Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“... I want you to be a walking advertisement for opportunities in destruction. Rusty out.”

As soon as the briefing line died, Rusty let out a frustrated growl. He leaned back in his pilot seat, his head faling on the headrest. Looking at the infuriatingly gray sky above his head through the external cams of his AC, he once again felt annoyance boil in his stomach.  

It’s been almost two months since the PCA decided that they’d had enough of corps and mercs screwing around what was supposed to be a ‘closure area’. Two months of lost battles and withdrawals. Two months of the suppression fleet laying down the law all over Rubicon and executing anyone who got in their way, civilian casualties be damned. As much as Rusty despised the corporations, having the PCA run the show on the ground was objectively worse. At least most of the time Balam and Arquebus were too focused on smashing each other’s heads in to drag innocents into their wars. 

It was exhausting. Rusty was sure that it was only a matter of time until all involved factions reached their breaking point, and then… He could only guess what would happen then, but being a realist, he didn’t expect anything good to come out of it. In fact, he was preparing for the worst.  

But… It wasn't all bad.   

Fighting the urge to glance at his interface, Rusty took a deep breath. Any second now… 

“One new message.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, when he heard the announcement of his COM. Without even looking, he knew that the message popped up on one of his private channels. With a quick swipe of his hand, he opened the line. 

“Hey, buddy. How’s life?” 

A moment later, green, glowing letters emerged on his screen. 

‘Adequate.’  

Minimalistic as ever. Rusty chuckled. When did this start? He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when these scant messages from the odd freelancer merc turned into small silver linings that dotted his gray days. If he had to be perfectly honest, he didn’t expect them to react at all after the silent treatment during the Wallclimber mission. Hell, their first reply set off every single of Rusty’s alarm bells. But soon, one short message followed another, and suddenly… he’d actually found himself enjoying these little chats. There was something shamelessly honest, almost innocent, about them. In a world built on greed and lies, it made Rusty crave for more. 

So much so, that he had to keep reminding himself why he was being friendly with the merc in the first place. Raven was a wildcard. They could be a powerful ally or a terrifying enemy. And Rusty knew exactly which one he preferred.

Still… It was a shame they never spoke. 

‘You alright?’ 

“Great,” he replied automatically. “With the PCA running rampant, we suffered a few setbacks, but nothing we can’t handle. Besides, you getting more jobs is a nice bonus, isn’t it?” 

Funny, how natural lying came to him by now. To his superiors, to his squad members, to one of the very few people Rusty considered something akin to a friend… sometimes even to himself. The reasons were always different. This time, he simply didn’t want to dim his silver lining with his bad mood. Still... a lie was a lie. 

‘Not what I meant. You seem annoyed.’

Rusty blinked. For a few heartbeats, he just stared at the green letters, unsure he’d read them correctly. He frowned, quickly going through his list of usual excuses. He could pull out yet another lie, but… Moving his hand through his ruffled hair, Rusty puffed an amused breath. 

“... That obvious, huh?” 

‘No. An educated guess. What’s wrong?’

Looking down at the green letters on his interface, Rusty tilted his head. This was new. Raven liked asking questions. It was something V.IV had noticed early on during their conversations. In fact, it was how their little chats had started in the first place. Their first question had come in as a reply to his warning about Arquebus. They asked him about the Wall, then about the Juggernaut, then about its weapons. Then, their focus switched to a different topic, but the questions never stopped. Their curiosity seemed near boundless, involving even the most mundane things. But their favorite topic by far was Rubicon and how it used to be before the fire. Maybe that was the reason Rusty had taken a liking to them, he mused.  

What they didn’t ask were personal questions about himself. Despite their chats (that over time had become very frequent), he’d rarely ever seen a simple ‘how are you doing?’ from them. Whether Walter’s Hound didn’t want to be nosey or just wasn't good at the whole ‘social thing’, Rusty couldn’t tell. Today, they seemed… 

“Worried?” A grin snuck its way on his face. Somehow, this felt good. “Guess, I’m just tired,” he replied, this time, honestly. He felt tired more and more often lately. Both physically and mentally.    

‘Relatable.’

The following pause felt as if they were processing the new information. Rusty decided to use it and change the topic. 

“Say, what are your plans for the mission, buddy?” he asked casually, as if he was asking about their plans for the weekend. Leaning back in his seat, he rubbed the back of his stiff neck and rolled his shoulders. It really was a bad habit to spend this much time in his AC outside of missions, but the alternative was to hang around Arquebus base and possibly run into Snail. Rusty would rather stick a fork in his eye.   

‘Not sure yet ’ they replied, ‘but it will be fast.’  

Most likely the best approach. While Rusty had no intel on the strength of the forces inside the refinery complex, the PCA were infamous for their efficiency. Had the mission been given to him, he would've spent no more than 10 minutes inside the base. Make some fireworks, blow the place to pieces and get the hell out.  

“Sounds like a job for your Songbirds,” he chuckled. “Well, enjoy yourself and give the PCA my regards.”

‘Not coming along…?’

The disappointment in the message was almost tangible. It elicited a deep sigh from Rusty. 

“Sorry, can’t join the fun,” he muttered. It wasn’t exactly a shocker that Arquebus decided to only send Raven. After all, it was a simple hit-and-run job, easy enough for someone of their caliber. There was no point in sending anyone else. “Maybe next time.”

Their usually instant reply came slightly delayed. 

‘... Busy?’

“I wish,” he scoffed. “Guard duty. There was an alert at one of our facilities, and now the High Brass is being paranoid. Will be leaving here soon.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie, but not the entire truth either. Snail had condemned him to guard duty… but Rusty knew it was only to prevent him from tagging along Raven on the mission, orders or no. Usually, the sleazy second in command was way too far up his own ass to pay attention to anyone other than himself, but apparently even he’d noticed Rusty’s interest in the new merc.  

A sly smirk tucked at the corner of his lips. Granted, there sure was plenty to be interested in… A new message popped up on his screen, pulling his attention before his thoughts could wander off into dangerous waters. 

‘Exciting.’  

Rusty snorted at the dripping sarcasm hidden between the green letters. He couldn’t deny the observation. But this was the price he had to pay to keep a low profile. Outstanding performance, spotless discipline… passive obedience. Like a muzzled wolf. 

‘I’ll see what I can do.’  

Unsure he understood the new message correctly, Rusty blinked. 

“... What?” The question forced its way out of his throat before he could suppress the surprise in his voice. “What do you mean?”

  'Heading out now. Take care.'

And just like that, the channel closed. Staring at his interface, Rusty shook his head. That was… strange. He’d noticed a change in Raven’s actions and replies a while ago. At first, it was subtle, barely noticeable. After the C4 augmentations had ravaged their body and mind like a wildfire, they’d been slowly learning how to be human again. The more they spoke, the more questions he answered, the clearer he could see the person behind the green letters. Step by painful step, with every mission and every message, they seemed to become more alive. Rusty had had his eyes on the new merc since their first mission together. It was fascinating to watch them… awaken. 

But this… this was different. It no longer felt like a shaky step, a trembling attempt to remember how to feel. It felt bigger. More significant than their small exchanges. 

Rusty didn’t know what his buddy was planning, but he’d be damned if he didn’t meet it head on. 

The rest of the day could as well have been a month. The deployment of the fourth squad to guard an observation facility was just as pointless as Rusty had expected it to be. Once he’d positioned the MTs under his command around the base, he piloted Steel Haze to an elevated spot that provided him with the perfect 360 view of the brown wasteland around him. A bleak scenery he'd grown used to. One that hadn’t always been like this. 

The setting sun cast its light into a windswept canyon. A long time ago, this place had been home to one of the largest rivers on Rubicon, with wild currents and beautiful waterfalls, embraced by green stream banks.

Now, after decades of exploitation and the Fire, nothing remained but red rocks and dust…

"One new message." 

Rusty almost jumped out of his skin at the sudden announcement. Couldn’t a guy just suffer through his guard duty in peace? Cursing under his breath, he looked down at his interface and his annoyance evaporated. 

“Hey, buddy. Something the matter?” Rusty asked, fighting the curiosity in his own voice. He shifted in his seat. Raven was supposed to be out on a mission… 

‘No. You free?’

“As free as a chained dog,” V.IV scoffed, a bit too honestly. There were too many things he could be doing right now instead of staring into space. “But I can talk, if that’s what you mean.”   

‘Good.’

The answer elicited a chuckle from him. “You still won’t tell me what you’re planning, will you?”

The comms remained silent for an uncharacteristically long time, making Rusty chew his lower lip. Raven was usually quick to respond, no matter the situation. Now, waiting for a reply felt like an eternity. Subconsciously, he even leaned forward a bit, staring at the comm screen, but the message never came. Instead, the artificial voice of his COM announced.

“Incoming transmission request.”

A new screen popped up on his interface, a pitch-black rectangle without any designation or description. It should’ve immediately set off all his alerts, but instead his fingers hovered over the new screen, an inch away from touching it. But his hand quickly curled into a fist. The curiosity was so overwhelming that Rusty actively had to stop himself from opening it.

“What’s that?” he asked, keeping his casual tone. 

“A front-row seat.”

The reply made him arch an eyebrow. No way. They weren’t… were they? His fingers brushed over the interface, dragging the black window into the center and expanding it. The screen lit up, flickered and the blurry picture regained its focus… Rusty looked down at a frozen bay cramped between two tall snow-covered cliffs and littered with familiar gray structures. Coarse, misshapen, like a cancer nested in the flesh of the planet. The refueling base. 

Raven was transmitting the footage of their external cams and sensors directly to him. 

Bad Luck seemed to be standing on a high cliff towering over the bay, barely outside the range of the PCA scanners. A Haldeman shotgun in one hand and a pulse blade in another, they looked down at their hunting grounds. 

Fingers flying over his interface, Rusty double-checked the feed. The transmission was really coming from the Ice Field. Still, it took him a moment to accept that, yes, Raven was indeed sharing their cam footage with him. 

As the realization slowly sank in, Rusty felt a wave of excitement rush through his bloodstream. “Damn…” He muttered, fighting off a smile. Caught off guard by his own reaction, he moved his hand through his hair. “Not gonna lie, you’re full of surprises, buddy.”

‘I know.’

Rusty barked a laugh at the reply. The green letters on his screen were drenched in smugness. He could almost see the smirk on the mercs face before his inner eye.   

‘Ready?’   

“Always.” A wolfish grin spread across his face. 

Contrary to his expectations, Bad Luck didn’t dash down into the bay, but instead simply dropped off the cliff in a free fall. Leaned back in his pilot seat, Rusty watched the layer of ice beneath rapidly approaching. 

A low chuckle emerged from his chest. Oh, this was gonna be good. He should get Snail a bottle of some cheap booze as a thank-you gift, just to piss him off. By giving Rusty the most boring assignment, the dickhead actually managed to make his day. This was so much more than just a ‘front-row seat’. It was Raven’s show of trust. By sharing their video feed, they were providing V.IV with valuable information that made them extremely vulnerable. Something any AC pilot with even a single functioning brain cell would only do with their operator, the only person they trusted with their life. Even a half-assed hacker could trace the frequency back to the AC and make it unusable within minutes. The message of this gesture was crystal clear.

It made his heart skip a beat. Sure, it would’ve been fun to blow up some PCA bastards together with his buddy, instead of standing around. But, somehow, this felt better. More… intimate. 

Seconds before the impact, the engines of the AC roared to life, thrusting the mech across the ice at a breakneck speed and taking course towards the nearest set of towering gray buildings in the distance. 

‘Main System: Activating Combat Mode,’ the synthetic COM voice announced over the feed. 

His breath hitched. The familiar cue sent a rush of adrenaline through his system, forcing him to straighten in his seat. A visceral reaction of his body Rusty didn’t expect. He took a deep, controlled breath to calm himself and focused his attention on the screen. There, in the distance, he saw two dark humanoid silhouettes standing between the buildings. 

‘Enjoy.’

The blue glow of the pulse blade illuminated his screen, drowning out the green writing of the message. The flash was instantly followed by an explosion of fire and torn metal. Without slowing down, Bad Luck pulled the blade out one of the MTs, leaving a clean hole in its metallic torso. The next explosion detonated before its smoking remains hit the ground. Through the outburst of sparks and fumes, Rusty watched the second MT go down, the upper chunk of its frame missing. 

Bad Luck reloaded its shotgun. Not a heartbeat later, the boosters once again roared, as Raven piloted their AC straight towards the main gate of the refinery complex. The direct approach made Rusty arch his eyebrow. Their preferred tactics usually involved more maneuvering and less… well, ‘in your face’. 

“The audacity…” He chuckled. Adjusting his screen, he increased the field of view to the maximum.   

‘You wanted destruction.’

The message came the same moment a new transmission rang through the coms. 

“Code 15! Contact with AC of unknown affiliation!” 

“Suspected corporate hire. Single AC.”

“Terminate immediat…”

They didn't get to finish. The unmistakable sound of launching Songbirds was followed by two explosions that tore the Enforcement Squad mech on top of the ramp before them to shreds. Huh. So Raven had listened to his suggestion. 

Bad Luck swayed sideways to evade incoming fire, playfully dancing between homing missiles. The world on the screen blurred into a white and gray mess, occasionally shaken by a too close for comfort rocket impact. But Rusty knew that Bad Luck’s every movement was impeccably calculated. Not a single redundant boost, not one wrong step. It was what set Raven apart from other pilots. Absolute efficiency. 

The ease of their movements felt almost taunting. PCA’s projectiles kept missing the AC by the width of a hair. Rusty smirked. He could only imagine how bloody infuriating it was to see the enemy emerge from yet another pall of smoke perfectly unscathed.   

Boosters blasting with full force, Bad Luck soared high into the air. The camera feed swung to their left, briefly focusing on a set of pipes and containers further in the distance. Fuel storage tanks, Rusty concluded. Two loud thumps announced the second duo of Songbirds grenades fired in that very direction. Not a second later, the AC rushed down towards another Enforcement Squad mech like a bird of prey. The pilot made a clumsy attempt to evade, throwing themselves to the side, but they weren’t fast enough. A flash of blue light illuminated the screen as Bad Luck rammed the pulse blade into the metallic body, grinding it several meters along the concrete ground with a deafening screech until only an unrecognizable mess remained.       

Fierce, ruthless, and beautiful in its execution.“Yeah, just like that…” Rusty purred, eyes glued to the screen.

He had no love for senseless violence, but there was something about the way Raven fought that made a battle feel more like… like… Subconsciously, he hummed, searching for the right word. 

Bad Luck smoothly glided over a gigantic metal pipe, past stacked containers that looked more like toy boxes. Engines roaring, it continued its way towards the heart of the base, the refinery. 

“Code 5. Unaffiliated AC. Moving in to terminate.” Another PCA announcement rang through the feed. 

Rusty narrowed his eyes. AA18A Light Cavalry. Heavily armed and mobile, they comprised the main fighting arm of the PCA suppression fleet. The LC rose in the air, flying towards Bad Luck. It rushed to the right, firing a salvo of homing missiles, but quickly changed its direction and moved in for a direct strike. The edge of their energy blade moved past the AC, missing its left arm by what looked like mere inches. The LC came dangerously close, so close that Rusty could see the deep scratches across their plating. It was the last mistake they made. A deafening shot rang out, and the mech jerked, tumbling to the ground. More shots followed, tearing through armor and metal, as Bad Luck emptied one charge of the Haldeman after the other into the staggered LC at almost point-blank range. A short dash backwards and the Songbirds finished the job, sending torn parts and pieces of metal flying in all directions.        

An artwork. 

Rusty exhaled the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Bad Luck painted a picture of destruction on the battlefield like an artist on a canvas. There was a subtle elegance to their brutality, a deliberate care behind every shot. Witnessing them fight like this, through a direct, personal feed, felt like a privilege.  

Chewing his lower lip, Rusty pondered. “Does Walter know of this?” It was a rhetorical question, really. There was no way in hell the Handler would’ve allowed his Hound to share such sensitive information. But Rusty couldn’t help himself. He wanted to hear the answer, wanted them to spell it out. 

‘He doesn’t need to.’

The reply sent a surprising jolt of excitement down his spine. He tried to suppress a grin that fought its way onto his face, to no avail. The unspoken implication hovered in the air between them, heavy with meaning. Rusty decided to leave it uncommented. Taking this further now would be too… distracting. For both of them. So, he focused his attention back on the cam feed.  

Bad Luck briefly stopped atop a cliff and looked down at a massive black bridge that connected the frontal storage and loading area with the main complex. Far in the distance to their left, Rusty could already see the dome of the refinery plant. The AC dropped down and rushed straight across the bridge, weaving between incoming gunfire and homing missiles from the defense artillery. Instead of circling around the bridge and attacking from behind, they once again went in for a frontal assault. Bright flashes of orange and red filled the cam feed, forcing Rusty to narrow his eyes. A pair of turrets was cut in half with a three sixty spin of Bad Luck’s pulse blade. Smoothly, with an almost casual ease that made Rusty suck in the air between his teeth.  

“Poser,” he chuckled, when Bad Luck danced between the two heavy artillery cannons at the end of the bridge, shooting one of them down with the shotgun and blowing the other up with the Songbirds. 

As Raven continued their rampage through the refinery complex, their comms got flooded by PCA chatter that grew increasingly more frantic with each passing minute. 

“Code 5! Hostile AC sighted!

“Code 15!”

“Where’s the vanguard?! Handle it!”

“Requesting backup from the System! Code 78!”

Took them long enough, Rusty thought. He knew that the PCA had the tendency to underestimate ‘single ACs’. It happened plenty of times during his own run-ins with their forces. Most of the time, they called for reinforcements when it was already too late. But now the clock was ticking.  

Leaned back in his pilot seat, he watched Raven mow down MTs, LCs and artillery units like a force of nature. They seemed to take his joke about the ‘walking advertisement’ very seriously. 

… Yes, it had definitely been a good idea to follow his gut feeling and get on the good side of this merc. This private show only confirmed Rusty’s opinion of them. Watching Raven take the base apart with the precision of a neurosurgeon and with the ease of pressing a button was both breathtaking and terrifying. 

Smashing through the last standing MT, Bad Luck dashed towards a vertical catapult located right next to the refinery dome. With an almost graceful leap high into the air, the AC landed on the edge of the building and focused its camera feed on the huge gaping hole torn into its side by an explosion. The result of the PCA takeover a few weeks ago, Rusty mused. It wouldn’t take much to overload the energy plant inside. Crossing his arms on his chest, he waited for the signature launching sound of the Songbirds, but instead Bad Luck turned around. Their external cameras looked up to the sky. 

Rusty frowned. 

“Code 23. Attending the scene.”  

“The Watchpoint report checks out.”

Far in the distance, the cams registered two bright dots that grew bigger by the second. The reinforcements. They arrived faster than Rusty had expected. Much faster. 

He steepled his fingers, contemplating. Only two of them meant that they either were a vanguard sent to slow the intruder down and the main force was still on the way, or they were… 

“Callsign ‘Raven’...”

“Priority subject for termination. High on the list.”

Two heavy mechs landed on the wide open platform several hundred meters away from the refinery dome. 

Ekdromoi. The PCA’s very own executioners. Being a priority target himself, Rusty was all too familiar with them. Equipped with the best crafts their research labs had to offer, armed to the teeth and piloted by the PCA elites, they were, without a question, a force to be reckoned with.

And yet… the odds were not in their favor. A few months ago, Rusty would have told Walter to look for a new Hound, but he'd learned much since his first encounter with 'Raven'. The merc’s victory wasn’t a matter of ‘if’. 

A smirk spread on his lips, as a rogue idea formed in his head. 

“How fast can you take them down?” Rusty asked casually. The reply was immediate.

‘4 mins.’

Surely, they can do better than that… 

“You have 3 and a half.”

Fingers flying over the interface, Rusty opened a timer. 

The camera feed shook slightly, as if Bad Luck actually physically chuckled. Its attention fixated on the new enemy, the AC fired its grenades at the energy plant without even looking at it. Boosters roared, launching them forward. The two PCA SPs followed the example, but while one of them dashed to the right in a flanking maneuver, the second one lunged directly at Raven at an insane speed. A long blue pike materialized in its right hand. They were going for an impalement, but Bad Luck kept the collision course. 

And Rusty's eyes widened. 

The AC reached back behind its left shoulder and pulled out an enormous Gatling gun from the weapon bay. Its fourth armament. 

"Damn… Now you’re spoiling me, buddy,” Rusty purred. His eyes were glued to the sleek HU-BEN armament that looked like it had been delivered but seconds ago.  

The weapon howled and began emptying its magazine into the rapidly approaching SP. Despite the barrage of gunfire, it didn’t try to evade. Energy pike ready, it stormed straight at Bad Luck. A gamble. One well aimed hit off the pike would be enough to incapacitate the AC, if the SP pilot actually reached his target.

It was as if the time around them slowed down. The game was on. Who would falter first? Whose machine would give in? Suddenly, the cam feed shook violently and static filled Rusty’s screen. A hit from behind, he realized. Seems like the second SP wasn’t wasting any time. But Raven didn’t even flinch, riddling the incoming PCA craft with bullets, until, a split second before the collision, it staggered. Its pike lowered, it trembled. Using the opportunity, Bad Luck continued shooting it point-blank. Pieces of torn metal, sparks and brass flung across the screen like a gruesome firework when the LS began losing altitude and fell to the ground in an explosion of fire and machine parts. 

“One… helluva… merc.”

On that, they agreed.

He exhaled a breath he was holding. His heart was racing from the adrenaline rush. At least he hoped that was the reason. Reflexively, he moved his hand through his hair, smoothing the stray strands. 

He tried to shift his focus back on the feed, on Bad Luck locked in a dance with the last remaining PCA SP, but his thoughts kept wandering. Rusty was supposed to feel good about this. It was a show of trust, a commodity as rare as Coral on Rubicon. Raven, Walter’s best Hound, the Wallclimber, they trusted him. A goal he’d been trying to achieve for a while now. This should’ve felt like a victory. Why did he feel like he was losing control, instead? Why… why did it suddenly feel like trust wasn’t enough?  

His screen lit up in an explosion of purple sparks, as Bad Luck dashed backwards, mere inches out of range of a pulse explosion. And again. The PCA pilot was trying to keep the AC at a long distance, Rusty realized. Seeing as their armaments were most effective in mid to close range, it was the only logical course of action. Apparently, the pilot was planning to comfortably shower Bad Luck with rockets and plasma charges from afar, but he wasn’t the one setting the rules on this battlefield. Raven was. 

When the SP fired its third charged plasma shot, Bad Luck didn’t fall back. Boosters roaring, it rushed directly towards the projectile, diving underneath it at the last second. Rusty watched the purple arrow pass slightly above the central external camera as if in slow motion, blurring and distorting the feed. A moment later, the transmission shook violently, accompanied by the deafening screeching of metal against metal. Bad Luck had rammed the SP, sending it tumbling backwards, but it wasn’t done just yet.    

Spinning around to get behind the PCA craft, it powered up its pulse blade. A blue ray flashed across the screen. With one smooth swing, the AC cut off both missile launchers from its opponent's shoulders. The armaments dropped to the ground with a pathetic clang. 

“You don’t play with your food,” Rusty chuckled. The cut could’ve easily been a stab right through the core. Apparently, Raven decided to let their prey live a little longer. 

But only a little.    

The Gatling gun came back to life, unloading a full magazine worth of bullets into the tumbling SP until only a smoking pile of deformed metal remained. 

“No one outruns… the EKDROMOI…”

Bad Luck reloaded its gun, more as a reflex than out of necessity, seeing as there was no one left to use it on. 

A familiar silence descended upon the battlefield like a shroud, and Rusty felt the tension in his own body dissipate. The quiet after a battle never failed to miss its effect on him, even if he wasn’t actually participating. He glanced at the timer on his screen and a wicked grin spread on his face. 

00:02:43… 00:02:44… 00:02:45… 

Raven beat his challenge by almost a minute. 

“... You magnificent bastard,” Rusty whispered, quietly enough for the compliment not to get picked up by his microphone. He wanted to blame it on the Gatling gun, on the fourth armament he'd completely forgotten. Had he known that Raven was carrying one, he would've set the bar higher. But Rusty knew that even without the gun, the merc would've easily bested 3.5 minutes. 

“Nice work,” he said, trying to keep his tone casual. It wasn’t easy. He barely contained a disappointed sigh when the feed on his screen turned black. “That was one hell of a show, buddy.”

‘Glad to be of service.’

“What’s next for you?” 

‘Rest. It’s an order.’

Ah, so Walter did take care of his hound. Figures. After all the successful missions, they were probably his most important asset. Because, obviously, that was the only thing that gave a person their value on Rubicon. 

“Good, you deserve it,” he smiled, making a mental note to ask them what they actually did in their free time. Rusty tucked it away for later, along with dozens of other questions he’d probably never ask because they felt too personal. 

‘... Feeling better?’

The green letters on the screen made him blink in surprise. Right. They’d done this for him. Rusty hesitated. He wanted to say something. Something other than a lighthearted one-liner. After the act of faith, Raven deserved something… real. It sat right there, at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. It felt like he’d cross an invisible line if he did. 

“Heh… when did I become such a coward?” He muttered under his breath, moving his hand through his hair. 

‘Come again?’

“Yeah, I do. You worry too much, buddy,” he replied, slipping back into his confident tone and grinning. It was better that way. Safer. But his grin immediately faded. 

‘Mission complete.’

Why did this feel like he was losing a fight? He wanted to laugh out loud at the joke, but the laugh got stuck in his throat. When his voice returned to him, it was quiet. Almost a whisper.   

“Thanks.”

‘Any time. Buddy.”

Chapter Text

It was no secret that AC pilots were a strange lot. The main reason for their individually weird ticks were obviously the augmentations. Depending on the generation, you were either more or less screwed, but screwed nonetheless. So it didn't come as a surprise to anyone that most pilots had some kind of relationship with their AC, ranging from practical to outright creepy. 

For Rusty, Steel Haze was his pride, an extension of himself. He didn’t like it when other people touched it, let alone rummaged in its systems. Rather, he preferred to perform as many modifications and repairs as he could without the help of Arquebus’ mechanics. He’d also rather not trust them with his life, but that was a different story entirely. 

Sitting straddled on Steel Haze’s left arm, Rusty puffed a loose strand of hair off his face. 

“See, that’s why I don’t like the HU-BEN. Too heavy,” he said, looking down at the tangle of wires and circuits before him. This was the third time he'd taken it apart and put it back together again. Since the return from his last sortie, his left joint had been feeling off. Only slightly, but it still bothered him. 

After almost two hours of work, Rusty was sweating like a sinner in a church. His face, arms and once white tank top were dotted with dark stains of oil, brake fluid, and he didn’t even want to know what else. Thanks to the fumes and machinery, the hangar always felt like the doorstep to Hell, with the air heavy with heat and humidity. But he wanted to fix this issue before the next job. 

“Don't get me wrong. It's a good gun, solid. Made short work of those PCA SPs.” He adjusted his earpiece and continued. “But I bet you felt it in your shoulder for at least a week after that.”  

Rusty glanced down at the small portable screen on the plating next to him and smirked when the next message popped up on it. 

‘... Maybe.’

“Yeah, don’t need that,” he chuckled. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the sore muscles. “I’ll stick to my Ransetsu.”

‘It was a test run. To see how it performs.’  

Looking down at the screen, Rusty shook his head. Raven was one of the two pilots in the entire system who did ‘test runs’ during active combat missions. The other one was Freud. Everyone else (you know, people with a tiny grain of self-preservation instinct) would’ve done a round or two in the simulator first. Rusty knew that a simulation could never hold a candle to an actual battle, but when having to choose between slightly inaccurate data and possible death due to unfamiliarity with a new weapon, he knew which one he preferred.

He wiped sweat off his forehead, along with some oil stains, and gave his work a skeptical once over. If this didn’t fix the issue, he’d have to do some deep cleaning around the hydraulics, or worse, replace parts. That would mean involving Arquebus' technicians, and Rusty would rather avoid that. From the corner of his eye, he noticed another message appear on the screen.   

'I think I'll try to add some modifications to it. Reduce recoil and overheating, improve handling. There has to be a way to make it lighter, while retaining most of the firepower. Mass-produced articles are not optimized. Not worth the resources.’ 

It sounded like a good idea, but Rusty still arched an eyebrow. Looking at the easily longest text he’d ever received from Raven, he grinned. “Someone’s chatty today.” 

They'd been talking about everything and anything since he'd begun working on Steel Haze . As always, it started off with a simple question. Then another, then the pretense was forgotten and they simply chatted the hours away. Talking to Raven was as easy as breathing. With his AC stationed in the far corner of the hangar bay, there was no one around to disturb them, and Rusty appreciated the company.

If he had to be completely honest, it wasn’t just today. Their once ‘frequent’ chats have become almost daily - even if it was just a few lines - and he was always looking forward to them. It was a way to avoid being left alone with his thoughts, and Raven was… Raven was his buddy. 

But their next reply was so unexpected, it startled him. 

‘Sorry.’

His eyes widened, as he stumbled over his words. "What? No, I didn't… I was just…" 'Teasing', a quiet voice in the back of his mind finished the sentence for him. Rusty cleared his throat. "Just surprised. Normally, you rush from one job to another."

He sealed the opening in the plating and swung his leg over Steel Haze’s arm. One look at his tank top told him that the thing was a goner, so he decided to use it to wipe his dirty hands, before taking the portable screen. 

‘ Walter ordered rest.’

Did he now…? Rusty tilted his head. That didn’t match with what he was seeing on the display. 

“How come you're not resting, then?” he asked, suppressing the reflex to remove loose strands of wet hair from his forehead. Wiping his hands on his shirt didn’t do much to get them any cleaner. 

‘What?’

“Your frequency. It’s the same as your AC, and it hasn't changed in the past two hours, which means that you’re at least connected to it," he concluded. "Call it a hunch, but I doubt that you're just sitting around in your base." 

The prolonged silence that followed felt like he hit the bullseye. Rusty frowned. Did Raven actually spend all of their free time inside their AC? That was a really, really bad idea. If his suspicion were correct, he'd need to have a serious talk with his buddy. Or with Walter if Raven refused to listen. 

"Look, I know you like your AC…" he was already about to begin his lecture on the negative effects of an extended connection when a new message appeared on his screen. 

'I went for a walk.'

Rusty snorted. "You know that piloting your AC doesn't count as walking, right?" he laughed, wiping away a single drop of sweat running down his neck. Now that the work was done, he was going to take Steel Haze out for a spin to test the joint. After an extended shower, that is. 

'... I am walking." 

Somehow, that reply sounded pouty. The idea of a pouting Raven spread a wide grin on his face. 

"Sure." He shrugged, despite knowing that his conversation partner couldn't see him. He just couldn't resist poking them some more. 

Sliding down Steel Haze's left arm, he landed on the walkway down below like a cat. Rusty was about to store the portable screen in the back pocket of his jeans and seek out the nearest shower room when a new message grabbed his attention. His eyes darted and lingered on the green letters. 

'Fine. See for yourself.'

Leaning against the railings, Rusty chewed his lower lip. What was that supposed to mean? Was this another transmission of the camera feed? He certainly wouldn’t mind. That would be their second. His curiosity grew with each second the screen remained dark, until it became almost unbearable. But the feed never appeared. Instead, the message showed a bunch of letters and numbers that made him inhale sharply the moment he understood their meaning 

A set of coordinates.

Rusty quickly opened the map and checked the position, almost dropping the screen in the process. Western Belius, Bona Dea Dunes… Two Grid fields away from the base he was stationed in. 

His mind was racing, as he looked up at Steel Haze . It was a long flight, at least two hours without a pickup, but he could use one of the grid catapults to drastically reduce the distance. Rusty also had the perfect excuse to leave. Nobody would bat an eye if he took his AC for a shakedown after a repair…

Before he knew it, he was sprinting down the walkway to grab his flight suit. 

"Give me thirty minutes. I'll be right there, buddy."

The Fires of Ibis had made Rubicon a planet of extremes. The Central Ice Field was a frozen hellhole that stretched out forever, burying the vast majority of the western continent under a thick layer of frost and snow. Belius, on the other hand, stood in a spiteful contrast to that. A barren wasteland where the heat could be just as unbearable as the cold of the Ice Field.

Bona Dea Dunes specifically were ravaged by near constant sandstorms. Strong, hot winds whipped the bare bones of the earth and drove herds of dark clouds across the sky. They raised walls of red sand and dust, swirling them around in a wild ghost dance, howling and thrashing. Crossing the lowlands without a vehicle during a storm was impossible, stepping outside of buildings borderline suicidal. At least most of the time. 

Today, the sky was crystal clear. 

The desert spread before him like a painting on a canvas. Bathed in the light of the setting sun, the picture was both powerful and strangely melancholic. A land that seemed to go on forever, with red rocks and boulders scattered across the flats like beads of a torn necklace. It didn't matter in which direction he looked, all he could see was red sand and stone. Deep, endless, awe-inspiring, it felt as if the land tried to swallow the sky on the horizon, clawing at the slowly setting sun. A rare sight. 

Steel Haze's external sensors registered a slight breeze and an ambient temperature of 39°C. Actually tolerable, Rusty mused. Boosters running hot, he was quickly approaching the coordinates Raven had sent him, and his mind grew more and more antsy with each passing minute. 

It's been like this ever since Raven’s rampage through the refueling base that they'd broadcasted to Rusty like a… He cleared his throat. Like a reality show. Something had changed between them, something he couldn't put his finger on. It wasn’t just the frequency of their chats. It felt like… Hell, he didn't even know whether he was just imagining it. The one thing he knew for sure was that apparently all Raven had to do was to send a set of coordinates, and Rusty would come running. 

Steel Haze almost rubbed its forehead in annoyance. 

When did he toss all his survival instincts out of the window? The comms had remained silent throughout the entire flight, but didn’t cross his mind even for a second that this could be a trap. He didn’t even stop to ask what this place was. After all, this was Raven. Knowing them, it was more likely that they’d send him the location of Walter’s hideout than set him up. Rusty had put a lot of effort into building this trust. Having the merc on his side was going to be important moving forward.    

A ping on his scanner tore him away from his thoughts. Something appeared at the very edge of his radar interface. An outline of an AC… Rusty tilted his head, trying to understand what he was looking at. It was without a doubt Bad Luck standing at the edge of a cliff overlooking the desert, but was it… kneeling? 

Dampening its boosters, Steel Haze slowed down its approach. Soil, stone and rubble ground underneath its feet as it touched down on the cliff not a kilometer away from its destination. Weapons lowered, it slid gently across the plateau towards the edge, where Bad Luck was waiting. The AC seemed to be in standby mode. Scanners detected no heat emissions, no reactor activity, no… vital signs?

Immediately, his camera feed zoomed in and focused on a spot to the right of the dormant AC. There, next to a boulder, the scanner outlined the slim silhouette of a human.

Raven was waiting for him. 

The realization sucked the air out of his lungs. Steel Haze slowed down to a walking pace. Then, stopped, releasing fumes and steam, and whirling up a cloud of sand.  

For several heartbeats, Rusty just stared at his interface, not daring to move a muscle. 

"One bullet. Just one bullet is enough to tear them to shreds…" a quiet voice in the back of his mind whispered. His finger was already right there, hovering over the fire button…

Raven could be a powerful ally. Or a fearsome enemy. No matter how well Rusty maneuvered or how charming he was, it was impossible to tell which one the merc would end up being when the curtain fell. 

Slowly letting go of the controls, Rusty reached up and loosened the collar of his flight suit. He took off his gloves, removed the safety belts and his helmet. A deep sigh escaped his chest when the main system initiated the decoupling process. One by one, his cerebrospinal connections to Steel Haze severed, leaving a tingling sensation on the tips of his fingers.   

A wave of desert heat swept over him, when the hatch of the cockpit opened with a loud hiss. After a moment of consideration, Rusty unzipped his flight suit all the way down to the waist, leaving it to hang loosely on the belt around his hips. Thank god, he'd remembered to change into a fresh tank top before rushing away. It was going to be soaked within minutes in these temperatures, but at least it wasn't covered in oil stains. 

There was one last deep breath, before he got up from his seat and slid down the emergency ladder. 

It was only when his heavy boots hit the hard ground, Rusty realized what exactly he was doing. How incredibly stupid it would've been in any other situation, a death sentence. But the slim figure at the edge of the cliff seemed to pull him in like a magnet. He could clearly see their silhouette bathed in the rays of the setting sun. Entrancing, impossible to resist. His body moved with a mind of its own. The reaction should've been exceedingly concerning, but Rusty realized that he simply didn't care. Not when Raven was waiting for him. 

Despite himself, he walked slowly, carefully putting one foot before the other. His body was urging him to sprint, the impatience tingling in the back of his head. But he felt like approaching a wild animal that could startle and run away any second. 

With each step, the tension in his shoulders grew, the blood was rushing in his ears. Rusty would be lying if he said that he'd never tried to imagine what Raven looked like. Some of his ideas were more… exotic than others, but being a realist, he was convinced that Raven had to be some bulky gruff merc guy, similar to Freud. 

He never expected just how wrong his mental images would turn out to be. 

She was in her early twenties. Slim, almost petite, dressed in brown cargo pants and a plain gray t-shirt, that looked like it was a tad too big for her. Engulfed in the rays of the evening sun, short red hair ruffled by the breeze, she seemed to be on fire. Sitting on a flat boulder, she was looking at the sunset, without moving a muscle. Only when he stopped right next to her, did she look up at him. 

Rusty swallowed. He should be running for his life. As fast and as far away as possible. Run and hide, and never look back. But her bichrome eyes had pinned him on the spot like a butterfly on a display case. Green and brown, like two halves of a torn soul, held together by striking red sprinkles of Coral around the pupils. 

The stare was so intense that for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. 

“See? I went for a walk," she said suddenly, her soft, quiet voice slicing through the silence like a knife.

And just like that, the tension dissipated. Rusty barked a laugh, hoping that it didn’t sound too nervous. He wasn’t even sure he heard correctly. This was the first time Raven actually spoke. 

“Alright, fine, I take the L,” he grinned, sitting down next to her on the warm boulder.  

His attempt not to stare was a losing fight. Try as he might, Rusty struggled to connect the small person before him to the independent mercenary Raven, one of Handler Walter’s Hounds. The way she sat on the boulder, slender hands neatly folded in her lap, gave her an unreal aura. Her pale face was framed by short, pixie-like hair the color of Coral, and her eyes seemed to stare holes into him. Granted, the eyes were pretty much all he could see of her face. Her nose, cheeks and mouth were obscured by an improvised mask that was a piece of cloth wrapped around her face and tied at the back of her neck.

But it didn’t cover enough. Rusty could clearly see sharp edges of scars and cuts looming underneath the fabric, clawing at Raven’s face. 

He forced himself to look away. 

The desert sunset presented itself as a useful distraction. The rim of the sun had already touched the horizon, and slowly melted into the earth, setting it on fire. Yeah, it was obvious why Raven chose this spot for her “walk”. The vista was nothing short of breathtaking, even though the heat was already killing him. 

Glancing at his buddy, Rusty grabbed a small pebble and rolled it between his fingers. Until now, he never truly appreciated how easy it was to talk to her over the comms and how comfortable their conversations had been. For some reason, he didn’t know what to do with this new silence between them. Nothing came to mind, nothing felt appropriate. The most obvious topic would be their first face-to-face meeting, but he’d rather get hit by Songbirds than talk about that. “Hey, am I the way you imagined me to be? Cause you sure aren’t, haha!” Lovely. No, the idea alone was mortifying. 

But staying silent wasn’t an option, either. Besides, how much worse could it get? 

"So, you come here often?" Rusty asked the first question his overheated brain could come up with, and immediately cringed. Wow, that was awful. He braced himself for an eye-roll from Raven, but she didn’t react. Bless her innocent little heart for not knowing what cheap pick-up lines sounded like.  

“Sometimes. When the weather is nice,” she replied instead, with a hint of a smile in her eyes.  

That was a no. You could count the number of times there was good weather in the desert on the fingers of your hands. That, or she was outrageously lucky. 

“I like this place,” Raven continued. Her fingers began fidgeting with the rim of her shirt. “There was a storm the first time I came here. I didn’t know it was so pretty.” 

Her eyes dropped to the ground, and she fell silent, looking like she was gathering her thoughts. Speaking seemed to come more difficult for her, or maybe she just wasn’t used to it. Rusty gave her a reassuring smile. Well, he tried to. He prayed to all Gods currently available that he didn’t come across as nervous as he felt. 

Had this been any other situation, he probably would've laughed. Rusty liked to think of himself as a rather charismatic person. Fake identity or not, it was his skill with people that got him his spot with the Vespers. He deceived, charmed and wrapped around his finger dozens on his way to the top. Cold and calculating one minute, smooth and suave another, if he wanted to. Normally. Sitting next to Raven, he felt like there was a huge red "Error! Words not found!" message flashing inside his head. 

Unable to resist the urge, he glanced at the girl to his right from the corner of his eye. It was really hard not to stare at her. 

Meanwhile, Raven tore her eyes away from the ground and looked up at him. “I’ve been wondering. How this place used to be. Before the Fire.” 

His ears perked up at that. It was one of those questions she always used to start their conversations. Rusty could work with that. 

“Different,” he replied, leaning forward. Arms resting on his thighs, he continued spinning the pebble between his fingers. “I heard… I don’t know for sure, but I heard that before the Fire this place was a savanna. Instead of the sand, there was tall grass everywhere. In some spots, it was taller than an adult man. And there were trees, many different ones. Some of them were plain gigantic, with thick trunks and high treetops."

"Bigger than an AC?" Raven asked. Rusty fought to suppress a laugh. The battle hardened merc looked at him with a mix of awe and amazement in her eyes, completely entranced by his little story. Suddenly, he wished he'd seen her face all those times he'd answered her questions in the past. 

"Yeah, way bigger," he grinned. Raven breathed a quiet 'wow' and frowned, apparently struggling to imagine such a huge tree. 

"See those craters over there?" Rusty continued, pointing to their left. She leaned slightly forward, and nodded. "I think they could've been lakes that were replenished during the rainy season. It used to rain here, you know. For months at a time…" 

He didn't notice how his own voice grew more and more quiet, until it was but a whisper. 

A whirl of anger and determination swelled in his chest. One day, Rubicon would be able to breathe again, instead of suffocating in dirt and dust. This red hellhole would once again be reborn and brimming with life. Rusty would chase the clouds away. That he swore, and no one would stand in his way.

"... Rusty?" Hearing Raven say his name made his heart skip a bit, but the awe in her eyes was replaced by concern. 

"Sorry, the heat must be getting to me," he chuckled, wiping the sweat off his forehead and removing wet strands of hair. It was only half a lie. Raven blinked at him, then leaned down to her right and emerged with a gray flask in her hand. She extended it to him in a silent offering. 

"Always ready for everything, aren't you, buddy?" Rusty chuckled. He was about to take a sip, but stopped midair. There was not enough water left for both of them. He frowned. "What about you?"

Raven just shook her head. "Take it. I'm fine."

His gaze followed a tiny bead of sweat rolling down her temple, and his frown grew deeper. But the look in her eyes made it clear that she was not going to take no for an answer. Their staring duel continued for a few seconds, until Rusty sighted and shook his head. With one swing, he chugged the water, feeling a cool sensation spread in his chest. Next time, he'd bring something along to repay her. 

A part of him - a rational, logical one - knew that there would be no next time. It told him that he should simply enjoy the moment, while it lasted. Chat, laugh, watch the sunset, and then, move on. At the end of the day, Raven was an independent merc. Rusty may have won her trust, but her loyalty would always belong to her Handler. Just as his would always be with Rubicon and her people. 

It was foolish to believe otherwise. And yet…

"Say, buddy…" Rusty said, absentmindedly fumbling with the cap of the water flask. "If you could be anything other than a mercenary, what would you want to be?"

"Anything?" Raven asked, tilting her head. He nodded. "The wind."

The unexpected reply made him chuckle. "No, I mean a profession. Like, hmm, don't know, an engineer maybe? You're pretty good with tech."

He was hoping for something more tangible, something that could provide an insight into Raven's plans for the future. There had to be a reason why she fought and survived on Rubicon day by day. Maybe she'd tell him more about a goal she was trying to achieve and how she was hoping to do that. Hypothetical fantasy scenarios did not fall into that category.

But, apparently, being able to choose ‘Wind’ was important. 

"You said anything," she insisted, giving him a stubborn look. Backpedaling was obviously not an option. 

"Alright, alright." he held his hands defensively before him. "But why wind?" 

“Because it's free to go wherever it wants,” she replied quietly. Rusty swallowed. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words died in his throat. Suddenly, his chest felt too tight for his heart to fit in. Raven’s eyes were locked on the horizon, her gaze yearning for it as if it were a loved one. Then, they dropped to the ground, accepting that she would never reach it. 

“What about you?” she asked eventually, looking back up at him.

Rusty had a carefully formulated answer prepared for this. How he’d already become what he wanted. He was an AC pilot, one of the best among the Vespers’ elite. He’d worked his ass off to earn the privilege. It was the story he’d told countless times to anyone at Arquebus who’d listen. One that Raven didn’t deserve. But at the same time, it was the truth, even though his reasons couldn’t be more opposing. 

“I think I'm fine being V.IV Rusty,” he replied, trying to control his voice. It wouldn’t be very convincing if he sounded bitter about it. He despised himself for every destroyed RLF MT on the Wall and every shot down transport helicopter, but he had to keep up his cover. His position as a mole at Arquebus was worth all the sacrifices. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself during sleepless nights. Sometimes, he even believed it.

“That’s good,” Raven said, a smile tucking at the corners of her eyes. She looked like she was about to say something else, but her head whipped into the direction of Bad Luck , as if the AC actually called her name. Rusty watched her shoulders slump, and her fingers fidget with the rim of her shirt, an apologetic look in her eyes. The sting of disappointment that it was already over hurt more than he’d expected.  

“I… I have to return. Handler Walter is looking for me,” she said, tucking a loose strand of Coral-red hair behind her ear.  

Rusty arched an eyebrow. “He doesn’t know where you are?” It was less a question and more a realization. His reply was a slight shake of her head. 

“But you told me . Why?” He blurted out before the sensible part of his brain could stop him. Then again, he’d already asked too many questions he’d regretted. One more or less wouldn’t make any difference. 

Once again, her eyes dropped to her feet, as if the answer was hidden somewhere between the cracks in the dry ground. When she looked back at him, Rusty froze. He could’ve sworn that, for a split second, he saw something that wasn’t actually there. Something defiant, challenging. Raven’s back straightened and her shoulders relaxed. Head held high, she looked at him. The light of the setting sun flashed like fire in her eyes, burning and searing him to the very core. 

"Because you are you,” she replied in a matter-of-fact tone, as if saying that the sky was blue and Coral was red. 

Then, he blinked, and the vision was gone. 

"Take care," she said, stood up and slowly made her way towards Bad Luck.  

Rusty silently watched her leave, fists clenched and resting at his sides. He tried to sniff out the spark of hope in his chest, but it kept stubbornly glowing. Despite the Gen 4 augmentations, there was still some fight left in her. They didn't break her. Raven kept secrets from her Handler, wishing not for money, but for freedom. She was no mindless killing machine, he was sure of it. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to win her over for his cause. Then, they could really, truly, fight together. 

But this was Rubicon, and Rubicon had no happy endings. 

Chapter Text

Rusty had always known that it would happen one day. 

Sure, he kept telling himself that Raven was just another merc. A tough one, a real fighter, but at the end of the day, what was she fighting for? Freedom? She had nothing to protect, no purpose other than clawing her way back up from the bottomless pit of debt. Her resolve could not match his. 

But behind the curtain of self-deception, deep down, he knew that one day she would be the death of him. He’d pushed the thought away every time he looked through the footage of her encounters. Analyzing and studying, searching it for even the smallest of weaknesses that could give him an edge in a fight against her, only to find himself staring at it in awe. Yet, he kept pretending that analysis was the single reason why he’d spent hours rewatching the vids again and again, like an addict chasing the next rush. Just one more time, only one, then he’d stop. He never had.     

Now, alone and on his knees, with Steel Haze’s right arm cleanly cut off by Raven’s pulse blade, he felt like an idiot.  

His cockpit was flooded with red light, systems angrily screaming warnings at him, but it might’ve as well been dead silent. On his screen, one error message chased the next, his AC no longer in fighting condition. He didn’t bother to reboot or try to salvage what he could. It was over. Raven had taken him apart like a tinker toy. 

And it only took her 3 minutes and 26 seconds. 

6 minutes, 34 seconds earlier… 

"Go deal with a mercenary who went in alone, they said… Figures. Seems both of us are too dangerous to keep around." 

Rusty watched as Bad Luck slowly turned to face him, his defense systems sending out a warning that the enemy AC had locked onto him. He should've known that he'd been played, but there was no going back now. He had to push through, and Raven was in his way. 

Ever since their joint hunt for the Ice Worm, she'd become unstoppable. There was no obstacle sturdy enough and no enemy strong enough to even slow her down, let alone bring her to a halt. She blossomed like a deadly flower on the battlefield, beautiful, terrifying and dangerous. 

Despite himself, his eyes kept darting to the lower left corner of his interface, expecting a message to pop up. Surely, she would send a reply. Any second now…

But the channel remained dark. 

“I don’t want to dance to their tune, but this time I don’t have any other choice," Rusty continued, his voice stoic and determined. It was easy to keep up the cool facade, even when facing her of all people. He'd worn this mask for so long, he sometimes wondered if it actually still was a mask. But his chest was burning with hot white anger at himself. If only he'd listened to reason and kept his distance, then this would’ve been much easier. 

Still no messages. 

A quick radar scan projected a full analysis of Bad Luck onto his display, taking it apart layer by layer and analyzing it for potential openings. She’d once again changed her weapon setup. The HU-BEN and Songbirds had made space for two sets of RaD missile launchers that spread on her back like black wings. A VP-66HL pistol in one hand and her trusted pulse blade in the other. Rusty had to painfully bite his lip to suppress a smile fighting its way on his face. This was so like her. One of her ‘test runs’ to see how the new toys performed in the field. Once a curious quirk, now a weakness to exploit. 

Steel Haze's targeting algorithms zeroed in on the AC before it. All weapons ready, all systems at maximum output, thrusters growling anticipating action like hunting dogs. But neither AC moved even an inch, almost as if neither of them wanted to be the one who fired the first shot. 

No new messages. 

“Hate to say it, but… Rubicon still needs me," Rusty said finally, tearing his eyes away from the comm channel.  

"So, buddy. Who needs you?" 

Bad Luck flinched. 

It was his signal to attack. Boosters roaring wild, he threw himself to the left, unleashing a barrage from his handgun. Contrary to his expectations, it was a full-frontal hit. Raven’s usually quick and precise dodge came half a second too late. The bullets tore through the outer layer of Bad Luck’s hull, leaving a trail of scorched spots across its chest and left shoulder.       

“Cmon, you can do better than that, buddy,” Rusty commented dryly. He couldn’t hold back and added. “I give you 3 and a half minutes.”

That seemed to have ignited her fire. Both launchers on her back stirred and opened, unleashing a swarm of missiles that rushed at him like a pack of angry wolves. Steel Haze dashed around her in a half-circle and zigzagged backwards, trying to escape the aggressive homing. Rusty clenched his teeth. His interface flashed red, the system immediately displaying four points of impact around Steel Haze’s right leg. He answered the attack with his own plasma projectiles that exploded in domes of purple static, missing their target by half a step.   

Rusty had seen Raven fight hundreds of times, he’d fought with her side by side during missions, but he only truly felt the thrill of it when he found himself staring into her crosshairs. Nerve-wracking and exhilarating at the same time, it was a dance with death itself, the reason why her opponents went down while praising her skills. He felt it tingling on his skin, rushing hot in his blood, reaching deep, all the way to his bones. 

If only it had been a sparring match between two friends. 

No new messages.

A strange, unfamiliar frustration began to bubble up in his chest. Why the hell was she silent? Was there really nothing left to say? After all those talks and jokes, after the battles they fought together, after the goddamn sunset they’d watched sitting next to each other. Was he now just another target to eliminate? Had he really been this blind? The cold and detached part of him, the one he’d been wearing for so long, quietly whispered ‘yes’.  

Bad Luck rose into the air, releasing the next set of homing missiles that rushed at him from all sides. Too late, Rusty realized that there was nowhere to dodge other than backwards. Threading between the missiles, he backed further and further off. Raven was counting on that. From her elevated position, she plunged at him. 

A deafening screeching of metal against metal filled the cavern like a cry of pain, as Bad Luck smashed into Steel Haze , pinning it against the wall. In his peripheral vision, Rusty saw the glow of its pulse blade, rammed into the stone less than a foot away from his shoulder. Too close. Not close enough. A wave of scorching heat ran through his body, adrenaline playing on his fingertips. The ACs were so close, they were touching. He could see the glowing red lights on Bad Luck’s visor and the scratches in its plating. How badly did he want to just reach out, rip her out of her AC and make her talk, make her sing for him. God help him, his heartbeat spiked at the thought of Raven being completely at his mercy. 

This had to stop. Her influence on him had to stop. 

His boosters roaring, Rusty grabbed her by the wrist. Before she could back off and put some space between them, he spun around, putting all thruster power into the movement, and slammed her into the cavern wall. The mounting of her left RaD missile launcher moaned and cracked, dropping it to the ground. 

No new messages. 

Say something, damn you! Say that you don't want to fight! Talk to me! Tell me that I’m wrong! Tell me to stop, and I will…! Please…

But his comms remained maddeningly silent. The silence painfully echoed in his ears, as if trying to split his skull in half. Stop. Forget. Bury it. Eventually, the pain would cease. It always did.  

Both ACs dashed apart, repositioning themselves on the battlefield. 

“You never change,” Rusty chuckled. “You are not afraid to die… or to kill. This has been a real eye-opener. You are strong - a threat!”   

He had a mission and people who relied on him, whose hopes and pain he’d been carrying on his back all these years. He would not disappoint them. Not after everything he’d been through and all the lives he’d taken to keep up his cover and be a good corporate dog. He’d sacrificed so much to get here. His freedom, his pride, principles, morals, everything that made him who he was. Raven had no right to stand in his way, not when the end was so painfully close. Rusty would chase the clouds away, even if he had to step over her dead body to do it. One life for one planet, a fair trade. Raven would be his final sacrifice on the altar of freedom. 

Bad Luck was the first to re-engage. The AC rushed around the arena, unleashing one wave of bullets and missiles after another. Steel Haze returned fire from his handgun and rifle. The gray cave swirled around them at lightning speed, red and purple explosions melting into a blinding cacophony of colors, with two ACs circling each other in the center of the tornado of homing projectiles.

One hit, just one well aimed hit, was all Rusty needed to pin her down. Her lightweight AC heavily relied on her lightning fast reflexes, it wasn’t built to endure heavy strikes. All he had to do was to cripple her movement, and he had just the right tool to accomplish that.  

No new messages. 

It took him only half a second to swap the Ransetsu out for the laser slicer. Breaking their swirl of bullets and missiles, Rusty rushed forward to reduce the distance between the ACs. Raven was already expecting him. She met him head on, her pulse blade burning like a beacon in the dim light of the cavern. Fountains of sparks erupted when it collided with his slicer again and again, as he danced around her, trying to find an opening. Their blades flashed and flared, their energy discharging in bursts of light upon impact.    

She’s a threat, she’s a threat, she’s a threat a threat a threat a threat… 

Keeping up the pressure, Steel Haze continued its onslaught, and Bad Luck began to slowly back away under the whirlwind of swings. The spinning twinblades of the slicer and close quarter combat made the use of her long-range weapons impossible. All she could do was evade and parry. Step by step, Rusty forced Raven to retreat, pushing her into a corner like a wolf its prey. Instinctively, he licked his lips. Soon she'd have nowhere to run… 

But, unfortunately for him, Raven wasn't running. 

Long ago, when their little chats had only begun to blossom into a fragile comradeship, she'd told him in her typical taciturn way that "everyone had a pattern". The way they moved, used their weapons, piloted their ACs, it was all predictable. Back then, Rusty had only shrugged. It was a no-brainer, of course, different pilots had their own fighting styles. But in time, after watching countless hours of her fighting, he'd realized that wasn't what she'd meant. It felt as if she could react to attacks and maneuvers with a near uncanny precision. 

Those long since deleted messages flashed before Rusty's eyes, when Bad Luck's thrusters suddenly flared up. Frantically, he tried to interrupt his next attack, but it was too late. The AC dived underneath the spinning blue blades, losing its second set of missile launchers in the process, but it was a sacrifice worth making. Within a heartbeat, Bad Luck was behind him, outside his field of vision. 

Rusty didn't see the two slashes of the pulse blade that crippled Steel Haze. He only felt that suddenly his legs gave in, the joints in his knees no longer reacting to neural commands. His defense systems didn't even get enough time to blare the alert, before his right arm hit the ground before him. 

By the time his cockpit erupted in a red symphony of error messages, alerts and warnings, it was already over. 

Rusty watched Bad Luck slowly slide around and stop before the kneeling Steel Haze. He barked a laugh. Three minutes and twenty-six seconds… the digits on his timer made the defeat taste even more bitter than it already did. 

"Never fail to impress," he broke the silence between them, looking up at her. 

No new messages. Not a word. Just… silence.

Well, so be it. But Rusty was far from finished. Now it was his turn to bait Raven into the notion that she'd won the battle. 

He was ready for her to try and finish him off, a split second away from triggering Assault Armor. But Bad Luck didn't move. Weapons lowered, it released a cloud of fumes and steam, as if exhaling. The familiar post battle silence announced its presence with a deafening ringing in his ears, but his body remained tense like a spring.  

It was then that his communication channel came to life. First, there was only rustling, quiet, almost gentle. Followed by a deep, rugged sigh. And finally a faint voice. 

“Systems diagnostics. No damage detected." 

Ah, of course. Now that he was no longer posing a threat, she had to make sure her AC wasn't compromised. Efficient and thorough to a fault, he thought bitterly. 

"... Repeat. No damage detected. Repeat…"

What…?

"No damage… detected …” Her strained voice cut like a torn string. Several labored breaths broke through the comms. Rusty clenched his fists so hard his knuckles turned white. The cold and detached part of him was screaming at him to kill the line, silence the comms before it was too late. But he didn't. 

“Ayre, what’s happening? There is no damage… Why does it hurt? It hurts... so badly…” she sobbed. Raven sobbed.

Bad Luck took a shaky step back, as if some invisible force was overwhelming it. 

“Who needs me? Who…? I… don't know. I can’t… It hurts.” The sound of her sobs was stifled, as she desperately battled emotions she had no explanation for. Confusion and pain and fear in her quiet voice were breaking through the static comms, with every word feeling like a punch to the gut.

This wasn’t Raven, the independent mercenary, the Wallclimber, the Wormkiller. It was the girl who had been sitting next to him watching the sunset. And Rusty was no longer sure which one he’d been fighting just a moment ago, or if there even was a difference between the two. He was so sure that he’d figured her out. After so many conversations, he was convinced that he knew her. 

A cold chunk of ice formed in his gut. He wanted to say something, call her name, tell her  that… That what? That he didn’t mean it? That he was sorry!? Even if his throat hadn’t been scorching dry, every word that came to mind sounded just laughable. He’d made his decision, there was no going back. 

“... Please, Ayre… Please make it stop.” The comms cut. 

As if answering the plea, Bad Luck slowly turned around towards the exit of the cavern. The boosters thrummed, gently pushing the AC forward and carrying away its valuable load. It was almost insulting how it didn’t even acknowledge Rusty any longer. He stopped being relevant the moment Steel Haze went down, no longer a threat, not even an obstacle.     

He felt hollow.

Alone and on his knees, with Steel Haze’s right arm cleanly cut off by Raven’s pulse blade, he felt like a piece of him had just been carved out of his chest. And for what? Would it have been better if he’d actually won? Raven had taken him apart and left with his heart clutched in the cold hand of her AC, but Rusty felt that he would’ve lost it no matter the outcome. The irony of it was so disgustingly delicious that it made him want to laugh like a maniac. 

His cockpit was flooded with red light, systems angrily screaming warnings he ignored. On his screen, one error message chased the next, his AC no longer in fighting condition, but it didn’t matter. 

Rusty would return. Not as V.IV, Arquebus’ muzzled dog, but as himself. His comms were already buzzing with messages from RLF and Middle Flatwell, who tried to reach him in the depths of the Watchpoint Alpha. Soon he would be back among his people, those he fought for. Raven wasn’t one of them, and he now paid the price for naively believing that she could’ve been. 

Still, he would fly high and chase the clouds away. He was the only one who could.  

Two broken hearts for the freedom of Rubicon. It was a good deal.