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Theos sat quietly on top of the crate, his legs tucked under him. A faint and pulsing crick had developed at the base of his spine, his body protesting at the choice of posture that should’ve been wrung out of him long ago. Theos did his best to ignore it, choosing instead to stare absentmindedly at the figure standing silent before him.
It was already a wonder how he had managed to find a place big enough to house such a hulking, obvious mech, and even more of a marvel that he had gotten here in the first place without destroying something along the way. Although the spikier parts had nearly scraped the sides of the massive double-doors (originally meant for machinery) when Theos piloted it inside, it had mostly been painless. He wasn’t sure yet whether living in the technologically-centered Icodon had made the whole process easier or not.
Even so, the storehouse wasn’t ideal by any means—it had clearly seen better days: abandoned crates and boxes and random pieces of half-decayed furniture littered the place in no apparent fashion, and useless machinery once used by some nameless company or other lay dormant in separate corners. Dust had claimed nearly every inch it could find, adding a second layer to the already grimy floor and clouding the windows. Cobwebs crawled up the wood and into the ceiling beams. Theos didn’t even want to think about what lived up there.
The only thing that stood out right away was Cygnus, of course. Theos wasn’t exactly discreet in his design choices, its metal a scheme of stark off-white and grays, with the eyes being the only splash of color in the form of sheer sky blue panels. A tapered waist hugging a jointed spine, sleek plates coating powerful thrusters and winged cannons, high boots and proud chest—Cygnus was all sharp angles with an even sharper bite. Not that Theos planned to act on that anytime soon.
The memory of his rage-induced outburst was still fresh in his mind, the feeling of it raw and simmering unpleasantly just underneath his skin. It threatened to ignite again if he dwelled on it for too long. He swallowed the rising nausea at the picture of Lenos’s reaction to the Overdrive System; her eyes unfocused and almost unseeing, her limbs twitching violently in all the signs of some internal massacre. A bit of blood and foam had escaped her lips, and had trailed agonizingly slow down her chin. Unhelpfully, his brain decided to supply a before and after, and Theos had to uncurl his fists lest his nails draw blood.
The Overdrive System. The only thing he was about to be driven over was the edge.
The thought brought no amusement however, and he forcibly pushed away the imprints of only a few days prior. His eyes focused again on Cygnus. It was a silent guardian, almost eerily so in the way its proud face looked challengingly towards an unknown point. Theos sighed and unfurled himself from his seat on the crate, stretching his arms above his head.
It was maybe a little past dawn. The inside of the storehouse was that peculiar cool shade of not-quite-night but not-quite-day, where the world would still be reluctantly blinking away the last remnants of sleep. Habit had prevented him from sleeping in. In these quiet hours, his mind was the loudest. If he closed his eyes and let himself drift away long enough, Theos could almost feel the air-conditioning of the military-lent rooms and the dim hum of the unit. The disgruntled expressions of his friends at the early morning drills, Jorax’s witty quips that had often earned them a scolding from their subdued snickers.
He made his way to the back of the storehouse. Cygnus was stationed near it, with the beginnings of some makeshift scaffolding towering beside, resembling a house of twigs more. Nestled in the corner was where Theos had made camp. He had managed to find and clean up a mattress that was in relatively good condition, and had taken a few thick blankets from the military base before he left. Theos didn’t like not having his things close, so the few personal items he owned were arranged right beside it, some on a rickety table.
Around it was the skeleton of a home, if Theos could even call it that. Materials and utensils to help with cooking, first aid, and washing and drying, among other things. There was even a (barely) functioning restroom in the storehouse, once used for employees or customers. The place was like a dream for any slum kid, and Theos would find it hard to believe that it had sat here unclaimed for so long, except that wasn’t the case.
A large cerulean blanket hung suspended at the foot of Theos’s bed, separating his space from another. The fabric rustled, and a figure trotted out from behind it. Theos stifled a groan, already knowing he was in for a long-winded ramble about something Wren had discovered.
Sure enough, Wren’s face brightened at the sight of Theos, their grin widening. “Theos! So listen to this. I was out this morning looking for a junkyard. You know, I can’t find much in the other ones anymore because I’ve picked it clean for everything I wanted. Even…I think at one point I almost got into a fight with some kid over a jar of bolts. I mean, who just leaves a perfectly good—”
“Wren,” Theos interrupted curtly, his arms crossed in front of his torso. “Please, spare me the details.”
They offered him a crooked smile. “Right. Sorry. Let me just—”. Wren spun on their heels and headed back into their room, gesturing for Theos to follow. Unlike Theos’s pathetic excuse for a room, Wren’s space was much more lived in, boasting a chaotic yet cozy atmosphere despite the clutter. Lights were strung across the wall, softly illuminating piles of spare parts and unfinished projects. Tools like wrenches and screwdrivers peppered the rug-covered floor (which bore more than its fair share of scorch marks), and Theos wondered if Wren even knew they were there.
Theos watched in mild amusement as Wren nearly tripped over an arc welder haphazardly strewn across the floor. After they rummaged around for a while, they came back to him with something sitting in their gloved hands. Curious, Theos stepped forward to study it. It almost looked like a mini version of Cygnus, if everything except the head remained and it had sprouted wings. “What is it?”
“I call it the Swanbot!” Wren exclaimed excitedly. They turned the bot around to open a hatch on the back of its head and connected a small gold wire to a port. Above it was a tiny screen. Immediately, the bot whirred to life in a flurry of movement. The insect-like wings propelled it into the air. Wren yelped, and Theos quickly shot out a hand to catch it before it rammed itself into the wall.
Wren huffed and took the Swanbot from Theos, unconnecting the wire with an exasperated expression. “I built an internal GPS and routed it so that we can put in any coordinates we want while also having it recognize the storehouse as its homebase.”
“That’s incredible,” Theos said, genuinely impressed. Even if he and Wren had sometimes not gotten along, he would still continue to be in awe at what Wren could do. Even if he’d never admit that to Wren’s face. He sat on the edge of Wren’s bed, leaning back with all the comfort he could muster. “So what, you gonna use that thing to pick up food or something? Also, I don’t think swans even have wings like that.”
Wren looked up from tinkering with the bot and shot Theos a look. “Well obviously! But I modeled it to resemble Cygnus, so.” They set the Swanbot on a short stool, one miraculously free of any junk. “And the wings are more effective. It’s just a prototype for now but… eventually it could help people pick up small deliveries. Act as a companion.”
“What happened to the Toolbud? The D-80?”
Wren gave him an odd look. Shit, that’s right. That was a few years ago. They were the last commercial projects Theos remembered Wren working on, the Toolbud and Deliver-80. Both aimed to serve a similar purpose to the Swanbot, in helping around the house with chores or going out to make or pick up deliveries.
“They worked, but not well enough,” Wren admitted with a sigh. “And I couldn’t afford to keep making more, the parts were too expensive.”
Theos nodded, familiar with the struggle. He felt a bit embarrassed asking about projects that were clearly after-thoughts at this point, but whatever. He waited for Wren to continue. They wore a sheepish expression, as if they were debating on what to say next.
“I wanted to create the Swanbot with cheaper but sturdier stuff,” Wren explained. “It would have the same uses but improved. Better pathfinding, too, and maybe… a few other add-ons?”
Eyebrow raised, Theos watched Wren with renewed curiosity. There was clearly something else Wren wanted to tell him. When Theos stayed quiet, Wren shifted their feet and averted their gaze.
“I was thinking… maybe it could also be a scout of some sort. Or a messenger. We could even use it to send letters and stuff back to your friends at the base. Or we could visit them together!”
Theos frowned, his expression shuttering off. The weight that had gradually settled in his chest was promptly reawakened and sunk further. He pushed himself off the bed, ignoring the flash of panic across Wren’s face.
“I have no need to contact that place,” Theos spat. He felt a spark of regret as Wren winced, his words coming out harsher than intended. But it died swiftly. “I chose my path the night they decided to choose winning a fight over preserving a human life.” He tried to choose his words carefully, but emotion made him slip just a fraction. Wren didn’t—couldn’t—know about the Overdrive System. It wasn’t only a matter of utter and non-negotiable confidentiality, but Theos was absolutely frightened of what would happen to Wren if they knew.
Wren held their arms out in a pleading gesture. Theos sighed bitterly. It seems some things don’t change. Before Theos had left, he knew that Wren had a slight idolization with the military. In these few days, he was aware that Wren was itching to ask Theos about it but had held off. He wasn’t sure what prevented Wren from joining it themself—they had never told him—and he wasn’t about to pry. The only thing he knew was that Wren often looked to him to glean information about the military and its inner workings.
“Is this about what happened a few days ago?” Wren asked. “You never really told me…but I’m sure once it’s sorted out—”
A searing heat flared inside Theos, and he rounded on Wren. “There is no sorting out . Wren, why don’t you get it? I’m not going back there. Join the damn military yourself if you really want to. At least then, I won’t have to put up with you and your ignorance anymore.”
Without staying to hear Wren’s response, Theos stormed out of their room. He only barely resisted the urge to tear the cloth from its hangings. There was a telltale heat gathering behind his eyes and Theos knew he wouldn’t have been able to hold it back for very long in front of Wren. He never could. The rage from earlier was nearly full-force now, eating away at his throat and sternum until it felt like he couldn’t breathe. Only now, as the days since his departure passed in all their dragging seconds and hours, that anger felt more and more like hurt, and an awful lot of grief. There wasn’t any one source.
There was silence around him. No footsteps running after him. He refused to look at Cygnus. The hunk of metal had an uncanny ability to appear disappointed whenever Theos was in a mood. Theos picked his way across the yard of useless things. The quiet of the storehouse was a cool relief, tempering his mood a fraction.
Theos left the storehouse, closing the creaking door behind him. The crisp morning air wrapped around him like a blanket, chilling through his thin black garments. The sky was clear, not a puff of cloud to be seen. Only a smattering of stars decorated the quickly fading indigo, a seamless line bleeding into the yellows and oranges of a waking sun. A slight breeze had picked up, and Theos subconsciously pinched a cluster of dark hair as it was tousled.
Thankfully, the storehouse was located amongst other abandoned buildings and structures. Weeds and wildflowers sprung up everywhere, brushing against more rusted and random objects. Still, it wasn’t a large area, so Theos could still hear the far-off sounds of vendors and workers setting up for the day, but it was enough to help clear his mind. With a shuddering breath, Theos closed his eyes. For a while, he was content with listening to the environment around him. A songbird heralded morning to his left, to his right there was a rasp of old wood.
He still felt the churning, ugly knot in his chest. It took a while, but he eventually brought himself to perform the breathing exercises Akira had taught him so long ago. Theos still remembered sitting in that little break room, a ball of reckless and impulsive energy near bouncing off the sterile white walls. In front of him Akira had sat cross-legged, only watching him with neither mockery nor amusement as he struggled to calm himself, only endless patience.
Theos let that memory slip into another, a happier time. Before the System tore through Lenos. He remembered watching Akira work on a prototype of a feline mech for hours. Sneaking out after hours to clamber onto the roof and stargaze, sometimes with Jorax or Lenos or both. Nearly getting into a food fight in the cafeteria with a group of especially cocky engineers, only stopping begrudgingly because of Naga’s stern glare. And before that…
A smaller Wren, all knobby knees and awkward limbs. Showing him a small and crude mechanical mouse with a toothy smile. The poor thing had promptly shivered, puffed out a breath of steam, and broke apart into little pieces. Their shocked silence had quickly devolved into hysterics. It was always like that with Wren. One mistake, countless failed projects, would never deter them from trying again and again until they got it right.
Theos opened his eyes, awareness coming back to him in a soft wave. At some point, his legs had carried him to stand near the street, letting the environment and noises ground him. The sky had lightened considerably, the sounds of the city no longer dull and subdued. Theos exhaled and turned to enter the storehouse again, guilt writhing in his gut. It wasn’t nearly as bad as before, when he’d make himself unknown for hours at a time, but it seems he still had a long way to go.
The storehouse was as quiet as before, with Cygnus standing vigil in the corner. Theos squinted at it. He should really find a way to cover it up.
“Wren?” Theos called out tentatively and listened. There were no sounds of movement, no signs of life. Then again, Theos didn’t blame them if they left. It’s not like Theos’s outbursts were anything new—they both had their ways to cool off. But still, something was different this time. It was the first real argument they’d had since Theos returned, and by extension since he joined the military.
Even though they both knew that coming out of it, their relationship had shifted on some fundamental level, they’d both avoided talking about it. These past few days had been fragile, a live wire running underneath Theos’s skin that he’d been determined to keep from Wren as long as possible.
Pushing away the unease building in the back of his mind, Theos returned to Wren’s room. It was as he’d left it, except that the Swanbot was gone. A quick glance around the room confirmed that Wren had probably gone out hunting for scraps—their pack was gone, as well as their delving boots. It was always Wren’s first choice to escape to.
Theos grumbled to himself, his mood for reconciliation quickly fading. He considered heading out himself, but his thoughts were interrupted by a low humming sound emanating from behind him. It was getting louder and… closer?
Instinctively, he ducked to the side. Something sharp nicked his ear, but otherwise zipped past him not a heartbeat later. Theos put a hand to his chest to calm his pounding heart. His muscles were tense as he geared up for a fight. It was the Swanbot, currently crashed on Wren’s bed. Its left wing was bent at an odd angle, flicking forlornly. A thin stream of smoke wafted from the little Cygnus head, and the metal sheeting had been scratched in some places. The thing had obviously been beat up, but by what?
Theos frowned and picked up the bot. He stamped down a hiss at the heated metal and turned it around, thinking back to what Wren had shown him. He hooked a fingernail into the edge of the hatch and flipped it up, revealing the small screen with the set of coordinates the Swanbot was currently locked onto. Beneath it sat an even smaller set—the one it had just come from.
“I know a sign when I see one,” Theos muttered. He tucked the bot under his arm and strode over to his room, tearing impatiently at the cloth flap. Something glinted in the low light, lying perched on a book on the table. They were a set of rings he had acquired from his time in the military—he had pried out the gems so that only prongs remained, stark and grasping. Theos slipped them on absentmindedly, and hurried to where Cygnus stood tall and watchful. Beside it was a small alcove, easily hidden in the surrounding towers of boxes and forgotten cargo.
The signs of Wren were obvious. It was just as cluttered as their room, but somehow felt more organized in a way that told of a professional workspace. The chaos had purpose and layers, but it wasn’t a tool Theos was interested in. But first, he had to patch up the Swanbot.
He had no time to replace the metal sheets and find out the source of the smoke, which was already thinning on its own. It had not stopped twitching, which was a good sign—it indicated there was at least some juice left that he could maybe jumpstart. So he would have to repair the wing.
Theos quickly got to work, setting the Swanbot down on the workbench. He may not have familiarized himself with this area quite yet, but he knew how Wren’s mind worked and had seen many iterations of Wren’s workspace. Sure enough, he was able to find a multi-layered plastic drawer chock full of various kinds of metal sheets. Theos picked the lightest and smallest he could find and snipped some elastic string from a spool. He returned to the Swanbot and righted the wing, creating a sort of lightweight splint from the materials as if it were a real broken limb.
He triple-tied the knot in the string and stepped back with a grimace. It wasn’t pretty or particularly useful in the long run, but it just had to get him to where he needed to go. Swiping the bot, he returned to what he was really here for.
What he wanted lay dormant in the middle of the clutter, just as silent and monolithic as Cygnus but significantly smaller. The sight of it made Theos quirk a lip—even after all this time, she still wasn’t perfected.
He grabbed the cloth and slipped it off, trying to be careful even as urgency sang in his ears. What lay underneath was a quadruped mech standing at attention. She might’ve resembled one of Akira’s feline prototypes if it weren’t for the wider, flattened toes and the smooth bulk of her neck and head that were more level to her shoulders. Her head could almost be mistaken for a cannon barrel if it weren’t for the sharp-toothed grin splitting down the middle of her rectangular head.
On the dark gray metal of her flank were the words “PS-01” stenciled in neon orange. It was clear the project was unfinished, with all the loose cables and exposed, mismatched parts. But the mech was still saturated with a sort of loving care. Her exterior was polished and cleaned, her spares the only thing in the workspace that were carefully labeled and organized. Seeing this, Theos almost felt a little bad for what he was about to do.
“Sorry, girl,” Theos mumbled, and swung himself onto her back. He got a quiet groan from the metal in protest, but PS-01 otherwise held under his weight. Theos grasped a couple of sturdy cables meant to act as reins, and allowed himself a moment to relish being back on a mech, even if it wasn’t what he was used to. Then there was a vibration from the Swanbot, and he looked down at it. It let out another buzz with a small burst of sparks from where it was perched between his thighs as if it were reminding him of his ordeal.
There was a hatch set between PS’s shoulder blades, right above the bot. Theos opened it, revealing a charging port and a button. With a quick press to the latter, Theos started as the mech beneath him sputtered to life. There was the sound of fans softly whirring in some internal structure, and PS-01’s jaw clacked. After a few jerks, she straightened to her full height and shook, as if ridding herself of any excess dust. With the motion Theos was struck by how big she actually was as opposed to her powered down state.
“Okay, you just gotta work with me for a bit here,” Theos said, and tugged on the cables. PS-01 started forward with a sudden lurch, and Theos cursed as he veered sideways to avoid crashing into a crate. The Swanbot rattled precariously in front of him, and Theos wrapped a cable around it in an attempt to keep it still. After some wrestling, he managed to gain a shaky idea of how PS’s controls worked, and he guided her towards the exit at a loping canter.
Light flooded his vision as PS stepped outside. She paused at the entrance, as if to take in her surroundings. However, the bot didn’t waste any time. It beeped once and jolted, breaking free from its confines and zooming off in some random direction. Much to his delight, his splint actually worked. The bot was able to fly with no problem, only the mismatched flapping of its wings. Theos smiled and tugged on the reins, nearly losing his balance as PS took off after the Swanbot with a faster stride than he expected.
She was an incredibly smooth ride as she cut through the air and onto the dirt street. Theos looked behind him to see the storehouse quickly fading from view as it was obscured by the other deteriorating buildings. He felt a brief spark of fear—what if someone went inside and discovered Cygnus? It’s not like he’d made any attempts to cover it up.
But Wren had been living there for a long time, much longer than him, and Theos would be surprised if the kid hadn’t set more than a few clever traps for anyone who attempted to break in.
His anxiety subsiding, Theos turned back around and leaned forward until he was braced over PS. He could almost hear her joints and gears pumping to their full extent like a strange yet comforting mechanical heartbeat. The morning chill had receded, replaced with the slowly rising heat from the sun’s emerging rays. The Swanbot flew overhead, occasionally sending a puff of smoke into the air. It rounded a corner, and Theos quickly leaned to the side and pulled on the cables.
PS groaned, and she slanted sharply to the side. A cloud of dust and pebbles were sent up by her feet, but she recovered and continued pounding down the main street after the bot. Theos was grateful that there still weren’t many people out to obstruct his way, and he was pleasantly amused to find that those who were awake barely threw him a glance as he raced by.
Theos liked the outskirts of Icodon. The buildings were more quaint, with traces of the region’s trade woven in but nowhere near as towering and bustling as central Icodon. It made it infinitely easier to trace the bot’s path, even if Theos could feel the way PS was heating up beneath him with all the effort to her still shaky machinery.
After following it down the road for a few moments longer, the bot banked to the right and narrowly missed a low-hanging sign. Theos steered PS to round the corner just in time to see it turn again, this time down a side street. Theos tightened his grip on the cables as PS thundered on. The side street was much more narrow, the sides lined with boxes piled high and small storage units next to side doors. The sudden constriction of space made Theos’s throat tighten with anxiety, his inexperience in driving PS apparent by the way she kept weaving precariously close to the wall. But just as he was beginning to get used to it, the Swanbot spewed sparks again and jerked down yet another alley.
Theos swallowed down the frustration welling up in his chest. How did that damn thing move so fast with a broken wing and half its brain cells fried? He added another note to an already long mental list of suggestions for Wren. The thought of the mechanic brought a painfully sobering stab to his heart, and Theos urged PS on. She turned down the alley, the abrupt movement causing her to slide along the wall for a heartbeat. Theos cursed at the shower of sparks sent up by her shoulder and quickly righted her, his nerves in his throat.
The alley was expectedly dingy, a hotbed for the seedier dealings of Icodon’s outskirts—trash littered the floor and joined other seemingly random items. There was a peculiar smell hanging low in the alley. But it was still miraculously empty, and Theos knew from the Swanbot’s slowing movements that they were close to Wren. Sure enough, Theos spotted what suspiciously looked like the beginnings of a pile of junk as they neared the end of the passage.
The Swanbot made an ominous grating sound overhead, its rush of adrenaline apparently about to die out. Theos tugged on PS’s reigns once more and she pushed forward just in time for Theos to catch the little bot as it fell out of the air. He loosely secured it back in the cables. As if responding to the state of the Swanbot, PS jerked underneath Theos. Her head tossed to the side as the whirring of her joints audibly increased. “Just a little farther, girl,” Theos murmured, patting her neck.
Sure enough, a heartbeat later they burst from the other end of the alleyway. PS leapt on top of a pile of scraps with a shudder. Theos turned to get a full view of their surroundings. A junkyard, just like he suspected. An expansive one too, rich with all sorts of parts and materials. It must be relatively new, if the surprisingly low amount of rusted objects said anything. The whole place was covered in a gleam as it was mostly composed of newer and more modern parts. The junkyard appeared mostly uninteresting to Theos, but he imagined it would be the equivalent of a gold mine for people like Wren.
He discovered a couple of other interesting details as well.
One, that four street urchins stood in the clearing before Theos and were very obviously gaping up at him. They almost blended in with the piles of junk surrounding them with their muted clothing and dirt-smudged faces. Two, that near the foot of the kid on the outer right lay a familiar aviator hat, its goggles smeared with soot.
Theos was no stranger to brawls. Hell, he’d rather waltz back to the military than bet that any kid who grew up on the streets didn’t get into one at some point. And for some, a good fight was the only language they could understand, which he of all people could get behind. But Theos could recognize when one was undeserving, and frankly unfair.
He glowered down at the half circle of delvers. He made sure to lift his hands, still clenched tightly on PS’s reins. The shine of the metal around him would catch on his rings. They didn’t seem to be any older than Wren, which only fueled his rising anger. “Four on one, huh? Doesn’t seem very fair.”
There was a poignant silence. “W-what are you—,” the one nearest the hat started, their eyes wide and eyebrows drawn.
“Spare me the act and get the fuck out of here,” Theos nearly growled. His patience was fleeting, his anger spiking. They would lie even with the bright crimson blood obviously caking their knuckles and highlighting their jaw.
The group exchanged pointed looks. The tallest one stepped forward, and with a sharp sense of satisfaction Theos noted the bloody split lip and bruising cheekbone. He held out a gloved hand. “Look man, it’s everyone for themselves around here. Gotta do what you can to survive, and sometimes you’re just at the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Theos just stared at him in response, a wry smile tugging at his lips. PS made a noise resembling a distorted snarl, the sound loud and deep. The group shuffled backwards, glancing at her and one another with uncertainty. Theos patted her neck with finality, and this time she sprang into action. He felt her hind legs bunch and leap off the pile of junk, sailing towards them. In one fluid motion, he released her reins and dismounted her on the right side.
The delvers were scrambling and shouting, clearly not prepared to defend against a machine much bigger than them. Theos hefted the Swanbot in one hand and chucked it at the tall one as he staggered back, watching as it bounced off his face with a satisfying crunch. He yelped and held his nose in his hands, rivulets of blood streaming between his fingers.
There was a rush of air behind Theos and he reflexively ducked and stepped to the side. It was the one who tried to feign confusion earlier, throwing a punch at the air. “Clumsy,” Theos taunted and seized their arm with a brutal grip. Unfortunately for them, they decided to pick a fight with the younger sibling of someone who had military training.
He registered the pain in the other’s face and summoned his strength, shoving them forward. Gathering strength in his core, Theos delivered a kick to their back, his sturdy boots easily punching through thin material. With a broken wheeze, they stumbled forward from the added momentum and tumbled right into the tallest one, who was still favoring his nose.
They collapsed in a heap. Dirt swirled around them and they barely clambered back to avoid falling on the sharper pieces of junk.
When Theos was sure they were out of commission, he turned to assist PS. Only to find she had made quick work of the other two, with one trembling near a junk pile, their right hand bent at an unnatural angle, and the other having apparently decided the fight wasn’t worth the risk and ran off. PS turned to him, and Theos was absolutely certain that he had never seen a machine have a smug expression before today. As she trotted to his side, Theos patted her approvingly. Yes, he liked her already. He heard the sound of frantic scuffling and whispering, and didn’t need to turn to know that they had successfully scared the group off.
Theos let out a sigh and cracked his knuckles. He bent down and scooped up the aviator hat, brushing off the dirt and dust that clung stubbornly to the material. “Wren?” he called out. The sunlight bounced off the junk piles in an almost glaring fashion, and Theos had to squint against some of them in order to try and make out any figure.
“I got your mechanical dog with me,” Theos joked, trying again after there was no answer. PS pawed once at the ground before sitting on her haunches in one janky motion. The fight seemed to take the last of her energy. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to get up any time soon, Theos left her side and started towards the biggest junk pile. If he knew Wren, there was no way they’d just run away from a fight. They wouldn’t abandon a good junkyard even if it meant having to wait it out for hours.
And… Theos frowned, having almost forgotten about why they were even here in the first place.
He absentmindedly ran his hand over a twisting pipe jutting out from the large junk pile. He was about to check another area when he spotted movement through some gaps. Theos clutched the aviator hat tighter and approached it.
It was Wren, sitting on a flat section of the pile with their knees drawn up to their chest. They faced away from Theos, seemingly deep in thought as they didn’t hear or acknowledge Theos coming. Sure enough, Wren’s gear was spread out around them. Theos rapped on a stray metal sheet and Wren started, whipping their head around to face him with wide eyes.
Theos frowned. Besides the scratches that Theos expected, Wren’s lip was also red from where it was split, and he could spot the sure beginnings of a black eye forming. “Hey kid,” Theos greeted, suddenly unsure of how to proceed. He was never usually good with words, much less when associated with an apology.
As he was mulling it over, Wren smiled at him, but it didn’t reach their eyes. “Hey. Did you chase those guys off?”
Theos huffed. “Of course I did. They’re long gone.” There was a beat of silence. Theos shuffled and wrung his hands. He motioned for Wren to scoot over, and barged in to sit beside them. At least now Theos didn’t have to look at Wren, choosing instead to stare at whatever they were looking at before. From here, there was a gap in the junk piles that allowed the sunlight to seep in and warm the metal. It would start getting warm soon, and Theos’s skin has more than enough uncomfortable memories to know how hot it can get. But it was the last thing Theos was worried about, not with the apprehension brewing in his gut. He looked down at his hands and the rings. He was so much better at throwing punches than words.
But thankfully, Wren never was one to mince words. “I don’t know why you decided to leave the Eras military, and I won’t pry.” Their voice was level, steady.
Theos sighed, his shoulders sagging. His gaze remained fixed on his hands, grateful if not feeling a bit guilty that Wren felt the need to speak first even though it was Theos’s outburst that caused this rift. “You’re not prying, Wren. I just… I can’t tell you. Even if I wanted to.” As the words left his lips, Theos realized with a pang that he meant every one of them.
He wanted to tell Wren. He wanted to pour out his heart, talk about Overdrive and Lenos, and how her blank eyes and slack jaw were no different than the kids he would see on the street, the kids who had nowhere and nothing else to turn to except substances that would ruin their minds and promise blissful illusions of security. How he had turned to the military only to find something much more dangerous in its eerie similarity and powerful backing.
But it’s not all bad. Theos would be lying if he said he didn’t have just as many great memories during his stay. He had met good people, people who left unforgettable impressions on him and who he stood with shoulder to shoulder every day. Most of them were just as in the dark as the rest of the public. For the first time since leaving, Theos found himself at a loss. Wasn’t leaving them behind the same as running away? Let them deal with it, consequences be damned. As long as he wasn’t a part of it, he could turn a blind eye. Isn’t that essentially what he was doing?
Theos swallowed around a lump in his throat. It was a miracle that they had even let him leave with that knowledge. Theos had searched for bugs and trackers planted on himself and in Cygnus and didn’t find anything, but now he wasn’t so sure. Theos wasn’t dumb enough to think he was completely out of the water—he never would be, not unless the Overdrive System one day became public knowledge. But until then, he knew that anyone with even the faintest inkling of something going on within the military was a target to be watched. And even if that meant having all that weighing on him, he would never let Wren be in danger because of him.
He felt Wren’s curious gaze on him because of his sudden silence, but it felt more like an invitation than a question. It pulled him out of his encroaching spiral. “I’m sorry,” Theos croaked, looking up to meet their gaze. “I was being a dick. You didn’t deserve what I said. What happened, it’s…” he searched for the right words. “Complicated. And the details can’t leave that base. It’s not my decision. But… it was a lot to handle, even for me.”
He felt that familiar ache of guilt, but this time it was more caused by the revelation he just had.
There was another moment of silence, this one slightly less poignant than before. Wren exhaled. “Yeah. I thought as much,” they chuckled dryly. “I guess I just didn’t want to believe it. You know I’ve always been interested in the military.” Theos did. Lots of kids seemed to be fascinated by what the Eras military did—with all their big shiny mechs flying through the air, full of grace and power. And even now with Theos’s newfound doubts, he couldn’t deny that they had done many good deeds as well. Wren was no different, their interest only heightened by the fact they were a tech junkie themself. When they were younger, Theos had been subjected to many long-winded rants about how the mechs might work.
“I didn’t want to believe that something sinister might be happening behind closed doors,” Wren continued, a note of wistfulness creeping into their voice. “Especially if they’re supposed to protect us. And while you’ve never been…the best…at handling your anger, I know you’d never lie to me.”
Theos immediately sat up straighter. “So does that mean—” he was cut off by Wren raising a hand. Slightly startled, Theos closed his mouth and waited for them to continue. With an aching pang, he was beginning to understand just how much Wren had changed over the time he’d been gone. Past Wren would have never spoken so evenly to him, would have never interrupted him so bluntly. Would have kept their true feelings under wraps, Theos thought miserably.
As if hearing his thoughts, Wren spoke. “But… this doesn’t mean we can just go back to how things were.” They shifted so they were facing Theos, cross-legged. Encouraged to do the same, Theos moved until they were knee to knee. It was probably the most important conversation they’d had since Theos returned.
“I know,” Theos said softly, feeling his lips quirk upwards. “But we can find a way forward anyhow.”
Wren nodded. “But listen. You have to promise me that you’ll trust me—and yourself—to talk to me when you need to.”
He could accept a compromise. “Fine,” Theos said with an exaggerated sigh. It was a tall order for him, but one he’d already been wanting to work on. He thought back to Wren fidgeting to tell him about the Swanbot’s true purpose, and decided to add a rule of his own. “Likewise. Let’s not be scared to talk to each other. And remind me to teach you how to fight.”
Wren snorted. Theos grinned. The air was noticeably lighter between them, and it felt like the iron grip around his heart had considerably lessened. However, the otherwise short and blunt conversation didn’t fool him—there was no matter between them that would be forgotten so easily, and Theos counted on having more late-night talks in the following days, if not weeks. Because for the first time since Len, something awfully like conviction was rising in his heart.
“By the way,” Theos started, making sure to keep a straight face. “I’m pretty sure your pet project is gonna need some major repairs when we get back.”
Wren gave him an incredulous look, then devolved into a fit of giggles. Theos followed soon after. They rolled their eyes good-naturedly and got to their feet, perfectly balanced even as the sheet of metal wobbled gently.
“What the hell, man. I probably should’ve expected as much,” Wren said as they held a hand out to Theos. He took it, biting back a yelp as Wren yanked him to his feet with much more force than he expected. “But you have to help me fix her,” they added with a seemingly innocent smile.
“Yeah yeah, I’ll help serve your Princess. Let’s get some ice on that eye while we’re at it.”
They made their way back to the now dormant machine. Theos watched as Wren fixed their aviator hat back over their dyed head. Theos had slung their bag of goodies over his shoulder, as he noticed a slight limp in Wren’s step. But despite that, they appeared significantly more cheerful than before. They were back to rambling about a supposedly rare component they had found in the junk pile and now that the street kids had been driven off, hoped to find more in the near future. Likewise, Theos had felt lighter than he had in days. It felt more like how it used to be.
He still had a ways to go, stuff to figure out. There was no guarantee of this feeling persisting or their fragile peace lasting, but now Theos had made a promise to himself. One he would make sure to keep, if not for himself than for Wren, Lenos, and Jorax and everyone else he still held dear from the military. With a thought he knew to be true, Theos even considered Wren’s idea for sending the Swanbot out to contact his friends one day. He missed them despite the obvious dangers.
This wasn’t the end of his story. He knew one day he’d have to face what had happened with the Overdrive System. Face all the people he had left behind in the military, face the tangible and omnipresent danger that was slowly pulsing and growing with the Eras base as its center. But that was for then.
He hefted PS onto a shabby but functional makeshift sled Wren had quickly assembled. The sun had fully and truly risen by now, illuminating their surroundings and beckoning people forth from their slumber to start their day. The warmth of the sunlight emboldened him, and as he trailed behind the sled, Theos couldn’t help the small smile from forming. Whatever happened in the future, he knew he wouldn’t face it alone.