three leaders had made, it was him! And he should be able to see very clearly the mess Terrence is making, but apparently not.
 
 
“The Right Hand isn’t completely wrong,” The bored looking elite’s attention is back on their conversation suddenly. His face is serious, but he’s holding a warm enough smile. “We’re loosing members at a higher rate than I’d like, and I can’t say our guys in the Medbay’s are particularly happy ‘bout the extra work load.” The elite explains. Or tired to.
“Please,” Danny laughs, cutting him off. “And what exactly would you know, Mr MacFlinch?”
“It’s Macbet-“
“Whatever.”
“Seriously, do you guys hear him?” Danny asked the other elites. “This guy is in charge of supplies, not people. He doesn’t know the first thing about how we do things here. It’s not even like he grew up in the Clan to see the inner workings of how we do things. He just turned up one day and old Wilford graced him with an elite position and title he hasn’t earned.”
Mr Macbeth’s warm smile fell cold, “You ain’t anymore Toppat than I am!”
Danny shot a smug grin over his shoulder, “I have clan blood, outsider-“
“ALRIGHT! That’s enough of that!”
Danny’s smug smile fell, his attention drawn back to the conversation conductor.
“Mr Macbeth,” Terrence said, watching his shoulder tense. “Please continue. I’d personally like to hear you're reasoning, and I would suggest you do the same before arguing with Clan superstition as your evidence, Danny.”
 
Danny huffed, falling back into his seat.
 
Mr Macbeth took a slow breath in and back out. “I’d like to think,” he said slowly, “When I’m the one who’s doing double medical supply drops, I’ve got a clear idea of a problem. I never use to deliver this many when Wilford was in charge, and this is a recent change, not a slowing increasing one; Clearly somethings gone wrong.”
“Well, maybe that’s because Terrence is doing a better job at keeping our supply levels high,” Danny quickly snapped, eager to get back in the ring. “Everyone knows how iffy Wilford was about transporting goods. The guy was convinced it was the fastest way to get caught. And maybe, if you were one of us, you’d know that."
Macbeth said nothing verbally, but the darkening colour of his face did all the talking he needed.
 
The Right Hand scowled at the Chief, eyes signalling they should do something.
Terrence rolled his eyes in response, or more, pretended too.
Reginald saw the way his lips curled up; he was enjoying this.
 
“Oh what? Are you gonna punch me because I’m right?” Danny sneered, jabbing Macbeth with a finger. “Are you going to show everyone here what a real monster you ar-“
“The green hat is right!” A loud voice announced, causing half the room to wince and shudder. “Supply drops have increased. My parents use to vork in cargo hold on EU central base, they let me come vith them as a kid. I never remember the medical supplies needing to be refilled as often as they have been in the last 9 months. Ve had second request from UK medical team this month to send extra supplies to forward onto other division outposts.”
 
Danny blinked at the intruder in the open door, his face twitching between annoyed and blank. “And who the fuck are you?” He asked, not caring for the answer.
“Ahnoldt Schwarz!” The new guys said just as loud, getting another round of winces from those he stood closest too.
“AH! Mr Schwarz, good to see you!” Terrence smiled, waving for Ahnoldt to join them in the room. “I see Kreighaus has finally let his replacement-“ Ahnoldt visibly cringed “-do it’s job and handed you the reins! Hehe, took him long enough. If it were me, I would have put you in charge years ago.”
“I prefer successor…” Ahnoldt said a little sheepish, then added. “He’s actually unable to make it, something came up last minute, so he sent me to attend for him. Sorry I'm late.”
“Ah.” Terrence’s smile slipped a fraction. “Still, if it were me I would have put you in charge long ago! But never mind that take a seat…”
 
Terrence looked around and his smile changed: 9 seats, 10 people. Reginald saw the change in expression and gritted his teeth. He knew the smile that followed from miles away.
 
“Let’s kill two birds with one stone, shall we?” Terrence whispered, before standing up to have the rooms full attention.
 
“And that reminds me! Why are you still here?” He smiled, tone light and friendly despite the clear meaning of his words. “You’ve given your reports. You can go back to your duties now, Mr Macbeth.”
Mr Macbeth opened his mouth to argue but with a simple flick of the wrist, his words remained silent. “And yes, while you make some vailed points, I have to agree with Danny: Your lack of Clan knowledge and experience is inhibiting your judgement. So perhaps, this conversation is not the best use of the Head of Transpositions time, or skills.”
 
Mr Macbeth looked stunned.
 
His eyes flickered over each elite, taking in his situation. Some nodded in agreement with their leader, others made a ‘shoo-shoo’ motion with their hands. Their silence alone had already pushed him out the door.
His eyes came to Reginald last. The Right Hand felt his throat tighten; powerless.
All he could do was force a weak smile and mouth, ‘I’ll see you later’.
 
Mr Macbeth lowered his head.
 
When he didn’t move still, Danny leaned over. “Go on now. We need that chair for more important people.”
“Er- nie, nie.” Ahnoldt said, his booming voice cutting through the silence with ease. “I’m happy to stan-“
 
Mr Macbeth got up, coffee cup in hand. He crunched the styrofoam cup, eyes locked with Danny. The Head of the American devision leaned forward, elbows on his knees, he cracked his knuckles. “Go on. I dare you.”
Miss Mayday on Macbeth’s left shifted in her seat, Hōkū on Danny’s right, pushed his chair outward, his hands raised and glowing a gentle yellow-gold.

Reginald sighed, not again. 
 
“It’s fine,” Mr Macbeth hissed. “I go better shit to do than sit here with yall and pretend we’re being productive, when a sack of potatoes get’s more work done.”

The room filled with a chorus of grumbles and huff, but Mr Macbeth kept walking despite the comments being made. He kept his head low, but his face didn’t need to be seen to know it had turned dark and stormy.
Not being able to see his face also meant he didn’t see where he was going.
 
“Oof! Erm… Hallo-“
The Head of Transportation shoved past the newcomer, pushing him into the bin, where he lost his balance, falling back into the wall. “H-Hey! Wofür war das denn, verdammt?!”
Macbeth snapped back around, “BLEIB MIR AUS DEM WEG, GROSSMAUL, ODER DU WIRST DIR WÜNSCHEN, DU HÄTTEST ES GETAN!”
“…”
He stormed out the room.
 
“Coward!” Danny yelled as the door shut.
Hōkū, Head of the Oceania division snapped up, his temper worn thin and abilities sparking with annoyance. “The only coward here is you trying to start a fight!” He flicked one of the small stars from his hands at Danny’s face, reclaiming his full attention. “Elites DON’T cause trouble. You need to learn that now, or it won’t just be his time among us which will be short lived.”
“H-hey now!” Danny sputtered. “I’m not the one on my gazillionth chance. Ain’t my fault the chief hasn’t thrown him out yet!”
 
Miss Mayday quietly sighed at the bickering elites next to her and got up. She walked over to the new guy, her hand extended. “Geht es Ihnen gut?”
“Yah.” Ahnodlt replied quieter, (or more, with an indoor voice). His face warmed with a smile of familiarity, perhaps that of his own tongue lifting his mood. “Ist er immer so?” He asked.
Mayday pulled the excepting hand, bringing him to his feet.
“Dankeschön!”
She shook her head, her eyes falling bitter. “Just wait till you see him on a bad day,” She muttered, returning to her seat.
 
“Alright, that’s enough of that!”
 
The room falls silent. All eyes turning to Terrence who looks the new guy over, like he was checking a new toy hadn’t just got broken. One satisfied he nods to himself.
“Come! Sit down, sit down!” He called, waving his arms with big exaggeration. “That seat is for you after all.”
Ahnoldt looked to the door, then silently sat in what was the train conductors seat. He flashed a smile at Danny who scowled coldly. He tried Mayday on his left, but she politely ignored him.
 
Reginald didn’t know what to make of the newcomer. He didn’t know much about him.
 
Ahnoldt Schwarz was a second generation clan born member from the EU devision. Or more specifically, Germany.
He was mentored from the age of 16 by Wilhelm Kreighaus, the current Head of the EU Division, and from there had worked his way up the ranks. He must have continued to impress in the years following the mentorship, as Wilhelm had recently chosen him to be his successor and future Head of his division.
 
“NOW!” Terrence said clapping his hands. “Let’s get back on topic, shall we. Does anyone else”- he stared a Danny “-have anything to add?”
AppleSeed, Head of the Airship Division cleared her throat. “The medbay on the Airship is at full capacity. If we have another major incident, we won’t have enough staff or facility left to treat the the injured.”
“Well, my division is at 85% capacity, but only ‘cause the Canadian out post sent down half their outpost staff last week,” Danny added, his mood cheery again.
“What happened to them? Was it The Wall?” Reginald asked, trying to contain his panic.
They’d had very worrying reports from that outpost over the last few weeks. The Wall appeared to be on the move, as if tracking something, or more likely someone. They’d put in a request for extra surveillance crew, but Terrence had turned it down saying they were worrying about nothing.
That hadn’t stopped Reginald from approving a handful of transfer requests, where he conveniently swapped out members for those with backgrounds in IT.
 
“If anything, the CCC are a bigger threat,” Hōkū argued. “I had a whole transfer team of 27 manipulators go MIA last month across the ditch. If you want to worry about anyone, start with those guys. At least the Wall only locks our men up.”
 
Another problem on Reginald’s list: The Chaos Containment Centre.
They’d been rather cruel with their hunting recently. No one was 100% sure why they were hitting them so hard, but the working theory was one of their more recent recruits may have been followed and neglected to inform anyone. After all, they’d had quite a few manipulators join the clan recently.
The only thing more alarming than their increased activity was what Scarf had told Reginald, or more what he’d not told him. Reginald had asked him if he knew who they were, and watched as the colour proceeded to drain from the red-heads face. He said two words in response, then refused to comment further: Bad news.
 
“No, no, I wish it could’a been something that entertaining,” Danny grumbled. “Landslide; Big one too.”
Ah. If it wasn’t other Clans, the Government or organisation against them, it was mother nature.
 
“My devisions not had as many casualt-”
“We’re not deaf!” Mayday yelled in Ahnoldt’s face at a volume to match his own. “Turn it down Loud-Mouth!”
“…"
 

 
“Ahnoldt, was it?”
Said Toppat nodded wordlessly at the Right Hand.
Reginald gave him his most patient smile. “Continue,” He said softly.
“…Vhat if ve move central operations over Europe for month or so?” Ahnodlt continued, not really any quieter. “Ease vork load on American ones.”
“That sounds like a reasonable idea,” Poshly agreed.
“I do have to agree with both parties. We are having issues with the number of casualties, so providing you are willing to add more safety precautions to reduce that number, Terrence…” Mr Red said, glancing at Reginald to acknowledge his concerns. “Then I have no issues agreeing to the higher risk raids taking place within the EU division, until the problem has been resolved of course.”
“Haha! oh I wouldn't worry about that!” Terrence announced with a hearty-laugh. “Reggie boy here will do enough worrying about it for the whole away team!”
Reginald pulled his head away from Terrence attempt to ruffle his hair. “The away teams will be prepared with the appropriate precautions, Mr Red.” He reassured.
Terrence ‘tch-ed’ aloud, rolling his eyes with a disapproving head shake.

“Well, I think it's settled then. We will continue pursing the higher risk raids and we’ll look into the option of focusing work over Europe.” Terrence announced.
Reginald slammed his hands on the table, “This is a bad idea! Has Terrence ever once taken Clan safety into account during ANY of his previous raids?”
The room was silent.
“No, he hasn’t,” Reginald continued, “Which is why I don’t see how this time will be any different. I’d like one of you, any of you, to name one raid he has pulled off in the last 6 months which hasn’t ended disastrously.”
 
“Listen Reggie boy,” Terrence said cutting off anyone who was going to answer his question,“You’re worrying too much about the little details. Sometimes things don’t work out, sure, but you’re over thinking it. You’re missing the bigger picture here-“
“No YOU listen!” He snapped. “The bigger picture here is your recklessness attitude towards raids and Clan safety is going to be the END of the Toppat Clan! Whether that’s by our internal destruction, or arrest!”
 
Terrence’s smile finally cracked. His expression became cold despite the smile it pretended to hold. “And you’re just getting paranoid because you’re still upset over what happened to Harry.”
“Because it could have been prevented!” Reginald countered, “All 51 of those deaths could have been prevented if you actually gave a damn about the lives of your away teams!”
 
“Copperbottom Junior, that is quiet enough!” Hōkū pushed his glasses up, expression empty. “We all know what happened was an accident. A freak gas leak. No one could have been prepared for that, even if you knew it was going to happen. Even if you had a suspicion it could happened.” 
He went on. “We appreciate what you’re trying to do here- trying to prevent the past from repeating, but Suave is right: We need to look forward. Focus on our future, and if that means risking getting the Gov’s attention, then that is what will do.”
“Maybe you should take the rest of the day off?” Mayday suggested, then turned to Terrence. “Chief, when was the last time your Right Hand got a day off?”
Terrence sighed dramatically “I’m afraid poor Reginald here won’t take a day off, because he doesn’t trust his leader.”
“Because you’re-“ Reginald cut himself off.

Because you’re not fit to lead the Clan. That’s what he wanted to say.
 
“Because I’m what Reginald?” Terrence taunted, “Because I’m right and you’re still stuck in the past grieving over your poor uncle?”
“DON’T talk about HIM like that!” Reginald spat with pure venom. “He was your friend and Right Hand too, Terrence! Didn’t he mean ANYTHING to you?”

 

 

 

Terrence narrowed his eyes.

He stands up, towering over Reginald as he leans down. Reginald feels his voice shrivel in his throat under the intense set of eyes on him. 
“What?” Terrence laughed coldly, “Do you seriously think you can do a better job at leading this clan?”
Reginald said nothing knowing the whole room had their eyes upon him.

“Stay in your place Copperbottom.” Terrence hissed under his breath so only they could hear, “You’re family have quite the history of ‘unfortunate’ accidents. Be a shame if you were to join the rest of them.”

 

Terrence removed himself from Reginald’s personal space, adjusting his jacket as he stood. He looked around the room, a wide smile easing the concerned faces around the table.

He glanced back at Reginald, “We’re done here.”

*****

Reginald looked down at his bandaged and battered Right Hand Man he held tightly in the back of the pick-up they’d hijacked. His throat felt tight, his eyes stung and he wasn’t really sure what time it was, or where they were, but he knew one thing for sure…

“A ‘better leader’ wouldn’t have landed us in here…” 

[3 Days since Escaping Prison - Reginald Copperbottom]

When they entered the outpost it was abandoned, setting off immediate red flags. Being quiet Reginald could write off as everyone up in orbit, but not this quiet. Not with this much dust setting off Cuppa Joe’s allergies and giving away any element of surprise they’d had. Not that it mattered, it looked like no-one had been here in weeks. 

“What do ya think happened to ‘em?”
“Dunno, but if anyone’s waiting in the shadows I’ll get ‘em!” Hanz announced loudly stabbing his spear wildly ahead of them and a little too close to Al Kohaul, ducking out the way.
Al slowly pushed the sharp end of Hanz’s spear towards the ground. “No spears inside please. You might hurt someone.”
“That’s the point!” Hanz huffed at Al. “No one will expect a wild spear to attack from nowhere!”
Reginald heard Sledge MacRush next to him laugh softly. “Even 7 months in prison town ain’t enough to ground him to reality, huh?”
Reginald nodded wordlessly. He took in the empty office as they stood waiting for Cuppa Joe to work his magic, and override the lockdown security. 

“Chief, you really didn’t have ta come. Everyone understands if you wanted to stay with-“ MacRush was immediately cut off by Reginald, “I know.” 
This is where I can make a difference, he didn’t say. 
This is where he didn’t have to sit hopelessly watching the monitor’s blood pressure drop, listen to the slowing beeps, the-
He… he didn’t want to think about this again. 

“I am a leader first, and right now, this is where I am needed.” Reginald told his colleague. “Tho, I suppose you could say the same for you, Hanz.”
Hanz’s head snapped up, “Huh? Oh, I’m fine.” He spun his spear around in his hands. “Worry about Cloud Dale, not me. He’s convinced if he’d gotten there sooner he could have done something.”
Al sighed. “Kid’s still young, he’ll learn that some things just can’t be prevented. I suppose it was bound to happen really. The Right Hand was the bravest of us all, but such great bravery comes at a-”  
MacRush elbow Al hard, glaring him into silence. 
Unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong. 
Right had had many close calls in the past. Reginald had always told him it was only a matter of time until he got something he couldn’t simply walk off, but he’d never hear of it, always insisting he’ll be fine. 

He promised he’s be more careful.
When they’d been held in their cell together, he’d promised.
hE pRoMiCe-

“Chief?”

Ah, damn it. He’d space out again. He’d told himself he would stop doing that. He need to focus and be here, not…
Not there. 

“Apologies, did you say something?”

“Sureshot and Harolds’ group’ll find that doctor, and he’ll be a-ok,” MacRush said again. “You know better than any of us how tough the Right Hand is! He’s the strongest of us all, so I’m sure he’ll walk off those injuries in no time!”
Reginald smiled politely, but he wasn’t convinced. He didn’t say that, instead he pretending to agree and hoped that would be enough for everyone to STOP dragging up thought he was trying to forget!

“He’s lucky the CCC didn’t finish ‘im off,” A green & red stripped top hat next to them said. “Kinda makes you wonder why, don’t ya think? They’ve killed or disappeared every other hat they catch, but let ’im live? What’s the catch?”
MacRush shrugged, “You’re over thinking it Mr Macbeth-”
“Alfonsho,” Alfonsho grumbled at them.
“Sorry, Alfonzo-“
“AlfonSHo. SHo, no Zo.” He corrected again, looking more irritated by the mispronunciation than being mistaken for the clan’s train driver. 
MacRush just rolled his eyes at him, “Yes, Alfonsho. But, seriously: You’ve gotta get a different hat. You two could pass for siblings you’re visually so similar. All you need is his accent and you’ll pass for twins even."
Alfonsho, folded his arms unimpressed. “I like my hat very much, he’s the one who can get a different hat!”
Reginald rolled his eyes at the pair, leaving them at the back of the group to bicker. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with them, and given the nature of the topic, he figured they’d trier themselves out soon enough anyway. 

Moving to the front, he joined Cuppa Joe, the Airships computer whizz, still typing away at the keys and somehow understanding the jumble of letters and numbers flying down the screen. 

“Any luck?” Reginald asked.
“Getting there,” Cuppa Joe said not looking up. “This should do the trick as long as I’m remembering it right.”
A few more lines of text whizzed past and then-
“BINGO!” Cuppa Joe exclaimed. “We’re in boys!”

The auguring and other conversations died down, and the 4 other members of the away team joined Reginald in leaning over Cuppa Joe’s shoulders. 
Cuppa Joe scowled at them, but only really pushed Hanz’s spear out of his face before flicking a second and third monitor to his right on. 

“Al, check the background logs for any chatter, you might hear something useful. I’m going to try patch us a line through to the Orbital station.” Cuppa Joe ordered.
Al nodded, taking the seat and slipping on a pair of headphones from beside the monitor.
“MacRush,” Reginald said. “Can you check the news? It’s possible this base or others in the area may have been compromised, which could explain why it’s in the state we have found it.”
“Sure thing chief.” MacRush sat down in front of the other monitor.

The room was filled with the sound of clacking keys and clicks of mice. Cuppa Joe and Al, both busy working away. It looked like they were still going to be a while longer before he was need, so maybe he could-
“Somethings wrong.”
“Don’t say that Cuppa Joe,” Hanz whined over him.
Reginald didn’t want to, but someone had to ask, “What is it?”
“I’m not picking up the orbital station.” Cuppa Joe explained, “There’s not even static like the connection isn’t reaching, it just… I can’t find anything up there to connect to. Like… there’s nothing up there.” 
That was unlikely. Reginald could think of plenty of other more reasonable answers,  like… “Perhaps you have the wrong frequency? It is possible they could have changed it due to a security breach.” He was sure in the schematics Burt had altered for him, he had seen other frequencies asides from the main one he had given Cuppa Joe.

“I dunno, um…” The computer whizz tapped his finger on the desk checking the list again, but didn’t seem to find what he was looking for. “Nothing that I can seen, but this rust bucket is connected to other outposts, AND the main devision. Maybe I can get a hold of someone up the chain a little. Miss Cross is always easy to get a hold of.”
“Yeah, cause everyones too scared of getting ear ache for bothering her,” Alfonsho laughed.
Reginald laughed himself, that was very true. He’d gotten ear ache once or twice himself for bothering her. It didn’t seem to matter who it was, if you had poor timing your ears were guaranteed to hurt for the next hour.

“That won’t work,” Al told them before Joe could reach for the mouse again. “The lines are all silent. No-one is talking, passing information, or anything. It’s like the whole American devision was compromised.”
Hanz stopped spinning his spear, “You can’t seriously have a WHOLE devision get compromised, right?” 
“I mean… everyone knows what happened to the Oceania Devision in ’07.”
MacRush shook his head. “That was different.”
Maybe, but Reginald agreed with MacRush. It seemed unlikely. The American Devision was now twice the size of the Oceania Devision at the time, and they’d since upped their security 10 fold, and were not the same crippled clan recovering from Terrence’s Leadership 3 years ago. 
“What about the Canadian outpost?” Reginald asked. 
Cuppa Joe shook his head. “If the main base is compromised, so’s that one. They both work on practically the same line… actually," He cut himself off. “There is another. It’s one used by us tech guys to pass logs back’n forth with technical stuff, so we don’t clog up the main lines and piss Burt off. Al I’ll need your help to sieve through it. It’s usually pretty cluttered in there at the best of times.”
Al nodded, sliding his chair back to let Joe in at his computer.

They waited in the silence of computer electronics whirling and humming. 
Reginald tried to ignore it, but the pit in his stomach was growing deeper again. The same pit that had been consuming him as they waited outside the mineshaft. 
When Right had missed his agreed upon time. 
When Hanz and Cloud Dale had gone to look for him. 
When they had both taken longer than expected to come back. 
When they’d seen Hanz running towards them, caked in red, but his spear clean. 
When they’d spotted Cloud Dale close behind, carrying something red. 
Carrying someone covered in red. 
Carrying someone with grave injuries. 
Carrying Righ-

“What did you find?” Alfonsho asked leaning over in MacRush’s direction. 
Said Toppat was pale, staring back at a news article on his screen.
“I- I don’t think you want to know…” He said, just above a whisper. 

The room fell quieter than before. A new silence drowning out the computer fans and electronic hums of circuits and components; everyone stared at MacRush.

“Meaning?” Cuppa Joe asked, distracted from the logs of gibberish him and Al had been going through.
MacRush dropped his head into his hands, shaking it side to side. “They never made it to orbit.”

T-

Reginald felt his heart stop. 

They… No, surely. He had expected them to continue with the orbital station plan, but… he hadn’t thought… he trusted his elites… what went wrong? 

Reginald pushed past Hanz and Alfonsho for a better view of the news article. He only needed to read the heading to confirm what he’d been dreading. What he’d been hoping hadn’t been a gut feeling all this time, telling him something far far worse had happened here.

“Ongoing investigation into mass military-ordered homicide,” Reginald read aloud, failing to keep his voice steady. “Investigations into the biggest military homicide on home soil continues, following the successful end brought to the notorious Toppat Clan last month. 317 casualties have been confirmed from the incident, but officials say the number could be higher, with the chance of finding more remains unlikely given the nature of what happened.

However, the real question on the public’s mind right now is ‘who gave the order?’. Numerous witnesses have reported red escape pods- now confirmed to be from the Toppat Rocket - that were shot down mid-air by Government aircraft and a private company that has yet to be named. We’re being told this was an emergency evacuation, following critical engine failure within the Toppat’s Rocket.” 
Reginald felt numb, but he kept reading. “The Toppat Clan members captured so far have been separated by world governments and divided across multiple prisons both here in the US, and elsewhere, to ensure this will be the end of the criminal organisation, once and for all.

The rocket passed over into Canada before crashing into The Wall Complex, where the remaining members were apprehended. 

Dimitri Petrovich, Head Warden of The Wall Complex, has put forth a statement to reassure the local public that none of the members who landed within his complex were able to escape immediate capture, and they are actively working with local authorities to track down any members who’s escape pods landed within Canadian soil.”

 
“They…” Hanz shook his head, “They can’t have gotten everyone right? Everyone knows the media lies. Y-you can’t tell me everyone just threw up their hands and admitted defea-”
“Of course not!”

Reginald took a moment to compose himself. “The Toppat Clan is not one of inaction. Even if they were able to capture everyone on board the rocket, there still would have been a skeleton crew left running all the main devision bases. 40, perhaps 50 members worldwide. With us and no doubt others who did indeed escape, we will easily be able to target the smaller prisons to regain our numbers.”
Around Reginald he saw his men hesitantly nod. “What we face is a setback, not defeat. The Toppat Clan shall not be taken down in such a manner like this! We are Toppat’s 4 life!” Reginald told them, ending with Wilford’s iconic words and signature wink.

“Where do we even start?”

Reginald looked around the room, that’s a good question. Well…

“We’ll start here.” He said. “We need to establish if this base is secure. If so we’ll start work at once setting it up as our head quarters for the time being, and I will work on devising a plan for how we will rescue our clan-mates.”
“I’ll help!” Al said, “You’re the best in the clan at strategising chief, but I can help you with the research and information gather.”
“Excellent, Cuppa Jo-“
“I’ll keep working through the com lines. Compromised or not, it shouldn’t be this quiet. There must be one of the communication guys out there who’s set up and secured an alternative line. I’ll set us up a private line too, then work on finding the one everyone else must be using.”
“Perfect,” Reginald turned to Hanz and Alfonsho. “I want you two to clear the whole building. Lock it down and make sure we are secure. Then head back to camp and assist them in relocating to here.”
“Yes chief!” The pair took off down a corridor.
“Al, I’ll need your help finding out what prisons our men have been divided across. From their we can work on finding numbers and making a list of the easiest prisons to target first.”
“Sure thing, Chief.” Al beamed, hopping onto another computer. 
“MacRush.” Reginald said. MacRush looked up, still pale and a little wide eyed. “I want you to go get some air. Then, and only when you feel ready to do so, I want a stock take of what supplies we have on hand, alright?”
“…”
Reginald placed a hand on the Toppat's shoulder squeezing it. “Our friends and family will be okay. We will get them back, I promise.”
MacRush nodded slowly, “Y-yes chief. Thank you chief.”

With everyone off doing their own tasks, Reginald sat himself down to at a vacant computer. 
He took a deep breath in, then let it go. 
He’s got this. 
He won’t let the Government win. 
He won’t let anyone else win. 
He won’t let Right’s sacrifice go to waste.

This isn’t the end of the Toppat Clan. He won’t lay down and let this happen to his home. He’s going to fix this. He has to fix this. 

Toppat’s never give up.

Chapter Text

[COVER ART - NEXT WEEK. I'm staying off social media till I finish Deltarune, so no way for me to upload them :P]

[3 Days after the rocket launch - Lost - Carol Cross]

To say she understood why people loved sleeping in the outdoors would be a lie. To say she thought they were all mad idiots with no sense or brains would be accurate. 
Carol had woken up cold, hungry and sore all over. Everything hurt. EVERYTHING. 
Her back, her head, her legs, arms, hands, eyes, stomach, lungs… if it could hurt, it currently did hurt.

Asides from the sensory overload that had met Carol when she’d awoken, she’d also been greeted by sun rays squeezing through the canopy around them, and finding a way under the rock ledge into her eyes. The song of some bird she didn’t know was carried by a breeze into her ears and said breeze brushed across her exposed skin. She shivered and at first had tried to find her blanket thinking it had slipped off, but her hands had closed around empty air. 

That was when she remembered where she was. 
That was when she remembered why she was here.
That was when she wished she wasn’t here. 

Day 4? No, day 3: Lost. 
And their progress on fixing their phones, their only means of escape? None. Water logged to hell, and while Macbeth said there was enough undamaged parts in both to make one working, he didn’t have anything to take said parts out with. Not unless they found a screwdriver kit growing on a tree. 

She heaved her aching body upright in an attempt to fully wake up. Her chest still burned and she found herself wheezing for air; everything hurt, but… she wasn’t dead, nor dying. 
She had gotten a fair dosage of smoke inhalation however. Her lungs, throat and itchy eyes made sure to reminder of that at every waking hour of the day. Her so-called ‘doctor’ Mr Macbeth had insisted from the get go she’d be fine with rest, and well… he wasn’t completely wrong. Everyday she was walking further before wheezing to a stop. Everyday she wheezed and coughed less. Everyday she felt less short of breath than the previous one. 

She rubbed at her face and felt a scratchy material make contact. She stopped and lowered her left hand finding it wrapped tight in a cloth. She sighed; Macbeth. She’d told him 4 times over she was fine and it wasn’t a bad burn, but NO. Apparently he wouldn’t be told. She either wrapped it up now to keep the dirt out, or suffered in misery when it would get infected. Annoying prick. 
She didn’t need nor want him babying her, but accepting defeat on this had been the only way to get her ear peace.
Speaking of which…

Where was he?

Carol closed her eyes and focused. She felt the air around her settle and her view increase. 

Hmmm… she forgot how hard it was to find things at a distance in a forrest. In any area with lots of life even. So many different signatures of energy to look through. It didn’t look like Macbeth was anywhere near here, human energy had a different look to it than plant. If he was within a 100 meter radius of her, he should stand out like a sore thumb, but he’s not. 

She opened her eyes again, and blinked a few times to clear the haze from her mind. That foggy kind of haze that always set in when she looked with her eyes shut for too long. 

The blackened remains of another fire sat a few feet away from her. Macbeth as he said on day one, had gotten a fire going despite the damp wood they’d found and lack of remaining light. He’d pulled two rocks from his pocket and like magic with a single strike they sparked and there was fire. Carol would be lying if looking back, said she wasn’t impressed how quick he’d gotten it going given she’d been sat their for 5 minutes wheezing with sticks. But she wasn’t impressed at the time. All she felt was pain and anger. Said pain might have been fading, but her anger didn’t.

[3 days earlier…]

“What are you doing?” Carol demanded upon reaching the top of this steep bank overlooking a cliff. At the top was Mr Macbeth, staring at the pin on his hat.

“You know, you’ve got a real uncanny ability for finding people Cross,” Macbeth announced, putting his hat back on. “You got a tracking device on my hat or somethin’?” 
Carol folded her arms frowning silently and Macbeth seemed to take the hint, she wasn’t in the mood for small talk or jokes.
“I was just… enjoying the sunset,” He said. “Under different circumstances this should be a relaxing evening walk.”
A relaxing evening walk. Was he serious?! Their situation was ANYTHING but a ‘relaxing evening walk’.

“How're you feeling?” Macbeth asked, jumping topics. 
Carol shrugged, “Fine considering you nearly succeeded in drowning us.”
“How was I suppose ta know you didn’t know how to swim?”
“By using your ears!”
Macbeth just sighed, “It worked didn’t it? We lost ‘em.”
“And ourselves...”

 

Carol joined Macbeth nearer the cliff edge, looking out to see a golden-orange sun descending behind another wave of clouds looking to soak them. Lovely. As if they weren’t wet enough already. 
It wasn’t like it was going to be a warm shower either. The last one had been bitterly cold, to the point it strung against her exposed skin.

Still. If this was Macbeth attempt at distracting her from the problem as hand, he wasn’t doing a very good job. 

“I assume this is your way of saying you couldn’t get the water out of our phones,” she frowned.
Macbeth shrugged slightly, avoiding her eye contact, “I’m going to try again in the mornin-“ 
“Just admit you can’t fix them already!”
“Toppat’s don’t give up Cross, and I ain’t startin’ now.” He told her with a stupidly optimistic grin.
Carol just shook her head at him, too exhausted to be any angrier, let alone yell on her scratchy raw throat. 

“I don’t understand you.” She announced, “How can you be so… so, so positive! We just lost EVERYTHING! There’ no Toppat Clan, there’s no space station, everyone just got arrested. We have NOTHING!” 
Macbeth looked at her silently for a minute.

 

“Then don’t try to.” He said, “Just… enjoy the sunset with me. We can figure out a plan in the morning.”
“…”

Carol turned her attention to the sky, watching the last of the colour fade away. 
Figure out a plan in the morning, huh? Sure, sure. Why not just delay the enable of admitting how screwed they are? 

“Are we making this plan before, or after we freeze to death?” She asked letting the words ooze with sarcasm.
Macbeth chuckled, apparently finding something she said funny about their DIER situation. “It ain’t that cold Cross. ‘side, we’ll be fine. That’s a half-decent spot you found under the cliff ledge. I’ll get a fire going no problem and you’ll dry off properly in no time.”
“And the bears? And wolfs? And cougars? And moose?” She went on, more mocking him with all the dangers he’d rattled off in her ear about the place they were and were also now going to SPEND THE NIGHT.
Macbeth shrugged, some of his amusement gracing his features. “I’ll be on watch.”
Uh-huh, “And when you fall asleep?” 
“I’ll be lucky to get any sleep out here.” 

They stood in silence for another few minutes. A strong gust of freezing air stabbing deep into their skin even through their clothing. 
It’s freezing out here already and it’s not even dark yet!

“You ever been camping Cross? Or slept rough before?”
Carol scowled at him: She wasn’t in the mood for this. “Do you really need me to answer that?”
“ ‘m just trying to make conversat-“
“WELL DON’T!” Carol snapped into another ‘graceful’ fit of coughing which stung against her already sore throat & chest. 
She was ending this now. 
She didn’t have the patience or energy to deal with him. She wasn’t dealing with him on top of every screaming pain in her body. 

“I want you to get this understood in your thick head right now, Mr Macbeth.” She spat into his face, “I don’t want to be stuck with you, but I don’t really get a say in that. And I certainly don’t want to play pretend ‘friends’ with you either. Y-you’re not my friend and you NEVER will be mine.” Her words came to a crumbling stop with more dry and scratchy coughs. He raised a hand and she immediately swatted it away. “Once we’re out of these woods: I’m gone. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave me the hell alone. G-got it?”
Macbeth said nothing. 
“Good.” Carol wheezed, not waiting for an answer anyway.

Carol closed her eyes again and another minute of searching she spotted his signature grass green glow way off to her left. She watched the green light move for a little bit and it appeared to be getting bigger, which meant he was coming back from… somewhere.

She’d given him 5 minutes, checking in occasionally, not because she was concerned, just bored. 

She had to give up on watching from a distance after a while, as the haze in her head became a pounding force and she knew from experience, she’d strained herself too much already. If it was 7-ish now based on the sun angle then… it would be mid-morning before she’d be able to not look around again. 

Carol got up and made her way in the last direction she’d seen Macbeth. Unsurprisingly, his green suit was difficult to spot among the greens and browns of nature. She frowned thinking back to her own colour palette: Black & purple. She must stand out like a sore thumb. That’s not exactly ideal- 

“What are ya doing out here-“

Carol spun on the spot and swung at the voice, landing a clean blow somewhere. 
Her eyes caught up to her reaction seconds later and she watched Macbeth stumble back landing in the forlage. He sat dubbed over on the ground wincing.

“DON’T DO THAT!” Carol screamed at him. 
“I-I thought you would have heard me comin’,” Macbeth wheezed.
“Clearly I didn’t, did I?”

Macbeth rubbed at his face with one hand leaving, a dark purple smudge behind, “You know, you’ve got a real uncanny ability for finding people,” He grumbled. “How did you find me out here anyway? You should have gotten yourself lost first.”
“What’s that?” Carol asked, ignoring the question. Macbeth frowned confused for a moment, but his gaze drifted to his hand and he sighed.
“That?” Macbeth repeated. “That was breakfast.”
Carol saw a few purple and black berries scattered in the tall grass, as well as the crushed remains of others in one of Macbeth’s hands. 
“Oh.”

He sighed again and shrugged pushing a smile which refused to reach his cheeks, “It’s fine. I should have figured you couldn’t resist another opportunity to hit me given the chance.”
… that wasn’t funny. 

Macbeth seemed to take note of her feelings towards his ‘humour’ as well, dropping the smile he’d oh so clearly forced.

“There’s a river about a half klick to our current west, we can go give these a good wash off and I recon’ they’ll be fine.” He said picking up the undamaged berries.

Carol watched Macbeth for another minute or so, before letting her guilt get the best of her. She got down on one knee and starting picking up berries too. 

She paused momentarily and examined one in her hand, but didn’t really recognise it. 

“Are you sure these aren’t poisonous?”
Macbeth stopped picking the berries and looked at Carol with an expression which could only be read as ‘are you serious?’. He chucked a single berry in his mouth and gave a thumbs up while his face did the exact opposite. 

“Okay, so… what is it?” She asked unconvinced.
“Chokecherries.”
“Choke-what?”
Macbeth picked up the last couple of berries from within the carpet of green. “Chokecherry, bitter-berry, bird cherry. They’re normally used in cooking, but they can be eaten raw. I won’t lie, they taste like shit tho. But if I’ve gotta choose between these and air, I know I‘m choosing these.” 

They got out of the grass and she followed Macbeth in the direction she assumed was west. 

They’d walked for about 20 minutes in silence. The pleasant smile Macbeth had while picking up the berries was long gone, replaced by a more fitting stale frown. He didn’t say what he was thinking about, but with an expression like that, Carol was sure she could guess. 

They hadn’t talked once about what happened with the escape pods, or… Ahnoldt. Neither of them had breathed a word about it. If she had to guess, that’s probably what he’s thinking about, not that she’d let him forget what he did. It was his fault they were out here. It’s also his fault she lost a friend. 
Not her fault this time, but his. 
All because he didn’t do his damned job.

She noticed Macbeth briefly look at her, then away again. 
And then he did it again a minute later. 
And again.

She caught him the 5th time and raiser one eyebrow sharply. “What?”
“Huh, I er…” He looked away again.
For gods sake. “WHAT DO YOU WANT? You’re not 5, spit it out already!” She snapped successfully getting a flinch from the older man.
“I was just er… checking you’re okay. You looked like you’d breathed in a lot of smoke the other week and I wasn’t sure how you’re coping with all this physical activity lately.”
“Uh-huh,” Carol frowned. “And the other reason you keep staring at me is…?”
“Erm…”
Maybe Sven was right. Maybe Mr Macbeth really didn’t know how to talk to girls. Or maybe he just didn’t know how to dig himself out of his lie. 
“Spit it out already. I’m only going to punch.” She frowned, illustrating the action into her empty hand.
Macbeth fell even more silent. 

Carol stopped walking, arms folded and waited. They literally had allllllllllllllllll the time in the world out here. No places to go, no pretend meetings to be running late too. 
She had time and he had no excuses. She could wait to find out why this fool kept looking at her like he thought she wouldn’t notice. There had to be a reason. She’d seen him do it in the past too, but never really gave it much thought till now. He wasn’t being nosey. There wasn’t anything to look at, unless he was seriously just staring at her for the hell of it.

“I er… I was wondering if um… I mean…” Macbeth dropped his head sighing. 
Carol blinked at him, her patience running thin. 

“Sorry…” He eventually mumbled.

“Sorry?” Carol repeated. “That’s it? That’s this big thing you couldn’t say?” 
Unbelievable.

Carol picked up her pace and started walking ahead of Macbeth. What a waste of time that was. She doubled that was what he’d wanted to say. Nobody takes that long to say ‘sorry’ and it seemed more directed at his fumbling of words than anything.
She glanced over her shoulder to check, and Macbeth was slowly walking behind her. He had his head down, lost in thought. 
She waved a hand at him to check, and sure enough, he didn’t notice. 
What was his problem?
What was it he was seemly dying to say, but wouldn’t?

Carol saw two choices. She kept walking towards the sound of the river which was steadily growing louder, or she slowed down and forced whatever it was out of him. 
They were going to be together minimum a week till they found a way out of here, which meant if she didn’t nip this in the bud, it would be over their heads until they found civilisation and parted ways. 

She really had to go make conversation with him, didn’t she?

“Well clearly Sven didn’t learn how to talk to people from you; He’s a natural.” Macbeth looked up surprised to find Carol walking by his side again. 
He shrugged half-heartedly at her, “That’s Copperbottom to blame, not me.”
Carol huffed, “Shame he didn’t teach you some tricks too.”
Macbeth turned away from her. “River’s just down the bank past the tree line. If you're done insulting me, you can go ahead.”
Carol laughed, “Oh! So the brick wall does have feelings~”
Macbeth’s head snapped around, stale face turned sour. “Look, just cause you don’t want to make being stuck together pleasant on the other, doesn’t mean you’ve gotta be an ass about being stuck in my company. I’ve already told you twice ‘m sorry. How many more times do I have to say it until you’ll believe I mean it?”
Carol jabbed at finger at him. “Well I’m not the one staring at people unprompted!”
“And I said I was sorry about that to-”
“And I said I wanted to know why? Nobody just stares at people like that, unless you’re going to tell me I’m stuck out here with a pervert as well as a murderer!”
Macbeth's annoyed glare suddenly turning into a cold hatred. “JUST… drop it Cross.” He warned, “I ain’t in the mood to be lectured again.”
“Not happening.” Carol folded her arms, “Not until you tell me why you keep staring at me! Have you just got a problem up here…” She tapped his head aggressively, “Or maybe, you really are just like Suav-“

“I SAID FUCKING DROP IT!”

Carol let go of the shaky breath that got caught in her throat. She watched Macbeth take a couple of steps away from her, his fists lowered.
Jesus, was he actually about to…

He took a few more steps away and pulled his hat all the way down, covering his face. “Just drop it… please.” He said quietly, “I-I can’t do this today, okay? Just… go ahead and… I’ll catch up.”

He didn’t wait for her response, he turned and Carol watched him hurriedly walk away.

“…”

Everyone knew Mr Macbeth had an explosive temper when he was younger. She’d heard about it plenty in her early clan days, and nowadays people joked about what could happen if you found the same combination of buttons to hit that Danny had, but she hadn’t seen him erupt at someone like that since… they first meet. 
When he’d literally erupted at Terrence Suave, back when she’d first been kidnapped by the Toppat Clan.

Carol turned to leave. She walked a couple of meters and stopped. She looked over her shoulder to see Macbeth had long since sat himself down against a tree in the grass, almost out of sight. Almost invisible in the forest greens if not for the maroon-red stripe on his hat. 

He’d pulled his knees up to his chest and put his head down on top of them. He might have been quietly sobbing, but she couldn’t tell from back there, nor she didn’t care to find out. 

It was just her luck really. Only she could get stuck out here with someone on the brink of a nervous breakdown. 
She really shouldn’t be that surprised. 
She shouldn’t feel anything. 
This is karma.
This is what he deserves.
This is his fault. 
His fault. 

Not hers.

She walked away towards the sound of the river.

*****

[Day 4 - Still Lost]

Today had been quiet. Very quiet. 
And the rest of yesterday hadn’t been much better. 

Mr Macbeth had joined her by the river about 40 minutes after she’d left him. 
Any signs that anything had been wrong were gone. He seemed fine, but… the memory of him sitting by the tree said otherwise. She got the feeling he hadn’t expected her to turn back, he hadn’t expected her to see… 
She’d given him a concerned look when he’d rejoined her, to which he’d returned a mildly surprised one. He said nothing about it if he did realised she’d seen him. He said they were going to follow the river as it was heading south-ish, and if they didn’t do the same, the cold would get them before the authorities. 

They weren’t prepared to be out here sleeping rough. Luck would have it they’d been dressed warm-ish to start with, but warm-ish couldn’t compete with a thermic jacket and hiking gear. And a thermic jacket and hiking gear wouldn’t compete with the fast approaching Canadian winter.

From there, they’d walked. 
And walked. 
And walked some more. 

By the end of the day Carol knew her feet hurt, but Macbeth gave nothing away if his did the same. Even when she’d asked, he’d shrugged at her and turned his back going to sleep.

This morning hadn’t been any different. Nor had the afternoon. He’d only spoken about 20 minutes ago. He’d only spoken to ask if she could find some more wood; That was it. 
No idle conversation like he’d been trying to make the previous days, no relaying of his childhood memories camping, just… “Can you get some more wood?” … and back to silence.

Carol was carrying some sticks and larger branches, listening to the sound of the ground crunch beneath her shoes and of course, her thoughts. And for once, her thoughts hadn’t been of her nightmares, or their current living nightmare, but… him. And she hated it!

The longer they spent together, the more clear it became how little she actually knew about the guy. She knew he was annoying, stubborn and bad at verbal confrontations, but… even just knowing that, she could tell now he seemed… ‘off’. Out of character even. 
She’d been wracking her brain trying to think of another time he’d been like this, maybe a time when Sven had confided in her his concerns for him, but… she kept coming back to the same date: October 21st 2007
The same date 11 years ago, when she’d been relieved of having to be Sven’s ‘parental’ guardian for 4 months. 

Reginald had shoved this kid into her life and forced her to get to know him, and then not even a day after she’d been freed from that responsibility, he was back! Anxious and pacing, saying something was wrong with his dad. She told him the jerk would be fine, to just give him time and all that nice stuff the senior elites would say to her, but he never-

Distant. 
That’s the word she was looking for; distant. 

Macbeth had been really distant since their last argument. More so than normal and now he was just… silent. Like, sure, he didn’t talk much to start with, and what he had said so far had been pointless attempts at small talk (or arguing with her). He wasn’t an annoying chatterbox like Ahnoldt, but this quite, it was a bit extreme, even for him. He might have said 50 words to her ALL day. 
That was what also bothered her about him being so quiet. She knew for a fact he’d been fine until she’d called him a ‘brick wall’ to his face, among other things. 
Telling him she didn’t want to play pretend friends didn’t bother him, but apparently her comparison to a brick wall had earned her the silent treatment?

Yes. That’s all this was.
He’s sulking. 
He’s just sulking like a kid!
There’s nothing actually wrong with him.

Why was he just so… difficult?! 

If she asked Reginald what was bothering him, he’d tell her honestly. If she asked Sven he’d tell her she worries too much and might as well be his mother (, to which she’d remind him she was for quarter a year,) and he’d eventually break and tell her what was wrong.

But then there was awkward Mr Macbeth. Fumbling on his words and treating her like she was stupid. Like she’d actually believe his lies of ‘nothing’ and he’s ‘fine’. 
If anything, it was just making her more annoyed and angry by the minute. Not that she didn’t already have enough reasons to be-

“AGH-“

Carol dropped her pile of sticks and ran the last of the trek back to their camping spot. She found Macbeth clutched one hand against his thigh in front of the fire he’d been trying to get going, and a bloodied rock abandoned next to his leg. 

“What happened?!”
“My hand slipped… ‘m f-fine,” He muttered through gritted teeth. 
Carol ignored the blatant lie and the anger she felt with it, kneeling by his side and pulled his hand off his thigh to examine the damage. 

Right down the centre, he’d sliced the whole length of his palm which was now generously donating blood to the outside world. 

“Hold still.” Carol ordered while she started unravelling the bandage from around her burn. 
“Cross, it’s fin-“
“Don’t you DARE lie to my face. I can see as well as you can it’s deep and not going to stop on it’s own. Now SHUT UP, and hold out your hand!” 
Macbeth promptly shut his open mouth, and held his hand out in Carol’s direction. She started wrapping the bandage around his hand, and was about 2 layers in when he tried to tug it back.

“Whoa, whoa, y-your making a mess of it. That won’t hold 5 minutes,” He told her. “Take it off and let me do it.”
“With one hand?”
Macbeth stopped. Looked at the bleeding hand and sighed, “Alright, alright. I’ll talk you through how to do it. Just, get it off.”

Carol unraveled the bandage and Macbeth started by helping her wrap a single layer around his wrist. Once it was secured, between the two of them they passed the bandage back ‘n forth, wrapping up his palm. 
He passed it back one last time and Carol tied a somewhat sturdy feeling knot.

“Not bad for you first time,” Macbeth said stretching his palm and wiggling the fingers. “I should teach you some more first aid so you know what to do if the injury's worse next time, or erm…”
“Or maybe, you could just learn to be careful in the first place!” Big clumsy oaf. He’d made her panic for nothing. She thought he was getting mauled by a bear or something, screaming like a girl like that. 

The slight warmth to Macbeths face faded and he looked down to the two rocks he’d been using, and then his bandaged hand. “Guess I need to show you how to start a fire too, huh?”
Carol picked up the two rocks, “It can’t be that hard.”
“You’d be surprised actually. You need the right type of rocks to start with, and then the correct amount of force and angle you strike the second rock with,” Macbeth explained, demonstrating with his empty hands the correct angle and speed. “You’ve also gotta be mindful the sparks don’t land on your clothes and turn you into the fire.”

Carol tried copying his action and… nothing. 
She tried again; Nothing. 
And again.
And again.
And…

She frowned: this might be a problem. 

“Your angle’s wrong.” Macbeth said watching her fail once more. 
With his none-bandaged hand, he held the back of hers showing her the angle again. He let go after a couple of practice movements so she could get the feel for it, and let Carol strike the next one on her own. This one sparked, but nothing caught alight. Still, she felt her determination form a smile; Nearly.

She repeated the striking a few more times and after the 7th attempt something caught alight. 

“Good! Now give it a little blow to get some air in it. Gentle and slow so you don’t put it out tho. If you do put it out, just start again from getting a spark.”
Carol followed his instructions and somehow she didn’t put the flame out. She blew a couple of times before moving back and watching the spark grow into a flame and then a roaring fire that ate through the wood stack they’d set up.

She caught Macbeth from the corner of her eye smiling as he watched her. He noticed she’d noticed, the smile falling away no sooner than it had appeared; He looked away. 
Carol felt her own smile falter, being taken back to yesterday morning. 

“What?” She asked, trying a softer approach.
“Sorry, I was just… impressed how you got it so easily.” Macbeth shrugged, “I remember my first time, took me a good ‘half hour to get a spark and then I immediately blew it out.” 
Macbeth laughed to himself softly, clearly enjoying the memory, but upon seeing her lack of amusement stopped. “Sorry.”

She watched his face drop more under her growing glare.
“I told you once and I’ll only repeat myself once: DON’T lie to my face,” Carol spat, trying and mostly failing to hold down the frustration she felt. “You’re thinking about the same thing as yesterday, right? Why won’t you tell me what that is? I was joking about punching you, you know.”
Macbeth turned away, mumbling, “Maybe I don’t want to talk about it.”
Carol moved back into his face. “Why?”
“ ‘Cause maybe I don’t want to talk about it to YOU.”
“Wow. WOW.” Carol laughed coldly, “You really couldn’t have worded that any worse could you!? JERK!”

Macbeth rolled his eyes, and Carol only just held down the urge to punch him.
“What dose it matter how I say it? Whether I wrap the words up in pretty ribbons or not, it still means the same thing: I don’t want to talk about my feeling with you.”
Carol tightened her fist, “I can assure you, your word choice is the difference between whether I’ll go back on saying I wouldn’t punch you, or not!”
Macbeth tightened his own fists, “Well, why not get it out of your system already then?! It’s the only thing you’ve done asides from complain down my ear all week!”
TCH! 
“That’s because we wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for you!”
Macbeth’s eyes darkened, “I didn’t ask for the bloody rocket launch to go wrong. I didn’t ask to get hunted down like a wild pig, and I certainly didn’t ask to be stuck out here with your ungrateful ass!”

That’s it. 

THAT’S FUCKING IT! 

“THEN WHY THE FUCK DID YOU COME LOOKING FOR ME! WHY DO YOU ALWAYS COME LOOKING FOR ME?! It’s been 17 fucking years since we met, and you won’t leave me alone!” 

Macbeth flinched, her fist just grazing his shoulder. 
He grabbed her wrist, then caught her other when she tried to free it. 

“Will ya grow up and stop try’na hit me EVERY-TIME I give ya my opinion?!” He snarled, grip tight. “Last I checked, I wasn’t the only adult out here!”
“Your certainly the only asshole!” Carol retorted back.
Macbeth huffed and suddenly released his grip on her wrists.
Carol pulled her hands back, ready for whatever he was planning next. 

He took a deep breath. 
Then let it go.

“Did it ever cross your mind once, that maybe…” Macbeth shook his head and shrugged, “I don’t know, maybe I don’t look out for you because ya need it, but because I love my kid? And whether I like it or not, yer still Sven’s friend?” 
“…”
“A-and…”  Macbeth’s words crumbled to a temporary stop. “He’s already lost one friend this week- and for the LAST FUCKING TIME, I didn’t kill Curtis, I just… I-I don’t wanna be the reason he looses another. 
That’s why I went looking for you, ya ungrateful sod.” 

Carol… she hadn’t thought of that. 
She’d been so wrapped up in herself and how bad everything was going for her, nothing else had crossed her mind. No one else had crossed her mind.
“…” 
Maybe there was a good reason he’d been so distant and been blabbering all week. Maybe he was trying to distract himself, because maybe he hadn’t actually been thinking about how bad their situation was like she’d been doing. 
Maybe he’d been thinking about something more important. Someone more important than himself.

“…Sorry. I er… I guess I just…” Macbeths’ softly mumbled apology fell apart, ending with a shrug and a head shake. 
He cast his gaze to his blood stained trousers leg in silence.

“Rough week?” Carol laughed softly, “Yeah, I can tell you all about it.”
Macbeth huffed a small chuckle, “I’d say you’ve got no idea, but I guess you do.”
“Oh trust me, I wish I didn’t,” Carol sighed. “Sleeping out here with the birds and bears, getting wet and cold. Living on enough food to starve a mouse. What a dream. This is exactly how I wanted to spend my week. I wouldn’t trade it for the world~”
Macbeth smiled in great amusement at Carols’ wondrous tale. No doubt to a farm boy her woes were amusing at the very least. She got the feeling living like this was how normal people lived, or at least… chose to torture themselves every summer holidays. She certainly didn’t get the feeling that he was particularly bothered by their current living conditions.

“We could try fishing?” Macbeth suggested. “I’ve seen stuff in the river, but we don’t have no equipment, so it means getting wet again…”
“And cold again?” Carol finished. “Yeah, no thank you. If one of us gets hypothermia out here we’re both screwed.”
“I dunno, a few more days of eattin’ berries and a cold drip to wash off all this mud, sweat and blood might be kind of refreshing.”
“Tch, you’re mad.” Carol announced to Macbeth and the rest of the forrest.
He shrugged, a cheeky smile filling his tired features, “I’m just really missing a warm shower~”
“Well, I’ll tell you what. Once we find a cabin, I’ll let you have the honour of going first, you big soft wuss.” She mocked, elbowing him in the side.
Macbeth looked pissed by her comment, but said nothing, seemingly letting it go.

They listened to the wind and birds for a little bit, the fire crackling away in the background as its warmth finally started to heat the cooling air around them.

“You think there’s a cabin out this deep?”
Carol shrugged, “Well, sure. Why not? We’ve had this much bad luck so far. Is a nice warm cabin too much to ask for?”
“Careful. You’ll jinx us and it’ll be some draughty abandoned shaft,” Macbeth tried to tease, but it came out sounding more like a statement. “But please, do enlighten me what you’ll be doing when we find this ‘luxury’ cabin you’re picturing.”
“Sleep.” Carol said simply. “I plan on sleeping and not waking up with pain in places I didn’t know I could have pain.”
Macbeth snorted, and then burst out into a proper chuckle of laughter, which was… kind of unsettling. The expression, the sounds he made, the feeling in the air…
He seemed to pick up on her unease as he did his best to stifle his chuckles. “W-what?”
“I er… I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh. Like… properly laugh.”
Her colleague shrugged, “You’re funny.”
“Tch. And you’re a pain in the ass.”
Macbeth held onto the brighter expression despite her remark, “A good pain right?”
Carol tried and failed to contain her own chuckle; Clearly she’d found where Sven get’s his goofball side from. It was weird seeing the same humour coming from the normally stale-like-week-old-bread train conductor, but… the change wasn’t unwelcome. 

She shoved Macbeth like she would have if Sven had said that. “Go to sleep before your blood loss gets to your head anymore. You’re still annoying.”
“You’re putting me in the same category as Schwarz!” He whined.
“Of course not!” Carol rolled her eyes with the greatest exaggeration, “He’s got his own category called ‘reasons-I-haven’t-killed-this-doofuses-yet’!”

Macbeth didn’t laugh this time, and it quickly dawned on her why. 

She glanced at her silent colleague. “Do you think he’s okay?”

Macbeth looked away. 

“…No.”

Carol tried not to picture her blooded and beaten colleague she’d insisted they left for dead. 
They… they really couldn’t have helped him, could they? No, of course not! She’d thought through her decision well at the time, and unlike Mr Macbeth, she’d been of sound mind. There was nothing they could have done for him. Not that that made the decision any easier to swallow, but nothing they could have done would have changed this end result. 

“I didn’t ask for him to be my friend either.” Macbeth said interrupting the crickets. “He did the same shit to you, he did to me. Maybe he thought it would work twice? Inserting himself in someone’s life and expecting ‘em to accept it. Maybe if I’d actually pushed him away like you do to people, he’d have gotten the message and given up?”

Carol nodded, and against her better judgment, let her mouth open again. “…how did you meet him?”
Macbeth raised a brow a little surprised, but didn’t linger on it. 
“Suave. You?”
“Wilhelm.” Carol explained, “After I got taken off the train and to the Head of the EU devision, he saddled me up with Schwarz. Said he was trustworthy and would help me settle in while he talked to the leader to figure out what to do with me.”
Macbeth tilted his head. “Oh? I though you got stuck with Appleseed for a mentor.”
“I did once they realised I couldn’t understand German and Schwarz wasn’t fluent enough in English to work through my ‘uncooperative nature’.” Carol smiled softly, but it quickly fell bitter.