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It was beginning to rain when Strayed finally reached the ground again.
Thick and glittering crimson in the light, it was unlike any rain he had ever seen before. It came down heavier too, obscuring the cameras of his AC as he settled and stilled. He’d landed on top of a cliff, the waves lapping at the base gently below as though nothing had ever changed. It was far too peaceful a spot, to witness what he’d left in his wake in its entirety.
With a shaking hand, he silenced his comms, so none could hear him. He stared out at the waves, taking in rapid, shaking breaths, trying to calm his thoughts. The sun was just beginning to set, backlighting the sky with fire. It was a muted sight compared to that of the ones he’d caused what seemed to be only moments ago. The mere thought of it made him want to be sick, and he leaned back in the seat of the cockpit. He hadn’t had time to think twice about what he was doing when he was up there - there was simply the mission, and his targets, and he’d tuned everything else out through the rush and the adrenaline. He’d had a job to do, he’d told himself, and everything else were just distractions. He’d told himself not to think about it, to just focus on staying in the air, even as he knew his NEXT was more than equipped for that. Now, though, there was only him, and the ocean before him, and nothing else left but his own thoughts.
What have I done?
He’d wanted to fly, once. He remembered staring out towards the sky from the roofs of Line Ark, watching the birds soar. He never knew what type they were - so few could survive down here. He’d wanted to be like them; free and unanchored from the earth, to roam and make his life whatever he wanted. He was young, then, war stories giving him only dreams and the weight of his existence only fuelling his hope. When the corporations had come for him to turn him into a tool of war, he’d embraced it instead of resisting, seeing it as the chance to finally spread his wings.
He’d named his NEXT Magpie. He had never seen one outside of old books, but there was a beauty to them, he’d thought. He’d learned quick how to keep himself blind to the truth of his situation, to focus only on the present rather than whatever the future might bring, or where he’d already been. It was easier to only half-listen to his briefings, to not linger on what he was doing, to keep his hopes alive.
Line Ark was when they were truly shattered. What hero would turn on their own home?
He took in another shaky breath, in the now, his attempts at calming himself failing. A hero. He laughed at that thought, a hollow and empty sound. He’d never been anything but a leashed animal, really. All he’d ever known was how to follow orders, how to spill blood, how to work for the corporations that killed his dreams. It was easy for a shackled beast to dream of freedom, but he’d done nothing to make it a reality. All of that power, all of that purpose, and…
For what?
Maybe that was why he’d taken the job from Old King. It had never been about the money; he didn’t even know what he’d do with that much. But if it weren’t for the money, what else was it for? Had he wanted to send a message? His upbringing on Line Ark had certainly instilled a sort of vague distaste for the Cradles, for those who got to dream in the sky while everyone else bled below. Maybe it was some deluded bid for freedom, away from ORCA’s plans, away from Collared and the League and… All of it. Maybe he was doing what he’d always done; simply flying in the endless expanse, blind to the consequences of the destruction he wrought along his path. He hadn’t let himself think about the fact that those lives, floating freely, were just as innocent as the lives of those he’d once wanted to protect. Not until it was too late, and Old King was already praising him for his work. Shifting in his seat, he pulled his hands away from the controls of his NEXT. He couldn’t breathe. It was too close, too crowded, his screen too bright. Raising a hand up, he pushed against the cockpit’s release, opening the hatches and clambering out. The view outside wasn’t much better. The rain was pooling now, crimson red upon the hardened soil next to him, and the air was heavy with a metallic scent.
He’d done this.
He’d caused all of this.
This was his fault, and his fault alone.
Never mind the words of the man who had swayed him onto this path, with promises of freedom and of a free world. In the end, picking up his guns was his own choice. Taking flight was his own choice.
Firing until nothing was left but fire and screams was his own choice, and his alone. No, the blame lay within himself. He felt… Weak, as he tried to steady his breaths, his arms shaking as he came to rest perched up on the shoulders of his NEXT.
In the end, he didn’t have an answer for why. It didn’t matter, really - the end results were the same. One hundred million lives had been lost, and those he might have called allies in a different life were dead. Worst of all among that number was his operator, Serene Haze. The one who had been there the entire way, who had always been by his side no matter what he chose, until she couldn’t anymore. Their relationship had never been more than strictly professional, but they’d had a mutual respect for each other. It was the closest he’d ever gotten to friendship with another person. Alone, he let grief hit him, alongside everything else.
Was it worth it, truly? Was whatever our mission was worth all of those lives?
What are we even fighting for? Bloodshed? Senseless destruction?
At least ORCA had a plan. What’s ours?
Those were questions he knew he would never find the answers to. After what seemed like an age, he finally lowered himself back into the cockpit of his AC, settling into the pilot’s seat and taking another deep breath. He hadn’t calmed down, but… What else was left?
What else was left but to walk onwards? There is nothing left behind; I’d ensured that, hadn’t I?
At the very end of everything, with nothing but ash and blood in his wake, there was nothing left to do but walk forwards. Maybe he could find something amidst the tragedy he’d caused, some new purpose to fight for. Or maybe he wouldn’t, and he’d simply vanish into history like everyone else before him.
Was it worth it?
Only he could find an answer to that.