Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

-{Drifter}-

Entrati stepped over them as they gasped for air in the reactor’s control room. Hot, burning pain spasmed in their chest as the bullet singed their insides. 

“To save them, you must know them, Drifter.” He said it calmly, like they were on a relaxing walk instead of inside a ticking bomb. “And…” he continued, “A parting gift for you. If you’re so inclined, that is.” A pill-shaped, metal something clattered to the floor by the Drifter’s face. 

“Rot in hell, Albrecht.” Speaking was agony. The air felt thick in their lungs.

No response.

Entrati’s form dissipated in an instant. The air in the room started to singe every portion of exposed skin present, the smell of cooking flesh and the tang of ionizing metal filling the Drifter’s senses. Hating themselves for it, they took the vial in their fist. The metal casing seared their nerves, sending blinding pain up their arm.

No more time left.

With the last of their heat-sapped strength, they raised their fist and let it fall.

Pitch black. Familiar, whispering voices. That feeling of being watched coming from every direction. A pull like gravity in a direction they couldn’t place.

Then— weak daylight.

A hard fall onto a dirty tile floor. The smell of dust and stale grease. The familiar gurgle of the Helminth behind them.

The Hex, sprawled across the tile like discarded dolls, breathing slowly.

Entrati’s gift in their hand.

Gold. Mercifully, no longer skin-meltingly, radioactively hot. Turning it over, they saw the inscription: ‘Voidtouch.’

A term of address, or a description of its contents? Was this another one of his endless puzzles? They turned it around, over, over again. The only hint to its contents was a single button on the end. 

Their curiosity won them over.

They wrapped it in their hand, easing their thumb against the button slowly, hesitantly, until—

*click*

Barbed needles launched into their closed fist. VOID! They flung their hand open, shook it frantically, tried to claw it away with their free hand. It stayed firmly attached to them. Entrati, you two-faced— 

A hissing noise, and then—

Pain, pain like fire spreading through every cell of their body. They couldn’t even muster a scream. The world was nothing but agony and white-hot burning, burning, burning. Far too much time passed before the pain stopped, sharp and immediate like the flick of a switch. Like nothing had happened. They forced themself to uncurl from the fetal, shaking position they’d shrunk into, to extend their hand and try one last time to release the metal trap.

It rattled harmlessly onto the floor, hollow-sounding and slick with blood. They could feel their hand swelling like an insect sting. The cold floor was a welcome relief from the boiling hot pain. They laid there for a long while, staring at the unconscious Protoframes in front of them.

The Volt— Amir? Yes, that sounded right— sat up first, all in one swift movement. His hands reached for a keyboard that was no longer there, freezing in confusion as he looked around. The others began to stir. Each startling into wakefulness, each one’s eyes landing on the stranger on the stage. The Drifter rose slowly, hands out in a placating gesture.

“I… I have an explanation.”

They hesitated. Breathe. 

“You’re not going to like it.”

Three hours later, they’d explained themself hoarse. They skimmed past the grislier details of their collective deaths, given the bare bones of Entrati’s history, even dipped ever-so-slightly into the Man in the Wall… Omitted the part about that evil little metal torture device in its entirety. 

…Silently wracked their brains to remember everyone’s names.

Arthur spoke first.

“A second chance. Forever.”

They nodded. “As many times as it takes.”

As many times as… What takes? Eleanor crept into the group’s minds on kavat's feet, her voice filling their heads from the inside out.

Drifter straightened. That’s going to take a little getting used to. “I… I honestly don’t know. Entrati’s as much of a mystery to me as he is to you. At the very least, as many times as it takes for us to not die. In a perfect world, as many times as it takes us to kneecap that thing’s plans, permanently.”

A long silence.

Great morale boost. Telling them to bash their heads against a wall for all eternity would be more encouraging.

Arthur spoke again. He sounded more sure this time.

“You heard them. Second chance. We have a year to prepare and a lot of work to do.”

He stood, and the others followed suit.

“Full mission brief. Tomorrow, in the garage. 0700 sharp. That includes you, Drifter.”

“I’d assumed as much.” 

“Today: Lettie, Quincy, check our supplies and make a list of what you need. Aoi, Eleanor, double check the fortifications and modify as needed. Amir, you’ll help me scrape some kit together for ‘Marty.’ Anything else waits until tomorrow. Understood?”

Nodding. Quincy and Lettie disappeared near-instantly, the others slipping away a moment later.

Wait. 

“Um. If someone could show me where the garage is, I would greatly appreciate it.” Louder than they meant it to come out. Kill me now.  

Sol. One more thing.

“And help me find somewhere to crash for the night. I’m not picky.”

Lua help me.

-{Amir}-

7 AM seemed a long way away. Bashing the various bits of broken comlinks together to make something at least kinda functional didn’t take nearly as long as he’d hoped, nor did explaining how to use it. The Drifter (wait, was that their actual name or a nickname?) picked things up QUICK. Not him-quick, but still. Then Arthur had taken them on a tour of the mall, starting with how to get to the garage. Then where to find Lettie in a medical emergency. Then where the bathrooms were, where to find fire extinguishers… basically a tour of the mall’s most practical and boring locations. The Drifter had been distracted, sneaking glances into the various personal areas as the three passed them. Snapping to attention and nodding when Arthur talked, then looking around for interesting stuff as soon as his back was turned to them. Same. 

As soon as the tour was over, they’d retreated into the creepy room behind Doctor Fr- Entrati’s abandoned clothing store, practically shoving everyone through the door while confidently assuring Arthur they had their own weapons ready and waiting. 

  “And protective gear?”

They’d smiled a blank, polite smile.

“Warframes. And for hand-to-hand I have this.”

They’d gestured to their outfit, then thanked Arthur and all but body-checked him out of the doorway.

The Drifter’s clothes were decidedly not anything like the stuff in the clothing store in front of their hideaway. A hood with some kind of… gas mask? Loose fabric draped over something almost like leather, with a cool spacey-looking gun holstered on their belt. OOOOOO what OTHER kinds of cool space weapons do they have? Laser guns? Laser swords? Psionic wave emitters?! Maybe giant mechs for fighting supersized aliens! That’d be cool. What wasn’t cool was the amount of waiting for it to be 7AM. Amir checked his watch impatiently. Only 1AM. Too amped to sleep, too busy thinking about what happened and wondering what was going to happen. Ugh . Maybe he could try to sneak out for a run or something, find something techy to fix around the mall. There were only so many things you could do in an arcade that didn’t make enough noise to wake people up.

A light out in the dark mall caught his attention. Almost neon blue, just at the edge of his peripherals. Decidedly not a light that’d been there before. A moving light. Techrot? Please not when I’m the only one awake… No, more controlled. Not shambly. He squinted into the dark. The light bobbed down the stairs, then vanished.

A deep breath out in the dark. Then silence.

He was halfway to messaging Arthur an urgent SOS SOMETHING CREEPY IS HAPPENING PLS RESPOND sort of message when he heard a startled gasp from the other side of the room. He whipped around to see the Drifter at the threshold of the arcade, looking sheepish.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” they whispered. “I  thought everyone would be asleep and I wanted to explore, sorry!”

They backed away quickly, vanishing back into the shadows of the mall.

“Wait!” Amir hissed, “just to make sure, the blue light thingy out there was, like, your flashlight or a glowstick or something, right?”

Just enough of a silence to make him nervous about not getting an answer. Then, they whispered back:

“...Yeah, sorry, that was me. Sorry.”

Silence again.

Well, that was weird. Amir went about backspacing his message in KIM before he fumbled it and accidentally called a false alarm. He checked his watch again. 

1:12.

Fine. Sleep it was. Maybe. At least trying. He could always change his mind, right? Yeah.

-{Drifter}-

As kind as it was for the Hex to let them use the backroom, to show them around the mall, to make sure they were able to get messages…

Today was a lot. A lot of people, a lot of names and locations and new-old stuff they didn’t quite get. A lot of trying to find a balance between being personable and finding the easiest escape route from every conversation. A lot of forcing themself to seem more on top of all this Entrati garbage than they really were.

Speaking of Entrati garbage…

They turned the empty gold thing over in their hands again. Voidtouch. The button slid in and out of its machined slot loosely, useless except as another trinket to display and reminisce on how much the experience hurt. They’d had a dull ache in their hand all day, but that was nothing compared to whatever it had done when they’d activated it.

The faintest sting of heat spread across their skin. Like stepping out into Mercurian summer sunlight. Just a memory.

A really awful memory.

Time to stop thinking about that, then. 

Immediately and forever.  

They dropped the item onto the huge table in the center of the main room, lost among the remnants of Entrati’s belongings scattered around.

Arthur’s tour was thorough, but not particularly interesting. Time to do some investigating.

First, double checking they actually could get to the garage on their own. Then… whatever piqued their interest.

_ 

They scrambled away from the neon-lit arcade, hissing apologies through their teeth. Of course someone’s living in here. Totally makes sense. Probably. Maybe in the past this was a thing.

“Wait! Just to make sure, the blue light thingy out there was, like, your flashlight or a glowstick or something, right?” The voice was difficult to place through the harshness of a whisper and the urgency of the speaker’s tone.

Blue light thingy... Voidlight. My eyes.  That’s a later conversation for sure. 

They attempted to construct a cover story. Their brain came up with nothing convincing. They took the easy way out: not even bothering to explain.

“...Yeah, sorry, that was me. Sorry.”

They backed away slowly, far enough away to sling away without being noticed. Back to the obols and ornate wooden furniture oif the backroom it was. Sol knows where else these people are sleeping. They slunk back through the clinking coins of the doorway like the door would bite them if they lingered too long on the threshold. 

They laid down on the long couch upstairs. Sleep took them like a knife in the back.

_

Pain. Like a dying star flowing through their veins. Like acid eating away at their skin.

The Drifter lurched from their couch-turned-bed, drenched in pain-sweat. What was in that thing?! Another wave of blinding, singeing, unbearable pain sent them to the floor.

Help.

They tried to will themself to their feet, but all they managed was a half-hearted crawl. Lettie’s tent wasn't far, but the distance seemed impossible in this state.

Help.

Sick. Pain. Wrong. Help. Please.

Help scared pain can't move burning pain help please my head my head my head help

I hear you. We're on the way. Help is coming.

Again, Eleanor's voice in their mind. Filling up the corners not thrashing in pain. A welcome distraction in the endless burning.

They were delirious by the time Lettie arrived. Time felt distended and sluggish, every second a new agony. Bits of words trickled in and out of comprehension.

“Entrati ba-”

“-Kit-”

“Painkill-”

“Shot-”

“Pain-”

“Carry-”

Help please help me it hurts it hurts

Try to hold still. This will help.

Help pain my head burning help—

A stark, simple canvas tent, not dissimilar to the ones used at Iron Wake. 

Lettie shouting towards the open flap, and cold shears against their skin cutting their sleeve away.

Eleanor's dark hand, resting on their shoulder. 

Breathe.

Blurry shapes of people moving around.

Exhaustion. Sleep opened its welcoming arms towards them.

Someone shook them. They opened their eyes again. Bright light. They flinched away. Tried to move, away from the bright light and the noise and the movement to somewhere dark, quiet, safe, alone.

“Hold still, stupid!” Lettie's voice, angry. Then quieter: “I am trying to help you. You sleep, you don't wake up.” A much firmer grip on their shoulder. Not Eleanor. The light again. “No concussion. Where the hell is he?! Quincy! Move your-”

Pain again. Like their skin was too small for their body. Tight. No air. Splitting. Cracking. Stretching. Snapping.

“Oh, great. I NEED HELP IN HERE, PEOPLE! NOW!”

Eleanor's hand again on their shoulder.

Can't breathe.

You can. Just try.

Can't.

Try.

Shaky. Too small to satisfy the panic. But a breath nonetheless.

Eyes open again. They tried to tilt their head, see what Lettie was doing. Eleanor's hand on their forehead, stopping their head from lifting.

Not now. Trust me. You don't want to see.

Why?

You look a bit rough around the edges. Something for later. For now, hold still. We'll do what we can.

Sleep?

A moment. Lettie, answering aloud. “Sure. They'll hold still if they're asleep. Make yourself useful, get A—”

Sleep. Deep and dark and painless.

Chapter Text

Dull, aching joints. So hungry it hurt. Thirsty - but their mouth wasn't dry. Bright light, tinted red through their eyelids. The smell of sanitizer and ointment. A faint tapping noise.

Tapping noise.

They shot up from the mattress they'd been laid on, scanning frantically for void-black eyes. Instead a startled yelp sounded from behind them. Whirling on the voice— the opponent, the threat— they saw a very nervous, seated Amir instead.

“Uh. Morning?”

Drifter nodded, tired shoulders dropping in relief. No danger. “Morning.” They picked at the twine holding their braid in place. They could feel loose hairs touching their neck, their forehead. Sweat and grease sat heavy on their scalp. Their hand brushed their neck as they shook the braid loose.

Metal on skin.

They froze.

Gloves?

For the first time, they actually looked down at themself.

Neon blue, glowing tubes threaded into coppery fittings. Red-brown artificial skin. Pale blue metal panels. Brick-toned panels of carbon-like something . Swirling asymmetrical designs etched into metal and raised on skin.

A false rib cage of glowing tubes threaded outward from their chest.

They reached for their face slowly, silently hoping this was just a bad dream. More tubes, threaded through their actual skin, tender and bruised and painful to the touch. Their fingers were cold metal, blue and copper and machine. Machine, not human. Not Tenno. Not me anymore.

They leaned to the side of their bed and vomited. Nothing but bile, then nothing at all. Dry heaving until their muscles— whatever passed as muscles now— failed into useless spasming.

Lettie was at their side now.

“Morning, sleepyhead. You've been out for a few days now. Feeling any better?”

They looked up at her. Something in them broke. They felt tears falling down their face, heard themself sob-scream, felt strong arms wrap around them and Lettie’s quiet voice offering comforting words as they buried their head against her shoulder and cried. Cried in a way they hadn't since… they couldn't remember. Thousands of years of fighting for normalcy and now they were… this.

Eventually, the tears stopped. They simply leaned against Lettie and shook. First with grief, then with anger.

If Entrati ever shows his face again, I will trap him and force him to live through a million years of death and pain. Force him to feel the pain he's left in his wake. For The Family and Loid and the Cavia and the Holdfasts and—

They sat up away from Lettie's embrace. Wiped the tears from their face. Cold metal fingers.  

“I'm sorry, I need to be alone for a while. If you need me, send me a KIM message. I just… I can't be around people right now.”

Their hands were clenched in shaking fists, barely restrained from the learned instinct to break, destroy, topple whatever was near. Things didn't reset at the end of the day here. These things were not theirs to break. They hauled themself to their feet, clenching their jaw as every joint screamed under their body weight.

“Hey, easy now!” Lettie scolded. They ignored her, forcing themself forward to the edge of the balcony, forced themself into the void and appeared on the opposite side. Thank Sol that still works. They heard their feet against the floor- dull, stone-like. They stumbled through the door to Entrati's lair and screamed. Gouged their hands into the crumbling plaster walls, swept obols and papers to the ground, grabbed at tubes and plating and skin that was not theirs that stung with pain the way their skin would before this.

They eventually ground to a halt, their body still too tired and in pain to continue their destructive spree. Defeatedly climbing the metal stairs - metal like this body- up to the loft room. They hesitated a long time before forcing themself to look in the mirror in the corner.

Just like the others. Human face, Warframe body. Skin, fully healed around the metal and tubing threaded through - sprouted from- their body. Their eyes glowed the same bright blue of the energy in the lines. In the pinpoint lights along their body.

They looked stitched together with those lines. Running along their limbs like a second, flimsy skeleton.

Xaku. Entrati's sick sense of humor at play again. The broken, void touched abomination that should never have been. Falling apart and rebuilding themself every second only to fall apart again, an anomaly, a monster so driven to destroy they willed themself to be again.

They hoped Entrati knew he was a dead man. That he felt dread in knowing how angry they would be. They hoped he looked around every corner, checked over his shoulder, slept with a weapon at hand.

They knew he didn't care. 

They knew they'd played right into his hands.

Can't even wait to study the thing first, can you? Just can't resist the allure of a button to press. Can't stop yourself. Won't stop yourself. Won't resist that curiosity. Won't wait. Now look at you.

Just another discarded experiment. A spare.

They laughed, bitter and scathing. A real part of the Family now. A true Entrati. Thrown away the second your purpose played out in that coward’s plans.

Alone again. Something wrong and strange and other and broken. Even among the Hex. Even if I ever get out of here. Forever.

A knock at the door broke their train of thought.

“Go away.” Their voice cracked as they spoke.

“Nope.” The new voice was cheery, even when muffled by the door-- Amir. “Arthur told me to get you, and to be honest I don't think he'll let me do anything actually interesting until I do that.”

They glanced at the POM-2 on the computer desk. A notification on screen. New messages waiting. Maybe if you hadn't been busy feeling sorry for yourself you'd have noticed. Now you're an inconvenience.

They walked to the computer, clicking on the KIM icon.

[27 new messages]

They groaned. Clicked on the first chat. One message from Arthur. Easy enough to answer.

[Broadsword] Planning tomorrow’s schedule. Are you fit to run a mission?

[spare.stardust] Yes. Whatever needs to be done.

[Broadsword] Understood. I'll keep in touch with Lettie for final approval.

[[Broadsword] went offline.]

Next message. Lettie, if they remembered correctly.

[Belladonna ~{@] Hey estupide, next time you end up hurt? You stay put until I tell you you can leave. 

This máquina stuff might not be my expertise, but I know a lot more than you do. 

Next time, stick around and listen.

[Belladonna ~{@] Don't go pushing your limits. The last thing we need is to have to burn through more supplies because you hurt yourself screwing around. 

And no more running off. 

[spare.stardust] Understood. My apologies. I know that was childish of me. Thanks for the meds.

[Belladonna ~{@] See? Fácil. You're welcome.

[[Belladonna ~{@] went offline.]

One chat left. Amir.

Only one? They did the math in their head.

24 messages in one chat.

Oh, Void.

[H16h V0l7463] Soooooo Future, you good?

[H16h V0l7463] i mean like obviously not

[H16h V0l7463] throwing up and crying aren't exactly indicators of “all good” but y’know

[H16h V0l7463] didn't mean to startle you btw just trying to keep an eye on you

[H16h V0l7463] we were taking turns, it wasn't just me i swear lol that’d be weird

[H16h V0l7463]ANYWAYS i have like a bajillion questions and hey maybe you could use a distraction or something!

[H16h V0l7463] do you still have video games in the future? Malls? Arcades? Are there holograms and stuff instead of screens?

[H16h V0l7463] OOOOH DO YOU HAVE LASER GUNS?

[H16h V0l7463] or laser swords orlaseranythinglikethat

[H16h V0l7463] it’s kinda a cliche in scifi stuff and I wanna knoooooowww lol

[H16h V0l7463] because if you do a) please let me see and b) it means i was right and i can shove it in Quincy’s face

[H16h V0l7463] how do the computers here rate against the ones in the future? like obviously not great bc FUTURE but like are there things that stay the same?

[H16h V0l7463] wait how far into the future are you from actually because if you're from like millions of years in the future and everything's pretty much the same i'd be kinda disappointed haha

[H16h V0l7463] anyways back to the computer thing is it harder to use this stuff or is it way less complicated 

[H16h V0l7463] i mean your POM-2 is in WAAAAY better condition than most of the other stuff here so it's the closest to being a good representation of the tech here

[H16h V0l7463] well, in better condition than i found it, i've fixed most of this stuff to run better now

[H16h V0l7463] wait do you know how to use a keyboard and mouse

[H16h V0l7463] nevermind i just remembered you used it to set up your KIM account lol

[H16h V0l7463] do they still use keyboards and mice in the future or is it all like brain controls or something 

[H16h V0l7463] and you were just copying what we do to figure out typing

[H16h V0l7463] notthepointanyways

[H16h V0l7463] are there like honest-to-Lua robots or is it just Warframes? i feel like it would be kinda wasteful to just have a Warframe for everything

[H16h V0l7463] if there are robots do they talk or are they just kinda machinery WAIT IF THEY CAN TALK HAVE THEY DONE ANY UPRISINGS thatwouldbereallycoolbutalsoreallyterrifyinghonestlyhaha

[H16h V0l7463] hang on Arthur wants something

[[H16h V0l7463 went offline.]

[[H16h V0l7463] is online.]

[H16h V0l7463] Ok he wants to see you in person so you should probably come out here

[[H16h V0l7463] went offline.]

Drifter just stared at the screen blankly for a moment. 

Sol above. The man's possessed.  

They didn't even know where to start answering the wall of questions.

Speaking of answering walls—

They tilted their head towards the door, doing their best to make sure their voice carried. “I'll be out in a minute. Sorry for making you wait.”

“No problem. Did you get my messages?”

They sighed. No escaping that, huh? 

“Yeah, I just… need a little bit of time to put together actual answers. There's a lot of… a lot of extra baggage attached to pretty much everything.” They walked down the steps as they spoke. Clanking . Metal feet. Not shoes. Not my body. Hide, run away, it's not real if you don't look— “Uh. You can tell Arthur I'm on my way, I just need to grab a couple of things before I get out there.”

“Alright, just try not to take too long. He's really a stickler about being on time.”

The muffled sound of running at breakneck pace, then silence.

They slipped out of the door into the dark edges of the clothing store. Nabbed an oversized, stained shirt with one sleeve ripped halfway off. Anything to feel less vulnerable. Beggars can't be choosers. They hesitated, glancing down at their wrist. Could they..? A brief moment of focus, and a Parazon popped out of their metal wrist. Not Tenno not me NOT THE TIME FOR THIS . They slashed off the sleeves, then the collar. The hem fell a good four inches down their legs when they put it on. The sides of the shirt were open halfway down their ribs — do I even have ribs anymore— but that didn't matter. They knew there was nothing to see, nothing to hide except from themself. A little less new, different, not them in their peripherals. 

They smelled electricity, the sharp smell of ozone. Amir was back.

“Hey so really quick do you know—”

He stopped, eyes wide. They must've looked worse than they thought.

“I'm fine.” They said it flatly, firmly. Setting their shoulders and straightening their back. “Where are we meeting the others?”

“Uh. The food court. It's not really a meeting , it's kinda just— Aoi and I have this competition— uh. Aoi’s making pizza, basically. That was my question, do you know what you want on your pizza?”

What?

“Uh. Whatever usually goes on pizza, I guess.”

“Do you… not HAVE pizza in the future?!” He looked like they'd just told him he was being pulled for brain-shelving. 

Is pizza really that important?!

“Maybe? It might be called something different. Describe it and I'll try to figure it out.

Amir rattled off a list of ingredients: bread dough, sauce, cheese, a whole host of things they didn't recognize after that. Bread, sauce, toppings, baked and served as a group meal.

I know this one!

“I’ve had… something kinda like that. Flatbread served with maprico pulp and smoked fish.”

He pulled a face. “I draw the line at fish on pizza. What's maprico? A weird future food?”

They grimaced. They realized they'd started walking, matching his speedy pace as they talked. Not running, but not exactly leisurely. “... Maybe? I don't know. It's a fruit, if that helps. Hard outside, sweet pulp stuff inside. Kind of a pain to get open without tools. Grows wild in that region, so it's used a lot in their food.”

“Weeeeeird. Buuuuuuut, if you like that stuff, you'll like pizza! And that's good, because it's kinda most of what we eat. So it'd be the worst if you didn't like it.”

They reached the stairs, which Amir took three at a time. Drifter went much slower, still achy and uncomfortably aware of the metallic click, click, click they made with every step. 

True to Amir’s word, Aoi was in one of the empty stalls in the food court, using her magnetism to conduct a mesmerizing swirl of metal utensils and trays around her. Ladles poured red sauce into floating trays of dough, tongs dropped toppings neatly onto the sauce, trays flew independently into some kind of oven. Its door closed independently, and she cheerily removed a strange white hat and a well-used apron from her person.

“Hi again! Nice to see you up and about!” She chirped. “I didn't know what you'd want, so I made bigger ones than normal and you can try a little from each one.” She vaulted over the counter, clearly relieved to be done. 

Drifter smiled back. “Thanks. That's really nice of you.” They caught Lettie's eye. “Sorry again for… all of that. It was really stupid of me to run off.” 

Lettie nodded. They couldn't tell if she was acknowledging their apology or agreeing with them.

“That's some sorry duds you picked up there, cuz,” Quincy chimed in. He was smirking at them. “Can't imagine somethin’ that busted coming in with you from the future.”

They felt themself redden with embarrassment. For a split second, they remembered classmates on the Zariman, the way they treated Rell. The way they treated the Drifter when an easier target wasn't there.

Play it off. 

“Didn't know where my actual stuff was. Figured I might as well try to fit in a bit, anyways.”

Quincy raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. But he didn't press further, either. Thank Sol.

I'll share Aoi’s sentiment. Nice to see you awake.

Eleanor smiled at them. 

Thank you for being there. 

She nodded. Message received.

“I think it's cool.” Amir piped up, “And it's not like we have a lot of choices for stuff to wear around here, anyways, so it's good to know there's some stuff lying around. If we want it.” He glanced up, making eye contact with Quincy for a split second before returning his attention to some kind of device in his hands.

Huh? Oh. The shirt. They glanced down. Plain gray, with white buttons down the front they'd completely ignored. The glow of their tubing was visible through the fabric. They glanced back up, shrugging like the reminder of their new body didn't make them feel sick. “Better than some stuff I've worn.”

“Wait, really?” Amir looked up again.

“Yeah. In Du—Sometimes you have to make do with whatever's around, even if it's not really made for clothing. I had some pretty rough stuff for a while. Repurposed tent covers, awnings, stuff like that.” Stop talking, that's enough information.

Something in the stall beeped loudly. Aoi sat down, again opening the oven and floating the trays around like they had a mind of their own. Two rotary blades flew up and sliced each pizza before they landed. Another tray and a pair of tongs floated over, taking small triangular pieces out of each one. The tray landed next to Aoi, who pulled a chair out beside herself. Patted the seat invitingly. 

The Drifter awkwardly walked over, sat down. The food smelled delicious. They looked intently at each slice in turn. None as plain as Ostron flatbread, but maybe that would be fun.

Arthur approached. “Got your message. Took you long enough.”

“I had other things on my mind.” They didn’t care that their tone was icy. “Pardon my late reply.”

Arthur nodded once, taking a tray and returning to the solitude of the security booth.

“Future just told me they don't have pizza anymore. In the future, I mean. Well, they kinda do but not the same.” Amir stopped and practically inhaled a slice from his tray. “How sad is that? How could the world forget pizza?!”

Several wars, an utterly unknowable length of time, a diaspora across an entire solar system… focus.

They picked a slice at random and took a bite. Something brown and earthy. A ring of something pinkish that tasted sweet and pungent. Salty, chewy cheese— a far cry from the crumbly, soft, kind they'd had in Fortuna. The dough was chewy, too. The sauce was tangy and herbal and a bit sweet. They downed the rest of it and tried the next one. Cheese, bread, sauce- small, black, briny rings. Slices of salty, slightly spicy… meat? They weren't sure. 

Each slice was a new confusion of flavors and unknown foods, but all of them were tasty and filling. They silently ranked them against each other as they ate. Aoi's pizza had some kind of greens on top, with more briny rings and cubes of some kind of white meat. Now cubes were something they recognized. Amir’s had some kind of sweet fruit on it with more of the spicy protein. Lettie's was loaded with savory vegetables and the white meat cubes. The other plates were a mystery, whisked away to eat in private before the Drifter got a good look. 

“So? How'd I do?” Aoi grinned at them expectantly.

“Really good. I liked the one with the briny rings and the round spicy stuff the best.”

“Olives and pepperoni, got it!” Aoi tapped her temple and pointed at them with a wink. The words sounded familiar from Amir's scrambled list.

“What's the cube shaped meat?”

“Grilled chicken. Pretty good, huh?”

“Yeah, I liked that a lot, too.” Partly because it was in cubes, but it was good.

Lettie stood, walking her tray back to the counter of the pizza stall. “It's time for bed. We have a briefing tomorrow morning at 8. Be up, fed, and ready by then.”

“Where at?” The Drifter asked, mentally running through the list of locations in the mall.

“Right here. 8AM, on the dot.” She checked her watch. “About nine hours from now.”

They nodded. “I'll be here. See you all tomorrow. Thank you for the pizza, Aoi.” They took her tray with them to the stall, turning towards the stairwell and very pointedly ignoring the sound of their footsteps once again.

“Wait a sec, I have something cool I wanna show you justreallyquicklyipromise!” Amir zipped from his seat, dropped his tray on the counter, and grabbed their wrist for a half second. Grinning, he let go. “Follow me!”

He walked fast, clearly fighting the urge to zip forward at every Volt’s usual double-time pace. They followed him to the arcade— so that was him the other night— where he proudly waved to a large console, lit and beeping softly. “Just fixed this one last night.”

Looking around, the Drifter noticed two blunt-sized consoles with dark displays against the wall behind him. Those must be broken, if they're supposed to light up and beep. “Congrats. Was it difficult?”

He shrugged. “Nah, it just needed a couple solenoids and a new power cable. No biggie, just probably got a bit fried from a power surge or something. If I can get those cabinets working, this place will be fully functional again!” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the dark screens. “I like fiddling around with stuff. Passes the time. Anyways, if you're ever bored or anything you can come try your hand at these things. Probably won't beat my high scores, though.” He looked proud at that last bit, even a bit smug.  

“Challenge accepted. And thanks, this place is interesting. And again, I really am sorry for popping up out of nowhere the other night. I didn't know this was someone's personal spot. Either way, I could've just asked about it instead of sneaking around in the middle of the night.” Whoa there, kaithe-mouth. Wrap it up. “Sorry.”

Amir smiled. “No biggie. Us night owls gotta stick together, right?” He hesitated for a second before continuing. “Do you know what an owl is?”

“Nope. Not a clue.” Add it to the list. 

“They’re birds of prey that hunt at night. Uh, birds are—”

“I know what birds are. Birds of prey, too. We have Condrocs on Earth and Sawgaws on Venus.”

“There are birds on other planets?! Wait, hang on, Venus? Gas giant? Not really much ground going on?”

“Uh...” 

Think think think fast explanation go go go 

“There's this faction of… money-hungry social elites. They have armies they use to take over planets and enslave anyone living there so they can extract everything sellable. They’re called the Corpus. They maintain these Or- ancient coolant structures that essentially freeze the planet so it has a surface. Really pretty, really cold. The planet’s core is basically a pressure cooker, though. Bursts through the surface as Thermia fractures. Thermia is difficult to get ahold of normally, so Corpus command sees it as a win-win. It's terrible for Venus, though. Damages the environment and gets people hurt.” What was the point of saying this, again? Right.  “Yeah. Sawgaws live there too.” Smooth.

Amir was staring slack-jawed again. “That sounds way cooler than this stuff.” He sounded… not hurt, but not nearly as excited as before.

Oops. 

“This is interesting, too. I'm not used to this kind of tech.” They turned to face the cabinet, taking in the colors and music. “This is a game, right? You said something about a score.” Leaned around the side to see brightly colored panels of art, backlit from inside the box. “It seems fun. I wouldn't know the first thing about fixing something like this.” They turned back to face him. “You said it wasn't difficult, but I guarantee you I'd be as lost as a Tamm on Mars.”

He stared for a second. Turned away to look at the broken cabinets on the far wall. “Yeah, I guess we both have our things, huh? You know space stuff, I know tech.” He talked faster than normal. How is that physically possible?!  “Do you know how to repair future tech, then? Being from space and all that?”

They felt themself redden with embarrassment. “...no. I don't. I have a… a repair person for my Warframes, and a lot of stuff just… slowly fixes itself if you keep reserve materials topped up. I mostly just break into alarm panels and override them when I need to go unnoticed.”

...Is Helminth a person??? 

He turned back to them, grinning again. “I can teach you some basics if you want, easy stuff so you can maintain your computer and comms..?”

Thank Lua.

“That would be nice, actually. Thank you. I need to head to bed. See you at the briefing tomorrow.” They ducked their head in a tiny bow of thanks, slipping away into the dark mall and towards the back room.

That was a disaster. Doesn't matter. Sleep. Time for sleep.

They glowed in the dark now. Their own personal lantern. Well, isn't that just lovely. Can't wait to try sleeping with this… thing. Forever.

Wait. Would they have to go through all that if the loop reset? Would that undo things?

A curl of hope quickly dashed. Everything on their person stayed the same in Duviri, save for aging. Scars formed and lingered. This? This was much deeper than any scar.

They flopped onto the couch, glancing at the model solar system. 

Wonder where the kid is.

Goodnight. Stay safe out there.

Be smarter than me.

Chapter Text

Amir woke up to the sound of Lettie yelling. Cursing. Oh, that's never good.
He checked his watch as he launched out of bed.

3:26 AM.
Not late for the briefing, so what-?

Lettie again. “I need help, ¡ayer! They took one of those Entrati shots. Painkillers, something!”

Lettie ran into view, carrying the Drifter over her shoulder. Eleanor followed close behind, silent, eyes glowing intermittently.

“Amir! Up here, now. I'm going to carry them inside, give me your flashlight and get Arthur.” Lettie barked.

Upstairs in a blip, flashlight shoved into Lettie's waiting hand, over to Arthur's solitary hideaway.

*bambambambambambambam*
“ARTHURWAKEUPIT’STHEDRIFTERSOMETHING’SWRONGLETTIENEEDSHELPNOW” A loud thud from the other side of the door, then Arthur was pushing past him.
“Where?”
“LettiestentIthinkthey’reinsidenowgottagettheothers-”

Off again. Quincy was already up, digging through Lettie's supplies with a scowl. “Let, where'd you move the meds to?”
Lettie, over the earpiece. “Green satchel, green plus. Hurry.”

“Yo, Amir, take this up to Lettie!” Quincy tossed a pack of something at Amir's head. He caught it easily.
“OkayfinebutyougottagogetAoi!” Zipped back to Lettie's tent.

Thank you, Amir.

Eleanor's hand poked through the tent flap, grabbed the medicine and vanished once again.
Amir could hear someone thrashing around.

“Hold still, stupid!” a brief pause. “No concussion. Where the hell is he?! Quincy! Move your-”
Another pause. Then the sound of plastic hitting the floor, gloves being snapped over hands.

And then a guttural scream of pain.

“Oh, great. I NEED HELP IN HERE, PEOPLE! NOW!”

Amir froze. Help? In the medic tent? He wasn't squeamish, necessarily, but…

Eleanor's hand snapped closed around his wrist, pulling him into the tent.
Step to it, soldier.

The Drifter was on the cot, jerking their limbs erratically, pouring sweat. Most of their futuristic outfit had been crudely cut away, revealing tendrils of purplish infestation spreading from patches of synthetic skin and blood-slicked metal. Lettie was pinning their arm down with her elbow, awkwardly fumbling with a needle and bottle as they seized.
“Hllp mh, Mmir.” Lettie had something in her teeth- a piece of plastic.
He hesitated again. No way outta this one.
He grabbed their wrist, pinning it to the cot with his body weight.
Lettie went straight to work, drawing up a vial of something into the syringe. Jabbing it into their arm and forcing the contents in. Throwing the empty bottle to the side and putting the syringe into a red sharps bin.
Amir let go of the Drifter's arm like he'd touched a hot stove. Lettie shoved past him to the other side of the cot. She grabbed another plastic packet— tweezers of some kind. She crouched by their hand and started picking at something in their palm. She tossed whatever she'd found into a waiting tray— it looked like a fishing hook. A very small one that was very much covered in a very large amount of blood.

She froze for a few seconds—listening?— then spoke. “Sure. They'll hold still now that they're asleep. Make yourself useful, get Aoi. She’ll be faster at getting these out of their hand.”
Eleanor nodded. She looked down at the Drifter for a moment, and they slowly relaxed. She pushed past Amir, out of the med tent and into the mall proper.
Lettie snapped her fingers urgently.
“Amir. Tie this around their upper arm, tightly. I can't see what I'm doing with this much blood in the way.” She handed him a strip of cloth, shifted to the side to let him pass. She was wiping blood away from the wounds with a wad of gauze, taking up the tweezers again to pull another hook out of their finger.

He did it as fast as he could, triple-knotting it so it would stay, moving back to the doorway. Someone ran into him with a grunt.
He ducked out of the tent, apologising briefly as he let Aoi through. He deliberately did not look at his gloves, simply pulling them off and throwing them into a nearby trash can.

Aoi emerged a few minutes later, holding a handful of tiny, sharp hooks. She was scowling.
“The Doktor’s handiwork.” She held one up, turning it in the light. “These things are hollow inside. Like a needle. That's probably how this happened.” She morphed the metal into a unified ball, then into a thin sheet the size of a playing card.

Lettie opened the tent flap. “I could use some help moving them out of here so I can clean up.”

Arthur was poring over a notebook when Amir got downstairs. Adjusting our schedule. Amir barely avoided groaning in annoyance. Lettie had messaged something to Arthur as soon as the Drifter was on one of the mattresses that made up the makeshift recovery area.

Arthur looked up from his notes. “Amir. You're taking an extended watch tonight. Lettie will relieve you at 0500. Your cleanup run this afternoon won’t change.”
Anything to get out of this conversation. “Okay sounds good— Wait, Lettie?? I thought she's… y'know, keeping an eye on them.” Nevermind, time to be nosy.

Arthur huffed. “She'll be watching them tonight, then it's Quincy’s turn. Then Eleanor, then Aoi, myself, then you. I've moved her off patrols and missions for now, just internal ops. She'll be nearby if anything happens, but we're going to be spread thin for a few days until they recover.”

Amir nodded. “Sure. Right. Oop, I just remembered something I need to do backatthearcade—” And he was off. Sweet, sweet freedom. He cracked his knuckles, ready to start racking up yet another unbeatable high score on the Caliber Chicks cabinet. Easy peasy. He stopped just before putting his hands on the controls.

I'm washing my hands first. Seventeen times.

Long overnights weren't so bad, honestly. Make a few laps of the mall, check the security cameras, make sure everything was alright. Then play a few minutes of whatever he had in his GameGuy, repeat. Over and over again. He could hear someone snoring. Loudly. Probably Quincy.

He checked his watch. Time for the first lookie-loo.
As weird as it was to get used to at first, having super-duper-future-robot powers was pretty fun. Something like this would’ve taken him ages as a regular dude. Less time for fun stuff. He sped through the mall, making some not-strictly-necessary maneuvers for practice. Vaulting tables in the food court, making a mini-tornado in a particularly dusty corner, taking a dive-roll off the second floor. Stuff that’d come in handy during a mission. Except maybe the tornado thing.
Cameras: all clear.
Computer zombie apocalypse door fortifications: intact.
Snoring person: definitely Quincy.
Yeesh. Can he even breathe?

Back to the arcade for some downtime. He was stuck on a puzzle again in a slidey-ice-dungeon, one he had to do right in one go or leave the room and start over. At least the music was nice. The dungeon as a whole was pretty difficult, but this puzzle in particular was annoying the snot out of him. Every time he’d gotten close to a perfect game, he’d fumble this one puzzle and have to play the rest of the game knowing this run was just for practice.

The digital clink of 8-bit ice falling into place perfectly seemed to echo off the walls of the arcade. He barely restrained the urge to yell in triumph. He settled for aggressive air punches and a few rude gestures at the handheld console. He checked his watch again.

Whoops. He’d skipped two of his surveillance laps. Double-DOUBLE-checking this time, then.
Off in an instant. He lingered at the camera room for longer than strictly necessary, his brain racing.
What if something’d gotten past while I wasn’t looking? And now I can’t see it because it was too close for the cameras’ field of view?!
What if someone had slipped outside for some air and gotten nabbed by Scaldra or eaten by Techrot?!
….Does the Techrot eat people?

He sped over to each door in turn. Bolted shut, boarded shut, Aoi-d shut, boarded shut again, more boards, Aoi-d shut—
All fine.

But now he was jumpy. He took a couple extra laps, just in case. And to burn off the nervous energy.

A light popped on in Lettie’s tent.
Uh oh.
He checked his watch.
2:47 AM.
Not even close to when she’d be taking over the watch.
Is she secretly psychic, too? Can she sense that I got distracted?!
He snuck up the stairs, ducking behind a support beam to gauge the situation from a safe distance.

She emerged with a flashlight and wandered in the direction of the bathroom.
Oh. Nevermind.
The light lingered briefly on the Drifter’s floor-mattress-bed. Reflected off metal plates. Lettie walked on.

He felt a moment of morbid curiosity. He knew from experience that the transformation from “regular person” to “robot superhero” was painful and unpleasant. It had been for him, at least. He couldn’t remember off the top of his head how long it had taken. Wonder if they look different yet. Morbid curiosity beckoned him closer.
He caved.
He walked as quietly as possible as he approached. Their hand was in a much smaller bandage than before— probably half-healed already. Their skin was the same tendril-y synthetic texture as the rest of the Hex— at least where there wasn’t armor slowly sprouting from it. There were faint, glowing dotted lines running along their limbs and up their neck. Their face was tense, even in their sleep. Fair enough.
He spotted the edge of Lettie’s flashlight beam heading toward the stairs again. He backed away slowly, then zipped away once he figured it wouldn’t risk waking the Drifter.

“Amir?” Lettie’s voice was froggy. “I know you were over here. Smells like a blown fuse.”
Caught.
“Get back up here, I need extra hands.”
Oh Sol, not again.
“Fiiiiine.” he groaned. “Guilty as charged.”
He shuffled over awkwardly. “I have to get back to my watch, so…”
“I just need you to hold some stuff while I check on their hand.” She glared at him. “Your watch can wait thirty seconds. You can run.”
He glared back, decided that was a bad idea, and settled on a mildly offended look.
She handed him an alcohol wipe, waited for him to clean his hands, then handed him an empty tray. She started unwrapping the packed gauze, dropping it in a pile on the tray. She pulled away the last layer. A sigh of relief. Their hand was healing well. No need to rebandage.
Lettie took the tray from him, happily dumping the contents into a marked trash bin and replacing a wound care kit back in her belt pocket, unused. She checked her own watch, grimacing.
“I’m going back to bed, see you at five.” She set the Drifter’s hand back on the mattress, pinching the bridge of her nose and grumbling as she stood.
He nodded, backing up again. “See ya then.”

Back to the arcade. Two more runs through the mall, two more short gaming sessions. Really short. Missing two checks made him paranoid, double checking his watch every couple of minutes.

Eventually, five AM came along. He zipped back to the medical tent, finding Lettie already outside. She looked exhausted. She waved her hand dismissively. “Go do whatever it is you do this time of day. Far away from me. Quietly.”

He went back to the arcade. Arthur had called for the daily brief at 8 AM. That left about three hours to do… well, kinda whatever.

The past two days had been a blur of recon missions and supply runs so frantic and chaos-filled he’d almost forgotten about the whole “babysitting the Drifter” thing. Lettie was mid-lecture, telling him the do’s and don’ts of the deal. Mostly don’ts. A lot of don’ts. He was distracted, looking through the giant skylight at the cold blue sky. The perfect day for a run, but he was stuck inside.
“Amir. Prestar atención. They should be waking up soon. Day three was about when we all got our heads back on our shoulders. If and when they do, call me. Don’t just sit there and gawk.” Lettie crossed her arms. “You get all that?”
He nodded. Nope.
She glared at him. She could tell he was lying.
“Fine. Something comes up, page me.” She buckled her supply belt on, double checking the contents of each pocket. “I’ll be downstairs. That bathroom is vile. We don’t need anything crawling up the drains.”
He gave her a double thumbs up. “No prob. I grabbed some snacks and a couple things to keep me busy. Hey, hopefully they’ll wake up before I burn through ‘em.” He was only half-joking.

She disappeared down the stairs, leaving him alone. He looked around the area. Aoi had brought up a chair from the food court, so he sat in it.
Great. Cool. Just twelve hours of sitting around waiting for something to happen. Obviously my forte. Amir Beckett, master of holding still in one spot doing nothing. Super duper good with that.

He glanced at the Drifter, silently willing them to wake up soon. The sooner the better. He downed one of the sodas he’d brought up from the arcade. Then a granola bar. And another soda. He grabbed his Tammpet off his belt. Fed, walked, pet, cleaned. All set. Glanced back at the Drifter. They’d shifted in their sleep, but hadn’t really moved-moved. He grabbed his GameGuy out of its pocket. He was halfway through the next dungeon before he thought to check on them again. Jeez, how does anyone sleep for this long? He ran the numbers in his head. It’s been… what, three days now? Nothing but a tiny bit of water at a time? Not really moving? He shook his head in disbelief. They must sleep less than I do.

Several hours passed. He took a few light-speed laps around the mall, sending popped balloons and dust flying all around.
He sat back down in the uncomfortable chair, jogging his leg in place. If you wake up riiiiiiiight…. NOW! Then I can leave. Or… NOW!
No psychic powers. Bummer.
He stared at the Drifter. Huh. He hadn’t noticed their earlobes were stretched until just then. Or the horizontal scars on the visible parts of their neck. He zoned out for a while, staring without really perceiving anything he saw. Turning the next dungeon puzzle over in his head. Running through the steps. Running sounds nice. He pictured his usual route through the city, through the areas they’d managed to keep mostly clear of Techrot and Scaldra incursion.

He suddenly realized the Drifter was sitting up, looking around frantically like a cornered animal. He jumped halfway out of his skin, letting out an embarrassingly high-pitched yelp. They whipped around to face him. A desperate, angry expression faded from their face.

“Uh. Morning.” Please ignore the fact I am sitting here staring at you sleep.

“Morning,” They responded.
He looked around for Lettie. Nowhere in sight. Stood, looked inside the tent. Looked behind the tent. Turned to look on the other side.
The sound of vomiting interrupted his search.
He snapped back to attention. The Drifter was leaning off the edge of the mattress, retching on an empty stomach. He fumbled for his radio in a panic.
“Lettie! Lettiethey’reawakeandbarfingpleasegetoverhere—”
Loud swearing. She’d heard him. Thank Sol.
Heavy footfalls rang up from the stairs a moment later. She closed the distance at speed as the Drifter sank towards the matress, grabbed their shoulders before they could lay all the way down.
“Morning, sleepyhead. You’ve been out for a few days now. Feeling any better?”
The Drifter shook, blinking away tears… and screamed, sobbing into Lettie’s shoulder as she supported their weight and murmured quiet comforts to them.

Amir just stood frozen.
What do I do now? Do I do anything? Just walk away? Bring tissues or something?
He settled on sitting back in the chair, waiting for Lettie to give him some kind of direction. She glanced up, shook her head, and motioned for him to leave.

He slipped away gratefully. A few minutes later, he heard Lettie yelling. He looked up to the second story, saw the Drifter running into the back of the abandoned clothing store.

Must’ve snuck away before she was done checking them over. None of his business for now.

…But they could now check KIM whenever they wanted to.

Amir’s hands moved in a blur across his keyboard. SOMANYQUESTIONS. Message after message poured into the Drifter’s KIM inbox as new questions popped into his head.
A knock on the doorway of the arcade startled him out of his groove.

“Amir.” Arthur stood there, arms crossed. Oh, great.

A quick explanatory message to the Drifter. LogoffcloseprogramsetPCtosleep.
“‘Sup?” Only half listening for a response.
“I saw you were chatting with our resident time traveller. I need to have a chat with them.”
“Okay. One sec.” wakecomputeropenKIMloginmessageDrifterlogoutcloseprogramsettosleep.
“Let me know when they respond.” Arthur turned and stalked off.
“Just message them yourself.” Amir muttered under his breath. He grabbed a broken CD player off the ground beside his computer desk and started to disassemble it. Find the flaw in the machine that made it wrong and fix it. Easy.

Until he dropped a screw.

Two hours later, still no response from the Drifter.
And Arthur came back.
“If they’re not responding, then go get them.” He was exasperated. “People don’t stop existing when they aren’t online, Amir.”

So Amir hoofed it across the mall to the creepy hallway behind the clothing store. Why can’t he ever run his own errands? I’m fast, not his personal mailman.
He knocked a few times on the door.
A long pause.
“Go away.”

He zipped off to the food court once they agreed to come out. “They’re on their way! Only had to threaten them a little bit.” He jokingly saluted Arthur as he spoke. Threatened them with a Patent Pending Arthur Scolding, but nobody needs to know that.

“Did they say what they wanted on their pizza?” Aoi asked. She was wearing an apron and hat emblazoned with the Big Bytes Pizza logo; the uniform once worn by an actual employee at the pizza joint. Now it was the uniform of having lost a bet that day. “Hellooo? Amir? What did they want on their pizza?”

Oh, right. “... Be right back!”
Two seconds of running before he was back at the clothing store. “Hey so really quick do you know—”

He stopped, eyes wide. Their eyes were glowing the same color as the lines plumbed all over them. They had a makeshift tank top on- a dress shirt, way too big, with the sleeves and collar cut off. It looked like their ribcage was glowing through their chest.
Their expression hardened.
“I'm fine.” They stood up straight, looked defensive. Why?

“Where are we meeting the others?”

Words, brain!
“Uh. The food court. It's not really a meeting, it's kinda just— Aoi and I have this competition— uh. Aoi’s making pizza, basically. That was my question, do you know what you want on your pizza?”

“...You said it wasn't difficult, but I guarantee you I'd be as lost as a Tamm on Mars.”

Amir immediately regretted his attempted guilt trip. They sounded earnest, had looked genuinely interested in the newly repaired cabinet. He felt a hot flush of embarrassment start to creep up his neck. He turned around, looking for anything to say to break the tension. “Yeah, I guess we both have our things, huh? You know space stuff, I know tech. Do you know how to repair future tech, then? Being from space and all that?”

An awkward pause.
“...no. I don’t.” They sounded as embarrassed as he felt. “I have a… a repair person for my Warframes, and a lot of stuff just… slowly fixes itself if you keep reserve materials topped up.” SO. COOL. “I mostly just break into alarm panels and override them when I need to go unnoticed.”

Self-repairing electronics? Warframe repair specialists?! WAIT THEY CAN HACK, TOO!

He turned around again. “I can teach you some basics if you want, easy stuff so you can maintain your computer and comms..?” He trailed off. A look of relief washed over the Drifter’s face.

“That would be nice, actually. Thank you. I need to head to bed. See you at the briefing tomorrow.” They ducked their head in a tiny bow of thanks, slipping away into the dark mall and towards the back room. He could see the glowing lines of energy disappearing into the stairwell.

Someone from the future wants to learn tech stuff from me. A time traveller. Wants ME. To teach them about computers.

It felt too awesome to be true. Like something that’d happen on Sol Trek. He punched the air with both fists. He zipped around the arcade, searching for a pen and some not-used paper. Started outlining a plan of attack. Avoiding viruses. How to force a reboot. Cleaning the fans. Using the search function. Good vs bad noises computers can make. What else?
He tapped his foot again, charging up static electricity until his hair stood on end. OH! How to do repairs without electrocuting yourself or frying any components. Not a problem he had anymore, but useful before he had electricity at his beck and call. Beginner’s guide to chatroom speak.

… Introduction to Arcade Games.
Not strictly necessary for maintaining their tech, but he really needed a second player for Caliber Chicks if he wanted to find that hidden room he’d heard about, and his new friend seemed eager to try their hand at gaming.

Wait, are we friends now? Is that what that was?
He grinned. Friends with a time travelling superhuman from outer space. This is the coolest thing that’s ever happened to me.

Chapter Text

-{Drifter}-

The obol curtain swung back into place with a pleasant sound.
Void, I forgot how I left this place…
Papers, books, pens and trinkets were scattered across the floor. A spiderwebbed crack now decorated the wall where they'd punched the crumbling concrete. Furniture flipped, tipped, thrown around.
But the day had been too much already. They simply righted the couch they'd taken to sleeping on, shoved the worst of the mess from the walkway, turned off the lights and went to sleep.

They woke up with a start, far earlier than they'd hoped. They'd dreamt a familiar dream: Duviri, in a joy spiral. As beautiful as it was when they were a child. In an instant, the void-eyed schoolmates of the Zariman were in every window and doorway. Smiling. Staring. Then pouncing. Ripping. Rending. Laughing. Laughing. Laughing.

They couldn't sleep anymore. A walk sounded nice.

They'd already forgotten they glowed in the dark. In the aftermath of the nightmare, it was comforting. Enough light to see that they were only dreaming before.
But in the dark mall, where people were sleeping, where they hoped to go unnoticed, it was irritating. Just a few laps around the lower level. No different than a torch. Or Tepa spores. Nobody will notice, nobody will care.

They set off. One lap around the food court, one around the Helminth’s stage. One big loop around the outside of both. A deep breath, then up the stairs again.

“Out for a stroll in the moonlight, yeah?”
They pulled their Sirocco before they could think. Quincy stood at the bottom of the stairs. He raised a placating hand, smirking. “Careful there, cuz. Just me.”
They holstered their gun. “Couldn't sleep. What's it to you?”
“For all I know, you're out here poking around for Scaldra intel. Can't be too careful.” His face was hard to read. They opted to take his accusation seriously.

“Have no fear. Just needed to clear my head, not empty its contents into enemy ears.”
“Always worth checking.” Quincy shrugged and turned around. “Catch you later, future. Stay sharp.”
“Good night, Quincy.”

I've met Quills easier to read.

They finished climbing to the second story, turning towards the abandoned storefront hiding Entrati's back room. I need to clear this place out. More room for training. And fewer obols everywhere. We could use the fixtures for repairs—

“Yo, D. C’mere for a second.”
They turned. Quincy stood behind them, looking off towards the food court.
“It's none of my business, but the lil’ speedster’s up, too. Just staring at a wall. Creepy is what it is. But…” he glanced back at them.“Dunno. Seems you two get on pretty well. Maybe you can convince him not to flake out on me for morning patrol.”

Drifter was not exactly an expert with people, but even they could tell there was more worry to Quincy's words than a simple schedule shift would explain.
They nodded. “Did you have to let me get all the way over here before asking? All the way up the stairs?”
Quincy grinned. “Gotta get my kicks somehow, might as well be at your expense.”
They rolled their eyes, giving him a tense smile. “See you tomorrow. Good night.”
“G’night.”

Descending back to the ground level, they found themself moving at a faster clip than normal. Staring at a wall. Staring. At. A. Wall. Please have normal eyes…
They knocked twice on the doorframe of the arcade, glancing around for Amir as they walked in. They spotted him immediately, sitting on the floor, leaning against a game cabinet, and, indeed, staring at the opposite wall.
“Hello?” They half-whispered.
Amir reacted like they'd shouted, flinching upright and scrambling to his feet. They could smell ozone, see arcs of energy between his fingers.
“Whoa, just me! Just me.” They took a full step backwards and held both hands up. “Just making sure you're alright. Quincy said—”
“I'm just sure Quincy had some real zingers.” He sounded bitter as he shook the sparks off his fingertips. “Probably asked you to trade assignments with me so he doesn't have to babysit poor little Amir. I don't care. See you tomorrow.” He turned to go back to his makeshift bedroom, fists clenched.

“If you're feeling out of it, I—”
“Tell Quincy I can take care of myself. I don't need check-ins. I'm not five.” Amir snapped.

They saw red. Took a deep breath. Now is not the time to go all Lodun.
“I wasn't done talking.” They stepped further into his space, rolling their shoulders back and clenching their fists. You picked the wrong fight. “I was going to ease into it, but I'm not about to waste my time treating you like a child— despite you interrupting me to complain like one. I was going to ask if you wanted company. Answer me like an adult. Yes or no?” They shifted their feet, one further back. Set their weight on that back foot. Readied for him to return their ferocity twofold. Saying things like that didn't usually go over well; they were no stranger to fighting people over a bruised ego.

But the fight went out of him like a popped balloon.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, “I didn't… Sorry.”
“Apology accepted. Answer the question, Beckett.” They stayed in their light stance. Fake-outs were always a possibility.
“Yeah. I just…. I thought you were going to… I dunno. You said something about Quincy and he and I don't always… yeah.”
“So, yes, you'd like me to hang around for a while, correct?”
“Yes. Correct.”
They relaxed. “Good.” They glanced around the arcade. “I have no idea what to do in here, so either you'll have to teach me or I can grab a book and sit nearby while you do…” they gestured to the cabinets. “Whatever it is you do.”
“I…” Amir hesitated. “Second option. I think. Yeah.”
“Alright. I'll be back.” They turned to leave.
“Hey, Future?”
They faced him again. “Yes?”
“I'm sorry. Thank you.”
They shrugged. “You're welcome and you're forgiven.”

They returned a few minutes later with a book they'd found in Entrati's room— a worn-out encyclopedia— and sat cross-legged on the floor. The idea of this time was fascinating. A time before the Orokin. Before the Tenno. Lost knowledge, now found and living before them. It was intoxicating.
They could hear the electronic noises of Amir’s game in the background as they pored over the dense text. He hadn't said anything since they'd returned, but he wasn't staring at a wall anymore.
They'd gotten a good thirty pages deep when they heard him clear his throat, loudly and theatrically.
“Yeesh, is that really that interesting? I tried to get your attention, like, five times and you didn't answer.”

“Everything about this place— this time— is new. The place I was in before is always more or less the same. Things here grow, morph, change for better or worse. This book is full of that stuff. Plus…” they hesitated.
The Orokin. The radiation wars. The Grineer. Pits of acid and refuse festering and poisoning everything around them. Feral Kubrows so desperate for food they attack armed and armored soldiers. Noxious gases, smoking machinery, oil-shimmer atop every source of water.

“... Plus?” Amir clearly hated suspense.

“Plus… Earth isn't like this in the future. Alive. Teetering on the brink, but still finding ways to thrive. Most of it…” they paused to choose their words. “Most of it is a dying forest. When the living things get in the way of Grineer troops, they're burned, blasted, or dissolved to make room. There are pockets of safety— a whole Tenno faction focused on preserving nature by force, even— but even finding plants healthy enough to collect bio-data from is difficult and dangerous. Too many hostiles, too many hazards.”
They glanced up at him.
He was staring at them wide-eyed, slack-jawed, and horrified.
They shrugged. “But that's in the future before Entrati stuck his foot in the proverbial door. Maybe what happens with us changes that.” They stopped. Looked down at the open book in their lap. It was open to a section about forest habitats. “I'd like that.” They half-whispered.
“I… I don't even have the brain space to process that.” Amir sounded shaken. His voice wavered as he spoke.

Oh no, please don't cry, I don't know what you do when real people cry.
“It's not all bad! I promise! Um.” Oh Void I need an example— “There's a place on Earth— Cetus! And the Plains of Eidolon. There's a society called the Ostron there. Most of the stuff they do is fighting tooth and nail to keep the Plains wild and safe.” Deep breath in. “There's animals, and the plants are coming back for good, and there's hundreds of people working to break the Grineer foothold on Earth. Conservation efforts, data collection, guerrilla sabotage missions, even supply runs for Cetus.”

They realized they were talking way too fast, moving their hands in frantic, desperate gestures as they spoke.
STOP TALKING. STOP TALKING. STOP TALKING.
But they couldn't.
“There’s a lot of damage to the Plains ecosystem and the surrounding areas, but it's getting better. It's not just a blast zone or—” once again paging through the encyclopedia— “a primordial soup, it's working. We're making a difference. But it's not the same as here— now.” They froze. Amir was staring at them, wide-eyed.

A memory of childhood on the Zariman flooded to the front of their mind. Children with cruel mouths and harsh hands and endless exclusion they didn’t understand. Rell, scared, surrounded, and alone, looking to them for help. He knew they had a target on their back, too. Shamefully looking away from his torment in the hopes they would be left alone. Knowing it changed nothing. Still second in line for humiliation.

Quiet voice, slow words, controlled motion, neutral emotion. Perfect and unshakable. Now.
“I have not seen anything like this on Earth before. I want to know more, that's all.” They sat up straighter, head slightly bowed, closed their eyes. Focused on their breathing. Braced for the irritation that always seemed to follow one of their monologues.

“Whoa.” Amir breathed. “You… Huh.”
Not good.
They forced themself to continue staring at the floor by their knees. Focus. Apologize. Retreat.
“I'm sorry. I know that was a lot. I'll go and let you have space for that. Don't worry if you don't remember it. It doesn't really matter for now. Excuse me.” They stood, snapping the encyclopedia shut and giving a quick bow in his direction.
“Wait, no! I've got questions!! So many questions. You said something about the Ostron before, right? When you were trying pizza? Hang on, lemme grab—” he trailed off, snatching something off the floor by one of the broken cabinets. “Notes. Okay. So they're on Earth, and they're fighting the Grineer- how do you spell that?”

They looked up.
Utterly confused.This has to be a set-up. There's something behind this. The more you explain, the worse it'll be.

“Um… let me write it for you.” Why do I even try.
“Okay. Cool. G-R-I-N-E-E-R. Okay. Makes sense. The Grineer are bad guys, right? Except for some of them. But most of them are bad. They're taking over the… the Plains of what now?” He was scribbling furiously in the notebook.
“Eidolon. Let me write that one, too. That's… that's a lot to explain on its own. Orokin innovation gone wrong, like most things. The Plains are sort of sacred to the Ostron. Protecting them is one of their driving factors, so if the Grineer get between them and preserving the Plains and Cetus, the Grineer pay the price.” They couldn't resist a small, sadistic smirk. “A very, very expensive price.”

Amir stopped writing. He squinted at them, then grinned. “Huh. New face unlocked! Nice.”

They felt their face go red. He has to be making fun of me. They forced their face back to neutral and continued. “Then on Venus-”
“I KEEP FORGETTING YOU'RE FROM SPACE!” Amir half-shrieked, half-whispered.
They covered their ears instinctively, the pitch of his voice hitting their ears at just the wrong frequency. They zoned out for a brief second, coming back to reality as he was halfway through a long-winded apology.
“-ry I didn't realize and—”
“You're fine. It's my problem to deal with.” They interjected. “Happens all the time.”
He tilted his head to the side, brow furrowed. “All… the time? I've never seen you do that before, though.”
They shrugged. “Warframes filter noise.” Is that technically a lie? “Everything else I usually just power through. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I'm sorry.”

It… wasn’t exactly untrue. Most Tenno liked to hear everything around them, and the usually sense-heightening functions of Warframes were a bonus. But over time, their frames had learned to tone the world down for them. Filtering out the buzz of failing lights, the wet noises of the Infested, the electric whine of Corpus tech that never seemed to bother anyone else. Favoring the sound of footsteps and voices; tuning them in to feel vibrations rather than hear them.

“So, now that you're a Protoframe, does that do the same thing? Is it like a switch or something in your brain?” He took a step closer, notebook poised and pen at the ready.
They hadn’t thought of that before. They tried it; Concentrated for a moment, trying to replicate the muffled sensation of Transference. Nothing. The same overclocked senses. The same hyper awareness of the fact that something in the vending machine across the way was rattling. That the neon in the arcade was humming. That the ceiling fans Aoi had coaxed back to life made a faint squeaking sound as they turned. They could feel their chest tightening as they became aware of just how loud it really was in the mall. They shook their head, glancing into the dark mall, trying desperately to stave off the feeling of overwhelm. Stare at the wall. Deep breaths. They picked at the hem of their makeshift tank top.
“Interesting. Must be something to do with the actual Warframes, then. Uh. Weird question, did this happen before you were…” he made an awkward wave, gesturing toward their whole body.
Focus on something.
“Yes. It's worse now. Sharper.”
They could feel their grasp of speech slipping. Please, no…
“Ooo, gimme one sec! I've got just the thing!”
He wasn't kidding. They had barely registered his movement when he reappeared with a loud skidding sound. “Sorry, didn't quite put the brakes on soon enough— here!!”
He shoved a pair of headphones into their hands. They turned the item over, inspecting it. They reached up and tapped the tubing on the side of their scalp, shaking their head.
“The band on these ones is super wide. Just give it a try, c’mon!” He took the headphones out of their hands, pulling the band wider as he popped the muffs onto their ears.
Quiet. Real quiet. The electrical buzzing, the humming machinery, the squeaky fan… not gone, but no longer all-consuming.
He grinned. “I can tell that's better. Your shoulders just dropped, like, a foot.”
They fidgeted with the end of the cord, nodding. Still avoiding eye contact. Better, not gone. Still no words.
“You… need a minute?”
They nodded again.
He hesitated, then went over to one of the cabinets.

-{Amir}-
The arcade cabinet played a cheery tune as he finished the game. He'd beaten this one in record time— took him just under eight minutes. Simple enough level design, and he may or may not have “encouraged” it to move a teeny bit faster with a couple well-timed zaps. He entered his usual nickname (Sol, that joke never gets old) and turned to face the Drifter again. They were back to their encyclopedia, frowning at a page about space.

“This stuff must seem archaic to you. Probably not accurate, either. I mean, you've been there, and technology has to be way advanced by… whenever you're from, right?”
They looked up. Shrugged. Went back to reading.
“Not… feeling chatty? Don't get me wrong, I talk enough to make up for it, just curious.”
They grimaced, pointed to their mouth, and waved their hands in exasperation. They made a frustrated grunting sound, hanging their head.
“Want a piece of paper and a pen?”
Their head snapped up. They looked shocked, then they nodded. He handed over his scribbly notebook, waited while they wrote.
They had really weird handwriting. Legible, sure, but weeeeird.
Cannot talk. Even if I try. Too overwhelmed.
They showed him, then winced, taking the book back and speedily adding something below.
Not your fault. Promise. The headphones help, thank you. I can hear a lot of sounds I’m not used to and I am very tired.

He nodded. “You should… probably go to bed, then. It's suuuuper late. You've been here for…” he checked his watch. “Like… two hours. Even I'm usually in bed by now.”
They raised an eyebrow, jotting something down.
So why didn’t you kick me out and go to bed?
He smiled nervously.
Because I had an absolutely horrific nightmare and I can still kind of hear the screaming and the sizzling and the—
“Eh, I'll be fiiiiine. Just gotta get some coffee in my system tomorrow and I'll be golden. Besides, you try working up the nerve to tell a time-manipulating space-age supersoldier to go to their room.” He grinned, more real this time.
They smiled, rolled their eyes, and stood up from the floor. They handed the notebook back to him, opening and shutting their mouth fruitlessly a few times. They took a deep breath in and out. “...Thanks.”

He could barely hear them, but it clearly took a lot of effort just to get the word out.
“No prob, Bob.”
They made a confused face.
“Just an expression. See you at briefing!”
They nodded, seemingly satisfied with the explanation. They gave a small, awkward wave before they walked out into the dark food court.

Reluctantly, Amir retreated into the tiny break room/bedroom in the back. As soon as they'd mentioned bed, he'd felt a wave of tiredness hit him like a truck. Or a tank. He landed in his bed like a lead brick, falling asleep near-instantly.

Chapter Text

The first thing he heard when he woke up was muffled radio chatter.
The second thing he heard was Eleanor's voice in his head.
Best get up now, Amir. Briefing is in ten minutes and Arthur seems restless.

He swore, flinging himself out of bed and checking the time. 6:19 AM. Eleven minutes, Eleanor. Eleven.
Close enough, yes?

He forgot she could hear his thoughts, too. “Sorry!” He scrambled for his gear, double checking his pockets at— heh, lightning speed. Nice.
He zipped out of the arcade, sending discarded balloons and ragged confetti flying. He nearly slammed into the automatic door in front of the garage, waiting impatiently for it to slooooooooooowwwwwwllllllyyyyyyy open. He could see a few of the others already inside, talking before the meeting began. No Quincy, no Eleanor… no Drifter. He nearly crashed into Arthur on his way in.

“SorryIknowiwasn’ttechnicallylatebutEleanorsaid—”
“I don’t need details. Had an emergency supply request from a citizen hideout. We’ll be reconfiguring the day’s schedule—”
He was interrupted by Quincy materializing out of thin air with a low whistle.
“Sure you aren’t cheating, Marty”
Silence.
“Okay, I get it. Egg on my face, now knock it off. You’re makin’ me look crazy.”
The Drifter stepped forward out of yet more thin air. For a split second, Amir could’ve sworn he saw a glimpse of just the tubes in their skin. Through their whole body. Like a second skeleton. He dismissed it as his imagination. Mostly. Not really but now was not the time. ‘Hey, what’s up with the weird ghost skeleton’ seemed like a very personal question.
Now that they were visible, they looked awful. They clearly hadn’t slept.

They smirked. “Couldn’t resist, sorry. I can give you some Warframe modification tech to extend the timer on your invisibility, if you’d like. Then we could have a fair test.”
Quincy shook his head vehemently. “Last thing I need is more space gadgets messing up my life. Keep ‘em.”

Eleanor walked in, glancing at the Drifter with a knowing look. They deliberately looked away from her, looking guilty. Adding that to the list of ‘later’ questions…

Arthur cleared his throat. “Morning, everyone. Got an emergency call for a supply run from one of the holdout groups in Scaldra territory. They held off a building raid, but Scaldra, as always, played dirty. Lots of people with Effervon burns.

"They need medical supplies. Lettie,” he turned to face her, “you’ll be taking point. I’m sending Amir with you. Get in, get out, get home in one piece. Drifter, you’ll be taking Amir’s place on the Techrot purge team with Aoi. Eleanor, you’re on comms. Quincy has an intel meetup with a defector. I’m following him out in case things turn ugly. Everyone set?”

Amir nodded. He was a little bummed he couldn’t do the purge assignment. Also a little nauseated by the mention of Effervon burns. Blegh.

The Drifter raised their hand.

Arthur looked the tiniest bit shocked. “...Yes?”

“Shouldn’t Aoi and I go with the med drop team? If there was a Scaldra raid recently, I doubt they’ve moved too far from the area. Narmer—”They hesitated. “I’ve seen that kind of tactic before, from a different faction. Injure a large group, wait for a rescue team, ambush them on the way out. Force the enemy to lose twice as much ground. Skoom would take the supplies, too. We lost a lot of good people to veils the first time they pulled that move. Once the recon team was down, they took the injured civvies at their leisure.”

They went silent for a long moment, their face twisted in anger. “If it can wait, we should set the Techrot issue aside for today. One front at a time. Aoi and I can hang back a few blocks in case Scaldra tries anything sneaky.”

Amir. Gaping isn't polite.

He snapped his jaw shut. Sorry. “Sorry. What does ‘lost to the veils’ mean, exactly? Is that future lingo for dying? Please tell me it’s not future lingo for dying.”

They turned, obviously surprised by the question. “Veils are… brainwashing devices. Overwrite your memories and convince you that you’ve been brainwashed by everyone but the people shoving it over your skull. Reversible— if you can get close enough to pull it off someone’s head.”

They refocused on Arthur. “At the very least, send Aoi and I out first and arrange a rendezvous with the others when we’re done.”

Arthur nodded. “Techrot can wait. Quincy and I can do a little cleanup on our way out if necessary. Alright, roll out.”
Eleanor walked back into the mall, Arthur and Quincy sped off on their Atomicycles. The energy in the garage suddenly felt a lot more ominous.

Lettie turned to face them all. “You three, inside. You’re all carrying extra supplies. No empty pockets. Babas, you’re scouting with your phantasma trick. We have a lot of people counting on us making it there and your little story put me on edge.”
Lettie wasn’t the only one.
“Vamos. Grab burn kits, gauze, and water. Meet back here in ten minutes.”

He was nervous.
The idea of getting ambushed had burrowed its way into his brain. Especially the way the Drifter had frowned as they recounted the backhanded strategy. He checked every corner and doorway as they moved, convinced that every new alley and street had a squadron aiming down it. He could hear faint radio chatter over his headset. Lettie, then Aoi, Lettie again. He didn't catch what was said, rounding a corner and nearly jumping out of his skin at the sight of… someone's long-abandoned laundry. Not an ambush.

“Amir. Did you hear any of that?” Lettie sounded irritated.
Uh oh.
“Uh… no. I… I was concentrating.”
“Mhmmm, sure. Stop running ahead so far, you're making yourself a target.”
He turned to look back at her. She was a good two blocks behind him, moving low from cover to cover. Whoops.
He waited impatiently for her to get closer before continuing his sweep.

Three blocks went by uneventfully. The fourth one got interesting.
He heard a low vwoosh from somewhere above him, just before a limp Scaldra sniper hit the pavement with a dull cracking sound. Less than a yard away from him. Oh sweet Lua. He barely fought back the urge to barf.

The Drifter materialized next to him with another vwoosh. They knelt down and checked the body over.
“Dead. Instant, likely painless.” They moved the body closer to the building and scanned the other rooftops.

They turned towards him. “That's not the only one here. Stay close.” They took a step away and vanished into thin air, reappearing further down the block. This time, he definitely saw the weird skeleton effect. He shuddered. Creepy. But… also DIDTHEYJUSTTELEPORT?!

He ran after them. They’d drawn dual swords from their belt and vanished down an alleyway. He skidded to a halt at the mouth of it, readying a small charge of electricity. They were rifling through a locker, a lone Flayer sprawled facedown in the middle of the dead end street. They looked up at his approach, automatically raising the swords into a defensive cross.

“Just me! Just me!” He shook the sparks away from his hands, holding them up with a sheepish grin. “Guess Arthur shoulda had you as the main scout for this, huh?”

They sheathed their swords, looking confused. “Why would he do that? I don’t know where we’re going.” They dropped a few spare metal scraps into their pockets. “Aoi’s been feeding me directions this entire time. Kept getting sidetracked.” They looked up at the rooflines above the alley again, scanning for hostiles. “I only found the sniper because her Kinepage went off. This one—” they gestured at the Flayer’s body. “—Was probably supposed to draw our attention.”

“Got me there, anyways did you just teleport?!” His brain was flying through ideas and questions at a mile a minute. “Like, honest-to-Sol teleport?! How far is the range? Is it painful? Does it have any side effects? Is it because of you being a Protoframe now or is it from a piece of future-y tech?”

They blinked. “Uh. Yes; still yes; not very far, but I can do it back-to-back a few times if I need to go longer distances; no; hopefully no; it’s… complicated?” They’d counted off the answers on one hand to keep track. They tensed as their eyes snapped to something over his shoulder, then they let out a deep, relieved sigh. “Hey, Lettie.”

“Almost to the safe house. Get moving.” She sounded stressed… and slightly winded.
Moving slowly, then.
Ugh.

The Drifter nodded, very notably not moving. Right.
Amir turned around and started walking. He hated walking. It felt distinctly lamer than speeding around with lightning sparking around him. Less efficient, too. And way more vulnerable.
He peeked out around the corner before emerging from the alleyway. He looked back at Lettie, nodded, and continued down the main road.

There was a lot of half-melted debris ahead— leftovers from the Scaldra raid. He could hear voices ahead. He zipped behind a blasted-out car, keeping low and frantically signalling stop stop stop to Lettie. He closed his eyes, straining to listen.
“— everyone up. They’re here to help us.”
“They’re dangerous! We’re in a bad enough state as it is, we don’t need them bringing all of Scaldra down on our heads!”
“We’re in this bad of a state because you went against a direct order to send the SOS!”

He started creeping forward, still low enough to stay out of sight. It sounded like people from the holdout cell, but one of them definitely didn’t sound friendly.
“Amir, what’s happening?” Aoi’s voice came over his earpiece as a crackly, nervous whisper.
“Some people having an argument. About whether calling us out here was a good idea or not. Something about not calling when the raid happened, too.” He covered his mouth as he muttered into his mic, hoping the civilians were too wrapped up in their fight to hear him. “I can’t see who it is.”

He took a risk and added a bit of extra speed to his movements. Move fast enough and they won’t see you. Probably.
He could hear the argument continuing, getting louder as both of them got more frustrated.
Until— vwoosh.
“Wha—”
“Get down, shut up, ask questions later. Now.” The drifter’s voice, sharp and authoritative. Coming from the same direction as the argument. Then, over comms: “Two enforcers heading in from the other end of the street.” Another vwoosh. They appeared about ten feet away from him, pulling a pistol from their hip.

“I’m going to make an educated guess that we’re trying to go to the boarded up building. They’ll get there before we do. I’m going to try to draw their attention away.” They vanished again, their comms going silent. He heard a series of fading teleport noises, then someone yelling in surprise. Gunfire, receding footsteps, then silence. He could feel his heart hammering as the silence stretched on. And on. And on.

“Do they even train these idiots?!” The Drifter’s voice crackled over the line, dripping with disdain.
He let out a nervous laugh, dropping his chin to his chest in relief.

“I’ve seen Grineer pay closer attention to their surroundings. Void, I’ve seen Tamms do better than that.” They sounded disgusted. "Well, the area's clear. Absolute idiots.”

Amir peeked around the side of the trash can he’d been sheltering behind. They were standing in the middle of the road, in full view, rubbing their temples. He stood cautiously, glancing back the way he’d come. Lettie and Aoi were moving up quickly.
Aoi had one hand clamped over her mouth, bright red and teary-eyed with laughter. She pulled it away, more squeaking into her mic than talking.
“They just—” her words dissolved into giggling. “They didn’t even hide, not really! Those Scaldra just walked past them!”

A few hours later, the drop was done. Lettie had taken a while to check over all the burn victims, and Aoi had helped reinforce some of their damaged defenses. Now all that was left to do was head back. Lettie had, annoyingly, vetoed the idea of Amir running back on his own. So he was stuck. Walking. Again.

He heard the Drifter muttering something, seemingly lost in thought.
“... But to not even look is just…” They stammered in frustration.
They didn't seem to realize he could hear them. Amir stifled a snort.
They're still mad about that?!
“Did you want them to see you? ‘Cause it kinda sounds like it.” He turned, grinning.

They glanced up, shocked and turning red in embarrassment. “Well, no, but… it's the principle of it, right? Who isn't on the alert for potential threats?” A brief pause, then, way too late to be part of the original thought, “In an active combat zone, I mean.”

He raised his eyebrows. Add that to the question list. Maybe.
They continued speaking, clearly trying to cover for their verbal slip-up.
“I guess they probably thought they had the area locked down. No news from the ambush duo, no radio chatter… that has to be it.”

He shrugged. “Or they're just really stupid. I wouldn't be surprised if it's in the requirements for new recruits. It'd almost have to be, considering how nuts they are.” He gestured at a few peeling posters on a nearby wall— a set of dogmatic propaganda images, depicting Scaldra troops protecting generic citizens from Techrot. “There's a version of that one with us on it.” He felt weirdly proud of that.

They turned back, grinning wide. “Definitely as the heroic Techrot purging force, right? Surely Scaldra recognises your efforts in the field as an ally!”
Holy Sol, Lua, and that one Lettie named her rat after.
They had fangs. Silver fangs. Four in their top row of teeth, four in the bottom. Fangs.

Their face darkened. “What?”
Words, brain! Make words!
He made a squeaking noise, cleared his throat and tried again. “Youhavefangs.” Still a bit garbled, but not just a noise.

Their smile faded. They ran their tongue over their teeth with a bitter expression. “Yep.” They clearly didn't think it was as cool as he did.
“Actual fangs. Like a vampire.” Good talking, Beckett.

They crossed their arms, standing up straighter and sizing him up. “Because you're just the pinnacle of normalcy, yourself. Shouldn't light fires in thatched huts, you know.” Their tone was cold, defensive.

“No no, it’s cool! Really cool, actually. I’m kinda jealous.” He held his hands up disarmingly.

They froze, wincing. “…Sorry.” They slowed their pace, settling a few meters behind the group.
“You don't… have to…” he trailed off.
Aoi came up on his other side. “What happened? I thought you two were getting along.” Her tone shifted into a teasing sing-song as she knocked her elbow into his arm.
He blushed. “Wha—? We met them less than a week ago. Quit making it weird.”
“I know, doofus. I'm just messing with you. What happened, though? You're, like, super red right now, by the way.”

He shrugged. “I think they thought I was making fun of them for something. They got really defensive and got embarrassed when I told them I thought it was cool.”
Aoi didn't need to know that he'd gotten mental whiplash trying to stop the flood of questions and questionable things from spewing out of his face.

She squinted at him suspiciously. “What exactly did you say?”
Nope nope nope nope. She does not need that kind of ammunition.
“Nothing. Just forgot to put the ‘you have this thing’ and the ‘that’s super cool’ parts of the conversation in the same sentence.” Not a lie, just omitting a few key details.
She was quiet for a moment.
“That's sort of sad that they just… assumed you were making fun of them.”

He looked back at them. The Drifter had their head hung, arms crossed and shoulders tense. They glanced up, checking where the group was going, and accidentally made eye contact with him.
He waved them over before they could look away.

They caught back up veeeeerryyyy slooooowwwly. They dropped their hands to their sides, mumbling another apology as they fell into step next to him.
“Thanks, but… you don't have to apologize. It was a simple misunderstanding. No big.”
They nodded.

Aoi leaned around him. “What was he asking about? He’s being really cryptic.”
“Aoiiiiiii!” He hissed through his teeth, pushing her away and frantically turning back to the Drifter. “You don't have to answer—” Aoi pushed back, mooshing one hand over his mouth.
“Oh, yes you do. I've gotta know. I can't take the suspense.”

He licked Aoi's hand, trying to get it off his face. She didn't budge.

Amir elbowed her in the ribs instead. That worked.

The Drifter looked confused. “He just… saw my teeth for the first time? I usually don't smile with them showing.”
Aoi's eyes lit up. “What about your teeth?!” She slapped away Amir's attempt at pushing her again.

They pulled the corner of their mouth up with their thumb, displaying a silvery canine for a moment. “Fangs. Why?”
Aoi shrieked with glee. She tapped his arm about a million times in three seconds, trying to get his attention. He ignored her, staring straight ahead.

Kill me now. Strike me dead. Someone. Anyone. Rooftop sniper, higher power, somebody.

He brushed Aoi's hand away. He could feel his pulse in his face. “Just ignore her.” He looked ahead, spotting the entrance to the parking garage. “Oh look, the mall! Seeyoulaterbye!”

He ran as fast as he could, far, far away from that conversation. Aoi wouldn't say anything if he wasn't there. She wasn't cruel.

And so what if he thought fangs were cool? So what if he thought any character could instantly be made ten times hotter by adding a pair of fangs? That applied to fictional characters. The Drifter was a real person.

A real person with fangs.

Who's funny.

Nope, stop it. Real person, just met ‘em, don't make it weird.

He stopped in front of the garage doors, once again stuck waiting for them to slowly slide apart. He rubbed his temples.

Feeling flustered?

His stomach dropped. Oh, Sol. Eleanor.
Don't worry. I'm fantastic with secrets.

Well, I had a good life. Gonna go find a nice corner and die of embarrassment, now. Nice knowing you.

He heard her laugh in his mind. Oh, Amir. You'll survive.

The doors finally, mercifully opened. He could hear Aoi’s voice echoing in the tunnel and he did not want to be there when she walked in. He zipped back to the arcade and did his best to forget that whole mess.

Chapter Text

The next month and a half all bled together into one disoriented blur.

Aside from KIM chats with the Drifter, there hadn't been much difference from the first time they'd all lived the year out. Arthur had him keeping a closer eye on enemy communications, sure, but most of the time there wasn't anything exciting. They still had inventory checks, still did patrols, still had night watches.

The really disorienting thing was the déjà vu. He’d be in the middle of a mission, and suddenly knew everything that was going to happen. Knowing he knew what would happen because it really had happened already.

Tomorrow, for example. There’d been a really awful Techrot incursion on the north end of Höllvania with a lot of casualties. This time, they’d done a lot of recon work to get civilians out of the area, meaning there would be no casualties.

It was a weird feeling, but it did mean things that he’d felt horrible about for a year could be changed. Unfortunately, the opposite could also be true. He wasn’t willing to risk scientifically testing that, but the Drifter had made vague-yet-ominous comments trending in that direction. They had a tendency to rub the scars on their throat when they made those comments.

He didn’t like to think too hard about the connection between the two things.

They didn’t seem to, either. They hadn’t mentioned much about their past, despite how much they’d told him about the future— both in person and over KIM. Mostly, they chatted about robots, space, and Cephalons, but they’d started asking him more questions about 1999. Especially pop culture.

Every once in a while, at a random time of the day, they’d shoot him a message asking for a rundown on a slang term or media property. He’d give them as short of an answer as he could manage, they’d respond with an emoticon (Aoi had clearly been teaching them), and the Drifter would go offline for a while.

A few hours after that, they’d ask if he knew how to get ahold of the media they’d asked about. Sometimes it was a one-off reference someone else used in conversation, sometimes it was a poster in an abandoned apartment, and one extremely unfortunate time, it’d been because they’d seen a civilian in tears over their only copy being destroyed in a Scaldra purge. He’d made a note to prevent that the next time the loop reset.

Usually, those requests led to movie nights with whoever'd join them. Or watching them walk around the mall holding a book about two inches away from their face for a week or so. Or walking into the arcade after a mission to find them glued to one of the cabinets, totally unaware he was even there.

It was nice to have someone around who understood his interests. They’d told him so much about the future, the robotics and tech and endless brain-worm that was Cephalons. They seemed deadly serious about trying to beat his high scores. He’d noticed them keeping notes when he talked about games and coding. Or when he paused some movie or another to tell them the behind-the-scenes details and extra exposition they’d cut from the original source.

They kept a lot of notes. There were days when he’d step out into the food court in the morning to find them surrounded by loose papers, sticky notes, and notebooks, cross-referencing and double-checking every few seconds.

“Entrati’s writings. Some of them are from the backroom, some of them I copied down from the future. Half of what he left here is basically a personal diary. He talks about his family, his pets, his partner… And then in the middle of being all sappy, he’ll casually mention some super important discovery he made in this… apathetic tone. Like it’s nothing in comparison to the stuff before it.” They’d seemed bitterly angry when he worked up the nerve to interrupt them, once.

“Like he’s not the one leaving it behind in favor of ruining other people’s lives. The worst part is that he’s got a way with words.” They’d brandished a particularly pristine journal. “This one made me cry. Really, actually cry. I know who he’s writing about, and he’s still waiting for Entrati to come back after everything. And I also know that I could never bring myself to break Loid’s heart by giving this to him.” They had put the book down gently, almost reverently. He hadn’t seen it since.

Other times, they studied more about nature— everything from acid-burned textbooks to children's books about farm animals. They pressed leaves and flowers, compared them to printouts of plants he didn’t recognize, and studied the plants inside the mall for hours. Just… zoned out into the leaves and stared. They’d shown him a few of their notes, mostly the ones about plants from the future.

“This moss?” They’d pointed to a slightly blurry photo of grey moss on red dirt. “Only grows on Mars. I got this picture after clearing out a Grineer base. Didn’t hear my squadmate behind me and nearly jumped out of my Warframe right as I finished the scan. This one,” they’d turned the pages past dozens of entries before landing on a snowy landscape photo taken from very high up. “—This one is my favorite plant on Venus.” They turned one more page, now showing a fern-like plant with long, glowing stalks sprouting from the center. “It’s a Tepa plant. They grow wild in the Orb Vallis, all over the caves. And it’s not just my favorite because of… y’know.” They’d gestured to the Void-glow coming off themself, pulling a face and smiling.

He smiled absently as he thought about that day. Arthur had called him away to do a recon mission before they could show him more, and by the time he got back they’d gone off on a hell-scrub with Lettie.

He heard the plink-chime notification of a new KIM message from the other side of his room. Well. The other wall. There wasn’t really room to make distinctions back here. He turned the monitor on and logged into KIM.

[spare.stardust] Do you have a minute? I found something awful in Entrati’s notes that I need to talk to someone about, but the person I'd usually go to about this kind of thing is… he's in the future, first of all, and secondly he's kind of indisposed. I understand completely if you’re not in the headspace for it.

He paused.

[H16h V0l7463] Like… how awful on a scale of 1 to 10

A full minute of nothing.

[spare.stardust] I have no idea. Let's just go with 'bad enough for me to think it's bad.'

He sent a response before he had time to second-guess himself.

[H16h V0l7463] go for it

He braced himself for whatever horrors they’d reveal. He kinda regretted agreeing to hear whatever they’d found, then regretted regretting that.

Another message popped up. And another, and another…

[spare.stardust] He had this experiment to test a few of his theories about the Indifference and the Void. He used animals as test subjects. They’re called the Cavia.

[spare.stardust] Two of them were named Tagfer and Minn. They were the last living specimens of an animal species called Cervulites. Sort of a distant third cousin to Tamms, taxonomically speaking. The other two, Fibonacci and Bird 3, were essentially used as living packing peanuts for Minn and Tagfer's trip.

[spare.stardust] The Cavia as a whole were supposed to be a sort of blueprint for the Indifference to mimic. Animal, dumb, harmless… not a threat. It nearly killed Entrati when he met it, so this was his attempt at declawing it. It didn't work, and he thought maybe the animals he'd sent before weren't unique enough. Enter Tagfer and Minn.

[spare.stardust] They weren't even supposed to survive. Instead, the Indifference made them all hyperintelligent and sent them back.

[spare.stardust] … Well. Three out of four. Bird 3 is hyper-intelligent for being Bird 3.

[spare.stardust] That's not relevant. Sorry. Moving on.

[spare.stardust] There was an accident on the return trip, and… Minn didn’t make it. Tagfer feels the grief of being the last of his kind with a human's full range of emotions. Entrati refused to destroy them when they returned, because apparently that would've been too cruel.

[spare.stardust] I couldn’t understand how someone could be so cold about throwing away something so unique and precious in one journal, then wax poetic about the people he loved and left behind in another, knowing they’re stuck cleaning up the fallout in his wake. Knowing he's the one that left them behind in the first place!

[space.stardust] But that’s the point, isn’t it? He walked away from everything good in his life to chase whatever insane goal he's got in mind. Fame, power, his home, his family, even Loid.

[spare.satrdust] Forever.

[spare.stardust] When you compare that to the Cavia, of course they seem disposable. Anything would, right? You can justify destroying anything when you've already lost everything.

[spare.stardust] He threw the Cavia into the Void on the chance he could learn something that'd help him fix everything. I did the same thing trapping you all in this loop. I saw the faintest hint that this could change things for the better, and I gambled the universe on that chance.

[spare.stardust] And I’m so angry that I made the same choice as him. I hate everything about it. I hate that I can't even rightfully hate him for it.

[spare.stardust] Don't get me wrong, I still want to kill him as many times as it takes for him to apologise for what he did to the Cavia.

[spare.stardust] I just hate knowing that I'm no better.

Amir took a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks and shaking his head in amazement.

He tipped his chair onto its back legs, rocking slightly and staring up at the ceiling.
Note to self: if they say it's bad, it's baaaaaaaaad.

[H16h V0l7463] whoa

[H16h V0l7463] ok

[H16h V0l7463] gimme a minute

[spare.stardust] If you need to come back to this later (or never), just let me know.

[H16h V0l7463] no it’s ok, just need a sec to absorb… that

[H16h V0l7463] for the record

[H16h V0l7463] I personally don't think him doing horrifying experiments on endangered animals before running off to punch holes in the space-time continuum for funsies is ANYTHING like you making a snap decision while getting turbo-microwaved

[H16h V0l7463] he knew everything about us and you had no idea who we were

[H16h V0l7463] he wanted us to explode and you wanted us to NOT explode

[H16h V0l7463] he apparently leaves people behind like he's trying to set a world record and you literally started a time loop so you could save us

[H16h V0l7463] … he threw a bunch of animals into a horrifying abyss of pure nightmare fuel as a solution to meeting cthulu, you want to super-murder him for even considering that in the first place

[H16h V0l7463] basically he sucks and you don’t, so i trust your decision making a lot more

They didn’t respond. But they also didn’t go offline. He waited for what felt like hours. When he checked his watch it had only been 30 minutes. Finally, at a whopping 38 minutes of waiting, he heard another message ping.

[spare.stardust] Thank you. That helps.
[[spare.stardust] went offline.]

They didn’t show up for briefing the next morning.

Arthur was not pleased.

“Eleanor, can you—”
One moment.

She concentrated on something for a bit, her expression shifting slightly every few seconds. She refocused her eyes on her brother, clearly having some kind of silent conversation. Arthur’s face was annoyingly neutral.

Dang. I wanted to be nosy.

Arthur huffed, clearly irritated.
“Same schedule as we last discussed. They’ll show up, apparently.”

Amir had to think a little harder than he cared to admit to remember the day’s schedule. Quincy on comms, Arthur had an inventory audit, Lettie was off unless there was an emergency… everyone else on a Scaldra hell-scrub around noon. That sounded right. Hopefully it was right.

Amir glanced around to see how the others reacted. Lettie had an eyebrow raised, squinting slightly at Arthur. Quincy was whispering something to Aoi, who was staring in the direction of the Drifter’s room with an analytical expression. Eleanor’s voice filled their brains again.

I believe they may prefer not to be asked about their absence.

"Subtle, El.” Quincy scoffed.

Eleanor shrugged. The Nightingales and Lettie walked off to their respective tasks— or lack thereof.

Aoi pulled a frowny face. “Think we could get them to talk about it if we just asked really nicely?”

She straightened up, clearly struck with an idea. If her face was anything to go by, it was probably going to be one of her ideas that caused problems. “Hmm. Now, who do we know that spends a lot of time with them, talks to them all the time, and probably knows a few tricks to get them to open up?” She dramatically shaded her eyes with her hand, scanned around the room, and looked directly at Amir.

He blinked in confusion, shaking his head. “If they don’t want to talk about it…” He shrugged. He wasn’t about to start demanding they tell him everything going on in their head if he wasn’t going to tell them everything about his own neuroses.

Aoi pouted. “Genuinely: that’s very sweet of you. However: I happen to know that they have a tendency to say they don’t want to talk about something until someone offers to listen at least twice.” She gave him a slightly judgy look.

He stared her down. “So why don’t you go?”
She gave him a look of utter disbelief, glancing between him and Quincy. Quincy laughed and walked away.

“What’s so funny?” He felt like he was being made fun of. He did not like that feeling.

“Just… Wow.” Aoi mumbled. She cleared her throat theatrically, looking him directly in the eyes. “I have a sneaking suspicion that maybe you might be a tiny bit closer to them than we are, and just maybe they’ve possibly dropped some hint about what’s up that’s so bad they don’t intend to come down until noon.” She gave him a pointed look. “Can you think of anything they might have said in the last few days that might give us an idea of why they’re being so weird today?”

He briefly thought about the previous night’s KIM chat. If what Aoi said was true, them asking to talk about something first was a pretty big deal. Now that he thought about it, they hadn’t ever done that. Usually, he asked them something. The few times they’d gotten touchy about a subject had been about Cephalons, and they usually went offline right afterwards. Therefore very clearly indicating they didn’t want to talk about it. He sighed begrudgingly.

“They learned something really uncool about something Doctor Entrati did. They messaged me last night and asked if they could ramble about it for a while.” He left the part about their mini existential crisis out. It seemed a bit too personal.

Aoi’s jaw dropped. “Oh, bud. Yeah, you should go get them.”

Quincy backtracked to rejoin the conversation. “They really asked you?" He gave Amir a surprised look. “How’d you manage that, speedy?”

“Manage what?!” Amir flung his arms up in frustration. “If someone doesn’t start giving me a straight answer, I’m going to punch some… thing.” Nice save.

Aoi sighed. “They’re a bit… closed off. The fact they came to you means they trust you. Especially if it was about something that upset them. They only really talk about that stuff if one of us pushes for it a little.”

He scoffed. “They’re not closed off, you guys just don’t talk to them about the right stuff. They’ve shown me some of the notes they’ve taken about—”

“They showed you their notes?!” Aoi shrieked. She looked positively furious. “They’ve shown you their notes, that they do not let anyone see? The notes that they hide as soon as one of us walks over to them? Those notes?”

Please don’t hurt me.

Quincy was rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Mate. Amir. Go talk to them. Clearly you’ve got some kind of weird space-trauma-whisperer powers or summat.” He walked away again, shaking his head.

Aoi gestured to Quincy with both arms. “THANK YOU!” She pointed in the direction of the backroom. “Go!”

He went.

He knocked on the weird swooshy door a few times. This thing is creeeeeepyyyyyyy…

“I’ll be out in a bit. I’m fine. Go away.” They sounded stressed.
“You sure?” He glanced around the hallway. “Look, Aoi literally yelled at me to come get you. I’m pretty sure she’s back in the music store planning my untimely demise in the event that I can’t get you to at least make an appearance before the mission later.” A little embarrassing, sure, but maybe that’d snap them out of whatever funk they were in.

The doorway in front of him flickered for a moment, showing a glimpse of the room beyond.
A jester-like Warframe was half-blocking the doorway, back turned to him.

There was blood on the floor around it, trailing off toward the stairs.

He felt adrenaline crash through his brain.
“Whoa, hey, you sure you’re good in there?”
“I’m fine. Don’t come in. I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” They sounded panicked.

He stepped forward as the doorway flickered again, forcing his way through it. It was like trying to run underwater. He nearly ran into the empty Frame as he entered, the resistance he'd been pushing against suddenly gone. He heard frantic, whispered swearing from the upstairs area, saw more blood scattered on the metal stairs.

He could smell Effervon.

He was up the stairs in seconds.

The Drifter turned to face him, hiding something behind their back.
“I'm fine. I'm fine, go back downstairs and—”
He zipped around behind them and, horrifyingly, saw a pair of deep cuts along their back, still sizzling with acrid green goop. One of the tubes protruding from their lower back was cut, emitting a thin stream of glowing blue Void energy as their body tried to mend.

“You're not gonna be fine if you don't get the Effervon outta that.” He rummaged in a pouch on his belt, pulled out a treatment kit, and started unwrapping its contents. They turned on the spot to face him, half-crouched with a wild look.

“What happened?” He craned his neck, trying to see if they were still bleeding. They were. “You signed out of KIM, I thought you went to sleep! Why were you out in the middle of the night, by yourself, with nobody on comms and no backup if you got overrun?” He opened the bottle of neutralizer, moving towards them. They backed away, watching him with look on their face that sent a fear-chill down his spine. It felt like facing down a cornered wolf.

“I am trying to help you.” He glared back at them. “You are not going to get better if you don't let me help. You've seen what that stuff does. It's still in those cuts and it won't stop unless we do something about it.”

They dropped their gaze to the floor. He took a tentative step towards them, and they didn't move. Their breathing was fast and erratic, and their whole body was tensed with the effort to hold still.

“Okay. That's… better." Barely. "You should… you should lie down somewhere so I can apply this.”

They slowly lowered themself into a crouching position, wincing as they moved, never taking their eyes off him. He dropped down beside them, looking closer at the wounds. “Flayer?”

They nodded.

“Wait… you were using a Warframe, right? The one downstairs? How..?”

They mumbled something, too quiet for him to hear.

“Say that again, I couldn’t hear you.” He leaned a tiny bit closer, fighting the instinct to do literally anything but that.

“I transferred out. I didn’t have time to get there in Mirage.”

“Get where?” If he could distract them while he put the neutralizer in their cuts, this would go a lot smoother. Probably.

“She was chasing down a kid.” They hissed as he poured the solution into their wounds. It foamed as it reacted with the acid. He muttered a quiet apology— he knew from experience that it stung.

“She was the last one in the unit, and instead of facing me she went after a kid. Sikkhat skoom.” They shifted uncomfortably, grimacing. “I couldn’t get over there fast enough in a Warframe, so I… Void-slinged over. I barely had time to do that before she swung. It would’ve killed him, it only hurt me.”

He daubed away the foam, checking the progress of the reaction. It seemed to be done, but he poured the rest of the bottle into their wounds just in case. The cut in their… Tubing? Whatever it was, it was already healing itself, thank Sol.

“It was stupid and reckless. Teshin would kill me if he found out.” They sounded bitterly upset. A chime sounded from downstairs. “Foundry’s done.” They added, absently. They pushed themself off the floor and headed for the balcony.

“Whoa, hey! Hey!” He grabbed their arm, turning them back towards him. “You cannot be serious right now. It can wait! Whatever that is, it can wait!” He gave them an exasperated look.

“It’s medicine.” They yanked their arm out of his grasp, glaring at him. “Fancy space medicine, okay? Now will you let me grab it?”

“Not if your plan is to jump off the balcony to get it! You’re still hurt. Launching yourself onto concrete is a fantastic way to make it worse.” He pointed to the stairs with his free hand, They shot him a dirty look as they disappeared down the stairs. They came back up a minute later, holding an injectable of some kind.

They were shaking.

“I can’t.” They held it out to him. “I can’t do it. Void, that’s pathetic, huh?”

He took the vial from them. They sat on one of the couches and pointed to a spot on their upper arm. “Put the narrow end here, then push on that button until it clicks. Hold it there with pressure until it makes a whistling noise.” They were clenching their free hand into a ball in their lap. He followed their instructions. Sure enough, it made a quiet whistling noise after a few seconds. They grabbed it out of his hand and threw it across the room like it was going to explode.

He half-braced for it to do so.

They buried their head in their hands, taking deep breaths and shaking. He sat down next to them, a good foot and a half between them. It felt very awkward. They eventually relaxed enough to sit back up, rolling their shoulders and cracking their neck.

“What time is it?”

He checked his watch. “Ten thirty-seven. Why?”

They sighed. “Because I need to know how long I have to look… put together. And how long this—” They jabbed their thumb over their shoulder. “— has to heal before Lettie treats me to a lecture.”
He glanced at the wounds. He could see them healing, like someone was playing a tape in fast-forward.

They snorted. He must’ve made a face. “Sorry, should’ve warned you. It’s a recipe from Deimos, used by the… by a family to keep the Infestation from consuming them. Tricks it into fixing stuff instead of mutating further.” They pulled a face. “I barfed the first time I saw Kaelli use one. You held it together a lot better.”

“Honestly, I’m not all that far off.” His voice came out much higher-pitched than he meant it to. He cleared his throat. “But thanks, at least I know I’d be in good company if I did.”

They stood, turning toward him and holding their arm out to help him off the couch. “You should tell the others I’m fine. Just say I had a rough night and needed a bit more rest.”

“So… lie to them. Lie to the entire team about something as serious as you going off in the middle of the night, by yourself, with nobody knowing, and getting injured.” He crossed his arms, refusing their help and remaining firmly seated on the couch.

They opened their mouth to respond, then snapped it shut with a glare. “You just had to… fine. Fine. Just tell them I’ll be out for the hellscrub at noon. Add or subtract details at your discretion.”

He stood, picking up the remains of his Effervon kit off the floor. “Promise you’ll at least wake someone up next time you decide to go do something stupid?” He looked up at them. “Because there’s only so many times I can replace this before Lettie notices her stuff’s going missing.” He shuddered. She’d be furious if— no, when she found out what had happened.

“Promise. Now leave.” They walked toward the balcony sitting room, grabbing their mission gear off a small coffee table. “I need to crash for a bit and I don't sleep around other people.”

He nodded, descending the stairs and squeezing past Mirage. He glanced up at the balcony as he stepped through the doorway. They were watching him leave.

He ran across the mall to Arthur’s post in the security room. Arthur raised his eyebrows, turning away from one of the monitors.
“Got something to report, Amir?”

“Drifter’s all good, they’ll be down for the mission. They were building something and needed a bit of extra time for it to finish.” Technically not lying. Technically.

Arthur nodded. “I’ll be having a chat with them about surprise absences. Go check in with Aoi, she’s got some prep she wanted to go over with you before you head out.”

Amir jokingly saluted, earning a glare. “Righty-o!” he said in an exaggerated Britannic accent. He jogged off before Arthur could retaliate.

Aoi was in her music store, humming along to some kind of disco music he didn’t recognize.

“Hey, Aoi! Arthur said you had something you wanted me for?”

She looked up, anxious. “Are they okay?”

He nodded. “Little bit of a rough night. They’re still okay to go on the hell-scrub later.”

Her face relaxed. “Phew. They never get up that late. I was worried.”

He paused. ‘At your discretion.’

“Um. Maybe for a good reason?” he moved closer, lowering his voice. “They went out solo last night and got a pretty nasty Effervon burn. Got between a Flayer and a civilian.”

Aoi gasped, covering her mouth as he shushed her.

“I haven’t said anything to anyone else. They said it was up to me if I said anything.”

Aoi looked horrified. “They could’ve gotten killed!” she hissed. She looked at his pockets. “Good. So the Effervon’s out of their system. Is that why it took so long?”

“Yeah. They were pretty skittish about the whole thing. I made them promise not to do that again without waking someone up.”

She shot him a look.

“I know. They probably won’t. But at least this way we have some kind of guilt trip? Maybe?” He glanced around. “Arthur said you needed me for something, was that it?”

“No. I’m having a hard time getting the sector we’re working to show up correctly on the map. I don’t know what I did, but it’s adding an extra point across town to the perimeter and I’m about ready to throw the computer across the mall.”

Chapter Text

True to their word, the Drifter showed up to the pre-mission briefing. They arrived in Mirage, transferring out and very pointedly not looking at Amir.

“What’s this one called?” Aoi looked enamored.

“Mirage,” they answered. "Diversion, evasion, and crowd control specialties. The trickster magician. She's one of my personal favorites.” They smiled. Still not looking at him.

Evasion… sure, until you ditch her to go be a meat shield.

Their smile faded as Eleanor made eye contact with them. They straightened, shaking their head.
“I’m fine, by the way. Sorry for this morning.” They glanced at him, just for a moment.

Aoi cleared her throat.

“So, we’ve got a pretty good-sized area set out for us. We’re reasonably sure there’s a Techrot outbreak in the area, but I wouldn’t put it past Scaldra to just do a civilian purge.” She turned to Eleanor. “You’ll be in charge of monitoring that situation. See if you can get a few Techrot to fight them for us.

“Amir, you’re in charge of our six. See anything sneaking up, zap it. I’m going to be focusing on checking buildings for civilians, just in case. Drifter, you’re in charge of keeping an eye on our air quality and activating scrubbers as needed. If anyone gets into trouble, drop what you’re doing and head to their location. I got Lettie to give me some extra neutralizer, so if you get burned, don’t hesitate to use it.”

She gave Drifter a long look. They held her gaze, clenching their hands into tight fists.

“Alright. Time to knock the socks off these jerks.” Aoi grinned.

Mirage moved like a slapstick actor. Stunt-falling into complicated pratfalls and somersaults, tossing explosives to enemy soldiers like something out of a cartoon, holding a staff like she was balancing on a tightrope. Bursts of confetti appeared as she used her abilities, leaving a trail of colorful debris in her wake.

Amir spotted a sniper on a rooftop, lining up a shot on Eleanor. He launched himself at them, blasting them with an arc of electricity. He looked away as it connected, tucking into a roll as he fell back to the street below.

“Nice one. I’ve got a pretty nasty scrubber over here, can you cover me while I clear it?” The Drifter’s voice echoed on comms when they were using a Warframe. “I went a little overkill on the tricks and ran out of juice. Can’t shoot two things at once.”

“Copy, heading your way.” He checked the street behind the group, assured himself no one was there, and sped over to Mirage. She was blocking shots with her staff, circling behind the scrubber as makeshift cover from the assault. He threw out an energy shield, firing pot shots at the advancing group of Scaldra until he heard the scrubber come online.

Mirage launched past him, leaping into the air and slamming into the ground with her staff. Several of the troopers dropped instantly, and those who didn’t stumbled in the shockwave. She swung in a wide arc, sending the remaining troops flying. She waved her hands like she was doing a magic trick, then threw a sparkling orb into the air from somewhere. Beams of energy shot out of it as it floated in midair, searing deep lines into the scattered troops.

“They should leave this one alone for a bit and we’ve got another one on standby. Thanks for the help.” They sounded out of breath. “I’ll check these guys for SporeX.”

He nodded, running back to his previous post. Eleanor had a few Techrot nasties under her control, using them to cover Aoi's six as she rushed a family of civilians toward Amir.

Aoi crushed a trio of Scaldra into a gross ball as she approached. “Take them to the bolthole by the old cafe, quick. Quincy’s calling in a favor to get them out of here. There might be more, I’m not sure.” She turned on her comms.

“Drifter, get a scrubber running down Halifax. There’s about to be civilians in the area and they’re gonna need cleaner air than we do.”

“Copy. Activating one now.”

Amir waved the terrified family over to him. Two adults, one kid. “I’m Amir, I’m taking you somewhere safe. Stick close and stay behind me, okay?”

One of the women crouched down, beckoning the kid over to her and lifting him in a piggyback ride. She nodded. “Got it. Lead the way, Amir.”

He concentrated, sending out a wave of energy. “We’re moving fast, heads up. Go!”

The civilians started running. He had to concentrate to stay at a pace they could match. He scanned rooftops, checked corners, slid through open spaces to draw any potential fire. Before he knew it, they'd reached the ‘bolthole,' a reinforced room in the side of a badly damaged building. The woman carrying the kid was visibly winded. She dropped him down to the ground once they were inside, giving Amir a shaky thumbs up.

“Give ‘em hell from us, kid.”

He grinned. “Someone’ll be here soon to get you guys to a safe house. We’ll probably see you there on our next supply drop. Here.” He handed the other woman a SporeX pack. “If breathing starts feeling weird, set this off and it’ll clear the Techrot spores from the air. It should last long enough to get you outta here.”

She nodded, pocketing it. “Stay safe.”

He ducked out of the tiny room, making sure the door locked shut behind him. He heard Eleanor in the back of his head as he ran back to the others.

We can’t stay out here much longer. Quincy’s nabbed a few supplies while Scaldra’s distracted, but the scrubbers can’t keep up with the spore count. Aoi, did you find any more stragglers?

“No. That doesn’t mean there aren’t any, but if we can get Scaldra out of the area we’ve got a better shot at checking anyways.”

Drifter, have you got any fantastical ideas?

They laughed. “Watch this.”

Amir rounded a corner just in time to see them activate the disco ball thingy again, then fire a glowy arrow from a gnarled-looking bow. It punched clean through the first trooper it hit, then exploded in the second. They laughed again, the manic sound coming through both the voice interface on their Warframe and over comms.

They brought out a set of throwing knives, picking off the soldiers dumb enough to stay and fire on Mirage instead of running. The sparkly orb bounced off the street like a screensaver of doom, continuing in its path of destruction for a few more seconds before bursting into a puff of confetti. Mirage drew back another arrow, holding it at full draw for a split second. She sent it whistling down the street, blowing a Harbinger drone out of the air with another explosive shot.

“Whatever you just did, Scaldra’s fair pissing themselves about it.” Quincy’s grin was audible over the radio. “Nice one, cuz.”

“Thanks.” They sounded winded again. “I’m setting off our last scrubber, we need to bail. We’ve made our point for now.”

Meet by the bolthole.

“Already there!” Aoi chimed in. “Quincy, your buddy came through and got that family out. We’re all clear to head back to the mall.”

Amir was back at the tiny bunker in a few seconds. Eleanor arrived, driving the last of her turned Techrot away from them before breaking her hold on them.

Drifter, that includes you.

“On my way.”

A second later, Mirage came into view, sliding around a corner on one foot, arms windmilling comedically. She sprung toward them, tucking into a forward roll and skidding to a stop next to Amir.
He set off another wave of energy, crouched into a runner’s start, and launched off. The others followed on their Atomicycles, reaching the shuttered garage a few seconds behind him.

“Nice work out there, everyone.” Aoi was grinning wide as they rode back down the tunnel to the mall. “Hey, Amir, does that count toward our bet? I mean, I am the squad leader for this one, and it was pretty spectacularly successful…”

“Not a chance. Doesn’t count if we’re working together. Besides, Arthur said he was going to try making something.”

“Fine. But I’m winning the next one, mark my words.”

The others started braking as the end of the tunnel approached. Amir dropped into a slide, skimming his hands on the ground for extra traction. Aoi shut the door behind them, locking it in place and dusting her hands off.

The Drifter popped back out of Mirage, assessing her for damage. “Thanks for the cover. I’m still not at a hundred percent, I guess.” They sounded sheepish. And winded, still. They transferred back in, stretching the machine's limbs.

Understandable. But easily preventable in the future, yes?

“Yes. It won’t happen again.” They glanced at Amir. “Promise.”

Double-checking that his PC was grounded properly was not how Amir wanted to start his day. Neither was waking up from a nightmare to a, thankfully, small fire. But there he was, shaking and sick to his stomach while he powered his POM-2 back off.

He should've just shot the sniper. Would that really have been better, though? He still hadn't quite figured out how the Drifter could aim while in total free-fall, especially considering how badly they bashed their own marksmanship. Electricity took the path of least resistance. Aiming was kind of a null point. Easier.

He felt his heart rate pick up, images of twitching bodies and smoking eyes crashing into his brain. The phantom smell of burning skin mingled with the very real smell of the quickly-stifled electrical fire he'd started. He could feel his hands shaking, see tiny static sparks around his fingertips in the dark. He wanted to find a way to disappear, to clip out of bounds and find the back way around this moment. Everything the Drifter had mentioned about Cephalons ran through his head. It's not fair. It's so far away. I could fix this. I could, if I could just get there. I could make this all go away and just be.

If the Orokin couldn't be trusted with it, that's on them. It would solve so many problems. I could solve so many problems.

He suddenly became incredibly, uncomfortably aware that his hair was sticking to his forehead. He swiped it back, scratching his face slightly in his haste. If it wasn't soaked in sweat, it'd be standing on end.

He checked the time.

4:41 AM.

Everyone else would be asleep. Maybe if he ate something, that'd appease the brain goblins. He could just fudge the numbers a little bit on the next inventory audit, right? He cracked his door open juuuuuuuuuust a smidge, peeking out to make sure the coast was clear.

It was not.

The Drifter was climbing the speaker array in the middle of the food court.

He was so confused, he completely forgot what he was doing.

They made it to the top, straddling the bars and staring up at the stars through the huge skylight. Like they were searching for something.

They really did glow in the dark. They'd made some jokes about it, sure, but… It's not like I'm about to sneak up on them when they're asleep to see for sure.

He opened the door further, hoping they were too distracted to notice him. They continued staring at the sky. He took a step out. No reaction. Maybe the light throws off their night vision. Maybe they won't notice at this angle, in these lighting conditions, if I just sneak into the kitchen and grab something really quickly.

He moved as quietly as he could, the adrenaline of the nightmare still clouding his brain a tiny bit. He gingerly stepped over some trash, already halfway to the counter, when he glanced up to see if they'd noticed him.

They were staring down at him, their eyes just blue points of light. For a second, he couldn't tell the difference between their eyes and the tubes woven through their cheeks. He remembered the animal look on their face earlier. This was like pointing a flashlight into the dark and seeing something's eyes reflect the light back at you.

"Morning." They said. They looked back up at the sky like nothing had happened. Like they weren't perched on top of a speaker tower like some kind of sleep paralysis demon and he wasn't definitely on his way to sneak food.

"… Morning." he responded, suddenly very self-conscious. "… How's it hangin?'"

They shrugged, still lost in the sky. They swung their leg a little bit, tapping it against the tower with a rhythmic metallic click.

"… 'Kay." He slipped into the back of Big Bytes, grabbed a handful of shredded cheese from the industrial fridge, and crammed it into his mouth. He shut the fridge, turning back to the doorway and nearly choking on his snack.

The Drifter was there, watching him. Head tilted. Silhouetted creepily against the relatively bright food court.

He swallowed, hard. "Sol's teeth, don't do that!" he hissed. He barged past them, clipping their shoulder. They grunted, turning to glare at him.

"Do what—" They stopped, lowering their voice. "Do what, exist?!"

"Stand in doorways like some kind of horror-movie-nightmare-thing in the middle of the night!" He snapped back. "Lua help me, I'm going to have nightmares about that!"

"It's not like I can help it, is it?" They turned away from him, once again starting up the bars of the speaker array. "I didn't mean to freak you out. I just wanted to see what you were doing. Nobody comes out here at night."

He scoffed. "Nobody climbs the scaffolding out here, either. Guess tonight's just full of surprises." He skulked back to the arcade, muttering to himself.

Great. Super cool. Just the awesomest image that's never gonna leave my brain. He shuddered. At least they backed off. Is my subconscious gonna care? No. No it is not. That's just gonna pop up in the middle of another nightmare and freak me out worse than I already get.

"Not my fault you people don't make full use of your space." They hissed.

"Hey, we make plenty use of it." He spun on his heel to face them. He didn't know why he was arguing. "We have enough room for everyone and our supplies, we're just still getting this place set up."

"Whatever." They responded, laying back uncomfortably on the bars.

He shook his head, trudging back to the arcade. The dark abyss of his bedroom door held no sleep, no matter how hard he stared into it. He turned on the lights and powered on the cabinets. Maybe he could figure out what was wrong with one of the broken cabinets. He grabbed his flashlight, popping the maintenance panel out of the side of the console. Ugh. There was a half-inch layer of dust and dirt caking the entire bottom of the case. Could've sworn I left some compressed air over here.

It evaded him.

He muttered a few choice words under his breath, standing and glancing into his room. Not on my desk, not on the floor… he took a long look around the arcade. Where'd that even go?!

A quiet knock on the doorframe. The Drifter was standing there, staring at the floor.

"… Hi?"

"Your compressed air is over by that broken Atomicycle game." They walked away, heading for the stairs.

"Oh. Thanks!" How did they remember that?!

He retrieved the can, holding his breath as he blasted the gunk out of the cabinet. Power supply looks fine, a few loose connectors… Another blown solenoid. He groaned. The Techrot made finding any electronic components difficult, but finding the specific types used in arcade cabinets would've been pain even without mutant flesh monsters eating them like Paz candies. He leaned the panel against the side of the console, ruffling his hair and thinking.

I don't even know where to start looking. That place over on Fern street got hit in that Scaldra 'repatriation' raid… Maybe I could get it through Kinemart? No, too niche. Maybe there's a different electronics repair shop on the other side of town.

He glanced at the cabinet again. Might as well get a parts list.

He dropped down beside it, clicking his flashlight on again. Solder, a couple new fuses, the stupid solenoid… Speakers're completely blown. Miiiiight not be able to fix that one.

He stood up, sneezing as the disturbed dust flew into his face.

"Sorry to inter—"

He yelped, spinning on the spot and pointing his light directly into the Drifter's eyes. They flinched, holding a hand up to block it.

"Again with the jumpscares! You're gonna give me a heart attack!" He leaned against the cabinet, putting his hand on his chest and doing his best to calm down.

"Sorry. I was going to ask if you knew what time it is. I… I couldn't find a digital clock." They sounded irritated.

"Can you… not… read analog?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Can you tell me how long a Warm cycle lasts on Venus?" They crossed their arms, standing straighter. He shook his head. "Exactly. What time is it?"

He checked, wincing. "Ten to five."

They swore in a language he didn't recognize. It sounded vaguely… Rus?

"I knew he messed with that mucking clock." They leaned against the doorframe, pinching the bridge of their nose. "Sorry. The clock I've been using in the backroom has been… I think it's set to track Deimos time? It makes sense, considering… Never mind. Ugh." They turned, looking towards the Big Bytes counter. "Got another hell-scrub at seven. You're on it, too, right?"

He nodded.

"Care to try some tea from the future with…" They paused, waving their hand as they searched for the right words. "…Medically concerning amounts of caffeine?" They winced. "Really sold it there, didn't I?"

"Yep. Sounds awesome, actually. Lead the way." He stood up, glancing towards the kettle. "…You don't care if I put, like, a lot of sugar in it, right? Arthur has opinions."

They snorted. "If I cared, I'd lose my source for this stuff. Zuud basically makes syrup out of hers." They walked over to the counter, switching the kettle on and hopping up to sit beside it. "Chimurr, on the other hand? Plain or not at all. Maybe some maprico juice for flavor." They reached behind the pile of tea boxes the others had built, pulling a plain-looking metal tin from the back edge and opening it carefully.

It smelled like gasoline and chamomile. Amir coughed slightly, staring at the dry, blended leaves. They looked exactly like every other dried leaf he'd ever seen.

They grinned. "Don't worry, it tastes better than it smells." They swung their feet around to drop down on the other side of the counter, pulling two tea strainers from the cutlery jumble. "Trust me. Or don't. There's plenty of other teas, and I'm sure Lettie won't mind someone else making coffee for a change."

"No, I'll try it." He grabbed the sugar, setting it within easy reach.

"Alright." They measured out the leaves, pouring two mugs of boiling water. "Set a timer or a stopwatch or something. Four minutes."

He nodded, pushing a few buttons on his watch. "You said it's from the future, right? Is it from Earth in the future, orrrrrrr..?"

"Venus. Mind you, it's not exactly popular there. Zuud has a bit of a… well, she's not always all there, so unfortunately people keep their distance. Usually just keeps it for her own use. I managed to get the recipe off her. She goes a bit overkill with the amount of tea, I usually only brew it with half the leaves she does." They stirred the steepers around the mugs, seemingly lost in their reminiscing. "Calms her down. Calms me down, too, but caffeine is still a stimulant. I'm not about to send myself into cardiac arrest over a hot drink, y'know?" They hopped onto the counter again, sitting cross-legged and staring out into the food court.

"I usually prefer espresso for chilling out." Amir turned around, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms. "Lettie makes pretty good drip coffee, but she asked me to keep an eye out for an actual espresso machine to fix up."

They made an intrigued humming noise. "So… espresso is different from coffee?"

"Technically, no. Still coffee, just made differently. It's like coffee squared. Less water, forced through really fine coffee grounds under pressure. Makes it really strong. Like, sip-it-don't-shoot-it strong."

"Huh?"

"Wh— sip it, don't shoot it?"

"Yes. What does that even mean? Shoot it, like a gun?"

"Nonono, like a shot of alcohol. Downing it in one would be 'shooting' it, as opposed to sipping it." He turned to look at them, making sure he'd explained it enough.

"OH. Got it. Sorry, been awake too long, I guess. I know what you're talking about. Took me a second." They shook their head, grimacing. "Haven't slept this bad in a while."

Amir opened his mouth to ask a follow-up question, but the faint beeping of his watch interrupted him. The Drifter pulled the strainers out of the mugs, pushing one towards him. "It's still just about the temperature of the sun, heads up. Try it without sugar, first." They blocked his hand as he reached for it. "Humor me."

He blew on the surface, taking a tiny test sip. It tasted… leafy. Kind of floral? Mostly leafy. The gasoline smell was gone. He nodded. "You were right about the taste-slash-smell thing. Do I get access to the sugar now?"

They pulled their hand back, sipping their own tea.

He poured about half the container's contents into his cup.

They jerked forward, coughing as their mouthful of tea splattered onto the ground. "Void, Beckett!" They wiped their face, turning towards the kitchen and grabbing a mop. They coughed more as they walked back around the edge of the counter. "Did the sugar bowl do something to you in a past life or something? Void, that came out my nose."

Someone else cleared their throat, drawing his attention— Aoi.

"Morning. What're you doing up so early?" She gave Amir a confused once-over.

He shrugged. "Didn't sleep well. You?"

Aoi groaned. "Woke up about an hour ago and couldn't fall back asleep. Heard you guys out here and figured having company and a cup of tea sounded better than sitting around feeling miserable by myself."

The Drifter nodded. "I introduced Amir to a tea blend from my personal stash. Want some?"

She shook her head. "I have my own, but thank you!" Aoi gave them a searching look. "You alright? What happened just now?"

They grinned. "Beckett signed himself up for the next supply run, is what happened. Hope you don't take your tea sweetened, I'm not sure he left any."

Aoi leaned over, her eyebrows disappearing behind her bangs as she surveyed the sugar bowl. "Yeesh, Amir. You're gonna make yourself sick."

He took a sip of the tea. Overdid that by a fair amount. What had previously tasted like leaves now tasted like slightly metallic sugar. He forced it down, grinning.

"Ah, tastes fine to me." If I don't think about it.

Aoi grabbed his mug, taking a tiny sip and recoiling. "Whatever floats your boat, I guess."

"OI. Shut up!" Quincy's disgruntled voice rang out from somewhere across the mall, clearly still half-asleep.

Chapter Text

-{Drifter}-

The second hell-scrub was over. It had gone much better than the previous day's attempt.

Mirage felt claustrophobic around their consciousness. They pushed themself through the doorway to their room, forced themself to bring her over to the arsenal wall, and transferred out with a gasp.

They hated feeling trapped in her. Mirage was one of their favorite frames; using her was usually euphoric. Indulgent, almost. The feeling of going into a freefall knowing she'd catch them, their usually slow, awkward movements replaced by her acrobatic confidence… It usually made even the most boring mission fun.

“I'm so sorry, Mimi, it's not your fault.” They murmured to the empty frame. They checked for damage, seeing only cosmetic flaws. Scratched paint, a scuffed panel… nothing structural. Nothing painful. "But you know that, huh?" They squeezed her metal shoulder, hoping whatever consciousness lingered in the machine believed them.

They stepped around her side, unloading their weapons from the various holsters on her hips and back.
Nataruk glowed brightly as they removed it, a spectral arrow appearing on the string in response to their touch. They stowed it in the arsenal, moving on to their Kunai and Cadus. Both were flecked with viscera, no worse for wear. Not the strongest stuff in their weapons inventory, but certainly the least likely to spook the Hex.

Even using Nataruk had been a last-minute decision. As fun as the Sentient bow was, it clearly made the others nervous. Burston or Braton were the safer choices, but… they weren't exactly a crack shot. Prime weapons were off the table entirely for the time being. As much as they wanted to bring out their more… esoteric weaponry, they didn't quite know how much was too much when it came to 1999. Plus, Nataruk was theirs, not the kid's stuff on loan.

They rubbed their eyes, sliding their hands down their face and groaning. Surely Sun and Moon would be safest? Swords were ancient, even by Orokin standards… Maybe I should just steal some kit off the next Scaldra we fight and see what Helminth does with it.

No. You know exactly what Helminth will do with it. It’s going to eat it. It eats everything.

They turned away from their arsenal, scanning around the room. Maybe if they were desperate enough, looked in enough weird hiding places, they’d find a secret stash of Entrati’s after they solved a pretentious riddle or something.

Entrati’s never that helpful.

They decided to solve their conundrum later.

They left the backroom again, surveying the abandoned storefront. They started sorting the store debris and junk into piles.

One for metals, for Aoi to use if she wanted.

One for clothing and fabric scraps. Once cleaned, they could be mended or repurposed.

Three for trash. There was a lot of trash.

Furniture and fixtures got shoved out into the walkway. Mannequins were set aside for Quincy’s shooting range. There were a couple of broken mirrors, but most of them were still usable. The wiring for the overhead lights was burnt out beyond repair, but a few lamps could easily replace them.

They found some long-abandoned cleaning supplies behind the counter: A broom, dustpan, and mop. No bucket, no cleaners. Nothing even close to a Domestik Drone. They didn’t like manual sweeping, but Saya had taught them some tricks to make it less deathly boring. The tricks mostly involved thinking about anything but sweeping.

Soon enough, the damaged floor was as clean as they could get it.

The new issue was how to remove the debris and detritus from the room. They’d seen trash cans downstairs, but the only ones in use seemed to be the ones in the food court. All the way downstairs. With only a tiny, flimsy, polymer dustpan to carry it in.

Great. Can’t even clean by myself. They trudged downstairs, clicking their comms on as they walked. “Would any of you know where to find some cleaning supplies? Specifically a bucket?”

No answer.

Professional.

“Is anyone listening? Wait, Void, do I have this thing on the wrong channel again—” They snatched the radio off their belt, squinting at the channel knob. Nope, right frequency.

Just ignoring me, then. Cool.

They glanced around the ground floor. Lights were off. No music came from Aoi’s hideout. No gunshots; Quincy wasn’t running target practice. Sunlight streamed in through the skylight, so clearly the others weren’t asleep.

Something was wrong.

They softened their footsteps, moving as smoothly and quietly as possible. Back up the stairs, through the door to the backroom, over to their arsenal. Sun and Moon. Sirocco. They slipped back out to the mall, leaning into their newly-heightened senses fully. The faint whisper of air, the usual mechanical whirring from fans, the hum of the backup generator. They moved on tiptoe around the upper level, crouching and metering their breath.

They heard a distinct noise— a loud pop from somewhere downstairs. Multiple voices whispering, one apologizing. They cloaked themself in the Void, slinging down from the balcony railing. They turned slowly on the spot, listening intently. The sound came from the direction of the garage. They took a wide arc around to the side of the automatic doors, feeling their form start to flicker back into visibility. They stepped just out of the sensor’s range as their ability lapsed, glancing through the glass for a cursory check of the garage.

The Hex were standing in a circle, clearly deliberating something amongst themselves. Lettie looked right through their invisible form as they passed the doors.

Keeping watch.

Anger overrode their common sense. They clicked their comms on again.

“Is your little secret meeting going well? Hate to interrupt, but if any of you could bother to stoop down from on high and answer my mucking question, I’d appreciate it.” They leaned against the wall and waited for an answer.

Lettie came to the door, giving them a sharp signal to follow her.

“Oh, am I allowed to join you?” They tilted their head, shooting her a faux-innocent look. She rolled her eyes, walking back into the garage.

They followed.

They looked each Hex in the face, gauging their expressions. Lettie looked irritated. Aoi smiled at them, nervous. Amir was fidgeting with something, staring off into the middle distance. Eleanor’s face was unreadable, but Drifter felt a faint sense of welcoming warmth curl around the edges of their psyche. Quincy was turned away, staring at Arthur.

Arthur was analysing them just as much as they were him.

“I don’t know or care what you’re doing in here. Just tell me where a bucket is, for Sol’s sake.” They shifted to stand at attention, arms crossed over their chest. Stood their ground under his searching stare.

“Drifter. We have some questions for you.” His voice was flat, monotone. Practiced.

They scoffed. “Questions? For me? They must be incredibly important if none of you could be bothered to actually speak to me.” They dropped their arms to their sides, staring over Arthur’s head. “Fine. Fire away. I’m an open book.”

They could feel the air around them warming with their nerves, the faint smell of burning dust wafting into their nose. They looked back to Arthur’s face, raising their eyebrows expectantly.

He glanced at the others, then back to the Drifter.

“What happens to us if you die?” he asked, quiet and solemn.

It took all the willpower in their body not to break eye contact.

“I don't know.” They sensed the others shifting uncomfortably. “In Duviri, the loop would just start over. But… Duviri couldn't exist without me. 1999, theoretically…can.”

“So… we'd just be on our own?” Aoi chimed in. She sounded close to tears. Fear or sadness, they couldn't tell.

“I don't know. Maybe. Or maybe just… until the year ends? Or until the day I showed up originally? Look—” they let themself relax out of attention, gesturing frustratedly with their hands. “I don't know as much about this whole time loop situation as any of us would like. My best guess is that things would just reset to January first. Barring that, I have no idea. They don't exactly make manuals for this.”

The room fell silent.

“So…” Amir chimed in, “No more solo death-wish missions, right? Can we agree to that?” He yelped as Aoi stomped his foot.

They nodded, not looking away from Arthur. He stared off over their shoulder, thinking hard.

“Disculpamé, no more what?!” Lettie moved closer to them, hands on her hips, fixing them with a glare that rivalled Lodun’s.

Ramn. She caught that.

“I went out on my own last night. That's why I didn't come down for the morning brief. I got injured and was trying to handle it on my own.” Hopefully, that was enough detail—

“You went up to get them this morning.” She turned, taking a single step towards Amir. “And conveniently 'lost' your Effervon kit. You—” she rounded on the Drifter again. “—are an idiot. Effervon burns won't heal on their own. The stuff's dangerous, even for us.” She glared at them. “Do that again, I'll kill you myself and we'll all find out what happens.”

They gulped. “Copy that, Lettie.” Void, what I wouldn't give to introduce her to Teshin.

She nodded, satisfied. “I have a mop pail you can use. I'm going back upstairs.”

They glanced at the others. Arthur was still lost in thought. Aoi and Amir were having a whispered argument they couldn't quite make out. Eleanor and Quincy seemed to be locked into a silent, telepathic conversation.

They slipped out the door and took the stairs two at a time. Lettie had left a yellow rolling pail outside her med tent. They pushed it awkwardly to the clothing store and started loading it with garbage.

Two hours later, the abandoned storefront was cleaned out. They surveyed their work, exhausted but satisfied.

They'd replayed the incident in the garage in their head a thousand times while they worked.

They'd reacted poorly. But they had to know how that looked, right?

They walked into the backroom, opened their arsenal, grabbed a few simple melee weapons. They had to know. I've been here, what, two months? Not even that. All of a sudden they're not answering me on comms. Having secret meetings without me. What am I supposed to think?

They stopped themself in their train of thought. No, that's no excuse for me being a raging—

A loud, interrupting thunk-crash-yelp erupted from the storefront. They slipped through the doorway, arms full of armaments, to see Amir sprawled on the floor, holding his shin. He grimaced when he saw them.

“Sorry about your… chair… thingy.” He rolled to the side and stood up, dusting himself off. They looked out to the walkway to see a round plush chair, very far from the other furniture, rolling in circles on its side.

“It's not mine, but thank you for the intention.” They laid the weapons out on the register counter. MK-1 Bo, a basic Skana, a Skeev, some MK-1 Furax… strong enough to use in a pinch, not strong enough to be dangerous as teaching tools.

They were doing their level best to ignore Amir in the hopes he'd go away. Unfortunately for that plan, he seemed just as clueless as they were when it came to subtlety.

“Are those… from the future?” He was clearly trying (and failing) to act nonchalant.

“Yes. These are standard issue for Tenno recruits,” they said, gesturing to the MK-1 weapons, “and these are a little heavier hitting without being impractical for training.” They indicated the Skana and Skeev.

“Cool, cool, cool… what was the one you took with you? When you…” he stopped. “Would I say ‘when you were Mirage’ or ‘when you used Mirage?’”

“Used.” They made a disgusted face. “As horrible as it sounds. That's the Orokin for you, I guess.” They turned towards the backroom again.

“Okay. What's the one you had when you used Mirage today? That was cool.”

“My Cadus? It's… well, not as basic as these, but it's nothing to get excited about, really.” They shrugged. “Good reach on it, though. It's fun to surprise the enemy when they think they're too far for me to hit.”

He started to follow them as they walked.
“So if that's 'nothing to get excited about,' then what is? Because as far as I'm concerned, they're still from the actual future and that's pretty exciting on its own. Just sayin’.” He stopped just inside the corridor, glancing uneasily at the Void-energized doorway to the backroom. “I mean, if you have even cooler stuff I'd like to see it one day, but even if you just know about some cool stuff and feel like sharing some info..?” He trailed off hopefully.

They caved.

“Wait here. Please… don't touch the gear in the other room until I can get some mats and reinforce the walls in there. They're still fully functional weapons that a shopping mall is not built to withstand.”

They stepped into their room, opening their arsenal and deliberating. Heliocor was flashy, glaives were fun to show off… but if he wanted to see something futuristic, by 1999’s standards?

They grabbed their Secura set. All three weapons looked straight out of one of Amir's sci-fi movies… if you squinted at the sci-fi movies. They made a stop at the bottom of the stairs, calling up to the Infested room above.

“Helminth, could you ask Ordis or the kid to send some sparring mats this way? There's some interesting snacks in it for you.”

The Helminth gurgled, sending a bassy rumble down the stairwell.

“I know you and Ordis don't get along. Just humor me, okay? Maybe the kid’ll be there instead.”

Another fleshy noise, layered with whispering voices.

“Hey, watch the language. Ordis is a perfectly nice Cephalon, you just don't like him pruning the bits you stick out of your room to annoy him. Umbra snitched. By the way, leave the mall bathroom alone. Aoi's going nuts trying to fix that stupid drain and I know you had something to do with it. Knock it off. Goodbye.”

They walked out before it had a chance to respond.

Amir was waiting in the hallway still.

“Do you… have some kind of future-phone-thing? I heard you saying stuff, but nobody responded.” He was staring at the Secura Lecta looped in their off hand.

“Sort of. It's… kind of a weird messenger-bird situation. And the messenger is moody today. Anyways, you wanted to see cool stuff, and this seemed right up your alley.” They walked past him into the storefront. “I'm not going to demonstrate in here, obviously, but this is a set of specialty weapons. They're designed to work in harmony with each other. They're based on some Corpus standard blueprints, but they're modified to give them an edge over the competition."

They set the Penta and Dual Cestra on the floor ever-so-gently, then unfurled the Lecta.

“The Perrin Sequence makes these. They fight the Corpus in their own markets. Corpus leadership values profit over everything.” They grinned. “This particular Lecta has a nasty habit of short-circuiting Corpus wallets into making an extra withdrawal. Accidentally, of course.”

They coiled the whip again, reaching for the pistols.

“Dual Cestras. These are automatic fire, dual wield. Give off a bit of extra radioactive energy that messes with your opponents' heads. Penta does the same thing, but it shoots remote-detonate grenades. Y'know. In case you need to blow something up and confuse it at the same time.” They tilted their head, pleased with their joke.

Amir looked like he was about to explode with excitement. “They can just… do that in the future?”

Drifter nodded. “These can, yes.”

They set the Cestras down, lugging the Penta into their arms. “This thing is heavy, slow, and awkward to reload. Unfortunately, it's also really fun to use, which is why I keep it around.” They hefted it to their shoulder, careful to keep their fingers well clear of the trigger. They grimaced under the weight. It was more uncomfortable against their actual shoulder than it was from inside a full Warframe.

They swung it back down faster than they meant to, squatting to catch it before it threw them off-balance. They swore, setting it down gingerly. “I'm out of practice with this thing. Gonna need to change that.”
Thank Sol I didn’t actually drop it. Helminth is already whiny enough without asking for a rush repair.

Amir grinned nervously. “What would’ve happened if you hadn’t caught that?”

They shrugged. “It would probably crack the floor or crush my foot. Even without ammo, this thing can still deal some damage. With ammo, I'd definitely have broken something just then.”

He looked relieved. They realized, very abruptly, that they had not established the fact that the guns were not loaded. Or that they had safety switches. As far as he knew, they were goofing off with live ammunition.

“I don’t keep it loaded when it’s stored, if that’s what you’re worried about. Teshin would strangle me if I did that. If it can be unloaded, it gets unloaded. Really, the only danger here is from me skipping my upper body workouts.” They smiled, trying their best to put on a reassuring face.

Amir gave them a deeply confused look.

“What?” They felt their smile slipping.

“You just made the weirdest face.”

They balked. And here I thought I was getting better at that one.

“Wait—” Why would he assume it was loaded—?!

“Amir. I'm going to ask you something, and I want to make this as clear as possible: I am not judging you or implying anything by asking this." They chose their words carefully. "I just need to be aware of the answer. Do you just… always have your guns loaded? All the time?”

Sol, I hope he says no.

“No. Well, not anymore. At first, yeah. Then Arthur found out and made me… fix… that.” He looked faintly embarassed.

That wasn't nearly as reassuring as I hoped it would be.

“Who’s Teshin, by the way? You mentioned him before, when you got hurt. Was he a jerk? He kinda sounds like a jerk.” Amir was clearly trying to pivot the conversation. They let him.

“He's stern, but he's not a jerk.” They said it much firmer than they meant to. They forced a more light-hearted tone into their voice. “He's half the reason I made it out of Duviri. More than half, actually. Trained me, taught me, was there for me… even taught me to play Komi. He was strict, demanding, and unyielding, but he was kind. He cared. He's the sort of person you want to impress, even if it wouldn't change anything. We butted heads a lot, but… he took care of me when I was alone.” They straightened their posture, standing like the soldier he'd taught them to be.

Amir looked sad, for some reason.

“Now what? That wasn't even a 'space trauma' thing.” They tilted their head at him, confused.

“It's just… he probably misses you, right? You're here, and he's… not.”

They felt their chest tighten. About that…

“Teshin… Teshin understands the call of service. I'm here because I'm needed here, even if that means leaving some things and some people behind for a while.”

They almost believed their own lie.

“How about you? Anyone… any family or anything waiting for you in 2000?” Small talk was not their strong suit.

Amir shrugged. “My parents. And…” He stopped, then shook his head. “Yeah. Just my parents. How about you? Besides Teshin, obv's.”

Their brain came to a complete standstill. How do I explain without… “A few friends. I… My family isn't…” They searched for words. “It's just me, now.” They bent down, lifting the Penta to their hip with a grunt. “Most of the time, that is. I've got a few friends, but… this whole… situation is honestly the most regular social interaction I've had for a while. Both in the ‘frequent’ and ‘normal’ senses. It's definitely been a learning curve.”

“Whoa.”

They didn't look at him.

“So you're just… alone?”

They exhaled sharply through their nose. “Yep. Thanks for that phrasing.” They smiled, shaking their head.

“I didn't mean it like—”

“I got your meaning. Yeah. I…” they shifted the Penta to their other hip. “I'm not in the headspace to really dive in to that whole… mess right now. Later, maybe, but… not right now. Sorry. I know you hate cliffhangers.”

They glanced over at him. He looked slightly disappointed. How do I get out of this?!

“Trust me, Amir. It's…” A light clicked on in their brain. “It's easily a nine on the 'awful' scale.” On a good day. "I… I'm going to finish some stuff up in my room, I'll see you at dinner."

He nodded, clearly a little thrown by their unceremonious farewell. “Got it. ‘Kay. Uh, good talk! Cool guns. Catch you later?”

They smiled, relieved that he didn't push the subject. “Easily. Have you seen how slowly I walk?”

Their joke landed a few seconds later. "Heh. Nice." He grinned, waving as he left. “See you later, then.”

They exhaled hard, slowly sinking to the ground. They forced themself to think over their plans for the storefront. Mats, dummies, storage, lights. Maybe Clem could be convinced to source some extra blunts for me. Aoi could probably warp some shelving into what I need to store weapons here. Lights… lights…

Their head ached. The light from the walkway suddenly seemed too bright. It felt like a knife was prying behind their eye sockets. They pulled off their glasses and covered their eyes, desperately trying to make the feeling stop. Pressing harder and harder on their eyelids. It just got worse. The faintest shrieking rang through their ears.

They staggered to their feet, cautiously shuffling to the backroom with one eye barely open. They hit the light switch on their way in, snapping the industrial overheads off with a faint electrical whine. The spiking pain dulled slightly, but not enough to stop them on their path to the foundry. The blueprint file they were looking for was easy to find. It would only take a minute, but that minute felt like an eternity as they slumped into the corner.

They covered their head, burying their eyes into the crook of their elbow.

It still felt too bright.

Too much light, even in complete darkness.

The pain throbbed through their head, running down their neck and shoulders.

The foundry dinged, and they lunged for the platform like a starving animal at easy prey.

The injectable medication sat there. Simple. Newly terrifying. They felt a phantom ache in their hand.

Get over yourself. Just use it. Grab it, needle to arm, press, hold, throw away. Easy. Have a breakdown once your head stops hurting.

They forced their hand to pick up the tube, forced their eyes open to check its orientation, squeezed their eyes shut again and administered the shot.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

A faint whistle, and it was empty. They threw it down, stomping the empty vial into shards of polymer and alloy. The head pain slowly receded. They became acutely aware of their fingertips digging sharp points into their swordsteel palms, of the way they were hunched uncomfortably over the foundry, of the way they had to force themself to open their eyes again.

They straightened, shaking bits of the destroyed medication vial from their foot and stepping back. They plugged the blueprint code in again. Having a fresh one at hand seemed like a good idea, considering how easy it had been to start another episode.

Another episode.

They hadn't had the chance to think about the Zariman in a long time. Being dropped into a war they didn't understand, fighting to keep Narmer at bay, pushing back the Murmur from the Sanctum… Not much time for painful reminiscing. They preferred it that way.

The nightmares were uncomfortable, but hardly true-to-life. The Angelsong was always distorted, never as real and present and painful as it was when they gave conscious thought to the ghost ship.

Void, I said I'd talk about it later. He'll remember that. He's going to ask about it again.

They punched a third vial blueprint in as soon as the foundry finished.

Chapter Text

[H16h V0l7463] are you awake

[H16h V0l7463] you seemed out of it all day so I wouldn't blame you if you weren't lol

[H16h V0l7463] i had a question about cephalons again

[H16h V0l7463] specifically you mentioned one called…

[H16h V0l7463] uh

[H16h V0l7463] hang on lemme check the chat history really quick i forgot how to spell it

[H16h V0l7463] SIMARIS

[H16h V0l7463] he's the 'scan stuff for my computer zoo' guy right?

[H16h V0l7463] hypothetically

[H16h V0l7463] could you scan stuff here and send it to him in the future

[H16h V0l7463] or is it like a huge time travel no-no

[H16h V0l7463] actually now that i say that it's probably a huge time travel no-no huh? like in forward to the past with the lottery ticket

[H16h V0l7463] WAIT IS THAT WHAT YOUR NOTEBOOKS ARE FOR

[H16h V0l7463] like. to hide somewhere as a time capsule so you can preserve this stuff?

[spare.stardust] Morning.

[spare.stardust] Kind of? I mostly use it to compile the information I've learned as a personal reference guide. Some of them are all mixed up between what's from the future and what's from here.

[spare.stardust] They're honestly fairly boring. Maps of places I've been, supply lists, bits of information I got ahold of when I left Duviri. Things I don't need or want to look at.

[spare.stardust] Anyways, Simaris is mostly focused on living beings. Different classifications of enemy soldiers, whatever blobs of ambling ick spawn out of the Infestation, wild animals. He's much less interested in plants, unfortunately.

[spare.stardust] But, to answer your initial question, I can't get the data transmission to work. Entrati rigged a radio back here to get a resistance news show from the Origin system, but whatever he did basically bricked the thing and I can't even change the channel anymore. I might have you take a look to see if you could 'piggyback' the signal?

[spare.stardust] Why do you ask?

[H16h V0l7463] wellllllll I was thinking if you could send data to the future, maybe you could get future data sent back here

[H16h V0l7463] like more info on robots? :D

[H16h V0l7463] (hint hint)

[spare.stardust] I can just tell you stuff, you know. I don't have notebooks dedicated to tech stuff, but I know a fair bit offhand.

[spare.stardust] Were there any specific kinds of robots you were curious about?

[H16h V0l7463] … Cephalons :3

[H16h V0l7463] and if you have giant mechs

[H16h V0l7463] and if there's like. actual cyborgs. people with robot limbs and arm cannons and stuff like that

[spare.stardust] I've already told you, Cephalons are not as cool as you think they are. If there was ever a core principle to Orokin design, it was to create as many ways to hurt people as possible. Cephalon tech is no exception.

[spare.stardust] Second principle would be to put as much pointless gold filigree on as many things as they could get it to stick to. They were really into the idea of being the literal golden gods of the universe.

[spare.stardust] In regards to mechs, we have Necramechs. That show you had me watch— Dungam? They overshot the size of the mechs by a lot, but I'm definitely finding a way to get a copy of the show to a friend of mine. He'd love it.

[spare.stardust] I mostly use my Necramech on Deimos. It's a lot tankier than a Warframe, but I can bring both with me. Kind of a double failsafe, considering it's a hellscape of Infestation and Orokin ruins. They're mostly designed to work on their own, though. Piloting one is much clunkier than a Warframe— not as fast, not as smooth. Feels like trying to steer an Atomicycle with your feet.

[spare.stardust] … Don't ask how I have a point of comparison for that. And don't tell Lettie I allegedly tried. She'll 'allegedly' kill me.

[spare.stardust] Cyborgs as you think of them sit much, much closer to reality. Just… reality's not as fun and exciting. As usual.

[spare.stardust] There's a place on Venus called Fortuna— the Corpus started it as a mining colony. Workers pay for their food, shelter, training, etc. from their wages, and anything they can't cover with that they owe back to the Corpus.

[spare.stardust] I'm sure you can see where this is going.

[spare.stardust] Starvation wages can't cover inflated costs, so the Corpus take their possessions as repayment. When you run out of valuables, they start taking parts of your body. You pay for the surgeries, obviously. And any upkeep to your cybernetics.

[spare.stardust] Same surgeries happen if you get severely injured. Workplace accident? New leg, arm, whatever you need.

[spare.stardust] Most people living on Venus have at least one cybernetic replacement. Some people only get them because they need to be stronger/faster/more durable to get a higher-paying role.

[spare.stardust] Technically, any Corpus soldier or loyalist could get the same surgeries to boost their fighting abilities. Most just don't. Status symbol thing. They call people with cybernetics 'repos' while enjoying the rewards of having donor organs/etc. coming out of their ears.

[spare.stardust] Sorry, I just realized how much information I just sent you in one go.

[H16h V0l7463] still not over the fact there are whole colonies on Venus

[H16h V0l7463] or that you casually run around on Deimos

[H16h V0l7463] soooooo do the mechs run around on their own when you're not using them?

[H16h V0l7463] also I'm assuming something's being done about the whole indentured servitude thing on Venus because WOW

[H16h V0l7463] NOT cool

[spare.stardust] Necramechs: Yes and no. Some of them do, but they're mostly defunct, AWOL, or severely damaged. The one I have is essentially remanufactured from broken pieces.

[spare.stardust] Fortuna: Firm yes. There's a group called Vox Solaris fighting back— even set up a way for Tenno and other Solaris citizens to pay off debts. Costs a fair cache of credits, but it keeps people out of brainshelving.

[spare.stardust] Oh, Void, I didn't explain that. They take your head, put it into a coma on basic life support, and stick you in a box on a shelf. Most people's families can't afford to pay off the ransom to get them back.

[spare.stardust] The goal is to pay off people's debts long before it gets to that point. Starve the Corpus of funds by throwing wrenches into their operations, force them to lower the price point, pay off the debt, repeat. The longer we fight, the more desperate for money they get, the lower the threshold for buyouts gets.

[spare.stardust] Most of the Corpus way of doing things is not cool, if you couldn't tell. Profit over all.

[H16h V0l7463] understatement of the millennia

[H16h V0l7463] unrelated: are you okay? like i said you were being weird all day

[H16h V0l7463] weirder than usual, I mean

[H16h V0l7463] that came out wrong

[H16h V0l7463] you're usually good-weird and this was bad-weird.

[H16h V0l7463] not-okay-weird

[H16h V0l7463] also you went to bed at like 9 (overachiever) and it's now 2 in the morning sooooo…

[spare.stardust] I could ask you the same thing.

[H16h V0l7463] don't use my own tricks against me lol, I know what it looks like to dodge a question

[spare.stardust] Ramn.

[H16h V0l7463] …was that a typo?

[spare.stardust] Grineer word I picked up from some friends. So, honestly? It probably was a typo at one point. Language evolves quickly when generations last three days.

[spare.stardust] ...But the answer is no. I am not okay. "Space trauma" as Quincy calls it.

[spare.stardust] Promise you won't laugh if I tell you why

[H16h V0l7463] promise.

[spare.stardust] I get nightmares. Really really awful ones. They don't make any sense when I wake up but it all feels real.

[spare.stardust] I'm not going to go into detail because thinking about it messes me up pretty badly but… yeah.

[spare.stardust] Are you still there?

[H16h V0l7463] you CANNOT be serious

[H16h V0l7463] are you messing with me right now?

[spare.stardust] Really? I just told you something extremely vulnerable, and you're mocking me?

[spare.stardust] Classy, Beckett.

[H16h V0l7463] NO not like that

[H16h V0l7463] I thought you were making fun of me

[H16h V0l7463] I don't know how you would have known now that I think about it

[H16h V0l7463] I get nightmares too

[H16h V0l7463] you know when you first got here, when I gave you the headphones? and last night with the midnight cheese incident?

[H16h V0l7463] yeah. not my plan to be awake either of those times

[spare.stardust] Oh.

[spare.stardust] Is that why you're awake right now?

[H16h V0l7463] yeah

[spare.stardust] if you want, you can come hang out

[spare.stardust] You don't have to actually go in the backroom. I know the door freaks you out LOL. We can sit in the store.

[spare.stardust] Now I've said it, that sounds nice, actually. I can bring some cushions out so we don't have to sit on thegroun

[spare.stardust] *the ground

[spare.stardust] Sorry, guess I'm still kinda out of it.

[H16h V0l7463] sure why not be up in a sec

Chapter Text

-{Amir}-

Amir logged out of KIM, leaning back on two legs of his chair.

…Leaned forward and logged back in.

He typed a message out halfway. Short, apologetic, cancelling on them.

Deleted it.

Almost logged out. Typed another message. Deleted that one, too.

Logged out, shut down the POM-2.

Suck it up. No different than hanging out in the arcade with them. Just slightly more likely to talk about the nightmares.

Okay, maybe significantly more likely.

He took a deep breath, grabbed a blanket off his bed, and headed out into the food court. He made a pit stop to grab a few snacks and some soda, then started up the stairs. He heard quiet swearing as he turned toward the tailor shop, turning his head to see the Drifter shoving a large, furry something back down the hallway. He sped up a bit, half-worried and half-nosy.

"Tak, this is not a good time. Go lay down. Go lay down!" They sounded irritated. Who are they talking to?!

"Do you need help?" He whispered, poking his head into the hallway to the backroom.

"No!" they yelped. They were not answering his question.

A large… dog? was excitedly scrambling over them to get to him.

"Tak! Down! Sit! Bad Kubrow!" they hissed.

'Tak' was wiggling excitedly, belly-up, by his feet. It would easily come up to his belly button if it wasn't rolling on the floor. Sweet Lua.

"I'm so sorry, she got out while I was trying to get stuff through the door—"

"You have a dog?!" He dumped the stuff he'd been carrying, squatting down and rubbing its belly. "You have a dog and you didn't say anything?!"

"Kubrow. Not a 'dog.' And she's been with a friend for a while, so until about two hours ago, I didn't have her." They stood, leaning through the weird glowing doorway and producing a worn brown couch cushion. "That's Tak. She's misbehaving."

Tak sneezed, rolling onto her feet— Holy Sol what are they feeding it, it's HUGE— and trotted over to the Drifter. They pointed through the creepy glowing doorway. "Go lay down."

They patted her side begrudgingly as she walked into the backroom. "Void, it's like she knew someone was coming over. Sorry about that." They looked frustrated. And were visibly out of breath. "I got two cushions out."

They stopped, avoiding eye contact even more than usual. "I… I also grabbed a notebook of mine. It explains— more or less, anyways— what I was talking about. The nightmare stuff."

They lifted the cushion again, ducking their head as they walked toward him. He scooped up the blanket and snacks, stepping out of the doorway so they could pass. They walked over to a spot near the front of the store, dropping the cushion with a muffled whap. They sat down on the other one, cross-legged, eyes unfocused, and much more slouchy than they usually were.

"I brought snacks!" He held the chip bags up like he was showing off a game show prize. They straightened up, zoning back in.

"Thanks." They smiled— sort of— and gestured at the empty cushion.

He crossed the room, flopping down next to them with a grunt. He handed them their share of snacks, setting his own aside and shifting on the slightly lumpy cushion. He glanced out at the mall, silent and star-lit.

"If you don't want to talk about your nightmares, you don't have to. You don't have to read this, either, if you don't want to." They gestured with the battered notebook.

"Same goes for you." He gave them another hopefully-bolstering smile.

A long silence followed. The world's suckiest game of trauma chicken.

The Drifter spoke first. "Let's just eat something first. I didn't realize I was hungry until you said you brought these. Thanks." They opened their chip bag slowly, trying to be quiet.

"No prob, Bob."

They glanced at him. "I know you said it's just a phrase, but that is still very weird."

He grinned, opening the second bag. "I wondered if you'd remember!"

"I remember most things you say."

He blinked. "That's…"

They shrugged, popping a chip into their mouth. "Weird, I know." They paused, swallowing and clearing their throat. "Can't help it. You're interesting to listen to."

He felt his brain short out for a second. They think I'm interesting?! They remember what I say?! I don't even always do that!

They seemed completely unaware of his reaction, continuing to steadily demolish their chips.

"Thanks." He managed to mutter.

They nodded.

The two sat in silence for a while— aside from the sounds of eating their food. Trauma chicken, part two.

"I'm going to give you this—" they said, eventually, pushing the notebook towards him. "And you can skim over it if you want. I just don't trust myself not to… I said I'd tell you about this stuff, and I want to actually keep that promise. I…"

They trailed off, crumpling the empty plastic bag in their hands. "I really don't like talking about this. If I take the easy route and just… don't, that has enough info in it for you to piece it together. It's not efficient by any means, but it's… technically it's all there." They pulled their knees up to their chest, staring out into the mall. They took a deep breath, glancing at him like they were asking permission.

"Okay." He shifted to a more comfortable position, ready to listen.

They started talking, their voice more metered than usual. Detached, almost clinical, like they were trying not to think about what they were saying.

"When I was a kid, the Orokin had the grand idea to send a colony ship to the Tau system, lightyears away from the cesspool they'd made of Earth. Their idea was to send it through the Void to skip a big section of the trip. Technically, it worked. It just didn't get out on the other side. Well—" they sighed. "It did and it didn't. Story for later. The Indifference, the Man in the Wall, whatever you want to call it— the thing that caused this whole mess with Entrati. it noticed the Zariman— the ship— and started having its idea of fun." They spat the word like it didn't deserve to be spoken.

They rocked slightly, side to side. Slow, like they didn't realize they were doing it.

"It drove all the adults crazy, turned them into Void-warped monsters. Angels. They started attacking us. I remember… I remember my brother dragging me down the hallway to a classroom when the alarms started going off. We'd been told to do that so our parents could find us easily in emergencies, but our parents weren't our parents anymore.

"We hid for a while, then he snuck back to our dormizone to get a light and some food. He wanted me to stay in the classroom. I was too scared to be by myself. I followed him. I thought I could help." Their voice was hitching in their throat, their words coming out faster and faster as they continued.

"They came back while he was in there. He barely got out. He blocked the door with them inside and we ran."

They went silent for a moment. Steeling themself, probably?

"It took a few days before kids started sneaking back out there, into the rest of the ship. We needed water, and food, and they could hear people in the hallways. Some of the others didn't come back. We'd hear this screeching noise, then someone screaming, then—"

They sucked in a sharp breath. "Then nothing."

Another pause.

"The Man in the Wall did something to us. We started being able to do stuff we couldn't do before. Void stuff. My brother and a few of the older kids started going looking for the other kids to see if they were just in different classrooms."

"He— my brother— he was one of the kids who knew how to use weapons. He was old enough for the classes, so he was teaching me after school. The older kids— him and his classmates— started taking shifts to go… put them down. I snuck out when he wasn't there and went home. I just wanted my Kavat floof. I remember missing it so badly. The door was broken and… I went in, and he was trying to sh— shoot it. He ran— ran out of ammunition and just screamed for me to go."

They swiped at their face, reaching for something on the other side of the cushion. They wrapped their arms around their knees again, and he could see what they'd grabbed: another one of the medication vials they'd used when they snuck out. It looked slightly different— maybe a different medicine?

"I just… I left him there. I barely made it back to the classroom, there was another Angel waiting in the hallway—" They choked, their voice dropping to a whisper. "I got inside and… he never came back. We barricaded the door. We just hid."

They cleared their throat, taking a shaky breath. "Some other stuff happened and I ended up alone. I just remember wishing I could be anywhere else and I woke up in Duviri."

They shifted to sit cross-legged again, taking a deep breath. Then, without warning, they jabbed themself in the leg with the medication. Amir startled, reaching toward them hesitantly as they dropped the empty vial to the floor.

"Sorry, I get these headaches. I—" They sobbed, clapping one hand over their mouth to muffle the sound. "Sorry." He could barely hear their apology.

They sat up straighter, breathing in short gasps as tears streamed down their face. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I can't…" They buried their head in the crook of their arm, shaking silently.

Amir hesitantly put his hand on their back. "But… you made it out of there. And you're here now. So it's… it's not okay, but it's not like you're alone anymore, right?"

They nodded.

They cried for a few minutes, rocking slowly. He left his hand on their back until they sat up.

"Sorry. I… I don't think I've actually talked to a real person about that before." They sounded hoarse. "I didn't mean to make that your problem. I'm sorry." They cleared their throat again, taking in a sharp breath. "Yeah. That's what I get nightmares about. "

They took a deep, slow breath.

Amir nodded, processing.

"I shouldn't have dumped all that on you," they mumbled, "If you want to talk about yours, I'm not going to pretend mine are worse. I don't play pain Rathuum." They didn't seem to realize he had no idea what 'Rathuum' was.

Here goes.

"I… mine are about how the others found me. I was scared, and in pain, and I couldn't control the electricity. Arthur told me to just hit him with it. That's… that's why his eye is messed up, by the way."

He couldn't bring himself to see their reaction to that, so he continued. "In the nightmares he doesn't make it. Sometimes the others get… get in the way, too. They tell me it's all my fault. And I can't stop, even when I try. Just voltage arcing all around me and I can't get away. It hurts."

He pulled his hand away from them, uncomfortably aware that there was static popping around his fingertips. "It hurts in the dream and I can still feel it when I wake up. I've fried, like, six computers because I wake up and there's just lightning coming off of me. It's upsetting without the light show, it's even worse when I have to desperately try not to backsurge the generators. And I…" He took a deep breath, letting one leg start to jog to burn some of the stress. "I can still hear and smell the dream, sometimes. I'll be in my room, I'll be mostly awake, but the dream just latches onto my brain for a minute.

"That's... why I try not to look when I zap people when I'm on a mission. I don't want to see what happens and have them pop up in my dreams, too, y'know?" He looked over at the Drifter. He didn't really know what he was looking for in their reaction, but what he saw was definitely not it.

They had their mouth open, utterly agog.

"How?"

"What do you mean, 'how?'" He raised one eyebrow, deeply confused by the question. How what?

"How can you just… keep going? Keep using your abilities when you know… when you…" they trailed off, their voice breaking. They looked away, clearing their throat again.

"Because… it's not like the nightmares stop anyways? I might as well protect people if I'm going to be messed up either way." He started fidgeting with the notebook. The woven cover was scratched and scuffed, the worn texture a welcome distraction in his nervous hands.

The Drifter went quiet for a long time. Amir took the opportunity and also zoned out, staring out into the empty mall and doing his level best to think about anything else.

"Amir?" Their voice was steadier now.

"Yeah?"

"If you ever want or need company after a nightmare, come get me. Even if I'm asleep, or you think I'm asleep, or you're worried it'll seem weird." They were staring out at nothing, too, not turning as he glanced at them.

"Okay."

"Promise?" They held out a pinkie promise. Aoi strikes again. They still weren't looking at him, but they had a faint smile on their face. 

He took it. "Promise."

Chapter Text

-{Drifter}-

They sat in silence again. Thinking. Trying not to think. Wondering what Amir was thinking.

They stretched, glancing at him. "It's late, we have responsibilities… and Arthur's on watch at three. I don't think I can handle getting an earful after… y'know."

Amir nodded. "See you tomorrow, then. I'll take the trash, I'm walking past a can anyways."

They handed off their empty chip bag, standing and picking up their cushion. Amir tried to hand them the notebook, but they shook their head.

"Keep it for now. It might explain things better than I did. The details, for sure. Legibly? Debatable." They smiled weakly, offering a hand to help him stand.

He took it, and they shifted their weight to pull him up. He wasn't as heavy as they expected— right, no field gear— and they had to make a split-second correction to avoid falling backwards.

He didn't let go of their hand. A tiny surge of fear ran through them. Grabbed. Trapped. Run.

"If… I want to make sure you know you can come get me, too. If you have a nightmare." He let go of them, thank Sol, crossing his arms tightly.

"Sure," they said, trying their hardest to push down the momentary panic. "If I need to."

"Or if you want to."

Of course he caught that.

"Yes." They agreed, begrudgingly. "Sure."

He smiled, shifting the notebook to his free hand, away from the crumpled trash. "Cool. See you later."

They lugged the cushions into the backroom, dropping them by the door. They couldn't be bothered to drag the stupid things upstairs to the couch they belonged on. Kalymos and Tak trotted up to them, nosy and competing for attention. They sat down in the middle of the floor, petting absentmindedly, replaying the night over in their head.

Analyzing.

Did he know I was being genuine? Maybe I should've emphasized more on 'whenever,'

Did he mean it?

Not like I'm going to test it, but…

I shouldn't have given him the notebook. I don't know what I was thinking.

Thousands of years fighting for your life in an imaginary hellscape, active combat experience, time travel and dimension-hopping, and you have nightmares about the monsters in your closet. Big man of the hour, aren't you?

… I need to stop letting Quincy influence my vocabulary so much.

Not the point, doll. You've said too much already. That notebook is the final nail in the coffin. He'll tell everyone. They'll all know. They'll either throw you out or pity you. Even I can't tell you which one would be worse. You need to get it back. You can go now. You should go right now.

They stood, startling Kalymos. She yowled indignantly, disappearing upstairs with that weirdly knowing glare in her eyes. The sound jolted them out of their spiralling thoughts. Tak, content with being the sole recipient of snuggles, rested her giant head against their hip with a sigh.

He won't read anything I haven't already said or promised to tell him later. If he pities me, that's his problem. I'm not worried.

That's a lie, doll. You're very worried.

I don't like this. I don't like you, especially.

They ruffled Tak's ears one last time before moving toward the foundry corner, dusting off their backside.

I need to print more meds.

The foundry whirred to life, sparking intermittently. They climbed the stairs towards the Helminth's room.

Their path was blocked by a truly absurd amount of stuff. Mats, blueprints, clothes, the message book.

They snatched the Alloy-bound book off the ground, flipping through pages full of alternating handwriting styles.

There she is.

"Ayhan,

You'd better have some pretty fantastic snacks for Helmi. It was SO polite to Ordis this time!!! AND it let me send extra stuff!! I picked up some extra 'prints and thought you could use them. And I got a good deal on some clothes in Cetus I thought you'd like (I got matching ones!! We can match!)

Loid (Big Loid) says you're somewhere in the past. Did Tak make it back there ok? She was a really good girl when I sent her over. I know she probably hated it.

Have you made any friends? Are there still Orokin ruins or are they brand new wherever you are? Are there any cool foods? If you can figure out a way to send me scan data from wherever you are, please do!

By the way, I remembered our birthday! It's 2nd September on the Earth calendar. I don't know if they use the same calendar where you are, actually. But when you come back we can make plans! Birthday plans for our birthday!

Miss you,

Aíbinn"

Notes from the Operator were… always interesting.

2nd September. Interesting. Later than I thought.

They stepped into the loft, snatching a pen out of the abandoned mug on the computer desk. They decided to start their response with what, in Aíbinn's eyes, would be the highest priority.

"Aíbinn,

Yes, Tak is here safely.

Helminth will get many fun things to snack on, I can assure you.

Thank you for the mats, clothes, and blueprints. I tried to rig a connection for the data scans, but it'll take much more effort than I initially thought. I'll let you know if I figure it out."

They hesitated, pen hovering above the page.

"Yes, I've made some friends. As I'm writing this, most of them are asleep. We take shifts overnight to make sure nobody nothing gets into our settlement.

I'm actually somewhere before the Orokin, if you can believe it. No ruins to be seen. Yes, there are cool foods. I'll try to make or bring some back for you.

See you when I see you,

Ayhan"

They waited a few minutes for the ink to dry, closing the book gently when it was done. I'll send it tomorrow. Maybe Helminth won't be so testy.

It felt strange to sign their name to something after the past few months as Drifter, Marty, Future. Aíbinn had been sad when they'd changed their name. But…

She was the real Aíbinn. The one meant to have that name. They weren't her anymore. The name stuck to them like a burr, but she wore it like gold.

That, and Aíbinn loved few things as much as she loved correcting people. The allure of future pedantry had won her over near-instantly.

They closed the book, setting it aside as they started to sort through the 'presents' their younger self had sent. Simple Ostron-style day wear, in dark shades of brown, blue, and red; tiny embroidered details decorated the hems. An extra set of MK-1 Furax blueprints. A glasses case— probably an extra pair. Enough floor mats for the training room, and then some.

Better too many than too few.

Well. If I can get them out of the walkway, it'll be better.

They smiled, rubbing their thumb over the embroidery on one of the tunics. A Charc Eel, lovingly rendered in silky stitching, winding its way up towards the shoulder. She asked Saya to make this, then. Little brat. Must've asked about me.

I wonder if I could convince Helminth to take me to Deimos. I could probably see her in the Sanctum. All else fails, I know how to get to the Zariman. I know I could see her there.

They grimaced. You don't look human anymore. She'd think you went full Angel on her. She'd run.

Stop it.

They refocused their attention on the situation at hand.

"Helminth, you're a star." They awkwardly climbed back into its room, picking up the smaller objects and moving them into the loft. They shoved the mats down the stairs, the plastic surfaces making a zzzzzip noise as they slid. They went down after them, pushing them out of the walkway and stacking a few to consolidate the mess.

Snack time for Helminth.

They fed it a veritable potluck of scrap, food, and trash. It seemed to enjoy old pizza boxes— they made a mental note to bring it a full pizza. At least a slice. It deserved it after such a ridiculous level of traffic.

They checked the time, knowing whatever it said would be far too close to the daily meeting for the amount of sleep they wanted.

03:27.

They did the math in their head. Three hours sleep, with a half-hour before facing people. Enough time to eat, stretch, down a few cups of tea.

They collapsed facedown into the slightly-lumpy embrace of the loft couch and did their best to relax.

Tak was heavy on their back when they woke up. She was snoring slightly, the deep rumble resonating through them in a comforting way.

They squinted at the clock across the room.

06:32.

Right on time. Regrettably.

They shifted their hands, trying to gently wake the sleeping Kubrow before they had to unceremoniously dump her on the floor. Tak simply grumbled, rolling onto her side and huffing.

"C'mon, buddy. I have stuff to do. You've gotta get off me."

She did not respond to reasoning.

They shunted her towards the back of the couch, awkwardly ducking to get untangled from her paws. They put their hands on their hips as they stood.

"You're lucky you're cute, y'know that?"

They dressed themself in Ostron fashion, wrapping their limbs and torso with long strips of soft gray fabric— all the way to their wrists. They sometimes wondered if this could really be the same Earth. This Earth was cold. There was snow on the ground here. Icicles on the eaves.

Earth as they knew it was the same slightly-too-warm temperature all year, no matter where you went. Venus was cold, not Earth. Never Earth. Supposedly, that would change over the year. At any rate, it was too cold for short sleeves, for now.

They donned the tunic at the top of the pile, belting it loosely over one shoulder and snugly around their waist, the same way they'd dressed for more than a year during the New War. The tunic was dark brown, the hide and fabric weighty in a comforting way.

For a moment, they felt normal again. No more Xaku, no more swordsteel pseudo-skin. Just them. Just as they were when they were hiding from Narmer. Disguised, invisible, sneaking others out and themself in.

It was nice.

Tea. Coffee. Anything. Now.

They moped downstairs to the food court, blinking as they walked under the skylight. Lettie was already up; they could smell coffee. Quincy was sitting at one of the tables, reading. Interesting. He glanced up at the sound of their footsteps, stowing the book before they got a look at its title.

"Mornin', cuz. You look—"

"I know. Didn't really sleep. Clothes are a gift from a friend, not for sale. Is there hot water?"

"'Course there is. What d'you take me for, bloody Libertatian?"

They smiled gratefully, trudging towards the kettle on the Big Bytes counter. They reached behind the boxes of tea the others preferred, straight for their Fortuna blend. This needed to be a high caffeine day, for sure.

They turned and leaned back against the counter, observing the mall as the tea brewed. Quincy had disappeared, either invisible or actually gone. Aoi had her usual pop music playing— very quietly, but playing nonetheless. They looked over at the arcade— still dark.

At least that means he slept. Probably.

They caught themself scanning surfaces for the notebook, half hoping they could still take it back.

As if last night's little tantrum wasn't leagues more embarrassing.

They turned back to their tea, suddenly deeply aware of how tired they were. They downed the scalding drink in one go, wincing and coughing as it burned their throat. They poured a second cup.

Let's maybe not do that again. Let's try letting this one cool down, yeah?

They carried it over to one of the tables. As stupid as chugging a full mug of boiling liquid was, it was a very effective method of waking themself up.

"Got your eye on someone there, fam?"

Ramn. Invisible. Not gone.

Quincy flickered back into visibility with a smirk on his face.

Great. That bodes well.

"Can I get five minutes before I have to figure out what that's supposed to mean?" They rasped. "I need the caffeine to kick in first. And to heal the scald I just gave myself."

Quincy walked over to their table, sitting down across from them. "Fine by me. Five minutes."

They rolled their eyes, rubbing their throat and looking anywhere but at him. Arthur was up, moving in a very direct line toward the kettle. Eleanor wasn't far behind, taking a more relaxed pace.

Morning, Drifter. Morning, Quincy.

"Morning, Eleanor. Just a heads up, you might need to refill the kettle once Arthur makes his tea." Their throat felt a bit better already, but there was still an uncomfortable grit to their voice when they spoke.

She raised both eyebrows, shaking her head with a slight smile. Imbibed a bit hastily, hmm?

They smiled. "Didn't sleep well. The need for caffeine outweighed my common sense for a moment."

Eleanor patted them on the head as she passed, sisterly and sweet.

"Runnin' outta time here, fam." Quincy kicked them lightly under the table. "Best get that little space soldier act of yours ready."

They glared at him, taking a careful test sip of their tea. Hot, but not scalding. The last of the burn was healing. They took a full sip before pushing their glasses up their face to rub their eyes. "Void, this is going to be a day, isn't it? Fair warning, I'm running on three-ish hours of sleep." They resettled their glasses, blinking a few times to clear their vision. "Alright. Go for it."

Quincy leaned closer, lowering his voice.

"Anything to do with the speedster showing up late for his patrol?" He smirked again.

"I mean… yeah? I guess?" They furrowed their brow, confused. "We hung out in the tailor shop. Talked for a while. He probably crashed when he got back to the arcade and got up late." They gave him a suspicious look. "Why are you smiling like that?"

He blinked at them, returning their confused squint. "You being serious right now?"

He's definitely making fun of something. Don't know how, but he definitely is.

They glared at him. "Yes, Quincy, I'm serious. If you have a question, you're going to have to be more direct. Subtlety and I don't get along."

Quincy scoffed, shaking his head. He glanced around, making sure they were out of earshot of the others. He looked at Eleanor a bit too long for their liking. She struck up a quiet conversation with Arthur, pointedly looking away.

"Why'd you tell her not to eavesdrop?" They hissed, their suspicion and hackles rising. They leaned back, prepared to stand and swing. What am I missing, here?! What does he think he knows?

"Fam. Don't make me spell it out for you. All I'm saying is I didn't think he'd be your type." He raised an eyebrow, then nodded towards the arcade, clicking his tongue.

Oh, Sol above.

"Void, no— not— we— Look, I had an… episode. 'Space trauma' stuff. Amir was keeping an eye on me so I didn't do anything stupid. That's all." They looked anywhere but at him.

He leaned back in his chair. They could see him grinning in their peripherals. "That's all?"

They rubbed their eyes, once again disturbing their glasses. "For Lua's sake, Isaacs. That's all. I've known you people, what, two months?" They fixed their glasses. "Either way, it'd be none of your concern." Their brain made a connection, one they could use. Leverage.

"Funny, Quincy, I seem to have noticed a few visitors have somehow made their way in here to see you, but here I am, minding my own business. Might do you some good to follow suit." They crossed their arms, taking a long, pointed look over at the twins. They could feel their ears burning red-hot, which was definitely not helping them seem intimidating.

Quincy leaned in a bit, squinting at them slightly. "Hmm. Interesting story. I could take your word for it…" he tapped his nose with his index finger, clearly having seen through their facade. "Or… I could ask him. Make sure you're giving me all the information, yeah?"

"Don't you dare. Nothing like that is happening. Please—" They dropped their voice to a half-whisper, barely resisting the urge to glance at the still-dark arcade. "I don't care if you make fun of me. Have at. Look," they sighed, "I'm not exactly popular in the future. This is the first time I've had actual friends in a very long time. Don't make things weird for me. Let me screw things up on my own, at the very least."

Great job. Totally cool, calm, and collected, there. They did their level best to play it off as casual joking instead of desperate begging.

Quincy's expression shifted— they definitely had not succeeded. His brow was furrowed, eyes wide in silent alarm.

"Well, isn't that depressing." Harsh words, concerned voice.

"What about me isn't?"

A long silence, punctuated by sips of tea.

"Fine. I'll leave it be. For now." He leaned forward slightly, pointing at them. "You cross me? Fair game."

They nodded. "Understood. As long as you understand that in return, I'd tip Arthur off that you're sneaking people in here."

Quincy grinned. "Mutually assured destruction? Now you're speakin' my language." He stood, nodding a silent goodbye before walking off.

They buried their face in their hands as soon as he left their line of sight. Void, I should've just kept my mouth shut. If he says one word to anyone about this…

I should've just said I had a bad dream. No, I shouldn't have said anything. Should've just walked away and told him I didn't have the energy to deal with him. No, he would've taken that as confirmation that he was right. There was no right answer. He'd've made a thing out of it either way.

Of course I said something pathetic to boot. Kaithe-mouth. Why am I like this?

They didn't get to ruminate on that question for long.

"Morning!" Amir sounded way too awake as he approached. "You alright?"

Just forget about the whole thing.

"Yeah, just… barely slept. You know how it is." They gave him a half-smile, then looked down at their tea. His face fell slightly.

"Yeah. Got it. I… uh. Terrible timing, but: would you like this back?" He held out their notebook.

They gave him a suspicious look. "Did you read it?"

He looked uncomfortable. "Look, you said I could, but it feels too… It feels creepy. Uh. Not that you're creepy—"

"Debatable," they interjected.

"Okay, fair, but— my point is, I felt weird about it. I'd rather just… I don't know, I just don't want to essentially read your diary. I got the gist of the whole… situation already. I don't need to know every little detail, y'know? If I have a question, I'll just ask you. That way you can tell me to back off if it's… yeah." He set the book down in front of them, almost agressively.

"Thank you. I don't agree with your reasoning, but I appreciate the gesture." They smiled, hopefully reassuringly. And now I change the subject. "Hey, I just got ahold of some stuff for a project I've been working on. Mats, weapons, future stuff. Gonna do some renovations you'll get a kick out of."

He blinked, seemingly distracted. "Oh. Cool. Where'd those come from?"

"The mats? I called in a favor with a—"

"No— I mean, yes, those too, but—" He gestured at them. "That's definitely not Quincy's usual stock."

They glanced down at themself. Right. Space clothes. "A gift from a friend. She managed to get these to me when she sent the other stuff my way." They stood, slowly turning on the spot. "Ostron make. I used to wear this stuff all the time when I lived outside of Cetus." They grinned again, sitting back down. "Funny, I wore it to blend in, then. Pretty sure it's gonna have the opposite effect here, but… It reminds me of some actual good memories." They gestured to the seat across from them. The one Quincy was sitti— Don't think about it. "Care to suffer from sleep deprivation with some company?"

He pointed to Big Bytes with both hands. "Gonna grab some coffee first."

"Of course. Chair's not going anywhere." They took another sip of their tea. It had gone slightly cold. Thermodynamics, unyielding as ever. Rude.

Amir was back quickly. As usual. He blinked exaggeratedly, staring into his cup. "Think I could get away with taking a micro-nap during the morning briefing?"

"I was going to ask you the same question. Maybe if we take turns it won't be obvious."

He grinned, downing half his coffee in one go.

They leaned back on the back legs of their chair, cracking their neck and staring up through the skylight. "Or, we could just claim it's a form of protest. Like a sit-in. But we'd call it a sleep-in, because that's what early meetings prevent anyone from doing." They sat up again, peeking at his reaction to their joke.

He was staring into his coffee, tense. They looked around. Nobody in sight.

Nobody visible.

They closed their eyes, listening for dead air.

They could hear him somewhere to their left. "Cut it out, Isaacs."

"I don't take orders from you, Marty."

"And I don't usually warn people before I knock them out, but here we are. Walk away." They turned back to Amir. "Ignore him."

Amir glanced up. "Easier said than done. You didn't sleep through half your patrol."

They raised an eyebrow. "If he wants to be pissy about it, he can be mad at me for throwing off your routine." They downed the last of their tea, slightly sad it was gone. "What time is it?"

Amir checked his watch. "Six fifty-four."

They groaned. "I don't want to sit in a meeting. I want to go back to sleep." They stood, stretching. "Void, this tea had better kick in soon." They took their cup back to the kitchen, setting it by the sink with the rest of the mismatched dishware the group had scavenged.

"Team, meet by the shooting range. I've got some adjustments to the schedule to go over." Arthur's voice came over their radio with the tiniest bit of feedback.

"Heard and heeded." They started walking over. Amir was still sitting at the table, staring into his coffee. "Up and at 'em, Beckett. Come on."

He stood, not acknowledging them.

"Look, if something— or someone— is bothering you and you need some space, just say the word and I'll leave you be. Got that?" Sol, please let that come across the way I wanted it to.

He shook his head. "No, I'm okay. Just trying to brace for the lecture."

They elbowed his arm lightly. "Again, that was my fault. I'll take the fall for it. Let's focus on not falling asleep mid-meeting for now."

Arthur had his arms crossed, staring Amir down as they approached. They took the initiative, walking over to Arthur and beckoning him aside. He raised his eyebrows, nodding for them to start talking.

"Quincy told you about the patrol issue, I take it?"

"Yes." He looked back at Amir, clearly irritated.

"Let him off the hook for this one. It was my fault." They intentionally didn't give any more details.

Arthur gave them a stern look. "I'll let it alone for now. If it happens again, you're both in the hot seat."

"Understood."

They walked back to the others.

"Morning!" Aoi seemed chipper. "Love your outfit, where'd you get it from?" Her eyes darted over their clothes, sparkling with excitement.

"Thank you, good morning. A friend gave them to me. I'm glad you think she has good taste." They did another little spin, grinning at her. She beamed back, making a heart shape with her hands in silent approval.

Lettie walked up, gripping a mug of coffee like it owed her money. "Arthur, start talking. I have things to get to."

Arthur cleared his throat, unfolding a piece of paper.

"Alright. Today's agenda…"

-{Amir}-

Amir was doing his level best to hold very, very still.

The Techrot breakthrough on the east side of their safe zone had gotten much bigger, much faster than anyone had anticipated. Drifter's theory held that it was a direct reaction to their time-loop-induced response efficiency. Lettie's held that it was bad brujeria. His theory was that it didn't matter if he could just get out of this stupid cabinet.

He was waiting on the others to catch up to him, holed up in the kitchen of someone's abandoned apartment. He'd been followed— a nasty-looking blob of Techrot covered in old CRTs lumbered around the living room. He was up in the top of the pantry, staring out through the angled slats on the narrow door.

Holding his breath.

Lone Techrot baddies weren't usually a problem— hit anything hard enough, enough times in a row, it's gonna die eventually— but he'd been caught off guard while looking around for supplies. Now, he was literally backed into a corner by a shambling TV-encrusted zombie that had seemed completely unfazed when he'd zapped it.

He knew the others weren't far away, and he could faintly hear their various callouts and chirps over his earpiece. He turned the volume down even further than he'd had it, not taking his eyes off the Techrot.

Turn around. C'mon. Just turn around and let me catch you off guard. Do it… NOW!

It made a squelching sound as it moved. He scrunched his nose up, his already-frayed nerves set on edge by the noise. It shuffled toward the pantry. He tensed, ready to break through the door.

A low boom rattled through the building, drawing its attention away. It turned away, exposing its back to him. NOW OR NEVER GO GO GO—

He launched through the flimsy door, shooting out the CRT screens embedded in its body. He rolled as he landed, spinning in place to face it as he backed through the front door and firing another volley into what he assumed was… probably supposed to be its head? It let out a guttural, piercing screech as it started to give chase.

Good luck catching me. He took off running, supercharging his movement with a burst of sparks, flying at breakneck speed down the stairs and out to the street. Arthur was standing atop the burning wreckage of a car— the cause of the explosion. Amir turned his radio back up as he ran past, catching the tail end of a sentence.

"—have you been?!"

"Got stuck in a pantry. Long story. Where're we going next?" He hoped Arthur had been addressing him. That'd be embarrassing if he wasn't.

"Back to the mall. We've gotten a fair chunk of them destroyed, and Eleanor turned quite a few on their own kind. The perimeter is clear, and that's all we were after. Aoi and Eleanor are already heading back."

Arthur sounded peeved.

Cool. Super cool. That's gonna be fun later.

"Copy that. Need a speed boost?"

"Pass. I've got my Tommy. Meet up outside the garage."

"Copy that. And the other part of that."

He flew down the streets of Hollvania, retracing the route to the mall on pure muscle memory. He could see Eleanor and Aoi standing outside the garage entrance, chatting, then heard the engine of Arthur's Atomicycle closing in behind him. He shifted his weight to slow down, letting his feet drag against the asphalt to take some of his momentum. Aoi glanced up at his approach, stepping two paces to the side to give him room to skid. He stopped juuuuuust short of the door, turning and leaning against it with a grin.

"Wow, you managed to stop this time!" Aoi sounded genuinely impressed. It was both slightly annoying and weirdly bolstering.

"I'm a man of many talents, what can I say?" He fired back. "How long have you two been waiting on us?"

Only a minute or so. Ah. Welcome back, brother.

Arthur slowed to a stop a few feet away. "Aoi, would you mind?"

She nodded, lifting the door with a wave of her hand. They all made their way into the tunnel, pausing for a moment to let her close it behind them. Amir took off again as soon as the giant grate hit the floor.

"We're back! Well, almost. We're in the tunnel, so we're basically back. Anything crazy happen while we were gone?" He called out over comms.

"Drifter did some fancy renovations on that store upstairs, and Tlaloc got halfway through the panquecitos' box of Cheddar Crowns before I caught him, the little moco." Lettie responded. "Had to give the others some sympathy treats, and him a bath."

Renovations? Oh, that's right—

He slid around the corner into the garage, once again skidding to a halt just before crashing into the doors. He glanced at his watch.

9 AM. Not bad for fixing a perimeter break. The doors slid open as the others roared in on their bikes. The sound reverberated in the empty building, echoing in the odd corners and rattling the few intact panes of glass in the store windows.

His headphones crackled as the comm line opened again. Void interference. "Good, you're all here. I've got an announcement, meet me in the tailor shop. Nothing bad!" The Drifter sounded unusually chipper. "Actually something good, for once."

Amir skipped every other step on his way upstairs, remembering them mentioning mats, weapons, and something about Cetus. A mysterious friend sending them stuff from the future? He knocked on the doorway as he entered.

The Drifter whirled around, startled. Their… Shirt? Tunic? Dress? Whatever. The long fabric hanging from it spun out around their legs with the sudden momentum.

"Void, I didn't hear you coming up. How was the mission?" They leaned back against the counter, smiling.

"Uh… Eventful. Got stuck in someone's pantry for a few minutes. Not fun." He looked around the room.

It smelled like plastic and cleaning chemicals. A few lamps ringed the edges of the room. A large section of the floor was covered by thick mats, the kind you'd find in a martial arts school, with some mismatched cushions off to one side. The basic weapons they'd shown him were arrayed on the counter behind them, lined up in size order. A first aid kit was extremely poorly mounted on the wall.

"This is cool!" He exclaimed, stepping further into the room. "Why… lamps, though? Wouldn't that be a bit of a… a knocking-stuff-over hazard? Tripping hazard, that's what I meant."

They laughed. "Yeah, but the wiring in here is completely fried. I had to disconnect most of the overhead lights. I was worried they'd start a fire. Can't tell if it was from Techrot degredation, Entrati messing with them, or just Void interference from the backroom."

"I mean, Aoi and I could probably fix them, if you want."

They grimaced. "Not a huge fan of… What're they called? Fluorescents? Found out the hard way they mess with my head. I can hear them, too. I'd really rather risk the lamps getting bumped around a bit than deal with that while I'm trying to spar."

He nodded, looking around again. The others had started to arrive. Quincy looked impressed, but also definitely stifled a laught when he spotted the crooked first aid box. Arthur immediately moved to the counter, inspecting the weaponry with his arms crossed and his usual stoic expression.

"It looks so different in here!" Aoi gasped. "You really did all this while we were gone?!"

"Yeah. Figured we'd all benefit from a real training area. The garage is roomier, but, Void, it sucks to get knocked tailbone-first onto concrete." They moved away from the counter, letting Arthur get a better look. "I have extra mats if we need them, and you all are welcome to bring in any exercise gear you're partial to."

They tapped Arthur on the shoulder. "I was wondering if you'd mind adding some training time to the schedule. You're all more-than-capable fighters, but I've got some notes I want to work on. Stances, movement tricks, mixing your Warframe abilities into your melee work… Tenno stuff, basically."

Quincy snorted. "Gonna take over my gun range, too?"

They shook their head vehemently. "Absolutely not. We're trying to improve everyone's fighting skills, not ruin our collective marksmanship. Only thing I could offer in that department is some archery tips."

"I'll see if I can work something out, Marty." Arthur interjected. "No promises. Might have to be something you take on in your free time."

"I appreciate the first aid kit, babas." Lettie chimed in. "Have a little trouble hanging it up?" There was a faint hint of laughter in her voice.

"If by 'trouble,' you mean a chunk of the wall breaking loose when I tried to mount the blasted thing, then yes." They glared at the box. "Whatever you use to build things here, I'm glad we stop using it in the future. It's more trouble than it's worth."

Eleanor's eyes flashed in silent conversation. The Drifter nodded, responding aloud to whatever she'd said.

"Me too. I'm just glad whatever's up with the lights didn't affect the outlets. Well, not as far as I can tell. That might be incorrect on further review."

They knelt down on the mats, shoulders square, hands on their thighs, back straight. "It's open for anyone to use, anytime. I can't hear anything from in the backroom unless it's right by the door, so you won't bother me. If I'm not on a mission, I'm cool with sparring whenever. It'll be good to get back in the habit."

March 22, 1999

A month later, the Drifter had tapped out every member of the Hex at least once. Arthur had shuffled a few things around to allow for a short span of dedicated sparring time for each of them every week, and the Drifter had run with it.

It was like they turned into a different person when they were on the mat. They stood straighter, spoke more sternly. They were relentless. A session wasn't done until their victim—sorry, sparring partner— managed to get past their guard at least three times. It was both entertaining and dread-inducing to watch, because of the ever-present threat of being next.

They had a legitimate dossier on each person's combat quirks posted on the wall behind the counter. Even had a little section on themself.

'Drifter:

Strengths: Reaction time, experience.

Weaknesses: Distractability, overreliance on muscle memory, favors right side.

Style: Offensive focus, prefers low hits.'

It reminded him of a Fables & Frontiers character sheet. It had been extremely useful on the intentionally few occasions they'd sparred with him. A well-timed shock or feint threw them off their practiced rhythm, giving him a split second to get a hit in. The others seemed to have picked up on this as well, from what he'd seen.

Possibly because of that, they'd started setting up more sparring matches between other people, then circling them like a wolf in the woods. Pouncing in with the end of a staff to correct stances, expose weak guards, throw the sparring pair off balance.

"In here, you're fighting one person. Out there? We're surrounded. Get used to opportunistic third parties, or suffer the consequences. Cheap hits add up to costly bills." They'd explained, stony-faced.

He trudged up the stairs to the makeshift dojo, intentionally moving slowly. He had, regretfully, agreed to referee a match between the Drifter and Quincy. The Drifter'd gotten the metaphorical snot kicked out of them at the shooting range the day before, and had decided to attempt to literally kick the actual snot out of Quincy about it.

Unfortunately for Amir, refereeing usually ended with the referee getting talked into a sparring session at a later date. Or five minutes after the match ended.

They were meditating when he walked into the room, eyes closed and head bowed in a perfectly postured kneeling position. He cleared his throat to announce himself.

"Quincy not here yet?"

They raised their head, looking at him with a slightly dazed expression for a moment. "Huh?"

"Quincy. Is he not here yet?" He repeated. "For your revenge match."

They shook their head. "He got pulled aside. He'll be here soon. Go ahead and take a seat." They stood, stretching. "Kinda regretting this, to be honest. I pissed him off pretty badly when I made him spar with Arthur. Kept picking on him because sweet Lua, Arthur's guard is awful without a Skana. I felt like I needed to level the playing field, and I think he picked up on that." They cracked their knuckles, rolling their shoulders.

Amir grimaced exaggeratedly. "I dunno, he kinda mopped the floor with you at target practice. Maybe he'll be too busy gloating to be vindictive?"

They laughed. "If I'm lucky, which I never am."

Quincy walked in, a bit of swagger in his step. "Let's get this over with so I can add a tally to my winning streak." He grinned, letting the challenge hang in the air.

The two saluted onto the mat, settled into fighting stances, and waited.

"Go!" Amir called.

The Drifter backed a half step further away from Quincy, moving around the outside of the mat and forcing him to pivot on the spot. He followed them, closing that extra distance for a moment to take a jab at their abdomen. Blocked. They crouched slightly deeper, forcing him to follow suit. He stopped turning, letting them strafe a bit to his left before feinting a kick toward their knees. As they dropped a hand to block his blow, he swung his leg higher, going for a shoulder hit. They ducked beneath it, jumping in close to deliver a quick strike to his back.

"One-nothing: Drifter." Amir called. "Wait, how many points are you playing for?"

"First to three." They responded. "Unless we get pissed off, in which case the points won't matter and we'll go until someone taps out."

Quincy nodded, walking back to his starting position. "So I've got two shots to stop you winning, yeah? Easy."

"Ready… Go!" Amir called again.

They closed the distance much faster this time, swinging the edge of their palm towards Quincy's throat. He pushed their hand away, hooking one foot around their ankle and using the leverage to throw them off-balance. They stumbled, dropping to the floor and swinging their foot around at his ankle. He stepped out of their path, vanishing into thin air. They stood, scanning the soft floor for his footprints; they launched toward what looked like nothing. Quincy reappeared with a grunt as their shoulder hit his stomach, stancing down and bringing his knee up into their chest. They staggered back, releasing him. They wheezed, leaping at him and swinging a wild, clawed hand towards his face. He barely dodged in time.

"Whoawhoawhoa!" Amir yelled. "Chill out! Okay, that's… Two to one, Drifter's leading. You guys realize you're not actually trying to hurt each other, right?" He took a step toward the mats, holding his arms out in a signal to stop.

Quincy mumbled something, cracking his neck and nodding.

The Drifter stood straight, fists clenched tight. "I cede the match," they announced, their teeth gritted, "One, because I lost my temper over a bruised ego; and two, because I think my ribs are two-dimensional now. Nice hit."

Quincy nodded again, saluting off the mat and walking out.

The Drifter leaned against the counter, wheezing. "He's probably more pissed that I did that, but I don't think I could continue if I wanted to." They pressed a hand to their sternum, wincing.

"Are you okay?" Amir asked, moving closer. He half-reached for their arm, then pulled back, hooking his thumbs into his belt.

"Yeah. Think he cracked a rib, no big deal." They took a deep breath, crying out and bending double. "Okay, maybe medium deal."

Amir ticked his radio over to transmission. "Hey, Lettie? Future's got a cracked r—"

"Belay that, Lettie. I'm fine." The Drifter interrupted. "False alarm."

They glared at him, straightening. Their face twitched, and he heard them swallow another cry of pain. "I'm fine. If I need help, I will be the one calling for it. I know my limits." They stepped around him, walking out of the makeshift dojo.

He gestured exasperatedly to nobody, spluttering in confusion. What is their problem?!

Actually, y'know what?

He followed them out. He caught up to them easily, halfway down the stairs to the food court. "What's your problem? You just said your ego wasn't worth the stupid fight, why're you being all weird about getting help now?!"

They clenched the handrail, not facing him. "Like I said, I'm fine. I've walked off worse. I don't need to take up Lettie's time or resources over a stupid sparring match."

"Bet you five Hollars Lettie won't agree." He challenged.

They shook their head, continuing their descent. "Just let me handle it."

He matched their pace. "No. Look upstairs. Quincy is getting checked out over that line drive you hit him with." He grabbed their arm, pointing across the mall.

They pulled away sharply. "Good for him. Doesn't change my decision."

"It should." He reached for their arm again. "Come on, we're—"

"Don't touch me." They snapped, hitting his hand away. They vanished, reappearing at the top of the stairs and storming off.

"Fine. Have fun with that. Walk it off, whatever." He muttered to himself. "Why would you ever need to go to a medical professional about a broken bone? No, you're right, I'm the problem here. I should've told you to suck it up and deal. Not like I'm trying to be a good friend or anything." He walked back to the arcade, an idea forming in his head. He switched to Lettie's private line.

"Lettie, heads up: the Drifter has a cracked rib. They cut me off earlier and they're being all weird about it. Kinda feels like something you should know about." He did his best to keep the frustration out of his voice. His best was not very good, at the moment.

A long pause.

"That moron. Thank you, mijo. I'll see what I can do." She responded.

He switched back to the main line, laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling. Thinking. Trying not to think. Replaying the conversation in his head over and over, trying to find the combination of words that would have made them agree, made them understand that he was just trying to help them.

A long while later, his PC dinged— the familiar sound of a new KIM message. He groaned, moving to the uncomfortable chair at his desk.

[[spare.stardust] is online.]

[spare.stardust] You try to grab me again, and I'm breaking your wrist. I don't care that we're friends. Nobody is going to drag me around ever again. I and I alone decide when and where I go, you understand?

[[spare.stardust] went offline.]

He glared at the screen. Nice tactic. Yell at a guy and don't give him a chance to explain himself.

He drafted a message, deleted it, drafted another, deleted that one. Took a deep breath.

[H16h V0l7463] what do you mean 'ever again?'

[H16h V0l7463] I've never dragged you anywhere.

[H16h V0l7463] just because you're pissed off doesn't give you the right to accuse me of stuff I haven't done

[H16h V0l7463] I told Lettie you're hurt btw

[H16h V0l7463] unlike you, I do care that we're friends.

[H16h V0l7463] and friends help each other even when one of them is being a complete jerk for no reason.

[[spare.stardust] is online.]

A minute passed, then two. Then:

[spare.stardust] I didn't mean it like that.

[H16h V0l7463] sure sounded like it

[spare.stardust] I meant you don't get an exception for being my friend. I do care that we're friends.

[spare.stardust] I also didn't mean you specifically when I said nobody's going to take me places I don't want to go.

[spare.stardust] Not trying to excuse myself, just explain. I don't like being grabbed. You know what Duviri was like. Think about it for three seconds.

He scoffed.

[H16h V0l7463] no, I don't, because you don't talk about it.

[spare.stardust] Surely you've talked with the others. They have my permission to talk about it, and I don't see how you could have missed that kind of conversation. It's not something you just tune out or forget.

[spare.stardust] I don't talk about it because I already have. I've said all I need to say. I'm not resurrecting old ghosts just because you were too busy playing video games to listen.

[H16h V0l7463] I didn't ask or talk to the others about it because you clearly don't like talking about it.

[H16h V0l7463] I found out the others push you to share stuff and it seemed really messed up so I decided i wouldn't do that.

[H16h V0l7463] figured you could use a break from talking about 'space trauma' for once so i made sure you didn't have to around me

[H16h V0l7463] but now I'm the bad guy for trying to make sure you didn't feel like you had to go recount some new horrifying detail every time we talk?

[H16h V0l7463] sorry for being considerate, i guess.

[spare.stardust] Fine.

[spare.stardust] You want the story firsthand? Fine.

[spare.stardust] Duviri was hell. I'd wake up, run for my life, then die and wake up and run again. I was the hunting King's favorite prey. A fugitive in my own daydream, chased down by the imaginary friend I outgrew.

[spare.stardust] I died in every awful, painful way you could possibly dream up in your deepest nightmares. I can tell you what disembowelment sounds like to the victim's ears. What it felt like to drown in my own blood. What it smelled like when Lodun's Sirocco burned a hole in my spine. I died, and died, and died, and it hurt every time.

[spare.stardust] I forgot what I looked like without scars covering every inch of my skin. I forgot what it was like to live for more than two days at a time. I forgot how to eat, how to sleep, how to feel. I forgot the Zariman. I forgot my own name.

[spare.stardust] Nobody else in Duviri was real. They were puppets, with masks for faces and a few set lines. Straight out of the storybook I'd read a thousand times over. I had their every movement, their every mannerism, their every word memorized. The only thing that was real was the fact that they could really kill me.

[spare.stardust] I could tell you every detail of the walk to the palace square. I counted the steps leading up. I can still feel exactly where their wire hands would dig into me as they dragged me along. I knew how I was going to be executed by the way they forced me to the ground.

[spare.stardust] I stopped caring. I knew I'd just wake up afterwards, ready to relive the whole thing again, and again, and again. The Tales of Duviri were about controlling your emotions. I lost the ability to feel them. The only thing I could control was if I fought back or went quietly. All I could feel was pain. I was as hollow as the dolls around me. Just as numb. Just as inhuman. I was nobody. I was nothing.

[spare.stardust] The Lotus sent me a lifeline. I started to see a way out. I had Teshin, I had Warframes— however clumsily I used them, for however briefly I could hold Transference. I had hope for the first time. I could train. I could fight back. I could escape.

[spare.stardust] Then they killed Teshin. That was what brought my mind back. That's what pushed me over the edge, sent me storming into the throne room, made me take back my kingdom. My Duviri. I could change the story. I was the King. I was in control again.

[spare.stardust] But even with all that power, I couldn't bring Teshin back. Not fully. He's a ghost. A literal shadow of himself. I could finally leave, but he's still trapped halfway in the Void. A phantasma.

[spare.stardust] That's what happened in Duviri. I lived a script, written by my childhood fears, pushed and pulled and forced to play my part. Forced to be the Drifter, the Deceiver, the Usurper King, even when it meant dragging me, bodily, to my mark on the stage at the cue for my death.

[spare.stardust] So, no. Nobody gets to grab me, push me, hold me down, or drag me anywhere ever again. Including my friends. Especially my friends. I'm violent. I can't be trusted to hold back an eternity of instinct.

[spare.stardust] Tell Arthur I'm taking the day off tomorrow. I won't be down for dinner. Good night.

[[spare.stardust] went offline.]

Chapter Text

-{Ayhan}-

They barely resisted the urge to throw the POM-2 across the loft. They let out a frustrated shriek, clenching their hands into their knees until their metal skin bled under their sharp fingertips. Tak laid her blocky head in their lap, whimpering.

"Sorry, Tak. I know, that was loud, huh? I'm not mad at you, you're a good girl." They pet her absently, desperately searching for anything to think about that wasn't Duviri, the argument, or how badly their ribs still hurt.

This is what happens when you get close to people. This is why you had the Tales in the first place, remember? All those times you started fights, screamed and cried over the smallest things, pushed people away because you couldn't handle them being better than you? When you'd let yourself get distracted from anything, because you couldn't stand doing things you didn't like? When you ran like a coward when you could've helped him? When you left him with an empty gun and an Angel standing over him? This is what you do, doll.

They flinched away from their own thoughts.

That's not me. That's not me anymore. This is just what happens when people press buttons on accident. He didn't know. I didn't know he didn't know. I'll apologise tomorrow and give him space. He didn't mean to set me off, and I didn't mean to treat him like that. Friends help each other. He just wanted to help.

What if he doesn't forgive you? What'll you do then? He doesn't have any reason to. Just because you're screwed up in the head doesn't mean you can expect people to be nice to you. This isn't your little Void paradise, doll— people aren't puppets under your thumb here. He's going to take a good look at your so-called friendship and run for the hills. And he'll be right.

He's my friend. He was trying to help. I blew up on him, yes. He doesn't have to forgive me. But Amir's a good person. He's stuck around this long, even when I broke down before. Even if he stays my friend, he doesn't have to accept my apology. It wasn't right of me, but that doesn't mean that's all I am.

But you need him to forgive you, don't you? It's eating you alive that he might not. Could you even handle that? Him forgiving you? You'd have a reason to be better. You'd have a reason to believe you're worth forgiving. We both know you're not. You have too much blood on your hands for that.

"If he doesn't forgive me, that's his right. He probably will, anyways. I don't have to listen to you." They spoke aloud, their voice choking in their throat. Their vision blurred with tears. Tak moved, putting her front paws over their lap like a blanket, craning up to lick their face.

"Heh. Thanks, sweet girl." They scratched under her collar, her weight comforting and grounding. They leaned down slightly, resting their forehead on hers. "You're a very good girl, you know that? Good girl, Tak."

They sat up, clearing their throat and swiping at their eyes. "Alright, move. I'm getting up, buddy."

Tak moved, staying close to them as they walked over to the couch. They laid down, folding a blanket and laying it over their body. They patted their stomach, and Tak laid down. She rested her head on their collarbone, sighing with a deep rumble that reverberated through their body. They winced, their ribs still tender. Not broken anymore, but still bruised. Ai yo, Quincy's strong. Glad he's on our side.

Kalymos bumped her head into their shoulder, purring quietly.

"I don't know how much room she left, but you can join us if you'd like." They murmured, already sleepy under Tak's warm weight.

Kalymos walked to the far end of the couch, curling up between their feet. She continued purring, the sound drowning out the electronic buzz of the room.

They fell asleep, no dreams disturbing them for once.

They woke to Tak aggressively licking their face. Kalymos was meowing downstairs. They could hear someone talking to her, but couldn't make out who. Sunlight streamed in through the windows— morning already.

"Agh, Tak, knock it off! Kalymos, chut, please. Sorry, be down in a moment!" They called down, scrambling to their feet. They glanced at their reflection in the standing mirror— good enough. They vaulted over the balcony railing, rolling to the side and using the edge of their modifier console to pull themself to their feet. They dusted themself off, clearing their throat.

"Door's open, what's up?"

Aoi ducked through the doorway, brushing obols to the side. "Morning. Amir said you took an emergency day off, are you okay?" She looked worried.

"I… Well, yes and no. I'm not hurt or anything, I just…"

She's a soldier. She'll get it.

"Bad memories. Combat memories. Had a bit of a moment yesterday and… well, I don't want to have another moment in the middle of a mission." They felt a wave of stomach-churning fear wash over them again. They forced themself to keep talking, not to think about it again. "… And I kind of blew up at Amir yesterday because of it. Really blew up at him. He'd've been my mission partner. I didn't want to force the issue."

Aoi tilted her head, face full of that compassion that seemed to radiate off her like sunlight. "I'm so sorry, I know what that's like. One sec." She stepped back into the hallway. Ayhan could hear her talking to someone outside, too quiet to hear.

"Hello?" They called. "You can come in, too, whoever's there."

Aoi ducked inside, looking apprehensive. "You… you sure?"

They squinted at her for a second, trying to figure out why she looked so—

Oh, it's Amir.

"Yeah. I need to apologise." They stepped back, nodding to her and closing their eyes. She ducked out again, the obols in the doorway jingling as she re-entered. They heard Amir make a small noise of protest, then inhale sharply.

Don't look, just talk.

"Hey, I'm sorry about yesterday. You didn't deserve to get yelled at like that, in person or online." They bowed deeply, arms straight by their sides. "I don't expect you to forgive me, but I want to do the right thing and apologise."

They straightened, opening their eyes. He was staring around the room, mouth hanging open and eyes wide.

"Did… did you hear me?" They blinked at him, confused by his reaction.

"Yeah, I'm also sorry and I forgive you. Don't worry about it. What is this stuff?!" He sped past them, inspecting the consoles and interfaces.

They spluttered. "That's it? That's not something— Don't get me wrong, I'm glad, but— it seems like something like that would be a little more of a problem to most people."

He turned away from their foundry with great effort. "Good thing you're stuck in weirdo central, then. It was a misunderstanding. We figured it out. All good. How does this work?" He turned back to the foundry, watching it run through a calibration cycle.

They turned to Aoi, shaking their head in confusion. "I… I don't get it."

She smiled, shrugging. "Like he said. Weirdo central… Good luck getting him outta here!" She ducked out the door with a mischievous grin.

"You—!" They made a mental note to shuffle her CD collection later.

Tak trotted down the stairs, sleepy and wiggly. "Hey, sweet girl. I've got company for you!" They cooed. Amir turned around, looking shocked.

"What was that voice?!" He grinned.

They furrowed their brow. "Do you… Do people not use little voices with their pets, yet? Is that a 'future' thing?"

"No, people do, I just… you didn't seem like that kind of person." He crouched down, ruffling Tak's fluffy coat. "Hello, again! It's nice to see you!" He looked up at Ayhan. "You should really bring her out sometime to meet the others. Wait, do… uh… Kubors? Whatever, do they hunt rats? 'Cause that might be a dealbreaker for Lettie."

They shook their head. "Again, Kubrows. And not Tak. She's only vicious on command. Even then…" They waggled their hand uncertainly. "There've been some outlying situations."

He grinned, patting Tak's ribcage like a drum. She grumbled happily.

They still felt uneasy. "Are you absolutely sure about yesterday? I… Like you said, I was being a jerk for no reason." They crossed their arms, swaying on their feet uncomfortably.

"Yeah. Like I said: it was a misunderstanding. Don't get me wrong, I was mad. Really mad. But… y'know. I shouldn't've pushed it. We're friends. No hard feelings. Our brains just… bounced off each other for a minute." He looked back down at Tak, ducking his head and hiding his expression.

"Okay. I just… people have cut me off for less, y'know?" They backed up, looking upstairs. Kalymos was sitting on the landing, staring down with a disgruntled look.

"Wait, really?" Amir stood, walking over to see what they were looking at. Kalymos stood, walking into the loft without breaking their gaze. "That seems…"

"Seems like maybe I'm lucky to be in 'weirdo central,' huh?" They smiled. "Sorry about her. She's only just getting used to me being here, and she usually has the run of the place this time of morning." They jabbed a thumb towards the door. "If you'd like, I'm going to take Tak out for a run. You could join us..?"

"Sounds fun!" He positively beamed. "Can we do a round of introductions with the others first? If you're sure she won't eat the rats, Lettie's gonna love her."

They nodded, snapping their fingers. The sound echoed in the stairwell, crisp and sharp. Tak heeled immediately, tail going crazy. They took a few steps back, silently signalling her to follow. She stepped back with them, following their command as they gestured for her to switch sides.

"Good girl, Tak. Very good girl." They looked back to Amir. "Ready?"

He nodded. "That's really impressive, by the way. How long did that take to teach her?"

They stepped through the doorway, waiting a moment for him to emerge before answering. "A few months. The kid helped for a while. Distracting her, standing in to make sure Tak could heel to other people, that sort of thing."

His eyes went wide.

"What?"

"Nothing!" He stared at them, clearly still alarmed.

Sol, he's a terrible liar.

"No, clearly something's up, so what is it?"

"You said 'the kid.'" He started fidgeting with a small arc of electricity.

He's uncomfortable. Why? "…Yes?"

"Like…" he glanced around the hallway, lowering his voice as if someone would overhear him. "As in your kid?"

Oh, Gods help me.

"NO. Void, no. She's like my little sister. Not my kid. Just a kid."

He visibly relaxed. "Phew. If you were dodging, like, space child support by being here…"

They laughed, their jolted nerves adding a bit of a manic edge. "No, that's more Entrati's speed. Only thing I'm dodging here is syndicate dues. Well, technically not even that. She covers those, for the most part."

FOCUS. "Anyways. Uh. Yeah, couple months to get the trick down, then a bunch of repetition to get it perfect. And regular practice to keep it sharp."

They sped up their pace as they approached Lettie's area. Distraction, please. "You awake in there, Lettie? I've got a surprise for you! A good surprise, not a medical one."

A floof came flying out of the tent and soared over the balcony railing, just missing their head.

"You sure about that? Because last I heard, you took a knee to the sternum and a bite outta Amir." Lettie emerged, glaring. "Play nice, babas. And quit hiding when you're injured." She didn't make a direct threat, but…

They shrunk in on themself, gesturing at Tak. "Yes, ma'am. Can I offer you an introduction as a peace offering?"

Lettie's eyes dropped to the Kubrow and her glare melted. "Oh, who's this?!" She dropped to the ground, beckoning Tak over. Ayhan released the heel, and Tak wiggled her way over.

"This is Tak, my Kubrow. Like a 'space dog,' apparently. Don't worry, she's not going to hurt the panquecitos. Made her promise." They joked.

Lettie nodded approvingly. "She's beautiful. Aren't you? Aren't you? Aww, que maravilla, you take good care of her, phantasma. Alright. Get out of here, I have stuff to do and people to stitch up. Can't spend all day doting on your perrito, unfortunately." She stood, smiling warmly at Tak.

"Thanks for not nailing me in the face with that floof. I'll… go find it. And bring it up later." Ayhan said, sheepishly. They snapped their fingers again, and Tak glued herself back to their side. The trio walked back towards the dojo and descended the stairs, startling Quincy as he turned away from the kettle.

"Sol almighty, the hell is that?" He stared at Tak, looking somewhere between horrified and awed. "What've you been feeding that thing?!"

"This is a Kubrow. And mostly simple nutrition cubes. Her name is Tak. Want to say hello?" They made a small hand signal to her, and she rolled onto her back, paws in the air. "She's a fan of belly rubs."

Quincy approached cautiously, shooting Amir a suspicious look. "If this thing jumps at me, you're both on my bad list, you get me?" He let Tak sniff his hand before lightly scratching her chest. She kicked her back foot in time with his hand, eyes unfocusing. He chuckled. "Feels good, then? Guess dogs're all the same, huh?" He stood, shaking his head and walking back to his tea. "You're full of surprises, space trauma. Catch you later."

Amir whistled quietly. "That's the fastest he's ever warmed up to anyone. Even Lettie's rats." He leaned down to Tak. "Teach me your wayyyyssss."

Ayhan laughed, choking a bit as they inhaled their own spit. They coughed, bending double and snapping their fingers again to get Tak back to their side. "I'm good, sorry. Okay, just the twins left, I think." They focused for a moment.

Morning, Eleanor. In the headspace for a bit of company?

Oh, yes. I've gotten some interesting moods across my mind this morning, I'm quite excited. Arthur is here with me. I've kept your fuzzy friend a surprise.

They turned to Amir. "Let's go. They're in the furniture store."

He was clearly fighting the urge to speed ahead as they walked, a sort of odd half-skip in his step. "I wonder if Eleanor can read Tak's mind."

Ayhan grimaced. "She mentioned something about trying that with Lettie's rats. I… don't think it's a great idea, to say the least. Plus, that's what Tak's tail is for. If it's not wagging, she's asleep. That's all she's got going on in her head. She's a simple creature." They knocked on the doorframe as they entered the dimly-lit storefront. "Morning, you two. I've got a friend for you to meet." Make a kissy noise and she'll come to you. They released Tak from her heel stance as Eleanor followed their instruction. Tak bounded across the room, skidding slightly on the smooth floor. Arthur swore, shooting to his feet in surprise. Eleanor laughed, both aloud and in their minds.

Don't worry, she's harmless. Or near enough. She sat up, sliding a hand down Tak's neck and scratching between her shoulders.

Arthur gave Ayhan a stern look. "I'm going to guess you know not to expect us to adjust your rations for this thing."

"Not a problem. I've got it figured out. Her name is Tak, by the way. She's my best bud." They remembered something with a start, ticking their radio to Aoi's channel. "Aoi, if you'd like to meet my dog, we're in Eleanor's shop."

They heard her squeal from across the courtyard. "I'm on my way!!" She sounded absolutely over the moon.

Arthur leaned down, letting Tak sniff his fingers. She licked his hand, her whole rear wiggling with the force of wagging her tail. He patted her head, straightening up. "Is Tak combat trained?" He crossed his arms, surveying the Kubrow's stocky musculature. Tak turned back to Eleanor, plopping her square head into the telepath's lap with a contented sigh.

"Yes. She's bite and rescue trained, and thoroughly desensitized. Some of it's genetic instinct, some of it's teaching. Most of her fight is taught. She's not exactly intimidating." They answered, gesturing to Tak's bottom slowly sliding on the linoleum. "Rescue comes naturally to her. She's good with people."

"Even Quincy liked her!" Amir chimed in. He had another arc of electricity bouncing between his fingers, and a huge grin across his face.

"You let Quincy meet her before me?!" Aoi chided, coming in through the other doorway. "Hel-lo!" She breathed, crouching next to Eleanor and burying her fingers in Tak's thick coat. "Oh man, you're so soft. Hi! Hello! You're so cute!!" She cooed. Tak gave her a tiny kiss on the cheek. "Aww, you're so sweet." She turned to Ayhan, scandalized. "Drifter! You had this sweetheart hidden away and you didn't tell us?!"

They cringed apologetically. "I didn't know how you'd all react. She hasn't been here as long as I have, for the record. I also wanted her and Kalymos to get used to each other, and for her to get used to the backroom. Amir got to meet her earlier than the rest of you— by accident! By accident, not on purpose!" They held their hands up in a placating gesture as Aoi shot Amir a scathing, betrayed glare. "She got out on accident while I was trying to bring something through the door. She was kind of pobber-y when she got here. Lots of new smells, new things, all that. She's more calm now that she's used to the place."

"What's 'pobber-y?'" Amir asked. "Sounds… not good, from how you used it."

"They're kind of like Lettie's rats. They live on Venus, in the fungal forests. Really skittish, fairly hyper?" They shrugged. "I don't know how else to describe them."

"Oh, like squirrels!" He grinned. "I've heard I'm pretty similar to those, but I've been here a while. Think it's gonna wear off soon?"

They rolled their eyes, glancing back at Arthur. He was smiling absentmindedly at Tak, probably not even realizing he was smiling. Halfway to winning him over. "If you're worried Tak won't earn her keep, trust me: she's an absolute menace in a fight. I'm sure she'll get a taste for Scaldra soon enough."

He straightened, clearing his throat and dropping his face back to a neutral expression. "Noted. We'll see."

They smirked. Gotcha. "Sorry to interrupt your snuggle session, ladies, but I do need to get her outside. I want her to be able to stretch her legs before I take her back upstairs. I'm more than happy to loan her out for cuddles as needed, though." They waited for Aoi to plant a kiss on the top of Tak's head, and for Eleanor to give her one last scratch between her eyes, then called her back into a heel. "Good girl, Tak. See you all in a few."

They stepped out, heading to one of the mall's heavily secured exit doors. Aoi had rigged its barricade to be heavy, even for a Protoframe, but still openable. They grunted as they pushed against it, lifting it just enough to pivot the door open. "You still coming along?" they asked Amir, slightly winded by the exertion.

"Yep. Think Tak would be able to keep up with me?" He was bouncing on his heels, clearly full of energy.

"Oh, she can. Trust me. Learned that the hard way, once. She took off at speed on the Plains. Finally caught up to her ten minutes later, trying to bite the fish in Gara Toht Lake. I'm sure she'd love it if you ran with her, I'm usually too slow." They got Tak's attention, snapping their fingers and pointing to Amir. "Heel, other."

She spun into a heel-sit by his side, staring at him. "When you're ready to let her run, ask her if she wants to…" They stopped, glancing at the Kubrow. "Uh. If she wants to go T-E-R-M-I-N-A-L. She'll take off."

He looked up at the sky, spelling the word to himself. "Why ter— that word?" He corrected.

"Solari slang. Means fast, as in—" They held their hand out, palm up, like they were underlining the word. "—Velocity." They gestured to the road. "You two go ahead. I'm going to go my usual pace. I'm not crazy enough to try keeping up."

He grinned, walking Tak out to the middle of the street. They could see electricity crackling around his heels as he crouched into a runner's start. They giggled as Tak's ears pricked up, her head tilted. Here comes the show. She let out an excited bellow as she launched off, running full speed. Amir matched her pace, and the two disappeared down the streets of Hollvania.

Amir and Tak lapped Ayhan four times in fifteen minutes. They weren't slow, necessarily— especially when compared to a normal human— but the other two were about two kilometers per hour short of supersonic. Amir finally slowed to match their pace on their second lap— his fifth.

"Sol's teeth, you alright?" They laughed. He was flushed, wheezing with each breath. He gave them a thumbs up, grinning. Tak was trotting along, still energetic.

"I told you, she's fast. You probably gave her a boost with your speed ability, too. Maybe next time you should trigger that before I have her heel to you."

He nodded vehemently. "Good idea." He huffed.

"Let's finish this lap and head back. Don't let her fool you— she's going to fall asleep as soon as I get her home. She's probably just hopped up from excitement." They set the pace a little slower than usual— the other two would need a cooldown after that insanity.

Amir's breathing eventually levelled out enough for him to talk. "Sorry, Future. Tak's my new running buddy forever now. You'll just have to work it into your schedule, I guess." He elbowed them in the arm, gently, then frowned. "Oh, wait. Sorry." He took a bit of a step to the side, widening the space between them. "Sorry."

"You're fine. That was fine. Just don't grab me and we're good." They gave him a thumbs up. He walked a little closer, but still kept a bit more distance than before. What was he saying? Right. "Also, you're welcome to her. Sol knows I can't keep that pace. You might just be the only person who can. She'll probably be slightly less crazy if she's actually able to run full-out more often. No promises, but probably." They grinned at him, trying to look reassuring. "If you want, I can teach you some of her commands so you can grab her if I'm out on a mission or something. She listens pretty well on her own, but if you're worried she needs encouragement, she's a sucker for cheese."

Tak snapped to attention at the mention of cheese, drooling as if on command. "See? I'll get you some when we go inside, sweetie. I know, that was mean of me." They gave her a few quick ear scritches as they approached the mall's exit door again. They pushed it open, holding it while Amir walked in, then shoved it closed in one move.

"What time is it?" They asked, glancing around the commons. Nobody was in sight— odd.

"Uhhhhhh…. Ten before seven. Why?"

"Just seems… quiet. I don't know. Never mind. Meeting's at seven in the garage, right?"

"Yep. See you then!" Amir waved as he walked away.

Amir Beckett, Walking. On purpose. Will wonders never cease?

They vaulted the Big Bytes counter, grabbing a few shreds of cheese from the fridge. Tak started drooling again as they walked up the stairs. They made her wait until they were on level ground, then let her scarf it out of their palm. "Ow. OW. That's my hand, nutcase. Easy."

As soon as they made it to the backroom, Tak beelined for the small loveseat under the balcony, hopping up and flopping down with a sigh. "Someone's tired... For once." They grinned.

They re-braided their hair, stretched, and glanced at the clock. Two minutes 'til seven.

"Bye, Tak. Bye Kalymos. Bye, Helminth. See you all later. Behave." They aimed that last comment up at Helminth. It grumbled back, clearly annoyed.

The morning mission went… not poorly, but not well.

A simple two-hour tank destruction had turned into a fun four-hour game of 'What horrors can the Techrot unveil next?' The answer, unfortunately, was 'infested tank that wants everyone dead.' Ayhan sat quietly to the side of Lettie's treatment area, holding pressure on a cut across the back of their arm. Quincy, Aoi, and Eleanor were all in various stages of injury management, Lettie pinging between each of them.

They were trying to find a moment to sneak their vial of medication from their hip pouch. Lettie could take care of it, yes, but it was nothing some of Grandmother's medicine couldn't fix if they could just get a second. Lettie already used so many of her supplies patching the others up all the time, if she'll just turn around long enough for me to use it…

Quincy flinched hard as Lettie cleaned a scrape on his cheek. "Sol's sack, Lettie! Warn a man first!"

"Hold still. Stop being such a baby." She hissed back. She rinsed the debris out of the wound, sprayed it with an antimicrobial, then applied a bandage over the area. "It'll heal in a few minutes. No tocar." she warned.

She turned her attention to Aoi— finally facing away from Ayhan. They took the chance, snapping their hip pouch open and pulling the cap of the injector off with their teeth. They spat it onto the floor as they jabbed their thigh— one, two, three, four, five— and as soon as it was empty, they sent it skittering across the floor. They made a mental note of where it was, hoping to come back for it before Lettie asked questions.

Unfortunately, Lettie's hearing was Protoframe sharp.

"What was that?" She spun toward them. They could feel their pulse kick into overdrive. Play it off, stupid!

"Whistling. I was whistling." They smiled, hoping to disarm her. "Been trying to remember a song I used to hear in Cetus."

"And that plastic noise after, that was just an impression, ¿si?" She put her hands on her hips. "Couldn't be one of those syringes Amir mentioned, the ones you carry around with you, ¿no?"

Kaithe-mouth.

"Fine. Yes. I figured I'd free you up to help the others." They checked the back of their arm. It was churning with movement, knitting muscle and swordsteel back together in a nauseating display. "I'm almost healed, already. You're burning through supplies faster with me here, I thought I could—"

"You want to use your fancy futura medicine, you make enough for all of us. ¿Comprendes? And you're going to stop using them every time you get a little banged up. Medication resistance is dangerous, mije." Lettie went back to fixing Aoi up, checking her for a concussion with a flashlight. "Recoge tu basura, Drifter. I don't need you leaving it laying around for one of mi panquecitos to find. Put it in the sharps bin."

They skulked over to the corner, picking up the vial and depositing it in the red polymer bin she'd pointed to. "Am I free to go?"

Lettie scoffed. "I don't know, is your medicina milagrosa done working?"

They checked. "Yes."

"Then get out of my way."

They did.

Chapter Text

They headed downstairs, making a beeline for the showers. They could feel the Techrot gunk gluing itself to their scalp and armor. All they could smell was the putrid stench of it cannibalizing itself to try and survive on their skin.

The water was cold and the pressure was awful, but it was better than nothing. They broke the twine out of their braid, too overwhelmed to deal with untying it. They combed their fingers through their hair, raked them across the shaved parts of their scalp, flicking bits of Techrot down the drain. They scraped the worst of it off and out of their armor. Good enough for now. They wrung their hair out, trudging upstairs to the backroom for a well-earned crash nap.

They laid down on the small loveseat, not feeling up to climbing the stairs. It wasn't as comfortable as the big couch, but it was closer. They melted into it, already half-asleep. Where're Tak and Kalymos? They're usually all over me when I get home.

Arthur's voice came through their radio, clearly irritated. "Drifter. Downstairs. Now."

"Uh. Okay. Be down in a second." They responded out of habit, still confused.

They pried themself off the couch, slowly making their way downstairs and hoping, whatever was wrong, it could wrap up soon enough for an actual nap.

The others were gathered in the food court. Ayhan glanced to Aoi, hoping her expressiveness would give something away. She was… unusually unreadable.

They felt their stomach drop.

"Did I do something?" They asked, suddenly aware that they didn't seem to have their usual (albeit faulty-at-best) filter.

Nobody responded.

"Hello? Did you hear me?" They looked to the others. Quincy was visibly sizing them up; the twins were standing slightly in front of the others, glaring; Lettie was pointedly looking somewhere past them. Amir wasn't even facing them.

"Did you think we wouldn't find out?" Arthur asked, taking a step towards them and reaching for his sword.

"What?" They felt like the ground was moving under their feet. "I don't—"

"Don't try to deny it." Aoi snapped. "You're lucky we're even giving you a chance to explain yourself."

"We gave you somewhere to stay, told you about ourselves, let you into our lives, trusted you to have our backs, and this is how you repay us?!" Eleanor hissed.

They felt a chill down their spine. Something wasn't right with her, with all of them, but they didn't have time to think it over as Quincy and Lettie stepped forward, grabbing their arms. Restraining them.

"What are you—" They choked, their voice suddenly gone.

"Have you nothing to say for yourself?" Quincy hissed. They tried to answer, but nothing came out.

They looked to Amir, hoping he would step in. Please, you know, you know, just tell them, I can't— I can't— Please, say something!

He stayed faced away. Saying nothing. Oddly still.

The sunlight streaming in from the skylight had shifted to the deep red-orange of an Anger spiral, casting a bloody tinge over the mall's interior. The scene shifted. It still looked like the mall, but somewhere in their gut, they knew it was the Duviri palace square.

Please, no, please—

Arthur drew his sword, walking behind them. Lettie and Quincy shoved them to their knees, hands suddenly turning into the hollow, Void-twisted limbs of Duvirian Dax. They tried to move, to get away, just to scream, and nothing came.

"Drifter? Do you still have your radio on?" Aoi asked, her tone no longer accusatory. The light seemed to shift back to sunlight around her, but her face remained blank and unreadable.

Time seemed to stretch out around them. They could see the others blinking in slow motion, hear the mall's ambient noise pitch down. They reached for their radio— why?

"Huh?"

"Oh, good, you can hear me! Sorry to wake you up, but Arthur's cooking something and wants to know if you'd like some."

Wake me..?

The others started to vanish, the room fading into blurry gray shapes around them.

They were falling, falling, falling…
They startled up from the floor of the backroom, heart pounding. They'd fallen off the loveseat. They opened their radio line again. "Repeat that?" They switched their mic off, gasping for air as they felt their arms— reassuring themself that no other hands were on them.

"No worries!" Aoi sounded like her usual chipper self again. "Arthur's cooking something, would you like to come try some? It's a Nightingale family recipe, according to Eleanor."

They forced themself to take a deep breath. Their back hurt from landing on the hard concrete, and Tak was looking at them with her head tilted.

"Yes. Be down soon. Thanks" They stood, looking up at the sky through the dusty windows above them. Soft, pink-lit clouds with gilded edges, floating in a wash of powdery blue.

Just a nightmare. A new nightmare, but just a nightmare.

They forced themself to start walking to the food court. They counted their steps as they walked, trying to concentrate on anything but the imagery still burned into their brain.

It took forty-seven steps to make it to the ground floor. It took twenty-three to get to the pushed-together tables in front of Big Bytes.

"Hey there, sleepyhead!" Aoi smiled as they walked up. They nodded, acknowledging her, not feeling up to speaking just yet. Could still be dreaming. Could still be the nightmare.

"Quincy, pay up."

Quincy groaned, handing over a small wad of cash. Aoi took it with a smug look. "I bet him ten bucks you'd agree to try whatever Arthur's cooking. He said you'd be… How'd you phrase it, again?"

"I said you'd be smarter than that." Quincy crossed his arms. "Hate to be wrong, but this oughta be entertaining either way. His Maj's cooking is an acquired taste." He smiled mischievously.

They smiled back, rolling their eyes. They looked around, spotting Amir leaning back on two legs of one of the food court chairs. He was messing with a small, heart-shaped keychain— a kinegotchi, he'd explained to them. They moved to sit next to him, still suspicious of the calmness of the scene. Still waiting for the second wave of wrong to hit and pull them back into their nightmares.

"Hey, Future. Have a good nap?" He turned his head to them before taking his eyes off the toy, prying his attention off it in stages. They just stared at him, searching for shifting details in his face, then in their surroundings. Indicators. Giveaways.

"…Hello? Earth to McFlea?" He waved his hand slightly, snapping them out of their reverie.

"Sorry, what?" They felt like their brain was coated in tar, it was moving so slowly. "Oh. Yeah. I… Yeah." They blinked hard, squeezing their eyes tightly and taking a deep breath. They looked up through the skylight, relaxing their shoulders and concentrating on the pink-gold sunset above them. "Still waking up. How's your kinegotchi?"

He gave them a suspicious look. "It's… fine?" He lowered his voice slightly. "Are… you?"

They shook their head slightly, looking back down and glancing toward the others. "Sort of."

Red sky hands sword silent stop it

You're awake, friend.

Sorry, Eleanor. I can't help it right now.

They felt a warm, comforting sensation wash over their brain. Chasing the last of the uncertainty away. Calming them in a way they couldn't currently calm themself.

Thanks.

Arthur swore, his voice echoing out from the kitchen. Eleanor stood halfway, concentrating.

Fear not. The food's almost ready. She settled back into her seat, smiling and shaking her head.

Lettie snickered. "Did he grab the oven rack with his bare hand again?" She reached for one of her hip pouches, snatching her hand back to its previous position a second later. Ha. Force of habit.

Allegedly. Eleanor leaned forward slightly, grinning.

Ayhan felt a pang in their chest, a memory of their brother's teasing breaking through its usual mental moratorium. They forced it back down, focusing on the conversation revving up around them.

"You cannot be serious." Amir returned his kinegotchi to its usual spot on his gear harness. "He's done that before?"

Quincy honest-to-Sol giggled. "First assignment in the Peace Corps. Was so wrapped up strategizin' he mixed up which hand had the mitt on it. Wasn't even a proper oven, mind. Had to deal with him bein' all ultra-broody for a week while it healed."

Ayhan cringed. "I did something similar when I lived on… When I lived outside Cetus." 'When I lived on Earth' seems silly to say, now. "Konzu was telling this long-winded joke and… I just reached into the fire to grab some grilled Charc Eel. Saya still doesn't trust me within a meter of the pit." They smiled, leaning in towards the group. "She'll let me chase down entire Grineer platoons with nothing but a glorified butter knife, but cooking?! Too risky."

Eleanor laughed, the sound layered between the rasping, gritty sound in their ears and the soft, melodic chuckle echoing in their mind.

Maybe she ought to have a conversation with Arthur. Might do him some good.

"I can hear you all. Including you, Eleanor." Arthur sounded irritated.

I'm aware. She caught Ayhan's eye and winked.

They winked back, trying not to let any more memories of their brother surface. He'd like the Hex. They winced. Think about something else.

"Is Saya the one who embroidered your clothes?" Aoi asked, pointing at them. "I'm guessing that one's a Charc Eel."

They nodded. "Yeah. Charc Eel, Mawfish, and a Tralok." They pointed at each fish as they named it. "And this blobby one's a Norg." Wait a second. They glanced down at it, looking closer. Not just any Norg. They let out a surprised chuckle.

They elbowed Amir, drawing his attention from his GameGuy. "Fibonacci." They announced, pointing to the Norg. They raised their eyebrows, hoping he remembered.

He grinned. "Seriously?"

They nodded. "She's a horrible little punk, playing favorites. None of the others made it onto a tunic."

Quincy cleared his throat. "Got something to share with the class?"

They deliberately didn't look at him.

"Okay. Sounds weird as all Void, but: This one's a Norg, they're an Earth fish from the future. I happen to be friends with this particular Norg. Yes," They cut him off. "He is a fish. Entrati did his usual life-ruining routine, the Indifference gave Fibonacci and a few other animals humanoid sentience. The friend that sent me the clothes must've asked Saya to add his little accessories to the Norg she embroidered."

Quincy stared off into the distance, lost for words. He looked like his brain was melting.

Lettie gave them a suspicious look. "No manches. That's a fish."

"I swear it's true. I couldn't make it up if I tried. If it helps, it's weird for me, too, and I've met Fibonacci." They leaned back in their chair, watching Quincy's expression shift. It was very entertaining.

"Fam, you can't be serious. Ain't no way." He sounded dazed.

They just laughed.

"Food's on." Arthur called. They glanced at the counter. There was a large, steaming metal pan, a bowl of something they couldn't quite see, and a pitcher gathering condensation.

Eleanor stood first. Up. Thank him when you've gotten your food, he's been searching high and low for the ingredients. You're all in for a treat.

Ayhan stood, tapping Amir's arm. "Food. Zone in."

He stowed the GameGuy, practically teleporting to the counter and loading a tray with food. They squinted at the now-visible contents of the mystery dishes. Some kind of meat, topped with what they'd learned were actual potatoes. They were much more appetising than Orokin catalysts. Not visually dissimilar, though.

The bowl had small green vegetables in it. Peas. Arthur had made these before. They felt incredibly, overwhelmingly neutral towards them.

The pitcher's contents were still a mystery. They approached the counter, falling into the impromptu queue that had formed in Amir's wake. Aoi filled a large glass with the beverage, taking a sip to prevent it spilling as she walked back to her seat. Tea of some kind? From what Amir had said, Britannic people didn't usually drink it iced. They stepped forwards, watching as Lettie served herself a portion.

"Where'd you get the meat?" They asked Arthur, furrowing their brow.

Arthur smiled. Just a bit, but still. "Thank Quincy. He nabbed it from a Scaldra supply convoy a few days ago. 'Course Scaldra command's getting it specially delivered. First they confiscate all the booze, now this." His smile dropped as he spoke.

"Nice. Is that tea in the pitcher?" They hated to ask. Asking questions of irritated people was always risky.

"Yep. Plain. I'd prefer a soft drink we had back home, but if it's made its way here, I've yet to find any. Cuts through the richness." He hopped the counter, falling into line.

"It's good!" Amir announced from the table, his mouth very full.

Ayhan turned, wrinkling their nose and shooting him a look. "I'm glad. Close your mouth, for the love of Lua."

Lettie snorted, stepping up to the counter. They breathed in deeply, trying to figure out the food from its smell. It smelled good, for sure, but the newness of it worried them. They decided to distract themself.

"Hey, if I managed to get some future food here, would any of you— besides you, Beckett, I know you would— Would any of you try it?" They picked at their tunic, staring into the middle distance, still puzzling out the mystery food.

Color me intrigued. I've seen glimpses in your head. I'd love to experience it firsthand.

They turned, smiling at Eleanor. "I could also bring back some alcohol, if that's more anyone's speed. I'm not… really a drinker, myself, but I've gotten a few recommendations."

They felt eyes on them, silent. They couldn't quite tell whether it was judgement or just… confusion.

They shrugged. "Never got a taste for it. The first real booze I got my hands on after Duviri is more of a prank than a drink." They brushed a few stray hairs from their forehead. "Kubuchi. It's made from fermented sorghum and it's vile. Konzu likes gifting it to tourists and pretending it's some close-kept cultural thing for the Ostron, just so he can laugh when they can't choke it down."

"Mate, I will give you a hundred genuine Höllars to bring some back here just so I can sneak it into one of Vodyanoi's stupid shipments." Quincy looked deadly serious. Knowing him, he probably was.

They grinned. "Keep your money. If we could get our hands on the security footage that'd be payment enough." They scooped food onto their plate automatically, pouring themself a half-glass of tea and heading to the table.

"Let's focus on getting to New Years', first." Arthur grumbled.

"That wasn't an outright no." Amir pointed his fork at Arthur, shooting Quincy a mischievous grin.

Lettie shook her head, dropping into a seat next to Quincy. "Absolute children."

Ayhan sat down next to Aoi. They took a tiny bite of the meat and potatoes. It was good. They took a slightly larger bite, acclimating to the new texture. Aoi bumped their other arm, catching their eye and nodding. Asking them a silent question. They nodded, smiling. She beamed back, focusing back on the conversation.

"I'm just sayin', we could use it as a distraction." Quincy was lightheartedly arguing with Arthur.

Arthur sighed. "We don't need a distraction. We already know what happens for the rest of the year. If you want to give it a go, pick your moment carefully. You could throw things all out of sorts if you don't."

"Sure. That's what you're all worked up about. Not that I thought of it first." Quincy smirked, slapping the table as Arthur glared at him. "Ha! Knew it. Don't let it get you down. Not everyone can be as gifted as me, Nightingale. Hate to break it to you."

Aoi giggled. "Yeah. 'Gifted.' That's a word for what you are, for sure."

"Hey, don't tell him he's 'gifted.' That's rude to us 'gifted' people." Ayhan added.

It came out much louder than they wanted it to.

Lettie cackled, head thrown back. Quincy and Amir's jaw were both dropped, clearly caught off guard by their comment. The table devolved into a flurry of comebacks and breathless laughter as they ate, filling the abandoned mall with the echoing reverbs of joy. 

They looked around the makeshift dining table, suddenly struck by the realisation that these people were their friends. Real friends. No caveats.

Suddenly, that nightmare seemed a lot less real.

Chapter Text

Sleep came easy that night. It felt like a warm sunlit glow was sitting in their chest, driving away the shadows of stress and fear. They dreamed of summer in Cetus: watching children chase each other in make-believe battle, husking mapricos in the shade of the market, catching lightbugs in a paper lantern as the sun set.

The dream shifted— They said goodbye to Konzu and Saya, turning away and walking through the gates of Cetus. They stepped into the mall. The same sunlight, pale gold and cozy, came down from the skylight in dusty beams. They dreamed of leaping through the streets of Höllvania, seeing people walking safely below. Hearing the others joking and laughing over radio frequencies no longer interrupted by Scaldra transmissions, seeing them all smiling.

Calm.

Safe.

Happy.

They woke up to the ear-piercing sound of Kalymos yowling. Tak was nowhere to be found— probably bothering Kalymos.

"Knock it off, you two." They groaned. They sat up enough to grab a floof, launching it over the edge of the balcony.

Kalymos didn't shut up.

They heard someone knock at the door.

Tak whined.

They looked out the window— the sky was still dark, the faintest stars visible through the cloud cover. Adrenaline hit their bloodstream, like buzzing insects in their veins and thunder in their ears. Something's wrong.

They vaulted the balcony, rolling to a stop just past their arsenal. They glanced at the security camera feeds to their right— someone was in the hallway. Someone tapping their heel, clenching and unclenching their hands, tiny pixelated spots of light appearing and disappearing around them.

Amir.

"Door's open." They called, picking up the stray floof from the floor.

He didn't enter. Right, Void stuff.

They walked over, sticking their hand through. The last of the dark Void-barrier faded.

He looked like hell.

His eyes were red. There were burns on his face, tracing from his eyes down to his chin in an erratic branching pattern. He was shaking, plasma-blue electricity arcing around his hands and arms like a live wire.

"C'mon." They grabbed his arm, flinching a bit at the shock, doing their best to be gentle as they pulled him over the threshold. "Tak, lead, other."

The Kubrow heeled to Amir's side. They guided his hand to her collar, closing it around a small handle on the back side. They stepped back, and Tak started to pull him forward. They ascended the stairs backwards, keeping a hand on the railing and an eye on Amir. His gaze was unfocused, but he was following. They turned back around, skipping steps to get up to the loft. They cleared the big couch of their bedding, heaping it in the armchair. They grabbed a clean blanket from the balcony dresser, tossing it over the back cushion. Tak and Amir rounded the corner, Kalymos on their heels.

"One sec. I'm gonna grab something for the burns." They gestured to the couch, and he sat down. Tak hopped up, laying across his lap with a sigh. They went back downstairs, stepping out into the dojo and grabbing the first aid kit. They skipped the stairs on their way back, slinging up to the balcony and walking over.

Electrical burns. Void, what did Lettie say about treating burns?!

He wasn't wearing his glasses, which made things easier. "This is going to be awkward for a sec. Hold still as best you can. This is going to sting, I'm sorry."

They took a saline swab to the burned areas, gently wiping away burnt skin and crystallised tears. He flinched, and they apologised under their breath. They rummaged through the kit, finding burn cream and applying it to the area. The burn was healing slowly, especially for a Protoframe. Stress. If I can get him to calm down…

"This should stop it from scarring any more, at the very least." They moved back, sighing. "Bud, what happened?"

He just stared out into nothing, lip trembling and eyes glassy. They looked around, finding a box of tissues and handing him one. "You don't have to talk about it, okay? You can if you need to, but if you just need a minute to breathe, then take it." They sat down, holding out the box, ready if he needed more.

"I…" He choked. His breathing was getting more erratic, frenzied, shallow.

"Easy," they murmured, trying to seem calmer than they felt. "This is gonna sound like the hardest thing in the world right now, but take a deep breath. Okay?"

He nodded. He sucked in air like he was drowning. They breathed in slower, holding up their fingers to count back from three. They breathed out slowly. He wheezed, sucking in another hiccupping breath. They counted again, and he breathed out.

In, hold for three, out.

In, hold for three, out.

In, hold for four, out.

In, hold for four, out.

He absentmindedly ruffled the fur around Tak's ears, his breathing slowly levelling out. They smiled at him. "Better? Even a little bit?"

He nodded.

Kalymos came over, climbing up into Ayhan's lap. She blinked at Amir, slow and deliberate.

"She likes you." Ayhan said, running a hand over Kalymos' wrinkled back. Amir held a hand out to her, and she rubbed her face against it. Tak grumbled, one source of scritches now gone.

"I was here." Amir said, quietly. "Not here, but in the mall. There were Techrot everywhere and…" He stopped for a moment, collecting himself. "Eleanor was overwhelmed. She could only control so many, and they just kept coming. Everyone was overwhelmed. I remember hearing people screaming for help, and I lost it. I blasted anything that came near me. I managed to get Arthur, Quincy, and Aoi out. I was going back for the rest of you and… suddenly everyone was gone. I kept going, I kept fighting, and I…" He shifted, bringing his hand back to Tak's fur. "You ever have those dreams where you 'wake up' but you're still dreaming?"

They nodded, humming their assent.

"I 'woke up' and you were all on the ground when I walked out into the food court, twitching and smoking and... I panicked. I just started shaking people, hoping they'd wake up. They all… you all sat up and started asking me 'why did I do that, we were just trying to help, how could I do this to you, I killed you.' I saw lightning everywhere. I…" He trailed off, shrinking in on himself. "I couldn't stop. Even when I woke up."

He went quiet for a long time, just staring at the floor.

"Amir?"

"Mhm."

"We're okay. You didn't really hurt us. You're not going to."

He nodded, taking another tissue. "I know that."

"You don't believe it, though. Look at me."

He didn't.

"Work with me here, Beckett. I'm not good at this."

He looked at them out of the corner of his eye.

"Everyone is okay. In fact, right now you're the only one of us who's hurt." They sighed, trying to conjure the words for the explanation they wanted to give. "Look, you're doing the best you can under the circumstances. You're only just getting used to fighting, right? You didn't sign up for this whole soldier deal the way the others did."

They turned in their seat, leaning forward a bit to be more in his line of sight. "The rest of us bottle everything up like the emotionally-repressed military pricks we are, but that doesn't make you weak. You're here asking for help. That's pretty brave, in my books." They smiled at him.

He looked away.

"If it helps…" they said, leaning back. "You're not alone."

He gave them a confused look. "…Yeah, I know. You're here. So are Tak and Kalymos."

"Okay, no, you're not literally alone." They put their hand on his shoulder. "I meant you're not alone in being scared like that. In having dreams like that." They took a deep breath. "Amir, I have yet to meet a soldier who doesn't have dreams like that. I'm guessing everyone in this sodding mall has them, but not one of us is brave enough to say anything about them out loud."

They took a deep breath. "So yes, it sucked. Yes, you have the capacity to hurt people, but whatever drivel your brain cooks up in the middle of the night has zero bearing on who you are, what you are."

They squeezed his shoulder. He tentatively brought his hand up, resting it on top of theirs.

For once, they didn't flinch.

They sat together like that for a long time.

"If you want to, you can stay here for the night. If you have another nightmare, or you can't sleep, I'll be right there." They pointed at the balcony sofa, giving his shoulder another light squeeze. He, very gently, returned the pressure on their hand.

"You sure?" He whispered. They could see the faint tracks of tears down his face.

"Positive. You don't have to deal with this alone. Literally or metaphorically. I'm here right now, but I guarantee you the others wouldn't mind. Not even Quincy. He's got an ego the size of Venus, sure, but he's still your friend." They tilted their head, raising their eyebrows and smiling at him. "And, you know, someone really smart once told me something along the lines of 'friends help each other, even when one of them is being a jerk for no reason.'"

He smiled back.

They pulled their hand from his shoulder, looking around the room. "Alright. You can take any floofs you want, this blanket's clean, and I have an extra pillow if you want it. Oh—" They winced. "Let me take another look at those burns, first. I want to make sure they're healing okay."

They stood, grabbing the first aid kit again. "I am, once again, very sorry. Personal space and all that." They bent closer to him, squinting at the areas they'd applied the burn salve to. The skin was freshly healed, no new scars to be seen.

"All good!" They straightened up, smiling proudly. "Lettie'll be happy I actually paid attention when she explained this thing." They packed the kit again, latching it and setting it aside. Kalymos climbed onto the back of the couch, glaring at Ayhan for disturbing her. They ignored her.

Amir opened his mouth to say something, then shut it and looked back down at Tak.

"What?"

"Nothing. Stupid question." He ducked his head, shifting in his seat to avoid their gaze.

"Try me." They crossed their arms. "You're talking to someone who had to ask what a toaster oven is. It can't be stupider than that."

He hesitated again.

"… Can I give you a hug?"

They took a deep breath. Friend. Scared friend. Just say yes. "Sure. I… I'm not good wi— at hugs. I'll do my best." They sat back down, scooting closer than they'd been sitting and awkwardly holding their arms out. They immediately regretted agreeing, suddenly inundated with adrenaline.

He shifted, trying not to disturb Tak. He crashed his head against the side of theirs, crushing the air out of them like he was clinging to a lifeline. He was shaking again.

They forced themself to return the embrace, feeling panic start to cloud their brain. Run. Restrained. Run. Danger.

Shut up, brain. They started trying to think about something, anything else. Scared friend. Be brave. Arcade. Caliber Chicks. Blood. Guns. Lodun. Nope, something else. Robots. Solaris U. Fortuna. Cold—

Cold. They could feel evaporation on their shoulder. He was crying again.

They tightened their hold on him against their brain's frantic protests. Fix it. Fix it. Fix it.

"Sorry." His voice was shaky.

They shushed him, rubbing his back. They vaguely remembered their dad doing that when they were younger. Back before hugs were a distant memory, before every fibre of their being screamed at the idea.

He sobbed, just once.

"I've got you, okay? You're good." They murmured. The fear in their brain was deafening. They lost track of time, too busy forcing themself out of their brain. Feeling their stomach churn as they held themself still. No fight to fight. No danger to run from. I'm not here. Oh, Sol, I might be sick.

They startled a bit when he sat up again, pulling away and swiping at his eyes. "Thanks." he rasped.

"Anytime."

They didn't know if they meant it, but if he believed it?

Right now, that's enough.

They stood, grabbing their bedding from the armchair. "I will be right there. You wake up again, I'm here." They turned away, hoping he couldn't see the way they'd blanched upon standing, their fear-fueled pulse racing like… Well, like he did.

Amir nodded, gently prodding Tak awake. She yawned, stretched, climbed down, and flopped sideways on the wood floor with a sigh. He grabbed the blanket they'd brought out, propping a Kubrodon floof under his head and laying down.

Kalymos descended to lay between him and the back of the couch, purring contentedly as she absorbed his warmth.

Ayhan made their own bed on the smaller couch, putting their pillow at the balcony end of it so they could keep an eye on Amir.

They forced themself to read. They wanted to go to the dojo, to break and hurt and take control of the terror. They wanted to tell him, in no uncertain terms, that they'd hated every second of the hug. To tell him never to ask them to do that again. Instead, they silently buried themself into a book, looking over intermittently to see if he was asleep.

They came out of their reader's stupor to the sound of an unfamiliar beeping and faint sunlight coming in through the windows. A momentary confusion came over them— lost in the pages of a botanical science textbook, they'd forgotten where they actually were.

Right. Amir's nightmare. They glanced over. Kalymos was facedown on his chest, curled up in a loaf shape with her nose tucked into her paws. Tak was laying next to the couch, and Amir had one hand resting on her side. His watch was going off, sounding the start of the day.

"Drifter." Arthur's voice came over their radio, which was— thankfully— turned down. "Amir's MIA and his radio is in the arcade. Did he happen to say anything to you that might indicate his whereabouts?"
He sounded stressed. More stressed than usual.

They snatched the radio up, plugging their earpiece in and switching to Arthur's private frequency. "He's here in the backroom. Bad dream." They hoped he'd have enough tact to leave it at that.

"Copy that." He sighed. "See you at the meeting."

Right. Manners. Britannic.

Wait. The other Brit.

"Hold." They glanced at Amir, making sure he was still asleep. "Don't say a Solforsaken word to anyone. Especially not Quincy. Last thing Beckett needs is someone making fun of him for this."

"Mum's the word." Arthur responded. The line went dead. They tuned their radio back to the general line, catching the tail end of a sentence.

"— isn't in the arcade?" Lettie sounded on edge.

Arthur chimed in. "He's alright. Just indisposed for the moment. Already checked in."

"'Indisposed?' The hell does that mean?" Lettie snapped.

"It means it's not your concern, Garcia." Arthur sounded exhausted. "He's fine, let it alone."

Aoi snickered, chiming in. "So Amir's mysteriously gone, doesn't have his radio, and yet somehow reported in…" She paused dramatically. "Anyone feel like owning up to checking in for him?"

"Aoi. Please. Just stop talking." Arthur sounded like the conversation was causing him physical pain. "As I've told him a million times, people can still communicate face-to-face in our digital age. Written communication still occurs, as well."

"Killjoy." Aoi pouted.

The radio finally, mercifully, went silent.

They said a silent prayer of thanks to… whatever higher power might potentially be listening. They glanced over at Amir. Still asleep. The universe provides once more.

Ayhan stood, stretching and glancing at the sky. Early morning sunrise illuminated the city around the mall. Clear blue skies, slowly lightening in shade. They liked blue skies, they'd decided.

Amir stirred, then jolted awake. He looked around, confused, rubbing his eyes.

"Morning," they said, a little startled. "Sleep alright?"

He shrunk in on himself, ducking his head as his shoulders rose nearly to ears. He muttered something they assumed was a greeting. They forced themself to walk towards him, secondhand embarrassment fighting their every step.

"Let me see your face. I want to make sure those burns healed all the way." They squatted by their model solar system, squinting at him. He, reluctantly, turned his face to them. Avoiding eye contact by looking at the ceiling, but facing them nonetheless. The burns were completely gone— like it never happened. He mumbled something else, turning away.

"Sol's teeth, Beckett. Enunciate. Just because I can hear you doesn't mean I can understand you." They closed their eyes, turning their head slightly to hear him better.

"I left my radio downstairs." He mumbled. Utterly mortified.

"I took care of it. Arthur's under pain of death if he says you're here, alright? He even stood up to Aoi." They stood, cracking their neck. "Lettie was ready to go storm down Scaldra high command to find you, by the way. Like I said before: we're all on your team, here."

He made another mumbled comment.

"Amir. Please. Just talk. Nobody else can hear you in here. Eleanor, maybe, but I'm pretty sure she's still asleep." They shot him a look.

"I'm sorry." He still barely spoke above a whisper.

They balked. "For what?!"

He looked up, confused. "For being here? Making you deal with m— with this?"

"You didn't do anything wrong. I offered to let you stay so you could actually sleep instead of going off and spiralling by yourself." They sighed, looking out the window again. "Now, I am going downstairs for some tea, because if I have to perform any more human interaction without it, I'm going to start punching things."

They walked back to the balcony coffee table, grabbing their gear. "Leave when you're ready. Meeting's at the stage today. No one'll see you."

He nodded, visibly nervous. They dropped from the loft balcony— They landed awkwardly, but it was better than forcing proximity by walking past him to the stairs. They passed through the dojo, descending at last to the food court. They Voidslung over to the Big Bytes counter, picking out a plain green tea from the stack of boxes.

Aoi appeared beside them, eerily silent and well within their personal space. They cried out, barely restraining themself from decking her in the face.

"Void, Aoi! What was that for?!" They rubbed their temples.

"Any idea where Amir is?" She asked, lowering her voice with a playfully sinister grin. "Nobody else will admit to hiding him, so you're my last lead."

They shook their head, dismissing her. "Arthur said it's none of our business. If he's alright with Amir being… wherever he is, I'm not going to question it. I'll question his decision to leave without his radio, but…"

She moved a bit further into their personal space. "C'mon. You've gotta know. You two are basically inseparable. He'd've told you."

"If Arthur's okay with Amir being 'indisposed' or whatever he called it, I'm not about to go barging in on someone else's business." They gave her a pointed look, reaching past her for their tea. They wanted a bit of sugar in it (the cheap blend the Hex had scavenged was… a smidge bitter) but Aoi was firmly in the way.

"You're hiding something." She said, narrowing her eyes.

"I'm hiding lots of things. Doesn't mean any of them relate to your question." They raised their eyebrows, taking a purposeful step backwards. "I'm not able to answer your question. I'm sorry."

The tea was bad, but it was better than nothing.

Amir arrived at the morning meeting a full five minutes late. They gave him a questioning look, hoping he'd play along.

He shook his head, muttering an apology as he approached the group.

"Ah, nice of you to finally join us." Arthur fixed him with a disapproving look, like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "Keep your radio on you." The scolding ended there. New record: shortest lecture.

Ayhan decided to play the fool again. "Where were you?!" they whispered, giving him a sidelong glance. He shrugged, fidgeting with a pen and, thankfully, not trying to spin a story. Ayhan locked eyes with Quincy, giving him an exasperated look— pretending, as best they could, that they needed someone to commiserate with. He smirked, glancing at Arthur as the latter cleared his throat.

Ayhan glanced at the other Nightingale twin. She was already watching them with a knowing look.

Eleanor, please don't say anything.

I'm very good with secrets, Drifter. Comes with the territory. Have no fear.

Thank you. See you out there.

Chapter Text

It wasn't a particularly busy day. A few supply runs, both distributing and gathering; a small skirmish against some Techrot wandering past the perimeter; various repairs and fixes around the mall. Ayhan was assigned to sort through the supplies as they arrived, catalogue them, and sort them.

A task they would otherwise enjoy, but today…

They were exhausted. Even the restfulness of reading wasn't enough to replace the hours of sleep they'd skipped. Nor were the increasingly strong cups of tea and coffee they were steadily downing to stave off sleep. They could feel the exact moment they'd crossed the line from 'enough caffeine to calm their brain' into 'enough caffeine to wake the dead.' It made their hands shake. It made their pulse race in a nauseating, fluttery patter.

But: awake they were. Their handwriting was shaky and crooked, but the inventory log was getting done. Sure, they had to count a few things multiple times to make sure they had the right amount. Sure, it was taking them far too much effort to tally the totals. At least they weren't in the field on a day like this.

They could feel Lettie watching them from the security office as she kept tabs on the others. She wasn't exactly subtle.

They could feel her eyes on them every time they refilled their mug, every time they had to re-count something, every time they took far too long to add up a final tally.

Void, I forgot what I was doing. Great. Counting that again. Again, again.

Lettie cleared her throat. From very, very close behind them. They jumped, scrambling to gather the SporeX packs they'd been counting.

Well. 'Counting.'

"You wanna explain why you've gone through those twice now?" she asked. "Other than for fun, because it doesn't look like you're having much."

"I just needed to make sure I had it right." Ayhan tried to keep their voice level. "Can't have an inventory error turn into an emergency, right?"

"Mhm. And the nodding off, that's part of preventing errors, too? And the lethal amounts of caffeine you're drinking?" She knelt down next to them, glaring.

"I…" They looked away, suddenly feeling scrutinized. "I need to stay awake. We have so much to do—"

"You're gonna make us have to do everything twice if you won't knock it off and take a nap or something," Lettie interrupted. "Follow me."

She walked back to the security office, muttering something under her breath when they didn't follow. She beckoned them over impatiently.

"In."

They, begrudgingly, followed her. The office was sparse. It wasn't anything… notable. Arthur kept the publicly visible areas relatively minimalist— Ayhan couldn't imagine much was different out of view.

Lettie pointed to the office chair by the main computer. "Sit."

They did, nervously.

She checked the computer screen, listening to the various callouts on the radio and referencing the various programs Amir had set up. She nodded, like she was telling the computer it had done a good job. Then…

She turned to the Drifter.

"When's the last time you slept a full eight hours, fantasma?"

They avoided her eyes. "Probably…"

Oh, Void.

"…Probably after New Year's," they admitted.

Lettie stared at them, expression unchanging. They knew this look. This was the look people gave them when they were about to get yelled at.

"It's not on purpose, Lettie. I'm not running around in the wee hours as a fun little pastime, alright?" They shifted in their seat, trying to put on a show of toughness. "Things happen. Plans get in the way. I've got Kalymos and Tak driving each other crazy all the time, I have all of Entrati's tech beeping and chirping all over the place, I—"

"So sleep out here. I'm not judging." She crossed her arms, checking the computer again.

They stammered, the rest of their defense scattering itself in the wake of her interruption.

"I can't," they said flatly. Then, altogether too late for it to have been part of the original thought: "I'm very particular about where I sleep."

Lettie raised an eyebrow, clearly not amused by their shoddy excuse. "Yeah? Particular, ¿sí? How'd that work out for you before you got here, hm? In that space war you keep being all ominous about, you just happened to find a place to match your expectations every night?"

They glared back at her. "Yes," they hissed, teeth clenched. "Lucky me."

A long span of time, broken only by the faint sound of radio chatter and the creaks of the mall.

Two immovable objects, testing who'll hold still the longest.

"Fine. You wanna be that way? Knock yourself out. Just get out of my line of sight. You're making me tired just looking at you, and I still have to keep an eye on the others." She motioned for them to stand, taking the chair back as soon as they vacated it.

They had zero intention of going to bed. They'd worked through worse fatigue. Much, much worse.

They stepped into the backroom, making a beeline for the foundry. They set it to print another batch of medicine, then turned towards the table in the center of the room. Entrati's notebooks were all mixed around with their own, with loose papers of chicken scratch notes scattered across the mess.

What did you want me to do here, Albrecht?

They had a theory— a theory they desperately didn't want to be correct.

Transference.

They hated adjusting to new Frames. They always had. It felt like walking into a stranger's bedroom, completely unannounced. Mirage and Caliban were the only ones they really felt a connection to— the only ones they were actually comfortable in. Even Aíbinn's Volt, the one sent to get them out of Duviri, the one who'd spent far too many loops rescuing them, felt like he wanted them to leave.

Add that these Frames were people…

Real, living people, with full personalities and consciousnesses, who they barely knew…

There has to be a different option. He knew I'd push back against this. He had to have thought of something else.

The notebooks had yet to yield an alternative.

Or, because it's Albrecht, he didn't bother looking for another way because he thinks it's funny to make you do this. He knows enough about you to leave these pointless notes for you to obsess over. He knew you'd do this.

They groaned, staring at a page of his completely unhelpful notes. Something about the popular culture of 1999 and its effects on the early stages of the Techrot panic. It was written in an unusually invested tone, musing about how the people of Höllvania had 'fascinating' reactions and drawing connections between their behavior and several pieces of media.

Another set of notes, theorizing on what strains to use for the Hex's protoframe serums. The same amusedly detached tone, gloating about his genius in selecting themes for them all.

The only relevant piece of information there was one they already knew: the man was as insufferable as he was disturbed.

"Kalymos, I hope you can forgive me. I'm going to kill him." They shut the offending notebook, turning their attention back to their list of possible workarounds for transference.

1. Train them to use their Warframe abilities like Teshin taught me Helpful in a fight, not going to fix everything

2. Find a way to get Mirage or Caliban to them on New Year's probably impossible considering the distance between each person

3. See if they can learn Transference for themselves If they can, I'm not the teacher they need. Would need the Lotus or a miracle.

4. Bring the kid and make her do it For one, she'd never agree. Two, probably impossible now.

That was all of it. Every idea that they'd had, they'd immediately ruled out. It had to be Transference. It had to.

'To save them, you must know them.'

Big words from the man who's done nothing but run from his loved ones.

They rubbed their neck, faint dread settling into their stomach.

The only time they'd tried Transference on the others hadn't ended well.

But I didn't know them yet.

You still don't know them, doll. You know about them. How are you better than old Albrecht? Studying them from afar? Coming up with your little theories and hypotheses? Writing your notes and dossiers?

I'm better than him because I want to save them. Because I won't leave them.

But you're still sitting here, trying to find a way out of this. Too scared to have a few awkward conversations. Too scared of rejection, no matter how much you dread the idea of them accepting that offer. Too scared to open up.

"Chut." They closed their own notebook, stacking it with the serum notes like they were putting the books in quarantine. "I'll figure this out."

Drifter?

They felt that faint dread turn into crushing despair. Oh, Void, she can hear you.

That I can. If you need a 'lab rat' as it were, perhaps I can be of assistance.

You don't need to do that, Eleanor. I'm sorry, it's nothing. I'm finding another solution. Don't worry about it.

I've seen into your mind. It might be intriguing to have you peek into mine. A glimpse behind the curtain. Get to know me from that first-person perspective, hm?

Ramn. She was appealing to their curiosity. Of course she knew how to convince them. She could literally read their Sol-blasted mind.

I'll think about it.

They didn't want to.

Their hand ached in the center of their palm, the ghost of Arthur's sword etched into the nerves. The feeling of being shunted out by force. Confusion and pain and that awful static between their mind and limbs that were not their own.

As agonizing as small talk and opening up were…

Transference without connection was definitely worse.

Small talk it is.

-{Amir}-

When it came to things Amir wanted to put in a game someday, fetch quests were firmly not on the list. He always felt horrendously, overwhelmingly, nail-bitingly bored trying to finish them.

Now that he had to do them in real life?

He hated them with the fiery, burning passion of ten thousand suns.

Supply runs were the bane of his existence. Yes, it was nice to have the occasional change of menu. Yes, knowing he wasn't going to bleed to death for a lack of gauze in Lettie's supplies was reassuring. Yes, it was even occasionally fun to run around Höllvania at super speed and feel like a real superhero delivering aid packages to the various refugee hideouts and safe houses.

But he was always on them. He was always expected to do them, because he was the fastest. Gods, would it kill Aoi to have a grocery run be a little less than supersonic every once in a while? Everyone else is a souped-up super-dude, too. We're all fast.

Today's torture was a variety of smaller, highly specific requests. SporeX from the stash out near the old zoo. Sniper rounds Quincy left behind while bailing out of a compromised nest. Stuff from a medical supply store Lettie had spotted that turned out to be basically untouched once he got the stupid door open.

Basically, he was literally running all over the city, chasing his tail. Find [x] in place [y], bring it back to the mall, then head to place [z] for [a]. Repeat ad freakin' infinitum.

Could be worse.

Could be stuck counting all that.

He was more than content to let the Drifter handle that part of supply days. There were days where they'd bring the heap of whatever he'd grabbed over to the floor by the arcade, sorting and counting it while he told them about whatever he felt like talking about. They were always done faster than seemed possible. Inventory counts took him forever. Mostly due to the crushing boredom.

At least supply runs had the constant undertone of horrible, horrible danger to keep him entertained.

He dumped out the old duffle bag he'd filled in the medical supply, sending braces and bandages and all kinds of other important-looking stuff spilling in a heap on the counter of the security office.

"If you want me to get anything else from there, you're gonna have to make a list quickly," he warned Lettie. "The Techrot's pretty adventurous over there. I'll have to have a buddy with me if it gets any ickier."

"Thanks for what you did get, mijo." She picked over the pile, nodding approvingly. "Hey, you got some good stuff here, Amir. Made it out of there in one piece, too. Nice work."

He grinned. "D'aww, I do what I can. No biggie." He looked around the area, half expecting to see Drifter hanging around with a clipboard and a half-circle of random objects scattered around them.

"They went upstairs a while ago." Lettie stretched, answering the question he hadn't quite formulated. "Probably asleep. If they aren't, they're dumber than I gave them credit for."

He pulled a face at her, silently protesting her dig at them. "How long ago, roughly?"

"I don't know, Amir. Maybe an hour? Anduve en friega, I wasn't paying attention to them. Go ask them yourself." She waved him away.

Uuuugggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

He zipped up the stairs, glancing around the dojo just in case they were hanging around on that side of the creepy wooshy door.

No such luck.

He knocked on the wall next to the door, still uncomfortable with how close to the swirly blue-ish glow his hand had to be.

"What?!"

They sounded pissed.

"Uh. Just… Lettie said you were up here, and I was wondering ifyoumanagedtogetalltheinventorystuffdoneorifyouwantedhelpwithitorsomething." He rushed through the back half of his sentence, hoping the faster he said it, the less time they'd have to get pissed at him by the time he'd finished it.

A loud sigh.

"Come in. Don't trip over Kalymos, she's in front of the door."

The pitch-black nothingness gave way to more smoke-like blue energy, then to a view of the Drifter's room. Kalymos was, indeed, stretched out across the floor in front of the door.

He hesitated. The door whispered when you walked through it and it reminded him a little too vividly of some horror movies he'd pira— obtained through totally legal means.

"Void, Beckett, just walk forward." They came into view, holding out a hand to him with a deeply unimpressed look on their face. "Here. See? Doesn't bite."

He took their hand, feeling a little embarrassed. "It's not about it biting."

"Whispers won't hurt you." They pulled him over the threshold, letting go of his hand like it was a red-hot poker the second he was in the room. They stepped over Kalymos as they continued. "That door's probably the most harmless bit of Void tech I've ever dealt with. You'll live." They leaned over the giant table in the middle of the room, which was covered in a mess of paper and books. "Make yourself comfortable, I'm just… Researching."

He looked around the room, still overwhelmed by the amount of weird hexagonal future tech. Yeah, it had Entrati's signature all over it, but it was undeniably cool. The Drifter had the foundry running, and he did his best to look nonchalant as he walked over to it.

Kalymos and Tak followed him, vying for attention and almost tripping him multiple times.

"What'cha makin'?" He looked over at them, hopeful that it was some kind of cool weapon or tool.

"Medication." They answered flatly, not looking up from a book they were giving an absolute death glare to.

"For what? Or do you just need one kind for everything in the future? Wait, have you guys cured—"

They swore, slamming the book shut and dropping their head to the table with a thud. "Not you, sorry. Not you. You're fine." They straightened again, rubbing the angry red mark on their forehead.

"That bad, huh?" He took a deep breath, trying to seem like he hadn't jumped halfway out of his skin when they'd done that. Play it cool. "What'd you find this time?"

They made a rude gesture at the book. "Nothing new, just another example of Entrati being the absolute least helpful person in existence. What were you saying?" They turned toward him, propping their hip against the table.

"Asking about the fancy space meds. Is it a one-syringe-fits-all situation or are there, like, multiple kinds for different things?" He looked back at the foundry, trying to figure out the printing mechanism.

"There's more than one kind. This one's a neural stabilizer. It was created to combat the cognitive side effects of late-stage Infestation, but a small dose like this is more of an emergency catch-all for anything psychosomatic."

He turned towards them veeerrrrry sloooowwwly. He gave them a very small smile, raising his eyebrows in a pleasantly bewildered look. "The what of late-stage what-now?"

They closed their eyes. "The Infestation drives you nuts if it gets deep enough into your brain. Especially if you've been dealing with it for…" They shrugged. "However long Entrati's been around. This stuff was designed to fix that, at least for a while. There's a whole family of Infested Orokin nobility hiding out on Deimos, staving off total oblivion with meds like these. I just use it when I get weird headaches, mostly."

The foundry sparked, sending a spray of orange-yellow particles against the wall. The Drifter cursed, pushing past him to kick something at its base. "Couldn't've calibrated the thing once in a while, could you, Albrecht? Just had to let it skew." They squatted down, elbowing it with a loud clunk.

"Weird headaches how?" He stepped back, squatting down and craning his neck to see what they were doing. The foundry sparked again, making a weird crunching noise as it did.

"Weird like my arm falls asleep and I forget how to string a sentence together." They pried a panel loose, fiddling with a section of wiring. "Probably Void interference in my head or something."

Amir glanced, quite nervously, over to the door.

"You're fine. I lived in the Void, remember? I was exposed to amounts of Void energy nobody's supposed to be able to survive." They sent a curl of blue light spinning around their free hand. "As Arthur'd put it, I'm marinated."

They shut the panel again, dusting their hands off.

"Fix it?" He looked up at the printer arm, still whirring away.

"Definitely not. I'm not even sure what he cannibalized to make this, let alone how he managed to make it work. Should stop trying to burn the mall down for a while, though." They stood, grunting with the effort.

"I could take a swing at it, if you want." he leaned around, inspecting the machine. "Thought maybe you'd've fixed printers being temperamental in the future. Guess some things are beyond science, huh?"

They laughed. "I guess so. It runs, that's good enough. I'll put some fireproofing in the corner and call it a day."

Got them to laugh!

He stood, bouncing on his heels. "Oh yeah, did you end up doing that inventory count?" It felt a bit hypocritical to ask, considering his own track record with that particular question, but… They seemed to actually like inventory.

They sighed. "Eventually. All accounted for and finished. Lettie kicked me out before you got back on that last run, so I'm calling it her responsibility. Came up here and started trying to find the answer to another one of Entrati's stupid riddles."

"Guessing it's not a fun one, considering the whole…" He gestured at his forehead, sucking air through his teeth.

"No. Not a fun one. The man's a nuisance. I swear, he planned every last detail of this mess to be as grating and counterintuitive as possible." They started gathering up the loose papers.

"How so?" Amir stepped closer to the table, skimming the pages of the notebooks. Startling a bit when he read his own name in one. Notes about us. About the Hex. It wasn't the Drifter's handwriting.

They closed the notebook he'd been looking at, scoffing. "Notice how he's got a twisted sense of humor? Making us all some kind of weird reflection of ourselves with the whole Protoframe thing?"

"Uh-huh." Amir was only half listening, trying to read as much of the other notes as possible.

"He gets a kick out of being a hypocrite. Wants me— wants all of us— to do something he avoids like a plague." They slid a pair of stacked books behind them.

He looked over, hoping he could catch a peek of the contents. No luck— shut. "Care to be a teensy bit more specific?"

"I do not, as a matter of fact." They finished stacking the papers, tapping them against the table to neaten the pile and laying them facedown. "It's too complicated." They grimaced. "Not too complicated for you to understand. Sorry, came out wrong. Too complicated for me to explain off the top of my head. It's… I'm not exactly running at a hundred percent today."

He felt a tiny stab of guilt. Because you were awake in the middle of the night. Because of me. "Yeah. Me either. Sorry about that."

"You give yourself too much credit. I'm suffering from the consequences of my own actions, thanks." They smiled. "Let's go bother Quincy or something. I'm sick of staring at these notes."

He followed them to the exit, very tempted to swipe one of the notebooks as he went. They stopped at the door, waving him past. "Guests first."

He held his breath as he crossed back into the mall, doing his best to ignore the totally-not-ghosts whispering nonsense in his brain as he walked through. "I hate your door, dude." He shuddered. "Feels like I'm gonna get possessed or something every time I walk through it."

They elbowed his arm. "Then walk through it faster."

Chapter Text

April 7, 1999

-{Amir}-

He hated to admit it, but for once, Quincy was right about something.

The Drifter had horrible aim.

They were muttering something under their breath as they missed yet another target, aiming the loaner pistol's muzzle at the ground. "Range clear!" They groaned, flipping the safety switch and starting to disassemble the gun. Quincy strode to the target— a half-shredded flier for Entrati's 'cure'— and snorted.

"You might be worse than Jitter fresh out the nerd dungeon, cuz. How'd you manage this one?" He pointed to a stray bullet hole a full yard away from the rest of the scattered perforations.

Quincy locked eyes with Amir, as if to ask: You seeing this? Amir nodded, then stopped and shook his head disapprovingly. Then nodded again. Which one is right, here?!

"Bows and Amps don't have recoil." They scowled. "I'm getting better, aren't I? Ever heard of constructive criticism?"

"You are…" Quincy ceded. "But you're also just proper sh—"

"Thank you, Isaacs." They cut him off. "Any specific notes, or are we just going to point and laugh today?"

Amir shifted his gaze back to them. Their face was twisted into a scowl, shoulders raised and tense.

"You're fixing for a pulled muscle if you keep bracing so hard. You're also not pre-correcting for the recoil, that's why you keep sending it wide, get me?" Quincy gave them a stern look. "Remember that on your own, next time."

They nodded, gesturing to the dressed-down gun on the counter. "Heard and heeded. Got it ready for storage."

"Amir. Your turn. Let's see if you can beat Space Trauma. Shouldn't be hard." He clapped his hand on their shoulder, earning another face-melting glare.

"Sure. Yeah. Sounds fun." He skirted around them to the range, pulling his pistol from its holster. Quincy pointed at a slightly-less-damaged poster and stepped out of the makeshift booth.

"Let 'er rip, fam."

Amir did. He put two holes in Entrati's paper head, then one in each hand, then three in a row down his torso. He shot out the corners of the paper, letting it drift to the floor as he set the gun down. "Range clear!" he called, disarming himself.

The Drifter swore— again, that sort-of-Rus-sounding language— and hopped the counter into the range. "Sol's sack, Beckett." They held up the paper, picking at the rounded corners. "Rub it in, why don't you?" They glared at him, too, but he could see the corner of their mouth twitching, fighting the urge to grin.

"He learned from the best." Quincy chimed in.

"I'd love to see you try archery, Isaacs. Maybe that'd take you down a notch." They scowled at him.

"Sure. If you can hit the bloody paper, I'll consider giving it a go."

"Deal. Excuse me a moment."

They hopped the counter again, striking out in the direction of the backroom. Quincy watched them leave, waiting until they'd gone far enough away before initiating a conversation.

"So, think they're actually that bad with a gun, or just messing with us?"

Amir shrugged, leaning against the counter. "I haven't really seen them use anything but a bow and throwing knives, so…"

Quincy stared at him. "Just another secret of theirs, then?"

He returned the look, confused. "I… Huh?"

"Mate. We don't even know their name."

Amir paused, confused. "Drifter is their name."

"No, it isn't. It's a title, right? Like calling you 'the techie' or Let 'the medic.' Point is, we don't know what they're actually doing here." Quincy scanned the area, swiveling his head to check for listeners. "For all we know, they're all set up to sell us out to Entrati or Scaldra or somethin' at the end of this. You can't convince me they're just stuck here doing all this out of the kindness of their heart."

Amir gave him a stony look. "They've explained themself already, when they set the loop. When we woke up. If you need more information, just ask."

"You're missing the point. We don't know who they are. They've told us all these fairy tales about the future and secret dimensions and life on a spaceship, but we don't know a thing about them. No name, nothing about their family, nothing about their past before they fell down the rabbit hole."

Amir opened his mouth, then hesitated.

They said it's fine, but…

"You do know something, then?" Quincy lowered his voice, leaning a tiny bit closer.

Amir nodded. "I'm not gonna get into it, but I know some things about them. Mostly things they've kinda-sorta mentioned once and haven't talked about since. Personal stuff."

An arrow pinned Quincy's hat to the wall before he could pry any further.

The Drifter vaulted down from the upper level, tucking into a roll as they landed. They waved calmly for the other two to clear the range.

They did.

The Drifter fired off ten arrows in succession, lined up down the middle of a poster.

"No recoil, no problem." They unstrung the bow, winding the string around their hand as they walked over. They looked smug. They tilted their head, narrowing their eyes at Quincy. "What'd I miss?"

"Can't a man have a conversation in private?" Quincy tsk-tsked at them, shaking his head. "For shame. And here I thought manners'd only improve in the future."

"Wrong person for that, Q." They glanced at his hat, still pinned to the wall. "Here, let me get that for you."

They didn't move.

Quincy reached over and unpinned it, scowling at them. "You put a hole through it."

They held their hand out to take the hat from him. They carefully pulled the arrow out, then gently scratched at the fabric. The hole healed itself, slowly but surely. "Dax style arrows. Needle-like. Made to pierce, not shred."

"Didn't seem all that needle-like to me." Quincy muttered. Amir snorted, earning himself a dirty look.

"Looks like Albrecht agrees with you." They hummed to themself as they pulled the arrows out of the poster.

"How'd you learn to do archery like that, but not how to shoot? You said you had that Sirocco in Duviri, so how..?" Amir trailed off.

"Yes. I had a Sirocco. I… what's the phrase?" They stopped for a moment, searching for the words. "Oh! Got it. I was hot garbage with it, that's how. I only used it when I had to. As long as I learned how to use the things Teshin gave me, he let me get away with not training with it."

A faint memory stirred in Amir's brain. Something they'd mentioned before. "Didn't…" He glanced at Quincy, who was prepping his Reconifex for a round of practice. The Drfiter hopped the counter again, stowing their arrows in a quiver hanging off their belt.

"Didn't what?" They elbowed his arm. "Didn't I use guns before coming here? Yes. I just sucked." They nodded towards the arcade. "C'mon. He says he has a silencer on that stupid thing. I highly doubt it makes much of a difference in here."

They started walking, a bit of swagger in their stride. Amir forced himself to match their not-not-NOT-slow pace, once again looking around for eavesdroppers. "No, didn't you say your brother was teaching you when you were a kid?"

They stumbled a bit, their attention snapping to him. "How do you…" They narrowed their eyes, lowering their voice and shifting defensively. "How do you know that? I don't remember telling you that."

"You said it when… When we talked about nightmares?" He whispered the last word, reassuring himself that Quincy was busy shredding posters. Not invisible, not listening. He could hear the echoing gunfire. It's fine.

Their face fell. "Oh. Right."

"So, if you learned as a kid, how—?" He stopped himself mid-sentence. He did not want to say the first thing that popped into his head, which was "how are you still so bad at it?"

They started walking again, tense. "It was a long time ago, Amir. I probably just forgot. I forgot a lot of stuff in Duviri."

Fair.

They did a very unsubtle job of changing the subject. "Quincy's… He's not a bad teacher, but Sol, I wish Teshin had put his foot down. I know Teshin's style. Quincy's…" They made a frustrated gesture. "One minute, he's too busy making fun of me to correct me, the next he's hovering and correcting every little thing. The other day he said there were too many 'bad vibes' in the range for me to practice. Didn't stop him from practicing, mind."

They'd reached the arcade, the sound of faint beeping and 8-bit music filling the annoyed silence after the Drifter stopped talking.

Amir shrugged. "Yeah, sounds about right. You can always ask Aoi or Lettie for tips. They saved Quincy from a lot of attempted strangulations while he was teaching me."

They snorted, hopping up on the edge of the air hockey table and fidgeting with one of the mallets. "Why not ask Arthur? He's military, too, right?"

"Arthur is too busy, is why not." Wait. "Not that Lettie and Aoi aren't, they do a lot, obviously—"

"Amir."

"— it's just I meant that Arthur's busy in—

"Amir."

"—different ways, and he's really big on keeping a tight schedule, and—"

"Amir."

He stopped mid-ramble. He hadn't noticed them hop off the table, or walk over, or stand next to him. He had noticed them grab his shoulder and shake him lightly.

"Uh." Words? No? Why? Why no words?

"I get it. Arthur's a… Void, that stupid word. It's two mashed together. Work addict?" They let go of his shoulder, snapping their fingers as they tried to think. "Workaholic!" They grinned, victorious. "Arthur's a workaholic. Believe me, the last thing I need is an Arthur lecture about my marksmanship." They stepped back, grunting as they re-seated themself on the air hockey table. "You know, you're not a bad shot yourself. Got anything that's gonna make more sense to me than… Whatever Quincy said?"

"Uh." Come oooooon, words! "Try to aim lower. That's what he meant by 'pre-correcting.' And you should relax your shoulders more."

They nodded. "Thanks. Makes sense."

Another question gnawed at the back of his brain, brought to mind by the rehashing of the conversation. "So… You said your brother was teaching you how to shoot after school. On the Zariman."

They froze. "Yes?"

"Were you not old enough for the class? Or training, or whatever they called it?"

"No. I was not." Their voice was quieter, more even. Restrained. "I wasn't technically old enough for the classes I was in, either."

"That makes sense." He said, not thinking. They gave him a quizzical look, tilting their head. "You're smart," he continued. "You know all kinds of stuff off the top of your head. I mean, mostly about plants, but still! Plus you're super stubborn."

They laughed. "I was a know-it-all, is what I was. Gods, I was insufferable then. Honestly, still can be." They started swinging their legs, lightly tapping their heels against the side of the table. "I was moved up into a higher level class automatically. We had a Cephalon teacher— don't— and she just… decided to move me one day. Data points said to, so she did."

He shut his mouth, his opportunity to steer the conversation towards Cephalons dashed before he even had the chance to try. A modern tragedy, truly.

They kept talking. "Wasn't old enough for the combat sims, though. Granted, I was a know-it-all with anger management issues and a tendency to get lost following Verd-IE units around the ship all day. Even if I had been old enough for them, I wasn't exactly anyone's first choice."

"Anger management issues?" He raised an eyebrow, not particularly caring that Jillian Killian had fallen, valiantly, to an onslaught of enemy fire. They clearly weren't a pacifist by any means, but… anger issues?

"Yep. Scrappy little Stover of a kid. Didn't always start the fights, and definitely didn't finish any of them, but by Sol, I was in them an awful lot." They grimaced. "I wasn't exactly popular as a kid."

"Same." Amir admitted. "It sounds like a movie trope, but I did actually get stuffed into a locker once. They couldn't lock it, but it happened." He grinned, hoping the half-joke would lighten the suddenly cloudy mood they were in.

They smiled. "I'm picturing you giving them advice through the door."

"Nah, I can occasionally keep my mouth shut." He shook his head. "Sorry, you were saying?"

They braced their elbows on their knees, taking a deep breath. "Hm. Keeping my mouth shut was something I hadn't figured out yet. My brother was teaching me after school because I wouldn't stop asking. I thought if I could brandish the theoretical knowledge of knowing how to shoot, I'd become cool by proxy. I wouldn't be 'even' the know-it—" They flinched, suddenly falling silent.

Even with what?

Wait.

Is their name Even?!

"Did your parents hate you?" He clapped a hand to his mouth. WHY, BRAIN, WHY?!

"… What?" They blinked a few times. "Repeat that. I cannot have heard that correctly."

"That is not what I meant to say. Hand to Lua. I am… so sorry. What I MEANT was that 'Even' is a really weird name to give a kid. 'Even' how? As in getting even with someone? Or like short for evening?" He could feel the uncomfortable heat of embarrassment wash over his face and neck. Caliber Chicks made a sad beeping drone as the GAME OVER screen blinked on and off.

They pulled their legs up onto the tabletop, sitting crisscross applesauce. "A-I-B-I-N-N. Aíbinn. Not E-V-E-N. Also… not my name anymore." They waved their hand like they were shooing the conversation away. "Anyways. Not important right now. He thought—"

"Yes, important right now." Amir interrupted them. "I didn't even know you had a name other than 'the Drifter.'" And now I get to be smug that Quincy was being all dicey for no reason.

"It's not my name." They responded flatly. "Not anymore. I gave it up. As I was saying, my brother thought it was stupid reason to learn, but he taught me anyways. Or tried. I remember a lot more yelling at each other than actual learning. Or teaching."

"Gave it up how? Like… for adoption? Never mind, that sounded way less stupid before I said it out loud." He turned away, restarting the Caliber Chicks level he was on. Anything that makes me stop talking right this second.

They laughed again. "I guess, yeah. Really, more like a hand-me-down. Gave it to the kid. She's a lot closer to that version of us, anyways." They hesitated. "Have I… Have I explained that?"

"Explained..?" Amir blinked. Wait.

"The kid is a version of me. Uh, I'm a version of her. Timeline split before I fell into Duviri. She's me, I'm her, it's all very… y'know." They rushed through their words, trailing off into silence.

Jillian Killian exploded in a pixelated flash of light.

Amir was open-mouthed gaping at the Drifter.

"Void stuff." They weren't meeting his eyes. "The Indifference wanted to have fun with the Zariman, remember? She got out of the Void, and I never left. All that stuff with the Lotus sending me that tether to the Origin System? The kid got tossed into the Void during the war. I was the backup plan. Got her out, she rescued the Lotus and saved the system, I started cleaning up after Entrati. Now I'm here. I haven't been Aíbinn in a long time."

"So…" Amir didn't really know where he was going with the sentence. He just wanted them to explain what in the world they were talking about. "So you're her evil twin? Wait, no—" He waved his hands in front of himself, trying to reset the sentence. "Sorry. I don't think you're evil, sorry. My brain heard 'two versions of the same person,' and there's this trope— never mind." He cast around his brain for a different train of thought. "Wait, is she the same age as you, then?"

"No. Duviri made sure of that. She was in suspended animation after the Zariman, but I aged slowly over the loops. The Tenno were seen as too dangerous to be 'awake,' so she's still a kid. Equivalent to about sixteen, seventeen?" They kicked their feet, clearly lost in thought. "She's probably a few hundred years old, technically."

Amir restarted the level for the second time, brain buzzing with questions he couldn't focus on long enough to get to the 'asking out loud' part.

The room fell into relative silence, punctuated by bitcrushed explosions from Caliber Chicks and echoing gunfire from Quincy's range.

"Actually, speaking of the kid, I had a bit of a favor to ask," they piped up.

"Fire away." He made brief eye contact with them, snapping his eyes back to the screen before he let the level go sideways on him. Again. Jillian has already suffered enough.

"Think you could fix up a second POM-2 for me? If I found enough parts, I mean. I had an idea and I want to test it with something… not Entrati-ified." They hopped off the table, moving to watch the game over his shoulder. "If I wanted to go back to the Origin System…"

"You... can go back? How?" He didn't ask the immediate follow-up questions, which were why are you staying here and can you take us with you.

"Same way the dojo stuff got here. The Helminth— that mouth thing on the wall of the stage. It's… the Infested kinda don't experience time? I don't really get it, I just know things get delivered where and when they need to. Anyways, KIM would be a lot more reliable than Arthur's old Kinepage for communication. I thought if I could get a PC onto the kid's Orbiter, I could keep tabs on everything while I was gone. If I left, that is." They pointed at the screen. "Incoming. That weird invisible missile's inbound."

"Thanks. I gotta fix that." He returned his focus to the game for a moment, dodging the empty space where they'd pointed. "So… send the computer into the creepy… wall mouth… which makes it go to the future. Obviously. Got it." He had somanyfollowupquestionsholySol. He played in silence a bit longer, curiosity slowly building. "Okay, how… How's it going to get Internet? Or get messages back and forth? Wouldn't there be, like… millennia between the message being sent and received?"

"If I can sweet-talk Helminth into very lightly Infesting it, then the computer would join its continuity stream. I think. I'm pretty sure. If nothing else, I could probably get it to talk to Eleanor? Techrot and Infested are kinda the same. It'd have her send the messages out like a switchboard operator."

"How do you know what a switchboard is, but you just had to have me give you a whole tutorial on how to use a TV remote?! Are you messing with—"

"I learned about them recently, Beckett, that's how. That's what gave me this idea in the first place. I can assure you, I desperately needed that tutorial. If nothing else, to stop Quincy making fun of me." They pointed at the screen again. "Ammo pickup. So, yes or no on the computer build?"

"Sure. Y'know, I could probably tell you how to build it yourself." He nabbed the pickup, jumping over an enemy. "I have about a billion questions about the whole 'Infested time travel' thing we can talk about while I teach you!"

"Oh, that'll go so well." They droned sarcastically. "Me, heading up a tech project? How about if you help me build it, I'll answer one question about Cephalons— even if I don't want to. Not right now!" They walked back towards the hockey table, holding a hand up to stop him. "I'll answer it over KIM so you don't have to try and remember the answer off the top of your head."

His brain revved into overdrive. "Just one question?" He groaned, pouting at them. Sometimes that worked on Aoi. Maybe they'd give in, too?

"One. Pick it carefully. Just give me a heads up that you're cashing in your point."

Do I ask about how they're programmed? Or I could ask about their personalities! Or I could ask if there's ever been someone who did to themself? Or more about something they refused to answer! That's the ticket.

…Oh, Sol, I'm hanging out with too many Brits.

"I gotta think that over for a hot minute first." He exhaled, puffing his cheeks out. "I have way more than one question."

They snorted. "Yeah. I know. That's why I put a limit on it, genius."

They squatted down, reaching under the table and pulling a book from somewhere under the frame.

"What— How?! Why?!" He took a hand off the controls for a second to gesture at the book.

"Tech notebook. Precariously. And because you kept asking questions I couldn't remember the answers to, so I wanted to write things down. I'm making a note about the deal so I don't forget." They pulled a pen from their pocket, scribbling something down. "There. In writing. One artisanal POM-2, crafted by Tech Wizard Beckett, in exchange for one full and complete answer about any one aspect of Cephalon tech."

"'Tech wizard?' Seriously?" He laughed.

"What? It's more fun than calling you a 'programming specialist' like Arthur does." They snapped the book shut with a groan. "I'm gonna have to find a different spot for this, aren't I?"

"Yep. I don't know how you stashed it in there, but I've got screwdrivers and probably'd know how to put that thing back together once I opened it up." He paused. "Probably."

"Then for the sake of the poor air hockey table, I'll find a new hiding place."

"I'm still checking under there every once in a while just in case. You know that, right?"

They shook their head, heading for the door. "Catch you later, Amir."

"Later."

It rained all night. Thunder, lightning, sheets of rain, the whole shebang.

He always felt more awake when there was a storm. Not in his usual oh-sweet-Lua-I-drank-that-energy-drink-way-too-fast way, but in a quiet way. One train of thought. One task at a time. Focused. Riding the lightning.

He'd cleaned his room, the arcade, and a bit of the food court. He'd already washed and dried his bedding, made his bed, and reorganized his gear. He'd also dusted. Like, actually dusted. On purpose. Usually, dusting was… tedious at best, pointless torture at worst. Tonight, it was calming. Something he was proud of having done. The action figures and collectables scattered around his room looked much better for it.

He was halfway through repairing a second GameGuy when he noticed something in his periphery.

A human-shaped glow.

OH GODS. IT'S A GHOST. THE MALL IS HAUNTED. THIS IS THE END. GOODBYE WORLD.

He forced himself to turn, feeling his hair standing on end with static.

The Drifter was limping towards him across the food court, head and hands twitching erratically. There was Voidlight pouring off them like smoke off of dry ice, leaking from every part of their face. It was shining out of the joints in their bio-armor, blue-white and harsh. Amir winced, the brightness of the light slightly painful to look at.

They stumbled to a stop, squinting at him. They weren't wearing their glasses. That's weird.

"… Hello. What..?" He cleared his throat, trying to get the nervous squeak out of it. "What's poppin'?"

They tilted their head, the light dimming slightly. "Wh— Huh?"

"What's poppin'? Oh. Sorry, what's up. You…" You look like a human glowstick.

"My head hurts." They took another few steps, limping hard on their right side. "I can't… my head hurts."

Their words were slurring. He stepped out of the arcade, meeting them halfway.

One side of their face was slack. A half-dozen workplace PSAs about strokes he thought he'd forgotten about slammed to the forefront of his brain.

WHAT DO I DO—

"Weird question, canyousmelltoastrightnow?" He grabbed a chair, guiding them into it. They more fell than sat down.

"No. Can't… find my meds..." They looked around, searching. "I dunno where…" They trailed off, their head jerking violently to one side. "Ow."

Okay. Think. Breathe. Slow. What do I do?

Oh, Sol, I don't remember what to do.

"Have you seen 'em?" They poked his arm, jamming their finger. They didn't seem to notice. The light around them brightened, then dimmed again. "Ow. Can' find mmh… meds. Need 'em. Please. M'head hurss." Their hand contorted for a second, visibly involuntarily, like something out of a zombie movie.

Meds. Right! I can get those.

"The syringe-y one, right?"

They nodded, sliding down in the chair to rest their head against the back.

He looked them up and down. Their right side was unusually slack, like a puppet with the strings cut. Whatever wasn't weirdly still was twitching like a video game character stuck halfway into a collider box. They weren't wearing their mission gear— why would they be, it's the middle of the night— but if he could find it…

"Stay put, okay?"

They didn't react.

Amir zipped up the stairs, through the creepy door, up the loft stairs. He ignored Kalymos' indignant hiss; He was on a mission. He zeroed in on the Drifter's gear belt, haphazardly tossed in the middle of the floor. Every pocket was open, the contents scattered across the floor in their confused state.

A blue injector was on the floor over by their computer desk, partway underneath it and very far from the rest of the jumbled mess.

He snatched it up, sending out a burst of sparks as he sped himself up. He was downstairs in a few seconds, vaulting the railing and dive-rolling like he'd done a million times before. They were right where he'd left them.

"I'm back! I need you to hold still, okay?"

They whimpered.

He moved to their right side, still motionless even as the rest of them stuttered like scratched CD.

Press to their arm. Click button. Wait for a whistle. Maybe throw it? He couldn't remember if throwing it was necessary. They seemed to do it every time. I'll throw it just in case.

"Sorrysorrysorry—" Jab. Click. "Just hold on a couple seconds." One. Two. Three. Go faster! Five. "Almost…"

The vial whistled faintly as it finished its job. He threw the vial as hard as he could, hearing it land somewhere near the Crash Course console.

"Any better? Can you tell me what's going on? BecauseI'mkindafreakingoutrightnow." He grabbed another chair, dropping down into it. Both legs started jogging from the stress.

They groaned, shaking out their right hand like it was asleep.

"Future?" He looked them up and down again.

"M'okay. Thanks." They started to sit up, flexing their joints— controlled, this time. "Where am I?" They still had their eyes squeezed shut. He could see Voidlight filtering through the skin of their eyelids, tinted orange-red.

"Food court. In a chair. You're, I don't know, like…" How many feet are in a meter?! "Like twenty feet from the arcade?"

They tilted their head again. "Did you bring me down here?"

"No? You walked down here. I'm not sure how you made it down the stairs, actually."

They opened one eye a tiny bit, then, sloooowwwwwllly, managed to open both all the way.

They looked around, rubbing their arm and shaking out their leg. "Neither am I." Their face was back to normal, the excess Void energy no longer pouring out of every orifice. "Nightmare. Really bad nightmare. Got one of those weird headaches." They glanced down at themself, brows furrowing. "Where's my stuff? How'd you get my meds?"

He didn't know why he felt embarrassed, but it still hit him like a train. A shame train. Focus. "I went up to your loft to find them."

They nodded. "Ah."

"You kinda made a piñata outta your gear belt. I think you were looking for the injector before you came down here. You knocked it halfway across the room, though. I'm not surprised you didn't find it in… in that state." He did his best to settle one leg out of the stress-bouncing, shifting in his chair to let his other leg go double-time in its stead. "You wanna talk about it or..?"

They shook their head. "I don't. Don't even want to think about it." They traced their fingers over the swirling chrome on their forearm. The light running through them flared bright white, then dimmed again. "Of everything I forgot in Duviri, I never forgot leaving him there. With that Angel. I didn't know who he was, or what it was, I just knew I left him to die." They clenched their hands into tight fists, pressing them against their knees and straightening up. "Forget I said anything. Please. Don't remind me."

"I'm…" I'm sorry, I'm here, I'm… not sure what to say?

"Can we just go play Caliber Chicks or something?" They didn't wait for him to answer, standing and moving towards the arcade. "Hell, we could count every floor tile in the mall for all I care. I just don't want to think."

He followed them. They snapped the lights on, staring blankly as the consoles came to life.

"Are you sure?" He moved slightly into their personal space, gently elbowing their arm. "You… That was a lot. Are you sure you're okay?"

They scoffed, veering around him to the Caliber Chicks cabinet. "Not even close. C'mon. Do you want to be Jillian or Lillian?"

"When it was me showing up at your place completely out of it and glowing like a freakin' flashlight, you made me talk about it." He crossed his arms, not moving.

"Not true." They said, turning away from the screen and glaring at him. "I left it up to you."

"You asked me what happened," he countered, "so I answered. Your turn. What happened?"

They leaned against the console, crossing their arms. "Talking about my brother reminded me of some stuff I'd forgotten. I tried to sleep off the stress, and instead I woke up with a stabbing headache and feeling like someone unplugged half my body." They raised their eyebrows. "Good enough?"

"I meant in the nightmare, and you know it."

They turned around, tapping their fingers on the game controls. "Fine."

They didn't say anything.

He waited. And waited a bit more. And then a little bit after that.

"… You gonna follow up on that?" He did his best to speak firmly, but he couldn't bring himself to be sharp.

They took a deep breath.

"I was in the classroom with my brother. Me, not Aíbinn. Protoframe-me. He was telling me to stay put. I told him I was coming with him, that I was older, and a better fighter, and I knew what would happen. Nothing changed. I woke up, I couldn't feel my arm or my leg, then suddenly I was down here with knockoff Doc Gray—" they gestured at him— "asking me questions." They tapped through the game's start menu, selecting 'co-op mode' and Jillian. "You're Lillian. Just humor me."

He closed the distance, hesitantly resting a hand on their arm. Their eyes flicked to his face, to his hand, then back to the screen. He could feel them tense up.

"You didn't do anything wrong." He said it quietly, hoping the tone change would make them believe him. "You were scared. You were a kid."

"You don't get it." They pulled their arm away, gently, shuffling to the side and gesturing to the 'player one' controls. "I had training. They made little soldiers out of us, Amir, combat sims or no. He left me a gun. I had it with me when it happened and I just ran."

They'd started the level, mechanically piloting Jillian's pixelated form through the stage. He followed with Lillian, letting muscle memory take over as he focused on choosing the right words.

"He told you to. Soldiers follow orders, right? You listened. You couldn't exactly pause the world to really deep-dive into thinking about that choice." Lillian jumped over a missile, firing back a frame-perfect shot that killed the enemy in one hit. "You did what he asked. He was protecting you."

"I should've protected him. I more than owed that to him at that point." They fumbled a combo, cursing under their breath.

Amir took out the enemy they'd been trying to hit, making Lillian crouch and un-crouch a couple times to signal them to move forward. "Y'know what happened the first time I actually ran a mission with the Hex?"

They shook their head.

"I completely froze up. Quincy smacked me upside the head and told me to get moving, so I did. The others had to tell me who to shoot, where to aim, when to go. I was a bundle of nerves. ." He nudged their elbow. "Completely unbelievable, right? Me, anxious?" He looked away from the game, gauging their reaction. Their face was blank, which… I really ought to get used to. Focus. "I couldn't think for myself, so I just did what they told me. You can't blame yourself for doing the same thing when you were mid-crisis."

"Everything I've ever done has been mid-crisis, Amir." They spoke quietly, slower than usual. "I think I'm allowed a bit of self-criticism at this point."

Jillian fell past the edge of the platform she'd jumped towards. They shook their hands out as she blinked back into existence, now down a life.

"Maybe, but, counterpoint:" He stopped Lillian in her tracks, taking a hand off the controls to squeeze their wrist, just briefly. "Maybe accept that you were in a literally impossible situation. People don't usually turn into horrifying space monsters and start hunting their own kids for sport. You're not wrong for running when someone told you to. You survived something straight out of a horror movie. Do you know how many characters die in horror movies because they don't run when someone tells them to?!" He couldn't help the slight smile that crept onto his face.

They cleared their throat again, turning away and wiping their eyes with one hand. "I'm guessing a lot."

"Right." Horror marathon. Maybe. Maybe just one at a time, actually. For their sake, obviously. "Yeah, a lot." Lillian shot down another bad guy, collecting an ammo drop. "Okay, think about it this way: If you hadn't run, you wouldn't've met us. I mean, I guess a version of you might've made it here, but it wouldn't be you, you. You'd be different."

"According to the theory of Eternalism, there's always—"

"Okay, so there is a universe out there where you didn't run and you made it here and you're technically the same in every other aspect. And it's not this one, and that's okay. That's my point. You made a choice under pressure, it changed things for better or worse, but you're here now and that's what matters." He shook his head, concentrating on the game once again.

The music changed, signalling the start of the end-of-stage boss fight. They both went silent as they fought, letting hours of practice take them through the battle and to the 'level clear' screen.

"You suck." They announced, raising their voice over the victory music.

"Excuse you?" He gestured at the screen. "I didn't even take damage. I did most of—"

"Not at Caliber Chicks, obviously. You suck because I actually sort of believe you." They stepped back from the controls. "I hate it."

He grinned. "It's because I'm right and you hate being wrong."

They kicked him in the leg, crossing their arms. They were veeeeeerrrry faintly smiling.

"Am I right, or am I right? Oh, right, I am right. That's why you're mad!" He gloated. He gestured at the console. "You wanna stop here and call it a night-slash-morning-slash-whatever?"

They nodded. "See you around."

"See ya."

He watched them walk up to the dojo. Not in a creepy way. In a friend way. He didn't trust that they believed him. He'd commiserated with them way too many times about the amount of casual lying that went into socializing. He knew they knew how to say something just to say anything.

Maybe they're a good enough liar to believe their own lie.

Sol, I hope so.

Chapter Text

Amir startled awake to the sound of Arthur calling something over the radio.

"— of schedule. Meet in the garage in fifteen minutes."

Ah, crap.

6:01 AM. Cool cool cool. Not nerve wracking at all. Not a problem. Just gotta be ready for the entire day in fifteen-ish minutes.

He had his gear on by 6:02. Breakfast (a fairly boring protein bar and two cups of coffee) downed by 6:04. Three laps around the mall by 6:06.

Ten minutes of free time.

Amir dropped into a chair in the food court with a more-or-less clear/straight path to the garage. If I can get to the garage in less than ten seconds, then that leaves nine minutes and fifty seconds.

He grabbed the GameGuy off his belt, setting a nine minute timer on his watch. It wasn't exactly the amount of time he wanted, but it was close enough to give him time to save.

Back to that attempt at a perfect run. He had that ice dungeon down pat, but now he was gearing up for the next dungeon. He needed potions, magic restores, and arrows. Lots of arrows. For that, he needed gems.

And to get gems, you hit everything in sight. No shrub or piece of pottery was safe. No enemy was ignored. It was a nice reprieve from the more technical aspects of the game. No need to figure out a convoluted puzzle. Just wandering around, breakin' stuff.

His watch went off way earlier than he wanted it to. Uggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I don't wannnaaaaaaaaaaa. He saved the game three times just to make sure, powered off the GameGuy, and stowed it. He stretched as he stood, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders.

"Ready for whatever this is?" Aoi was stepping out of her store, still holding a mug of tea.

He shrugged. "Not really, but hey! Can't be too picky when you're saving the world, right?"

They started walking toward the garage. Aoi ditched her now-empty mug on a bench, flicking her wrist to force the automatic door to open faster. "I gotta figure out how to fix that thing. Mind helping? You'd probably run into it less." She gave him a mischievous grin. "I mean, you run into it a lot, so I understand if it's just part of your routine now."

Amir tapped her elbow with his index finger, shocking her. She yelped, grabbing her arm and shoulder-checking him in revenge.

"Rude! I was just being considerate!" She gasped melodramatically, cradling her arm like it was about to fall off. "Maybe I'm not mission-ready anymore!"

He snorted. "I think you'll be okay."

The rest of the Hex were already present. Arthur was listening to something in his earpiece, head bowed and one ear plugged to hear better. Lettie and Quincy were leaning against one of the long-abandoned cars, talking quietly. Eleanor was sitting cross-legged on the floor by the corkboard, eyes shut like she was meditating.

"Amir. You seen D anywhere?" Quincy called over.

Amir shook his head. "Thought they were already here."

Quincy looked past him, then smirked. "Never mind, there they are. Get your beauty sleep, then?"

The Drifter crouched down by Eleanor, sending a withering look at him. "Yeah. You should try it sometime, save us all from the usual view."

Lettie chuckled. Quincy grinned, shaking his head. "Careful there, you'll hurt my feelings."

"Shut it." Arthur snapped.

The room fell silent as Arthur continued to listen to… probably Scaldra comms? Maybe it's nothing. Maybe he just wanted to make sure we weren't getting too comfy with late mornings or something.

Arthur finally nodded, looking to the rest of the room. "Scaldra's sending out a purge squad to the east side of town, near the mausoleum. Still a large civvy presence in the area, so we're looking at a potential evacuation. Unfortunately," he smirked, a bit of sarcasm creeping into his tone, "There's been a rather unexpected bit of Techrot activity just south of the area that's pulling some of their heavy hitters away."

Eleanor smiled, eyes still shut. Ohhhhhhhh, that's cool!

"Lettie, Amir, and myself will be heading into the thick of it. Aoi, Quincy, and Marty, I need you to be on standby to clean up that Techrot outbreak as soon as we're done. Eleanor can only contain so many."

Amir nodded.

He didn't like taking Scaldra missions. In the moment, it felt like an immersive video game. Thrilling, exciting, even fun. Then he'd get back to the mall, the adrenaline would wear off, and he'd sit there thinking about the people he'd just killed. Real people. Who wanted him dead, sure, but that didn't make him feel any better about it.

"… Everyone got that?" Arthur concluded.

Oh great. He was still talking. Amir nodded, despite the fact that he very much did not get that.

"Alright. The Scaldra team will meet back here in ten. Grab Effervon kits, fill up on ammunition, and check your gear over in the meantime. Techrot team, ears on." Arthur turned back towards the corkboard, quietly conversing with Eleanor.

Amir did his best to look nonchalantly at the others. Pfft. I got this. No moral conflict or guilt over here. Just as tough as the rest of you.

Aoi walked over to him, a worried look on her face. "You alright? You zoned out for a second there."

"Eh, you know me. Got distracted. Just running through something in my head. Hey," he lowered his voice, "after the whole 'Eleanor can only contain so many' part, what did he say?"

Aoi sighed, then quietly imitated Arthur's gruff tone. "'Just because we have her on our team doesn't mean we can get careless about the Techrot. Don't stay longer than needed. She'll signal you.' Nothing you had to pay attention to."

Thank Lua.

Quincy approached, slinging an arm over Aoi's shoulders. "So, this gonna count toward your pizza bet? Wanna know if I should be keeping tabs on how the Scaldra team does."

Aoi shook her head. "Nah. Too many moving pieces. Plus it's not a fair comparison."

"Since when do you care about it being fair?" Amir laughed. "You magnet-ed me to a car to get a head start the other day!"

"And you haven't stopped whining about it. I learned my lesson." Aoi grinned.

"Amir! Go get ready to head out!" Lettie called from the doorway, already on her way to grab supplies.

He did. Extra Effervon pack, put the GameGuy away, grab an extra granola bar, get weapons, get back to the garage. He was back in five minutes. The Techrot team had dispersed, leaving just the twins behind. Arthur looked up as Amir zipped back in, giving a single nod of approval before resuming his conversation with Eleanor.

Eleanor was still in that almost meditative state, expression shifting in tiny ways as she goaded the Techrot into action. Lettie returned, scowling and muttering something under her breath. Probably something… not very charitable about Eleanor.

Three minutes. Amir suddenly regretted putting his GameGuy away. It was for the best— he didn't want to risk it getting melted or hit or something— but three minutes felt like forever when he was already on edge. Three whole minutes to think at his speed about all the things that could go wrong and all the things that he'd have to think about later when the crash came.

Two minutes. Arthur was talking to Lettie about something. They were standing by the garage PC— not my best work, but all it needs to do is pull up a map— pointing at different locations. Route planning. Maybe they're looking for the least people-y route. Probably. That's safest. Or maybe they just want to go full carnage on them. Is that why they're bringing me? Oh, great. Scorched earth (and other things), here we come! He fidgeted with a few sparks, tossing them between his hands like tiny hacky sacks. Just think of it like a game. Yeah, like a game. Just a game. Nobody's really getting hurt. They'll respawn! Oh, actually, they might really respawn at the end of the year.

One minute. Amir stretched, cracking his knuckles and shaking out his legs. Gotta get ready. Whole lotta hitting about to happen. Ugh, the comms are gonna be so boring. All business. Okay. Just gotta focus on the mission. Got a job to do here. Here we go. No problem. Okay. I'm all good.

"Lemme at 'em, boss!" He grinned at Arthur, hoping he looked less nervous than he felt. "They won't know what hit 'em."

Arthur and Lettie started their Atomicycles, screeching into the tunnel with the engines roaring. Amir followed, quickly matching their pace.

Out of the mall, towards the sound of helicopters and yelling.

The Scaldra presence was very obviously spread thin. Eleanor must've thrown a real doozy at them. Arthur had to break a few civilians away from a lone Jaeger unit, midway through an inexpert but legitimately impressive beatdown. Strength in numbers, I guess. Amir sent a quick volley of shots at an approaching backup duo, throwing out a shield to suppress their return fire. He'd hit one of them in the leg. Arthur got up close and personal with the injured one, moving in a flash of light as his sword went clean through them. The second one backed away, sending a spray of gunfire wide as Arthur knocked the gun from their hands. Amir looked away, hearing the sound of something wet hitting the street. Don't think about it don't think about it don't think about it—

"Move up. We've got a lot more coming." Arthur's voice in his ear. He listened, checking rooftops for Scaldra troops and totally not avoiding looking at whatever it was his foot splashed into as he ran forward. Two units, waiting to drop on top of whoever was first to run underneath them. Showtime. Amir fired two shots, knocking them off balance before throwing an arc of lightning at them. They twitched and fell to the street below, limbs contorting in painful-looking ways. He grimaced, redirecting his attention to the next block. Arthur dashed ahead, sending a few unlucky soldiers flying into the buildings. Lettie was doing… something that made a glowy bubble. Glowy bubbles are usually good, right?

Six Scaldra visible. Maybe more out of sight? Amir's attention pinged between each one, doing some quick guesswork. He ran ahead of the others, letting a huge burst of electricity blast out from him. He heard cries of shock— ha get it because— and smelled burning. He fell back, running to the others, holding his breath. Don't look. Don't look. Nothing happened. "Took care of a few of them, there's definitely more, though."

Arthur nodded, charging forward with his gun raised. Lettie did a visible up-down scan of Amir, checking for injuries. "All in one piece, mijo?"

Amir nodded. "Last time I checked!"

"Then move it. We need to be in and out." She took off after Arthur, waving for Amir to follow.

Heh. Follow. As if.

He sped ahead, catching up to Arthur. He sent out a surge of energy, and Arthur's swings started landing double-time. "Amir! What is this?!" Arthur sounded… less than thrilled?

"Gave you a buddy boost! Welcome to Team Speedy!" Amir chirped, swinging his Lacera in a wide arc. Two Flayers caught facefuls of electrified steel, knocking them off their feet. "Should wear off in a second, don't freak."

Arthur didn't respond, aside from grunting as he sent a few well-placed slashes around a Barbican unit's shield.

"Anyone hearing updates on the Scaldra situation?" Lettie yelled over the din of the fight, cutting down a Dedicant.

Aoi responded, her line a little fuzzy over long distance. Gotta fix that. "They're freaking out! They've got some paratroopers heading in your direction, but they're getting desperate. The Techrot's eating their resources. Literally, it just ate some of their radio equipment. Keep going!"

Paratroopers? Oh, great. Stormfall.

Stormfall units were usually a lot smarter and a lot better equipped than the average Scaldra grunt. If Quincy were with them, he'd probably shoot out their parachutes and let gravity do the work. Lettie had the same idea, apparently— Amir could see her climbing a fire escape to get a better vantage point. Arthur was sending a hail of bullets into a group of Scaldra, backing up and half-hiding behind a blown-out van as the sound of airplane engines echoed overhead. Amir sent another bolt of electricity out, watching in morbid fascination as the energy arced between the group's bodies.

"Got a clear shot on them, Let?" Arthur called.

"Got it. Keep me alive." She responded.

A burst of rifle fire, and one paratrooper dropped out of the sky. Amir swung his Lacera at a Flayer, tangling one of her scythes in the whip-like doohickey, pulling her off balance and planting a hard kick into her abdomen. He had to dodge as she let go of the scythe, releasing the resistance he was pulling against. It went flying over his shoulder, but he didn't get the chance to see where it landed as she swung the second one at his knee. He jumped over it, swinging down hard at her head with the business end of the blade. He flinched as it made contact, redirecting himself to the fight around him.

Another body came plummeting down from on high, its parachute still attached. Arthur had an Eradicator class by the collar, sending a single pistol shot into their gut and throwing them off himself. "How many are left, Let?"

"Una mas. Callate."

The last Stormfall trooper fell to the street— not far enough to stop fighting. Her leg was obviously badly broken. Fanaticism must be one heck of a painkiller. She was sending a steady barrage of gunfire towards both street-level Hex, stumbling backwards on her injured leg. A Barbican was advancing— mobile cover. Not so fast, buddy. That's my gimmick. Amir pulled his pistol, squinting along the sight. Just target practice. Easy. Just like the poster.

CRACK.

One bullet, right between the eyes.

"TELL ME SOMEONE SAW THAT!" he yelled, watching the Barbican crumple. He sent a few shots toward the Stormfall unit, missing all but two. One hit her injured leg (whoops) and the other landed in her side. She yelled, throwing her rifle aside and pulling her own pistol, trained on him. Nope nope nope— Amir sent out another shield as Arthur charged in. A quick slash was all it took— she was really hurt already.

"You guys can come back now!" Aoi called again. Her signal was even fuzzier. "They're calling for a retreat on both fronts. Want us to head out, Arthur?"

"Copy that. Head for the Techrot. We'll see you when you get back." Arthur responded. He aimed down the street and fired a few warning shots, covering their exit. "Let's head home."

The Techrot team was already on their way out when they got back to the mall. Amir caught the briefest sight of Quincy turning a corner before they vanished into the distance. He ran inside, crashing into his desk chair and pulling up his scrubber program just in case. "You guys probably won't be out there long, but I've got scrubbers ready if you need 'em."

"Thanks Amir! Scaldra did most of the work for us, it looks like." Aoi was audibly grinning. "Not all of it, though."

Amir pulled up the tracker map, watching the three blips of coordinates approach the outbreak location. He didn't need to, but he was still wound up from fighting. He needed something to do. Quincy broke off from the other two, who seemed to be working in tandem.

"Anytime now, Quincy." The Drifter's line wasn't as crackly as usual. Interesting.

"Oi, anytime you want to do this bit, be my guest." Quincy retorted.

The line went quiet for a long time. Quincy's dot stopped moving, camped out somewhere high up. The other two continued their apparent path of destruction along the street, punctuating their movement with short callouts and barks. Squishy-crunchy-screeching noises were audible in the background of their speech. Blegh.

"Quincy, we've got a— nevermind." Aoi called. "You saw it."

"It was half the size of a hummer, of course I saw it. Think I'm blind?" Quincy quipped.

"Of course not. You're too obsessed with your own reflection for that." The Drifter shot back. "Now, would you get the one at the end of the block before it becomes a problem?"

Amir snorted, then double-checked his transmitter was off. Funny? Sure. Worth getting on Quincy's bad side?

… Debatable.

Another few minutes passed in relative quiet. A few callouts here and there as the trio pushed further into the outbreak slowly faded into complete silence as they reached the core. Amir reassured himself they were fine, watching their coordinates change as they moved. Dead people don't move. Still, he was anxious. He had both legs jogging, twiddling a pen in one hand.

What if they've been calling for backup and we can't hear them? What if the Scaldra retreat was a ruse? What if—

"Blech. We're heading — now. And calling first dibs — the showers. It's absolutely rank — here." Aoi sounded disgusted, her mic cutting out a tiny bit.

"Roger, roger! Glad you're okay." Amir responded. Really really gotta fix that radio.

"'Okay' is relative. We're not hurt. I am not okay." The Drifter's line was back to its usual crackly interference levels. "Quincy popped something over my mucking head."

"Whoops." Quincy laughed. "Maybe you should've watched your mouth. My hurt feelings must've thrown off my aim."

"You know what else throws off your aim? A black eye."

"We're almost back, make sure there's stuff ready to clean up after us. We're pretty gross." Aoi was very obviously ignoring the other two. "Like… really gross. Drifter especially."

"On it." Amir shut down the computer, running over to the janitor's closet and filling a mop bucket with water. He eyeballed how much sanitizer to add, swirling it with the mop a couple of times before wheeling it out near the garage.

He could smell the others before they appeared. They were all absolutely covered in splattered Techrot, chunks falling off as they parked their bikes. He couldn't help the face he pulled as they approached.

"Oh, Sol, you stink." He didn't really mean to say that out loud, but oh Sol they STANK.

"Thank you, Archimedean Beckett." The Drifter rolled their eyes. "Got any more revelations for us?" They stepped around him, holding their arms away from their sides like that'd make the grossness less gross.

"Yep. For example: this is gonna take a while to clean up." He gestured at the floor, now spotted with mucosal disgustingness.

"Keep us posted on your discoveries." Quincy raised an eyebrow, smirking.

Aoi took a deep breath, pulling a face before making eye contact with Amir. "Sorry about them. They've been doing that all mission. I can't tell if they're bonding or two seconds away from punching each other. Honestly, I'm not sure they can, either."

Quincy was the first one out of the showers. He went straight into cleaning his gear, spreading it all out over one of the tables in the food court and wiping everything down. Twice.

Aoi was out next, making a note of something as she walked into her store. On-Lyne started playing out of the speaker system almost instantly. She hummed along, smooshing a few pieces of scrap metal into different shapes.

The Drifter did not appear for a full thirty minutes after Aoi did. They immediately disappeared upstairs, not even pausing to say hello as they walked past the arcade.

"I think they tried to boil themself." Aoi commented, walking over and watching the Drifter ascend the stairs. "It was like a sauna in there. A really crappy sauna."

"I think Quincy might've gone a bit far with the whole Techrot zit thing." Amir looked over at her, pressing his mouth into a thin line. "I know I wouldn't be cool with it."

Aoi shrugged. "They apologised to each other, I guess. Quincy let them borrow some cologne to 'fix the stink eye' they were giving him." Aoi put air quotes around the sentence. "So I guess they're back to being even with each other."

Amir shook his head in amazement. They're both nuts.

Aoi tilted her head, smirking. "Some of the things they said to him today would've gotten someone else a black eye or worse. I think he's enjoying having someone around who dishes it right back at him." She pulled a sheet of metal from her pocket, morphing it into a series of small shapes in succession. A thimble, a 'paper' star, a tiny rifle, a stick figure. She made the stick figure wave at Amir, grinning proudly as she turned the metal back into a sheet. "I'd've enjoyed it more if I could've seen his face."

Amir snickered, watching her metallurgy with fascination. He waved back at the stickman, feeling a little sad as he was smooshed back into a flat shape. "So they didn't try to kill each other?"

"Nah. Mostly just drove me insane." She turned towards one of the cabinets, watching it tick through the pre-game screens. Her eyebrows went up, shocked. "You've got competition."

Amir balked at that. "Compe—? Rude, Aoi!"

She pointed at the screen of his beloved Caliber Chicks cabinet. "No, I mean someone's on your leaderboard."

There, at the very bottom, barely having knocked out his lowest placing score:

AYA

"Wonder who that is." He frowned, wracking his brain for possibilities. Not Arthur, he's not a gaming type. Not Aoi, she's all surprised… Definitely not me, that'd be a heckuva typo...

"I figured it wasn't you. You've got…" She pursed her lips, squinting at the screen. "Let's call it a theme, for lack of a better word."

"It's funny." He crossed his arms, pouting.

"Sure. Keep telling yourself that." She winked, leaning against the console. "Probably Drifter, if I had to guess. They've gotten pretty good at it."

"Yeah, but why A-Y-A? Why not, I dunno, like, D-R-I or something like that?"

"I don't know, Amir, why's yours—"

"Because it's funny. That's why." He threw his hands up, grinning— but a little bit exasperated. "At least mine makes some kind of sense."

Aoi raised an eyebrow. "Theirs probably does, too, if you ask them." She gave him a weird look. "Unless you're chicken."

He scoffed, shooting her an offended look. "I'm not chicken. I just don't want to bother them with a bunch of dumb questions. It's not a big deal."

She made a clucking noise, eyes gleaming with mockery.

"Fine."

He barged through his bedroom door, typing up a message on KIM. "I'll ask them. You wanna know? Let's find out."

[[spare.stardust] is online.]

[H16h V0l7463] hey future

[H16h V0l7463] trying to beat my score on caliber chicks I see!

[H16h V0l7463] not bad not bad

[spare.stardust] How'd you know it was me?

[H16h V0l7463] well it definitely wasn't me

[H16h V0l7463] i have a brand to maintain :)

[H16h V0l7463] aoi would've signed her own name, arthur and lettie don't do games so it's not either of them, eleanor signs with SLM, and quincy would immediately drag me over to gloat lol

[H16h V0l7463] you're also kinda the only other person who takes cc seriously so it wasn't exactly rocket surgery :P

[spare.stardust] ??????

[spare.stardust] It's not exactly what now? o-O

[H16h V0l7463] lol whoops

[H16h V0l7463] it's not brain surgery + it's not rocket science = it's not rocket surgery

[H16h V0l7463] or brain science but that's an actual thing so it's not as fun to say i guess

[spare.stardust] BatGuy would be proud of your detective work.

[spare.stardust] My 'high' score on the other hand… not so much :P

[H16h V0l7463] ehhhh i'm kind of the 14 time champion of the game soooooo

[H16h V0l7463] you're not bad for a n00b lol

[H16h V0l7463] wait hang on i just remembered why i messaged you in the first place

[H16h V0l7463] why AYA? doesn't seem like you

[spare.stardust] It's a nickname someone gave me :/

[spare.stardust] Not really my speed, but 'DRF' kinda just reads as 'derf' in my brain and I refuse to have my inevitable victory listed under the name 'derf'

[spare.stardust] ...I should not have told you about derf, huh?

[H16h V0l7463] LOL NOPE

[H16h V0l7463] NICE TO MEET YOU DERF

[spare.stardust] >:(

[spare.stardust] Derf is not spreading beyond this chat, understand?

[spare.stardust] I will die of embarrassment.

[spare.stardust] That's not a plea for mercy, by the way, that's a threat. I will find a way.

[H16h V0l7463] …

[spare.stardust] Amir please no

[H16h V0l7463] say hi to Aoi?

[H16h V0l7463] she'skindareadingovermyshoulderrightnow

[spare.stardust] Hi, Aoi.

[spare.stardust] If either of you need me, I'll be finding a hole to die in.

[spare.stardust] If you put Derf on my headstone I'll come back just to strangle you I swear by the Unum

[H16h V0l7463] lol it's not that bad it's just Aoi

[spare.stardust] 'Just Aoi'

[spare.stardust] That's what I'm afraid of lol

[spare.stardust] Well. Embarrassment grave isn't gonna dig itself. Goodbye, cruel world (and Amir and Aoi by extension)

[[spare.stardust] went offline.]

Amir spun in his chair, grinning. "Derf's being kinda dramatic, aren't they?"

Aoi giggled, nodding. "Yeah, but we gotta pick our moment carefully, here. Gotta get maximum impact when we throw Derf out in conversation." She checked the food court, making sure there was nobody in earshot. "I vote we sit on this a while. Let them get a false sense of security." She tapped her fingers together in a cartoonishly villainous pose.

"You're a genius." He pointed at her, starting to giggle as well. "And evil. An evil genius."

"I know." She shrugged, snorting a bit as the giggles turned into full-blown laughter. "Wait, shh shhh shhh!" She waved her hands, a bit panicked. "Someone's gonna ask why we're laughing!"

That was the last straw. Both of them held their composure for about two seconds before bursting back into tear-starting, stomach-aching laughter, both trying (and failing) to shush the other.

Chapter Text

April 27, 1999

-{Ayhan}-

They paced impatiently around the room, staring at the second PC.

Come on. Boot. You can do it. Maybe it needs the operating system reinstalled? No, it worked downstairs. Did the door mess with it? Albrecht, when I find you—

The screen flickered to life, displaying the Kinemantik logo. Thank Lua.

It had taken three weeks of scavenging for them to find all the parts for a second PC. If it hadn't worked…

They double-checked the basic functions, made sure KIM was installed, and powered it down. They gently lowered it into a box full of shredded Pitchweave— too badly mangled to be reused otherwise.

Well. That's what they'd surmised. Maybe a few of the others would disagree, but they'd elected not to ask.

They packed the computer accessories into the box, topping the jumbled mess with a Temple and the Rippers band tee. They laid a CD case in the middle— a mix of music from the band they'd asked Aoi to put together for them.

They laid a laminated page of instructions on top of everything. It was the super-edited, incredibly basic rundown on how to set up the computer, register for KIM, and add Ayhan to their friends list. Amir had revised it about seventeen times for "minimum confusion potential."

They'd fallen victim to his pouting when they'd told him the kid only needed their contact info. He'd left a message (once again, heavily edited from the original ramble) explaining he was a friend of theirs and please if you could tell me more about robots that'd be the coolest.

There. Ready to go.

They taped the box shut, lugging it over to Helminth's room.

"Need this sent to the Orbiter. I'll get you a pizza with the works." They set it down in front of the giant maw in the wall. "And I'm sure Aíbinn will give you something when it arrives. She's a good kid. If the pizza's not enough on its own, I also happen to have a few damaged computer parts I can throw on top."

The Helminth rumbled.

"Deal. Thanks, Helminth."

They stepped out of the room, donning their headphones and zoning out into some opera while it "swallowed" the box. The composition was different from Luscinia's style, but it was beautiful.

They waited a few minutes, then tentatively pulled one earmuff away from their head. Silence. They shifted it behind their ear, careful to keep the Void-glowy tubing along their scalp clear of any pinch points.

Someone knocked at the door.

"Come in, it's open." They adjusted the volume on their CD player to be barely audible; just enough to drown out the tech-whine of the room.

"Hiiiii!" Aoi chirped. "Hi, Tak! Hi, best girl! You're so cute!!!"

Ayhan smiled. She almost liked Tak more than they did. Almost. "What's up? Need me for something or just wanted some Kubrow kisses?"

"I had a question! Amir said you're sending a box to the fuuutuuure." She warbled the word like a cheesy movie trailer. "I wanted to add something to it, if that's okay!"

"Oooh, sorry Aoi. I just sent it out." They started walking down the stairs to her. She looked deeply disappointed. "I can absolutely try to talk Helminth into sending another delivery, though."

She perked up. "You'd do that for little old me?"

They rolled their eyes, grinning. "It's that or I have to deal with you and Amir pouting at me on the same day. I know my limits. What'd you want to send?"

She brandished a set of On-Lyne CDs. Of course. "I thought I might try giving 'the kid' a little taste of true artistry."

They took the stack, flipping through it. "I can send this through, easy. Actually, I might have you make a few copies, if that's okay. I've got a friend who, I kid you not, Albrecht Entrati himself gave a copy of Party Of Your Lifetime. She'd probably appreciate more of 'the boys.'"

Aoi squealed. "Seriously?! You know, that might be the only thing Entrati's ever done that I absolutely agree with."

"Same here." They laughed. "Yeah, I guess even Entrati's not immune to spoiling his granddaughter."

Aoi froze, gawking at them. "He has a granddaughter?"

"And a grandson, actually. Orokin elites lived a long time. He's been around since the Empire was still up and kicking."

"Someone agreed to…"

"Yeah. He was even married for a while. Thus… grandkids."

She scrunched her face in disgust, slightly paler than before. "This conversation is over now. I'm changing the subject." She shook her head like she was erasing the thought. "What did you send?"

"You want to sit down while we talk, or is this a quick visit?" They asked, beckoning her towards the stairs.

"Oh, that'd be nice. I just got back from a Scaldra cache raid, I'm beat."

"Cool." They started heading up, talking over their shoulder. "We sent a refurbished POM-2 with all the stuff she'd need to use it, instructions on how to set it up, and my contact info. And some Temple and the Rippers stuff." They grinned as they settled onto the couch. "Couldn't resist. That tee Quincy had was too small for me, but it should fit her. I just hope she likes it more than skeg. For Ordis' sake, if nothing else."

"What in the world is skeg?" Aoi bit her lip, clearly trying not to laugh.

They sighed, shaking their head. "The hot youth music scene on Venus. Bang on metal, operate tools incorrectly, make noises on beat. Sometimes they get experimental and add an actual instrument." They shrugged. "Not a lot of methods of self-expression available in Fortuna, so they make do. Still makes me want to skeg my head into the nearest rock. I'll see if she'll record it for you."

Aoi grinned. "I'll gladly add it to my collection. Oh, speaking of, how are you liking that classical compilation?"

"It's lovely. Thank you." They held up their CD player. "Listening to it right now, actually."

If a smile could generate sunlight, Aoi's would've been doing so. She stood, clasping her hands together under her chin.

"I'm so glad you like it! I was worried you wouldn't, it's very different from the stuff you usually take."

Ayhan's POM let out a message ping. They stood and walked to the desk as they responded. "I saw the word 'opera' and… That's one of the few things the Orokin allowed to survive their media purge. Even had a soprano in the Tales of Duviri. Before everything went sideways, she used to sing me to sleep." They leaned over the desk, not wanting to commit to sitting if it wasn't important.

Amir had sent them three new messages. He was typing a fourth when they checked their inbox.

Aoi came over, bumping their hip with her own to announce her presence. "What's up?"

"Sorry, I thought it was the kid. Just Amir. I thought it seemed a little too early for her to figure one of these out."

[H16h V0l7463] soooooo hypothetically could I possibly send something extra to the future with the POM-2

[H16h V0l7463] I found another GameGuy and fixed it up and… idk it'd just be cool to know it's in SPACE y'know

[H16h V0l7463] I have it ready to send and everything lmk if that's cool

[H16h V0l7463] (it's really not a big deal if not)

[H16h V0l7463] but also it'd be really cool

[H16h V0l7463] like, really REALLY COOL

[spare.stardust] About five minutes too late for that, unfortunately.

[spare.stardust] I've already agreed to send a second parcel with some CDs from Aoi (you'll never guess which band) so I can include it in that one. Later, though. I've already promised a pretty large payout for the Helminth and I need a little time to get some more slop for it to enjoy. (x_x)

[spare.stardust] But, if you want to accelerate that wait time, the kid could probably persuade it from her end if you mentioned the words "game," "old tech" and "send via Helminth" to her over KIM.

[spare.stardust] Don't tell her it was my idea or she'll never agree to it, by the way

[[H16h V0l7463] is typing…]

[[H16h V0l7463] is typing…]

[[H16h V0l7463] is typing…]

[H16h V0l7463] thanks! :)

[spare.stardust] Gotta go. Aoi's visiting (and reading over my shoulder) so I don't want to ignore her. Catch you later.

They logged out of KIM, giving Aoi an apologetic smile.

"So, the kid's getting all of our contacts, right?" She nudged them with her elbow, playfully. "Since you're apparently alright with Amir messaging her."

"Eventually, yes," they acquiesced, "but for now, it's just me and Amir."

"So how'd he convince you to do that?" She wiggled her eyebrows, grinning mischievously.

They groaned. "He did the pout thing. That face he makes at you when you skimp on the toppings when you're on pizza duty? I made the mistake of saying the kid's a lot more 'techy' than I am and it spiralled from there."

"So it does work on you. Interesting." Aoi narrowed her eyes, still smiling.

"If that's supposed to imply something, it works on everyone but Quincy. So…" They shrugged, crossing their arms.

She pursed her lips, looking away. "I guess you're right, huh?"

They smiled, moving back towards the couch. "We're all very easily swayed. He's very likable. Quincy's only immune out of pure stubbornness." They moved a Kavat floof onto the side table, pulling their feet up under them and sitting cross-legged.

Aoi flopped down next to them. "So, why the sudden push to get a POM-2 back to the Origin System? Seems a little…" She waved her hand, searching for a word. "… ominous."

"If something comes up, I want to be able to go help her and stay in touch with you all. She's out there saving the world as much as we are. Risks are inevitable and she's not a Protoframe." They tried very hard not to think about all the ways Aíbinn could get hurt without them there to help.

Aoi nodded. "And you miss her, don't you?"

They blinked, caught off guard. "Yes. How..?"

She smiled again, shrugging casually. "Intuition. And spending a really long time around the twins."

"So Eleanor told you?" They furrowed their brow, confused. "I mean, it's not exactly a—"

Aoi shook her head, holding up a hand to interrupt them. "No no no, I mean knowing what it looks like, silly. Anything Eleanor's overheard in your noggin is between you and her." She stood, glancing at the digital clock on the desk. "Is it really that late already?" She checked her watch to verify.

"No, that one's… Entrati did some modifications." They followed her off the couch, turning the display around to face the wall. "As far as I can tell, it's set to follow the time on Deimos, orbiting Mars."

"Oh." Aoi said. She wrinkled her nose at the mention of Albrecht. "Why keep it around?"

"Sentimentality, mostly. Long story." They gave her a polite smile, crossing their arms and leaning against the desk.

She nodded, looking around the room. "Alright. Well, let me know when 'the kid' figures out the POM! Again, I'm more than willing to pitch in some bribes for Helminth. Let me know what'll help get her hands on those CDs faster." She grinned, waving as she walked out.

"Will do. Thanks." They waved back, waiting to hear her footsteps fade into silence.

They turned the volume back up on their CD player, settling the headphones back on their ears.

The world could wait until the end of this aria.

[[TranqSavvy] would like to chat! Accept invite?]

[Yes] [No]

[Yes]

[[TranqSavvy] is online.]

[TranqSavvy] Hello, this is the Operator. Have I reached the Drifter?

[spare.stardust] Yeah, it's me.

[spare.stardust] Also, you don't have to be all cryptic. The network's locked down.

[spare.stardust] Glad to see the connection works. Any trouble setting it up?

[TranqSavvy] Nope, your friend did a good job on the instructions! Ordis says hi, by the way!

[spare.stardust] Hi Ordis!

[spare.stardust] What're you up to? Besides this, obviously.

[TranqSavvy] I've been doing some conservation stuff on the Plains. Managed to get the badges and everything! Master Tesonai was very impressed with me. Today I went and relocated a few Kuaka who got into a grain silo in Cetus, had to spend most of the day waiting around super quietly to make sure I got them all before I took them back to the Plains.

[spare.stardust] I'm guessing that inspired your username, then. LOL.

[TranqSavvy] It did. What does LOL mean?

[spare.stardust] Whoops, sorry. Means 'laugh out loud.'

[TranqSavvy] Neat! Did you come up with that?

[spare.stardust] No, not my idea. It's slang you use in chatrooms like this one. Had to get a crash course.

[spare.stardust] That reminds me, have you added Amir on here yet?

[TranqSavvy] Is Amir the one who asked me to tell them about robots?

[spare.stardust] Yep. He's also the one who built your computer. Thank him before you launch into a ramble.

[TranqSavvy] I will! How much can I tell him?

[spare.stardust] Knock yourself out. (That's a figure of speech. Don't actually knock yourself out. Just tell him whatever you want to.)

[spare.stardust] Wait actually

[spare.stardust] If he asks about Cephalons, don't answer.

[TranqSavvy] Why?

[spare.stardust] Misunderstanding about it. He thinks it's a win-win situation to get glassed. I'm working on it.

[TranqSavvy] You suck at explaining it, then. How do you mess it up that badly? Did you forget to say the whole 'reprogramming' part or..?

[spare.stardust] First off: watch your mouth. I'm not above a Helminth trip just to pop you one.

[spare.stardust] Secondly:

[spare.stardust] I did, and he doesn't see that as a bad thing.

[spare.stardust] Just leave it to me.

[TranqSavvy] I could get Ordis to talk to him, maybe?

[spare.stardust] I'm handling it. Just leave it alone and try to steer him away from the subject when you can.

[TranqSavvy] Heard and heeded!

[TranqSavvy] Unrelated: What do I do with the disc thing in the clear box?

[spare.stardust] Scan it into your Somachord. Keep it around, it's a physical transcription of the music. Pretty neat, huh?

[TranqSavvy] Give me a moment.

[TranqSavvy] This person is very loud.

[TranqSavvy] Good loud, but very loud!

[spare.stardust] There's more than one song on there, I'm sure you've noticed. Same band. Figured it's better than skeg. :)

[TranqSavvy] Don't disrespect skeg just because you're old and boring.

[TranqSavvy] What does :) mean?

[spare.stardust] Look at it sideways. It's a face!

[spare.stardust] I'm not old, you little imp.

[spare.stardust] Or boring.

[TranqSavvy] :)

[TranqSavvy] Yes, you are. You can't hear, you complain about your joints, and you don't like skeg.

[TranqSavvy] You're old and boring.

[TranqSavvy] Skeg is fun! :)

[spare.stardust] Skeg is only fun if you can sleep through the headache it gives you.

[spare.stardust] Just appreciate the Rippers CD. There's more discs on the way, eventually. I've got a friend who catalogues music and she wants to send you some stuff by her favorite band. Just gotta bribe Helminth into taking it to you.

[TranqSavvy] What do you mean, bribe Helmi?

[TranqSavvy] All I have to do is ask.

[spare.stardust] Liar. It told on you. You don't have to bend over backwards like I do, but you definitely bribe it.

[TranqSavvy] :(

[spare.stardust] Nice. You're picking this emoticon thing up quick.

[spare.stardust] I'll send the extra stuff to you once I have a bribe set up.

[spare.stardust] Alright. I need to go, I have work to do.

[TranqSavvy] Wait!

[TranqSavvy] Are you going to come back for our birthday?

[TranqSavvy] Or did you set this message thing up so you could get out of it? :(

[spare.stardust] I'll can't promise that it'll be possible, but I'm going to try. Where did you want to meet?

[TranqSavvy] The Sanctum!

[TranqSavvy] Mostly because there's more room! :)

[spare.stardust] Aíbinn.

[spare.stardust] Please tell me you didn't invite people.

[spare.stardust] If you did, I'm not coming.

[TranqSavvy] You're so dramatic. No, I just wanted to make sure Tak and Lug can run around without breaking things.

[spare.stardust] Smart. I'm back in. Talk later. See you then.

April 28, 1999

[spare.stardust] Hey, Sparky. You get a chance to talk to the kid yet?

[H16h V0l7463] YES

[H16h V0l7463] SHE TOLD ME ABOUT ROBOT DOGS

[H16h V0l7463] don't get me wrong Tak's cool. BUT.

[H16h V0l7463] WHY DO YOU NOT HAVE A ROBOT DOG

[H16h V0l7463] ROBOT.

[H16h V0l7463] DOG.

[H16h V0l7463] ROBOT DOG.

[H16h V0l7463] EXPLAIN YOURSELF

[spare.stardust] I prefer live animals. Kubrows, Kavats, etc.

[H16h V0l7463] But you could ALSO have a ROBOT DOG

[spare.stardust] You've seen me try to maintain tech stuff. How well do you think that would actually go?

[H16h V0l7463] I believe in you

[H16h V0l7463] you should get a robot dog so it can believe in you too :D

[spare.stardust] Sure. Sure you do.

[spare.stardust] What did you say when "we" were building the kid's POM-2 again?

[spare.stardust] "I don't know what you're doing or why, but please don't do it again"

[spare.stardust] "I'll just do a couple of things really quick then it's all yours again. Actually, just kidding, move"

[spare.stardust] "Don't install things like you're stabbing someone"

[spare.stardust] "It booted! I was worried for a minute. Because of the stabbing"

[H16h V0l7463] Okay that's PC building this is a ROBOT DOG

[H16h V0l7463] Robot dog with future tech

[H16h V0l7463] You'd know more about it bc it's from the fuuuutuuuuuureeeee~

[spare.stardust] Buddy, you and I both know that's incorrect

[spare.stardust] I appreciate the vote of confidence, but a Hound is more Aíbinn's speed.

[H16h V0l7463] :(

[H16h V0l7463] :( :(

[H16h V0l7463] :( :( :(

[spare.stardust] That's not going to change my mind.

[H16h V0l7463] :(

[spare.stardust] Aw, he's alone now. :(

[H16h V0l7463] I have JUST the solution

[H16h V0l7463] you should get him a robot dog :D

[spare.stardust] I'm telling Aíbinn to block you. This knowledge is too great a burden for you to bear.

[H16h V0l7463] DON'T

[spare.stardust] Drafting a message now…

[H16h V0l7463] DON'T DO IT SHE WAS GONNA TELL ME ABOUT MOAS

[H16h V0l7463] WHATEVER THOSE ARE

[H16h V0l7463] THEY SOUND REALLY COOL

[spare.stardust] Sent.

[H16h V0l7463] TRAITOR

[H16h V0l7463] HOW COULD YOU

[spare.stardust] Wanna know what I said?

[H16h V0l7463] … yeah

[spare.stardust] I wrote: "Hello Aíbinn, this is a message you can ignore. See you when I see you."

[spare.stardust] >:)

[H16h V0l7463] MEAN

[H16h V0l7463] you can't just DO THAT to a guy

[H16h V0l7463] I thought you were serious lol

[spare.stardust] Only about being terrible at tech stuff :P

[spare.stardust] I don't see the appeal of the whole robo-pet thing. I've spent enough time around empty shells, y'know?

[spare.stardust] Sorry, that was a hard left turn into space trauma. Ignore that LOL

[spare.stardust] Yeah, Corpus robotics are cool. Just ignore the fact they want to murder you, and it's all lilies and sunshine.

[H16h V0l7463] Ignoring! Also, SPOILERS STOP TALKING I WANT TO GO IN WITH AN OPEN MIND

[H16h V0l7463] You say that a lot btw

[H16h V0l7463] IF (x)= False THEN (y)= Cool

[H16h V0l7463] and (x) is NEVER false lol

[H16h V0l7463] MOAs, Necramechs, cyborgs…

[H16h V0l7463] … Cephalons…

[spare.stardust] I have never once said Cephalon tech was cool.

[spare.stardust] It's an execution method. A horrifying execution method that killed whoever you were before and sent you out as a smoothed-over, task-driven data ghost. It's quite literally a fate worse than death. I don't know how else to explain it.

[H16h V0l7463] tough bc I'm still not seeing any downsides lol

[H16h V0l7463] immortal, über-focused, literally one with the code? I'd get so much done you have NO idea

[H16h V0l7463] every time you say something about it you just make it sound cooler

[H16h V0l7463] Data Ghost sounds like a cool name for a game actually…

[spare.stardust] I don't get it. Why are you so obsessed with Cephalons?

[H16h V0l7463] why won't YOU answer my questions about them?

[spare.stardust] Because you refuse to acknowledge that, like all things Orokin, there are horrible, painful downsides that have ruined (will ruin?) lives. Nothing they invented was worth its own fallout.

[H16h V0l7463] you won't tell me about the downsides. you just disappear or shut me down or change the subject.

[H16h V0l7463] actually y'know what?

[H16h V0l7463] cashing in that freebie question

[H16h V0l7463] what's so bad about being a Cephalon?

[[spare.stardust] is typing…]

[spare.stardust] Give me a moment. Long explanation.

[spare.stardust] You completely and utterly forfeit your autonomy. Only one person ever chose to become a Cephalon, but she had no control past the point of handing herself over to Executioner Nihil.

[spare.stardust] She was a high-ranking researcher for the Orokin. She had something wrong with her brain, and it was making her forget things. We have no way of knowing if he deleted the very knowledge she was trying to preserve. Nobody would ever know, and Nihil abused that.

[spare.stardust] You know my friend Ordis?

[H16h V0l7463] yep

[H16h V0l7463] well

[H16h V0l7463] I know about him at least

[H16h V0l7463] why..?

[spare.stardust] Ordis' situation is… possibly worse. He used to be Ordan Karris, Beast of Bones. Ruthless mercenary killer. He was efficient, violent, and utterly unhinged. He hated the Orokin, and he hated the Tenno by extension. But he'd still work for the highest bidder and Orokin gold buys a lot of nice things.

[spare.stardust] He failed to carry out an assassination contract for Ballas, was sentenced to Cephalon conversion, and now he's Ordis. Meek, pacifist, clean-freak Ordis, who adores every Tenno he meets. The only reason we know that past even existed is because his code got corrupted.

[spare.stardust] He deleted parts of himself to avoid showing that past to Aíbinn and I. He wants to forget, but he can't. Not fully, not anymore. He gets upset when Ordan's way of thinking breaks through. Stifles the words and emotions and buries them in his code again.

[spare.stardust] You become whatever the Glassmaker programs. You remember what he wants you to remember. He tells you your purpose, your desires, your morals. Nihil was a monster, and he would remake you however he saw fit.

[H16h V0l7463] but what if it wasn't 'the Glassmaker' doing it?

[H16h V0l7463] what if you could choose your own programming?

[H16h V0l7463] fix whatever's wrong with you, make little corrections where you need it, then stick around as yourself but better?

[H16h V0l7463] just because one guy can't be trusted to be responsible with the tech doesn't mean it's evil wholesale

[H16h V0l7463] like. I can't be trusted with pepper spray because of

[H16h V0l7463] …

[H16h V0l7463] …reasons.

[H16h V0l7463] but that doesn't make pepper spray a bad thing!

[spare.stardust] That's exactly the problem. Everyone thinks they can be trusted with it, because how could they be worse than Nihil?

[spare.stardust] Have you ever seen someone try to walk a tightrope without training?

[spare.stardust] (I promise this is related. I'm not just asking if you've seen someone hit cement at the circus)

[spare.stardust] They start out making small corrections. A little left, a little right. But as they go, they get more and more unsteady, overcorrect more and more, and fall.

[spare.stardust] Jumping off the rope on purpose doesn't mean you won't fall, either. Gravity takes over, and it's the same result whether you started small or not.

[spare.stardust] Point is, how far is too far? How much can you correct before it becomes something else entirely? A freefall, rather than a ropewalk?

[spare.stardust] What if that 'little' correction is what sends you over into the abyss? Or the one after?

[H16h V0l7463] but if it was identifiable, specific stuff

[H16h V0l7463] hypothetically, adding a line of code that makes you think for more than a half second before things come out of your face

[H16h V0l7463] or programming a bedtime directly into your brain so you can actually sleep

[H16h V0l7463] I don't see how that could be bad

[spare.stardust] Still falls under the 'overcorrection' banner. How could you account for nuance, exceptions, etc.? You'd end up causing a whole host of other problems instead.

[spare.stardust] I have a question in return:

[spare.stardust] What all would you change about yourself? Given all the tools at your disposal, put in absolute control of your own programming?

[H16h V0l7463] hoo boy there's a LOT

[H16h V0l7463] Fix whatever makes me lose focus on things after ten seconds

[H16h V0l7463] fix whatever makes me focus too hard on things at inconvenient times

[H16h V0l7463] get rid of the nightmares, obviously

[H16h V0l7463] make myself less annoying

[H16h V0l7463] and smarter

[H16h V0l7463] fix the fidgeting

[H16h V0l7463] make myself not lazy

[H16h V0l7463] actually liking myself would be a nice change

[H16h V0l7463] absolutely get rid of the anxiety

[H16h V0l7463] make myself better at talking to people

[H16h V0l7463] and understanding people as a whole

[H16h V0l7463] there's more but you get the gist

[spare.stardust] I…

[spare.stardust] One sec. Need to pick my phrasing.

[spare.stardust] Not to sound reductive, but you realise that's most of what makes you, you?

[H16h V0l7463] … yeah? that's kinda the entire point lol

[spare.stardust] I mean the things that make you my friend. That make you real.

[H16h V0l7463] trust me, you'd like me better with all that fixed

[H16h V0l7463] you don't know what it's like in my head.

[spare.stardust] No. That's correct. I don't.

[spare.stardust] I'm not trying to act like I know better than you about your own experiences. I'd be a complete hypocrite if I were.

[spare.stardust] Just bear with me.

[spare.stardust] For posterity's sake: is there anything about yourself, as you are right this second, that you'd keep?

[[H16h V0l7463] is typing…]

[H16h V0l7463] not really

[spare.stardust] Okay.

[spare.stardust] Not to bring up Duviri, but… it's kind of a fitting example.

[spare.stardust] The 'seasons' there were based on emotions. Anger, Envy, Fear, Joy, and Sorrow. One feeling, drowning everything else out. No room for anything else. Each one was represented by a Courtier, characters whose entire being was built to portray the epitome of those emotions.

[spare.stardust] They were exactly what they needed to be, were living to their fullest potential, were the ultimate and perfect versions of themselves, and they were horrifying. I didn't care as a kid, but now? They terrify me.

[spare.stardust] They couldn't feel anything else, because they'd been reduced to one single trait. They couldn't be, or do, or understand anything else, because they hadn't been written that way.

[spare.stardust] That's what Cephalons are. That's why it was seen as worse than being tortured to death. Worse, even, than being turned into a Warframe.

[spare.stardust] You look past the surface, and the surface is all that's there. A mask, hanging in midair, worn by nobody. That, or you find an almost-empty space where something clearly used to be. Like seeing a looted apartment with the dishes still in the sink and drawings still hanging on the refrigerator.

[spare.stardust] If that's not convincing enough:

[spare.stardust] Some of the things you'd change about yourself are things I want to change about myself, too.

[spare.stardust] So, now I want you to imagine what you would do if I walked out for a mission one morning with my brain 'fixed.'

[spare.stardust] Everything abrasive and unpleasant about interacting and coexisting with me, gone. Like magic.

[spare.stardust] Well?

[[H16h V0l7463] is typing…]

[H16h V0l7463] I'd be freaked out

[spare.stardust] Why? I'd be 'fixed,' right?

[H16h V0l7463] it'd feel like something else was wearing your face.

[spare.stardust] That's what I'm getting at. Even if I never saw anything wrong with it, even if I was over the moon with the outcome… at best, I'd be a shoddy imitation. At worst? The complete opposite of who I am now.

[spare.stardust] Yes, you have some issues that you're completely justified in wanting to fix or get rid of. Yes, technically, you could fix those things by becoming a Cephalon.

[spare.stardust] In exchange, though, the real you would be gone. Forever.

[spare.stardust] Cephalon Beckett would try to fill the hole you'd leave, and he'd have too much room on every edge. We'd hear him use your voice, make the same jokes as you, try to do your job, and he wouldn't hold a candle to you. Not the real you. Not the you that we know, and care about, and would be devastated to lose.

[spare.stardust] Yes, Cephalons are still people. But Cephalon Beckett wouldn't be Amir.

[spare.stardust] And for the record, I would miss Amir. Even if everyone else was okay with Cephalon Beckett.

[spare.stardust] I'm sorry it's not the solution you thought it was. Genuinely. I'm so sorry. I wish it were that easy.

[H16h V0l7463] i

[H16h V0l7463] i didn't know

[H16h V0l7463] gotta go think about this for a while

[spare.stardust] Take your time. I'm sorry.

Chapter Text

-{Ayhan}-

[spare.stardust] Eleanor

[spare.stardust] Please for the love of the gods be here, I need to ask you something and it's important

[spare.stardust] if you can hear my head right now, I'm so sorry

[Salem] I'm here. I wasn't going to pry, but I have been getting a bit of a feel for the situation.

[Salem] What would you like me to answer?

[spare.stardust] okay

[spare.stardust] I'm not going to get into the exact details because the conversation was… very personal.

[spare.stardust] I'll border off the bits that aren't mine to share but it's too much to type out.

[spare.stardust] I'm so sorry if it makes absolutely no sense I'm in a bit of a panic if you can't tell

[Salem] Breathe. You're perfectly alright, it's nothing I can't puzzle out.

[Salem] Oh, dear.

[spare.stardust] Please tell me I didn't go too far with that

[spare.stardust] I'm not used to writing stuff other people can see.

[spare.stardust] I tried my best but it still doesn't feel like I said enough, or the right things, or in the right way

[spare.stardust] Was it too much?

[Salem] I think…

[Salem] I think, perhaps, that's a question that can't be answered.

[Salem] If you think it was, you can explain yourself later, yes? You clearly have strong feelings on the subject, it's perfectly understandable if you went a tad overkill.

[Salem] Perhaps you just need a moment to come down from the heightened emotions, and then it will seem less…

[spare.stardust] … like a soliloquy written by a raving lunatic?

[Salem] Less overwhelming is what I was going for.

[Salem] Hmm.

[Salem] Would you like a 'brain hug,' as Amir calls them? It might help you feel a bit less of a 'raving lunatic.'

[spare.stardust] ?

[spare.stardust] I don't know?

[Salem] If you're thrown by the name, it's the same thing I did when we had shepherd's pie. No physical contact necessary.

[spare.stardust] Oh, that. That was nice.

[spare.stardust] Yes, please.

[spare.stardust] Thank you. For both the 'brain hug' and the reassurance <3 Again, sorry to beam all that into your head.

[Salem] Happy to have helped.

[spare.stardust] I'm going to go lay down for a while. I'm exhausted. Thanks again.

[Salem] Sweet dreams. <3

[Soldja1Shot1kil] you alright space trauma?

[Soldja1Shot1kil] u been up there 4 like 4hrs now

[Soldja1Shot1kil] vibe is proper weird out here btw

[Soldja1Shot1kil] hello?

[Soldja1Shot1kil] fam it's been 2hrs now

[Soldja1Shot1kil] u don't respond soon i'm soundin the alarm

[spare.stardust] I'm here. Sorry. I was asleep. Crash nap.

[spare.stardust] Sol, didn't realise how long I've been out.

[Soldja1Shot1kil] m8

[Soldja1Shot1kil] that's 1 hell of a nap 4 a wednesday

[Soldja1Shot1kil] eleanor won't say what's up but i know she knows something

[Soldja1Shot1kil] lil speedsters being weird 2

[Soldja1Shot1kil] actually holdin still 4 once

[Soldja1Shot1kil] so what's up

[spare.stardust] Had a tough conversation.

[Soldja1Shot1kil] w/ the speedster yeah?

[spare.stardust] Yes. He had an idea about some future tech, it wouldn't have worked but the idea was very important to him.

[Soldja1Shot1kil] u rlly like being vague, don't u

[spare.stardust] Sorry. It's not my story to tell.

[spare.stardust] Thanks for checking in.

[Soldja1Shot1kil] nice try. i'm not a character f/ 1 of amir's lil games

[Soldja1Shot1kil] no skip dialogue button here

[spare.stardust] Fine. What do you want?

[Soldja1Shot1kil] no need 2 be hostile

[Soldja1Shot1kil] just weird 2 see amir being all broody

[Soldja1Shot1kil] usually His Maj's domain

[Soldja1Shot1kil] but him? nah.

[Soldja1Shot1kil] somethin else happened ur not talkin about

[spare.stardust] I had to get very detailed on exactly how bad the tech he wanted to use was

[spare.stardust] … Is? Will be? Never mind.

[spare.stardust] Just a generally draining conversation, at the end of the day. Needed to happen, but still.

[spare.stardust] Hey, so since you're pretty good with people… I have a semi-related question, because I am… not. I'm willing to throw in a favor as payment.

[Soldja1Shot1kil] naaaaah. you? bad w people? i don't buy it

[Soldja1Shot1kil] kidding. ur proper hopeless ;)

[Soldja1Shot1kil] fire away

[spare.stardust] How do you tell if someone is upset with you?

[spare.stardust] Not you, specifically, to clarify. Just in general.

[spare.stardust] Let me try that again: How does one tell if someone is… upset with… one?

[Soldja1Shot1kil] lots of ways

[Soldja1Shot1kil] stuff like their tone n what they do w their face

[Soldja1Shot1kil] usually act kinda standoffish

[Soldja1Shot1kil] get all snippy w/ u

[Soldja1Shot1kil] think His Maj tryin 2 talk 2 me if u need an example

[spare.stardust] Okay, what about in text? Say, over KIM?

[Soldja1Shot1kil] same thing innit

[Soldja1Shot1kil] dodgin convos, short answers, etc

[Soldja1Shot1kil] no emoticons if they use em

[Soldja1Shot1kil] find excuses 2 leave the chatroom

[Soldja1Shot1kil] y u asking?

[spare.stardust] Huh. Interesting.

[Soldja1Shot1kil] still waitin 4 u 2 answer my question

[spare.stardust] Just something on my mind.

[Soldja1Shot1kil] ah

[Soldja1Shot1kil] u think amirs po'd w u over somethin

[Soldja1Shot1kil] lol

[spare.stardust] … That obvious, huh?

[Soldja1Shot1kil] just bc ur bad at readin between the lines doesn't mean every1 else is

[Soldja1Shot1kil] ur not slick, d.

[spare.stardust] …

[spare.stardust] No. I am not.

[spare.stardust] Sorry about that. In general.

[Soldja1Shot1kil] nothin to worry abt

[Soldja1Shot1kil] sometimes u just need it spelled out 4 u, yeah?

[Soldja1Shot1kil] that's what ur mans is here 4

[Soldja1Shot1kil] 2 answer ur actual q: he's prob not mad

[spare.stardust] You're sure?

[Soldja1Shot1kil] do i look like El 2 u? i'm not in his head

[Soldja1Shot1kil] sure as i can b f/ what scraps u threw me 4 "context"

[Soldja1Shot1kil] anyways

[Soldja1Shot1kil] u comin down 4 food or what

[Soldja1Shot1kil] speedster's on pizza

[Soldja1Shot1kil] u can ask him urself

[spare.stardust] Yeah. See you in a few.

[Soldja1Shot1kil] see ya

-{Amir}-

The Drifter's words were burned into the back of Amir's eyelids. He could practically count the pixels of each letter every time he blinked.

'He wouldn't hold a candle to you.'

'Cephalon Beckett wouldn't be Amir.'

'I'd miss Amir.'

He hopped the counter into Big Bytes, washing up and donning the cheesy— ha, cheesy, because it's— Big Bytes uniform.

He started preheating the oven, pulling toppings out of the fridge, and checking to make sure he had enough utensils. Routine, at this point. He'd lost his and Aoi's running bet juuuuuust enough times to have the process down pat.

But his brain was still staring at KIM.

Still stuck on Cephalons.

He started thinking back on every conversation they'd had about it. Every joke he'd made, every time he'd brushed them off… it all seemed a lot less lighthearted in hindsight.

The idea of being hollowed out was definitely not appealing. He kept picturing someone coming through with a huge scoop, removing chunks of his brain through a trapdoor in the top of his head. He shook his head like a Sketchin' Etch, trying to get the image out of his head.

Focus. Pizza. What's everyone's order?

Radio on.

"Gooooood evening, Höllvania mall residents! Please stop by Big Bytes and let me know what you want on your pizzas at your earliest convenience!" He put a lot more energy into the announcement than he really felt. He didn't want to tip anyone off. He knew Eleanor knew, and he was pretty sure Quincy had noticed something was up, but… he didn't exactly want everyone to come asking questions he didn't have the energy to answer.

'Hey everyone, I wish I could completely rewrite my entire brain from scratch because it sucks' isn't exactly a winning start to a group conversation.

Aoi showed up first.

"Ahhh. Sure is nice to be on this side of the counter." She grinned triumphantly. "Chicken, olives, spinach, and extra cheese."

"Got it. Next time, you're making it for yourself." he taunted back.

"I wouldn't count on it." She strutted away, clearly gloating.

He managed to keep his brain on other things up to the point of putting the pizza into the oven. His train of thought veered right back to the Drifter's chat as soon as the door shut.

'Overcorrecting.' 

Maybe they exaggerated. Maybe it's not so bad. Maybe there's still something to the idea.

'He deleted parts of himself.'

... Maybe not.

"Yo, space cadet, you in there?" Quincy was waving his hand in Amir's face.

"Huh?"

"You good?" Quincy looked him up and down. "Leave your brain in the arcade or something?"

"Fine. Super duper fine. Just zoned out for a second, as usual. What'cha want on your pizza?" He tried to play it off. Just another classic Amir moment! Nothing else!

"Just pepperoni. Don't muck it up."

"Got it! Classic. Comin' right up!" He spun away from the counter, making sure Quincy couldn't see his face. Nothing going on here! No crises of any sort! Pleasewalkaway.

"Heard anything from D?" Quincy asked, suspiciously casually.

"We talked this afternoon. Why..?"

"Just curious."

Something about his tone rubbed Amir the wrong way. "Did... you want something else?" he asked, turning to face the counter again.

Quincy glanced around the food court, overly nonchalant. "Nobody else here to talk to. Maybe I'm just bored. Maybe I'm just trying to make sure you make my order right. Don't have to want something, do I?"

Amir ignored him. Or tried. It wasn't easy. Quincy was standing firmly in the center of the counter, keeping an eagle eye trained on him. It felt like he was being silently analyzed. Or interrogated.

Sauce, cheese, pepperoni. Sauce, cheese, pepperoni. Sauce—

Lettie cleared her throat, loud and impatient, from somewhere behind Quincy. "You're not the only person getting food, Isaacs. Move."

Thank Lua.

Quincy scoffed, but indeed moved. "Just trying to make sure Jitter over here doesn't try putting anything in mine that I didn't order."

Amir slammed the door of the oven, turning around and giving them both a tense smile. "Ready in a few, Q. What would you like on yours, Lettie?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Little aggressive with the appliances, there."

"Gotta make sure it doesn't get any funny ideas! What did you want on your pizza?"

"Whatever veggies we've got, with chicken. Thanks, mijo."

"Always a pleasure!" He bowed theatrically, popping back up and diving straight into making her pizza.

May I make a strange request? Eleanor strode over, leaning against the register and propping her chin on her hand.

"What's up, Eleanor?" He zapped himself into high gear, flying through Lettie's order in the hopes he could remember what Eleanor was about to say long enough to make it.

Every protein you can find. Extra sauce, and let it get a bit burnt on the edges. I'm feeling peckish this evening.

Lettie muttered something under her breath as she stepped away, and Eleanor's head turned sharply to look at her. The faintest, most fleeting feeling of hurt touched Amir's psyche before being stifled.

"No problem! Did you… want anything else? Or just that?" He pretended not to have noticed her momentary discomposure.

She looked back to him with a soft smile. Just that, thank you.

"It'll be ready in a few minutes!" He opened the oven, glancing at the other pizzas as he racked Lettie's tray into an empty slot.

OH—

"Aoi, your food's ready!" And possibly a liiiiiiiittle crispier than it's supposed to be.

She collected the tray by levitating it out of the oven, grinning at Amir. "Thanks! Enjoy the throes of defeat."

He stuck his tongue out at her. He'd've been ruder, but his hands were full of pepperoni and crumbled sausage.

"Nothing for me, Amir. I'm turning in for the night. Got an early watch." Arthur's voice came over the radio with a bit of feedback.

"Your loss!" Amir shouted across the common, looking over to see if he'd react.

Arthur did not react.

Well, I tried.

He put Eleanor's pizza (which was… more toppings than pizza, at that point) into the oven, checking on the other two as he did.

"Quincy, you're up!" He pulled on the pair of well-used mitts hanging beside the oven, carefully removing the tray from the rack and setting it down atop a cardboard pizza box. Quincy appeared out of thin air, tilting his head back and looking off to one side— trying to draw Amir's attention to something.

Correction: to someone.

The Drifter was walking across the food court, watching the ground as they went. They glanced up at the skylight as they went around the speaker array, then turned their attention to Big Bytes.

A feeling of dread settled into Amir's stomach. What if they were mad at him? Is that why Quincy asked about them? He glanced through the oven door at Lettie's pizza. Still not quite done. Good. Intervention if I need it. Is that mean of me to think? He gave them a polite smile as they approached.

"Hey, Sparky. Just pepperoni and olives. Thanks." They smiled at him, rubbing one eye and yawning. "Aoi seems pretty proud of herself over there. Just how badly did she beat you?"

He glanced at the oven again. "Uh. Not by much. Three-ish minutes, I think?" He pulled Lettie's pizza out. "Hey, Lett—"

"Got it. Thanks." She pushed past the Drifter, taking the pizza and heading for the stairs as soon as he spoke.

"Three minutes?" The Drifter let out a low whistle. "That's a fair margin when one of you can go zero to a hundred in ten meters."

"Hey, Aoi only got that far because I got distracted. Typical, huh?" He glanced up, gauging their reaction

They looked away as they responded. "For both of us." They crossed their arms, tapping their fingers against their armor like they were playing an invisible arm-piano. "I wanted to say something to you. About that stuff."

A jolt of adrenaline went through him. "Uh, sure. Go for it." He looked back down at their pizza, finishing the toppings and putting it in the oven. He started on making his own usual, forcing himself to focus on the task and not the sudden wave of thoughts in the vein of oh sweet Lua what did I say did I do something are they mad at me—

He was halfway through putting the pineapple on his pizza when they finally spoke up again.

"What we talked about earlier… Um." They took a deep breath. "I understand if you're upset with me. About the situation, or my tone, or anything."

They sounded… resigned. It felt like a punch in the stomach.

"No!" He half-yelled it on accident, wincing and lowering his voice before continuing. "Sorry. No. We're good. Really." He turned, putting his pizza into the oven and checking on theirs before walking back to the counter.

They looked up at the menu sign behind him, clearly not reading it. "One more thing."

"Yeah?"

They looked him dead in the eye. He could see their fingers digging into their arms in his periphery.

"I…" They winced. "I was a bit overkill with the dramatics. I didn't mean to sound condescending or make you feel stupid, or anything. I just wanted to explain."

They took a full step back from the counter, giving him a faint smile. "Let me know when I should grab my pizza."

"Uh. Hang on, it's probably ready, actually." He forced himself to look away from them, open the oven, and hand over their pizza. "Careful, it's about a thousand-gajillion degrees." He slid it across the counter, suddenly feeling self conscious. For… no reason? Just residual nerves. Probably nothing.

"Thanks, Amir." They took the box, pointing over at one of the tables. "You can join me when yours is done, if you'd like. We don't have to talk. Or talk about this afternoon, if nothing else."

He nodded absently, then processed what they'd actually said. "Oh. Yeah, sure. Be over in a few."

They grinned, nodded, and strode away. They sat down facing away from him. He stared at them for a moment, then suddenly became very aware of the fact that he'd been staring at them. He spun around, grabbing his pizza out of the oven and setting the tray on a box. Same thing he'd done dozens of times. Couldn't do this if I was a glass cube. He blinked, struck by his own realization. Or eat pizza.

Yeah, never mind. Pizza's worth the brain goblins.

He hopped the counter, dropping the uniform gear on top of the long-disused cash register before heading over to join the Drifter.

"What's poppin', Marty?" He grinned at them. Just pretend it never happened.

They looked up sharply, smiling again. "Hopefully not any more balloons. Startles me every time." They moved their pizza to one side, letting him set his down. "Hey, I want to tell you something. A secret. Think of it as an apology present."

Another tiny adrenaline rush. A secret? What kind of secret would they need to keep? Why me? Am I part of the secret? Am I going to be part of the secret? "Shoot."

They leaned in a bit, smiling conspiratorially. "I found out when my birthday is."

He felt the tiniest twinge of disappointment. Weird.

"Oh! When is it?" He refocused, curiosity taking the place of confusion. "Oh, no, are you telling me because it already happened?" He leaned closer, too, grinning. "You know that wouldn't stop anyone from celebrating, right? Trust me, Aoi and Quincy would never turn down an excuse for a party. Well, at least not that I've seen."

They shook their head. "It's in September. Aíbinn told me. She remembers stuff like that, sometimes. She's got a lot less…" They gestured around their face. "Mental baggage. Tells me about it when she can, we have a whole convoluted system—"

"September? September what?" He gave them a tiny frowny face, cutting them off mid-ramble. "C'moooooon, don't leave me hanging like that!"

They peered around the food court, then beckoned him closer. "I don't trust Quincy to announce himself if he's in here." They cupped their hand around their mouth, leaning in to whisper to him.

He scooched his chair in a bit to lean over the table, turning his ear towards them. Suddenly feeling giddy. A secret. A good secret. Just a lighthearted, low-stakes thing. One that didn't matter if someone overheard, but the thrill of conspiracy made important, somehow.

"September the second." They sat back, crossing their arms, beaming at him. He sat back as well, returning their smile. "I have no idea how old I'm— how old we are— turning, but I guess Aíbinn remembered the date somehow. That, or she just picked one. No idea."

"Soooo, do you have any idea of what you wanna do to celebrate?" He looked around, hoping nobody was listening. "You don't have to have a party or anything, but—"

"I promised Aíbinn I'd try to go see her. It's the first time she's had a real birthday since… since we split." Their smile faltered a bit, then regained its intensity in full force. "I've got a present for her. She doesn't know about it, obviously." They sat forward, propping their elbows on the table. "I've been pressing plants from here into a notebook I found. I'm giving her the collection. I'm not sure if her Codex scanner will be able to catalogue pressed samples, but… all else fails, she can 'kick it old school.'" They cringed, smiling at their own turn of phrase.

"Do you want anything? Like, a card, or food, or something?"

They shook their head. "I'm alright, thanks. Just… keep it a secret for me? I realised I haven't really paid attention to any of your birthdays, and…" They stood, picking up their empty tray and box. "I don't know. It feels like a rude thing to do, announcing my own like it's a big deal, so I've sat on that little tidbit since…. Uh, February."

They pronounced both 'r's, for some reason.

He stood, picking his stuff up and moving to walk with them. "My lips are sealed. Rare, I know." He grinned. "Oh—" He ducked his head apologetically. "Right, speaking of that, I interrupted you earlier, huh? You were saying… Uh."

He did not remember. Good job, space cadet. Really awesome of you.

Shut up, brain.

"Don't worry, I've got it. Aíbinn and I have— had, now, with her having a KIM account, I guess— We had this… log book? Whenever one of us passed through one of our meeting points, we'd leave a page of notes or a letter for the other person before we went on our way. Only rule was to make sure the pen had ink when we were done with it."

"Like, an actual book?" He stopped in his tracks. "Not a holo-thingy or something?"

They shook their head, smiling. "Not a 'holo-thingy.' She tried to teach me how to set up a note beacon, and…" they grimaced. "The traditional approach worked much better, believe me."

Hang on a second— "Wait, you said February. You knew since February? Why wait to say something? I'd've shouted it from the rooftops if it was me. And— wait, you hadn't sent the PC over in February." He furrowed his brow, confused. "How'd she tell you in February?"

"Helminth." They started walking again, and he followed automatically.

Riiiiiiiiigggghhhht. "Oh, yeah. Forgot about that. But again, why'd you wait to say anything?

They were staring straight ahead at Big Bytes, shoulders suddenly tense. Their smile had faded a bit. "I…"

Great job. Real nice to interrogate them like this. Backtrackbacktrackbacktrack—

"It'sfineifyoudidn'twanttobytheway. If you're going for the whole 'mysterious time traveler' thing, that's okay, too. No biggie. Seriously." He swallowed hard, forcing himself to stop talking.

"No, I know, I just…" They set their box back on the pile, hopping the counter and reaching for his tray again. He handed it to them. "I don't necessarily want to keep you in the dark, not anymore, but—"

"Not... anymore?" He frowned, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. Why would they want that in the first place?

"I didn't know if I could really trust you all, at first. You'd worked with Entrati, willingly or not. I make a rule not to trust his associates." They disappeared into the back of the kitchen, a moment of silence passed, then he heard the metallic clang of dishes in the pit sink. They emerged, wiping their hands on a rag. "I tried to be more open once I knew you didn't have sympathies for him."

"But you waited literal months to mention this? One tiny fun fact about you?" He raised an eyebrow. "I think by February, we'd all made at least three death threats against the guy."

They shook their head mock-disappointedly. "Oh, give everyone more credit. Quincy alone brought that average up."

"So why not tell us more, now? About yourself, I mean." He couldn't help but ask. Interrogation in-shmerrogation.

They hopped back over the counter, staring off into the mall. The sun was almost down, the various lights in people's rooms coming on as the sky dimmed.

"Dunno."

They're lying. He could see it in the way they bit at their lip, the way they shifted slightly to turn a tiny bit away from him, hear it in their faux-light tone of voice. But…

I'm not gonna push it.

"Fair enough." He sighed dramatically, sending another grin their way as he put on an old-timey Britannic accent. "Alas, the luminous traveler hath mystery after mystery. Naught to do but tarry, ere they reveal their secrets." He brought the back of his hand to his head, pulling a melancholy face. He closed his eyes most of the way, peeking out through his eyelashes at them. "And mayhaps… ere they retrieve a mechanical hound from the time whence they hail?"

They spluttered, then laughed, harder than he'd ever seen them laugh. Bending halfway, hands fluttering, snorting. He could feel his face hurting from how wide his grin had gotten.

"Void, fine, I'll see what I can do!" They wheezed, wiping tears from their eyes. "Sol and Lua, I'd forgotten about the robot dog thing. Caught me off guard, there, Sparky."

"I seem to be fantastic at that!" He grinned, straightening up and mock-saluting. "You oughta see how high the others jump when I run up to them." He looked out at the darkening mall, and realized the Drifter was literally lighting up the area.

Neon blue.

No wonder they like the arcade.

Focus.

"Soooo, you're gonna tell us stuff eventually, right? Since we're not meeting the 'Entrati buddies' standard?" He bumped their arm, hoping the joke would put them more at ease.

They nodded. "Yes. I do like knowing you all. I'm glad everyone seems to like knowing me. I'll… I'll put more effort into letting you get to know me."

"Hey, I know your birthday now. That's a start!" He shifted back onto his feet, checking the faintly lit display on his watch. He hissed through his teeth. That is way later than I thought. Oops. "I gotta go. I've got the watch after Arthur and— I don't know if you've noticed— the guy's a bit of a stickler for punctuality."

They moved closer, leaning their shoulder against his and reading the time for themself. It made his stomach do a weird little fluttery thing. He completely lost his train of thought, a joking goodbye falling out of his brain before it ever made it to his mouth.

"I'm on last patrol. Early morning for me, I guess." They smiled at him, finally backing up. "See you later, Sparky."

"Uh-huh." He blinked a few times, chasing the momentary fog away from his brain. "See you."

They disappeared up the stairs, the blue glow around them fading from view as they went into the dojo. He watched them leave, a faint, dazed smile starting to pull at the edges of his mouth.

…

Uh oh.

Chapter Text

May 6, 1999

-{Ayhan}-

"Exposure therapy."

They were standing on the threshold of the music store, swaying nervously.

They had their eyes squeezed shut, arms out to their sides. Aoi made a confused noise, then they heard her approach.

"Sorry, I'm not—?"

"I want to get better with hugs and such. I figured I can always tap out. Like sparring." They shifted their weight, uncomfortable, already fighting down the urge to run.

She laughed. "Alright, I'm never one to turn down a hug."

They felt her reach up over one shoulder, wrapping her other arm lightly around their side. They forced themself to, however stiffly, return the embrace. She wasn't holding on tightly, which… helped? They focused on their breathing, trying to calm their racing heart and flinching body.

They counted back from twenty, slooooowwwwlllyyy.

No skipping, no rushing.

No thinking about anything.

Clear mind. No memories. No fear.

It was agonizing.

Aoi giggled as they finally tapped out— exactly at the count of zero.

She backed up, firmly outside of their personal space. She was beaming at them, and they managed to return a weak smile over their panic-fueled nausea.

"Nicely done!" she half-cheered, "I'm very impressed."

They nodded, mustering as sincere of a smile as they could. "Same."

She tilted her head, worry crossing her face. "Do you need to sit down or anything?" She gestured at a remarkably out-of-place-looking armchair, probably dragged over from Eleanor's place. "You look like you just saw a ghost or something."

They shrugged, gratefully landing in the chair with a grunt. "Something like that. Thanks. I'm… If it's okay with you, I want to… schedule... More? As repeated exposure. I don't know, sometimes it helps me if things are planned out in advance." They cringed. Really normal question, there, doll. Mark it in your calendars, everyone! They're gonna attempt human affection! Sol, you're useless.

Aoi gasped. "Seriously? That sounds great!"

They half-opened their mouth to respond, about to say they understood, it's okay, it's a weird idea, anyways— then looked at her, utterly shocked.

"You're sure?" Suspicion. Memories of mockery, of taking things too seriously.

"Yeah! What were you thinking, time-wise?"

Sincerity.

"Uh." They glanced at the clock. "Once a day? Around… Probably around dinner time, since we're pretty much guaranteed to be back here by then. Maybe... six?"

She clapped her hands excitedly, eyes shining with enthusiasm. "Sounds perfect! Did you want to count this for today, then?"

They nodded emphatically. "Cooldown period." They smiled, suddenly brave. "Actually? No. I can handle it. The more the better, or something." The bravery faded into faint embarrassment.

Aoi's smile somehow got more intense. "Awesome. What… prompted this, if I can ask?"

"I…" They turned, scanning the area for the others. Nervous. Not wanting to admit I feel like I'm not actually human and I think this might shut my brain up for once.

They accidentally made eye contact with Amir across the way, emerging from his room with an armful of laundry. He nearly dropped it to wave at them, scrambling to catch it. They waved back, turning back to Aoi and scrambling for another answer.

Focus. "Eleanor gave me a… a 'brain hug' is what Amir calls them. I realised that I... apparently, I've been missing out, if hugs are really like that." They gave her a halfhearted grin, hoping she wouldn't pry further.

Her smile dropped. "Oh. Missing out how?"

Void. It's Aoi, stupid.

They sighed uncomfortably. "Have you ever been... cornered by someone? Creepy guy at a bar, enemy fighter, that sort of thing?"

She nodded.

"I can't… can't tell the difference. Between that and a hug, I mean. Or being grabbed." They fidgeted with a clasp on their gear harness, staring at the floor as shame boiled white-hot in their hands and throat. "Reminds me of Duviri." The last part came out much more pathetic-sounding than they wanted it to.

Aoi took a half-step closer, then pulled back. "Oh, buddy."

They looked up at her, doing their best to look reassuring. "It doesn't have to, though, right? That's why I asked you. I want to at least try, and if I'm wrong…" They shrugged. "Again, I'll tap out if I need to."

Aoi stared for a moment, then slowly nodded. "Alright. But only if you're sure."

"I am."

They lined up a shot with Nataruk, holding their draw as they focused on the Harbinger drone above them. It exploded in a brilliant flash, balloon shredded by the force of the blast.

"Got one drone, I have more units incoming by me." They activated Mirage's evasive ability, swinging Sun and Moon around in a wide arc as a squadron of enemies approached. "How's the evac going?"

"Smoothly, for once. I don't trust it." Arthur responded. "Eyes open."

"Copy that." They hissed, breaking a Flayer's guard with one sword and cutting him down with the other.

"Yo, D, you've got a big man comin' up your six. Don't have a clear shot." Quincy chimed in, sounding irritated. "I'm picking off his backup."

They heard the unmistakable sound of sniper fire as they spun, knocking the shield from a Barbican unit's hands and jamming a Kunai into her visor. Crouching, they propped the shield against their shoulder and readied a spectral arrow on Nataruk's string. The heavy unit approached— an Eradicator rank. Not one to fight in hand-to-hand. They rolled to the side, letting the shield clatter to the ground and loosing the arrow. The Eradicator stumbled, but didn't fall. There was a smoking weak point in his armor, now, though. They closed the distance, bringing Moon up to the Scaldra's shoulder and hoping he would be disoriented enough to miss his club swing.

No such luck.

The blow hit the side of their head, dazing them through the Warframe. Their stab landed, but their hand lost Moon's handle as they staggered. They could hear the Eradicator laughing through his respirator.

They drew Nataruk again, sending a weak speed-draw shot at him. This one hit squarely in the center of the unit's bug-eyed helmet, and he fell to the ground, twitching in death. "Sho-lah, skoom." They shifted their stance, ready to launch back into the fray. "Handled it. Thanks for the heads up," they wheezed over comms. They still felt dizzy, and the faintest hint of that claustrophobic tightness was starting to manifest.

"No problem, D. You're all clear my way, time to move." Quincy responded. "Yo, Nightingale, howzit?"

"Less smoothly. Could use some backup. North end of Harding, by the old hospital." They could hear heavy gunfire come through his mic, followed by a deep boom somewhere in the distance. "Quickly, if you don't mind."

"Copy. On our way." Ayhan responded, taking a running series of leaps up a nearby building. "Fast ut— Faster if we go over the rooftops," they added, scanning around for Quincy. "Follow me as best you can."

"On it, D. Got your six."

They set off at a sprint, forcing Mirage's metal limbs to move faster and faster until the Frame herself resisted. They leapt from rooftop to rooftop, rolling on their landings and dodging the increasingly heavy gunfire as they closed in on Arthur's location. They spotted him in the middle of an intersection, cutting down a trio of Scaldra infantry and blocking shots fired by someone they couldn't see. They flipped down to the street, slamming feet-first onto the shoulders of a Jaeger unit. They felt his neck snap beneath their weight, rolling to their feet as he crumpled to the ground. They sent off a Prism, launching themself into the fray.

They could hear Quincy's rifle again, spotting enemies falling at the edges of the melee. The beams of radiation from their Prism tore through a group of fighters, sending the smell of burning skin and melting Pitchweave wafting through the air. Arthur dashed through the crowd in a blur of light, felling a chunk of enemies and bringing him within a few meters of Ayhan.

"The evac team's almost out. Sodding ambush. They were waiting in the buildings for us." He yelled into his mic, barely audible over the crush of bodies and rattle of gunfire.

"Should've stayed where they were, then!" Ayhan responded, impaling a Dedicant.

They felt a sniper slug blast through their enemy, sending a nerve-tingling shockwave up their sword and into Mirage's arm. They pulled Sun from the corpse, wiping blood from their face. Their ribs felt tighter by the second, like someone was slowly ratcheting a band around their torso. "Thanks, Q," they hissed, switching to Nataruk as they slid over to Arthur. "Any idea how many are left?"

"Only about twenty left. Aoi says they're calling for a retreat, so these oughta be the last of 'em." Quincy responded, the sound of him speed-reloading his rifle audible through the radio.

Another soldier fell, viscera pooling around what was left of their head.

"I can handle that." They muttered to themself. "No problem."

They loosed a few shots, blasting away three more Scaldra.

Sixteen.

Arthur cut down two more, stepping over the bodies and intercepting a Flayer barreling towards Ayhan.

Thirteen.

Another Eradicator fell, a significant exit wound blasted through their chest.

Twelve.

They mustered the last of Mirage's energy and sent off another Prism, feeling the tightness crush in as they did. Five Scaldra took the brunt of the rays, and the rest were visibly injured.

Seven.

They sent off another arrow, only half-drawn. It was all they could muster as the world started to wobble around them.

Six.

"Start heading back, Quincy. Marty and I'll mop up." Arthur ordered.

Ayhan slung Nataruk back over their shoulder, pulling out their Kunai and dispatching two more Scaldra.

Four.

They started seeing blurry darkness at the edges of their vision. They retrieved their knives, dodging a swing from a Flayer as Arthur cut her down.

Three.

The remaining Scaldra were backing away, laying down a hail of gunfire as they retreated. Arthur unholstered his pistol, aiming carefully and picking them off one by one.

Two.

One.

Zero.

Ayhan lost focus on their Transference, crashing to their hands and knees in front of Mirage with a choking gasp. The world dissolved into pure vertigo, muffled and warped as they heaved for air.

Arthur dropped down beside them, forcing them upright. "You hit, Marty?"

They shoved his hands away, shaking their head, struggling to breathe in deeply enough to satisfy their aching lungs. "Can't—" they wheezed— "can't breathe." They dragged themself to their feet, swaying. They planted a vise grip on Mirage's metal shoulder, bracing themself and doing their best to ease their breathing pattern.

"Quincy. I need backup. Right where you left us. All clear, Marty's not right." Arthur barked over the radio, stepping closer.

They whirled at him, instinctively putting their swords up. He backed up, holding his hands out in a placating gesture even as his face twisted with annoyance.

"Easy there! Just let me help, you absolute—"

They shook their head, sheathing Sun and Moon. "I'm fine. I'll be alright to get back on my own. Just need a moment." They gritted their teeth, angry at their own reaction. A deadly pestilence. Friend and foe alike. "Didn't mean to do that. Sorry."

Quincy rounded the corner from their left, dropping the muzzle of his Reconifex to the ground as he approached. "You alright there?"

"Fine." They coughed slightly, still fighting the urge to gasp for air. The tightness in their chest was slowly loosening, but…

Not fast enough. Not enough to get back in Mirage.

"I can't use her right now." They released Mirage's shoulder, gritting their teeth. "I don't know what's wrong. I can drag her back to the mall, but I'm stuck out here for now."

Arthur nodded. "Copy that. You want help with… 'her,' then?" He looked uneasily at Mirage.

"Please." They hissed the word, clenching their jaw tighter. It felt like admitting defeat.

"Want a lift, yourself?" Quincy moved aside as Arthur lifted Mirage's empty form over his shoulder in a rescue carry.

"I think I'm alright." They started walking, matching Arthur's pace. "Just need to get back to the bikes, I can take her from there." Half a lie, but the idea of being carried somewhere, with no control…

"Suit yourself, famalam."

He stayed close to them, though. They could see him in their periphery, just a bit behind. Like… Something like the Liminus, if the Liminus weren't trying to tear them to shreds.

"You guys alright out there?" Aoi's voice crackled through their earpieces. "I heard something about Drifter, are they okay?"

"I'm alright, just lost Transference." They cut in before either of the others could answer for them.

Arthur grunted, shifting Mirage on his shoulders. "On our way back now. Tell Lettie to be ready to check Marty over." He fixed Ayhan with a steely glare before they could protest. "That's an order."

They coughed again, sending back a scathing look of their own. "Yes, Lieutenant."

Quincy moved past them, sweeping the area and waving them towards the quiet alley where they'd stashed their Atomicycles. "You sure you're alright to be driving, D?" He waited by the mouth of the alley, covering Arthur's back while he lowered Mirage to the ground.

"I'd better be." They growled. They braced themself, Transferring into Mirage and moving her to their bike. The signal was sluggish, choppy, faint; she was fighting them.

You drive, then. They challenged the faint consciousness in the Frame. Either I do this or I have to leave you out here overnight. What'll it be, Mi?

She relented.

They looked to the others, revving the bike to life. "Let's go."

Lettie was, indeed, waiting when they returned. They kicked out the stand on their bike, walking Mirage to a corner and Transferring out again. They sucked in a deep breath, the imaginary band around their chest dizzying once again.

"Come on." Lettie ordered. They followed her up the stairs, thoroughly winded by the time they reached the second story. She offered them her arm, and.. for once, they accepted the help. They sat down in one of her makeshift exam chairs, barely controlled in their descent.

"What happened out there?" Lettie shone her penlight in their eyes as she spoke, and they flinched away from the light.

"I think it's something to do with Transference. I'm not hurt—"

"You have a concussion. You were saying?"

"Oh." They winced. "Right. Took a swing from an Eradicator."

Lettie scoffed. "You should be alright in an hour or so if you rest. Stay out of the arcade 'til then. Too bright."

They drew in another deep breath, as slowly as they could, while she checked them over. "I think… maybe being a Protoframe is messing with my Warframes. Feels like I'm stuck in too small a space." They closed their eyes, a headache starting to creep in as the adrenaline of the mission slowly faded. "I should've guessed it'd mess that up. What hasn't it?"

Lettie tapped their arm. "Hold out your hand. Got some meds for you."

They dry-swallowed the pills she handed them, their breathing finally starting to level out. Their ribs ached, as well, now. "Thanks."

They opened their eyes, squinting to see. The sun was still high in the sky, streaming in through the skylight and painfully bright. Lettie was packing her medication bag back up, slinging it over her shoulder and nodding to them. "You can go."

They stood, waving a silent goodbye and heading for the backroom. They could call Mirage back there with their arsenal controls, then…

Then what?

They felt their stomach flip.

Xaku. That's what.

No more pretending this didn't happen. I can't do that again. I can't risk that again.

What if that had happened when someone else couldn't cover you?

What if someone else had needed you to cover them?

Just send her back to Aíbinn for now. Remove the easy option.

They nodded, ducking through the obol curtain into their room.

Mirage was easily summoned back to the arsenal bay, appearing in a swirl of the same Void energy that powered their Transference.

"Sorry, Mimi. I'm sorry for that." They pressed their forehead against the Frame's cold metal collarbone. "I shouldn't have pushed it. I know."

They sighed, leaning back and surveying her for damage. "Good. Not hurt, at least. Sorry you tanked most of that hit." They inspected the side of her head a bit closer, checking for even the minutest damages. A bit of a scuff, but nothing Helminth won't be able to fix with a little time.

"I'm sending you over to Aíbinn for now. Until I can get… me figured out. I'll see you when I see you." They cupped her featureless face in their hand, hoping she could understand them. They pressed a few buttons on the console, suddenly choked up. "I'll miss you. Keep her safe, surah."

Mirage vanished in another cloud of Voidlight, already on her way through the timestream to the Orbiter.

Alone.

They went over to the foundry, collecting the medication they'd been printing and restarting the build process. The finished phial went into a tub Lettie had given them— building a stockpile in case of emergency.

Should I..?

They hesitated, hovering their hand over the container. Less than an hour. She said less than an hour. You've handled worse. Less than an hour.

It's right there. She'd never know.

I'd know.

With tremendous effort, they stepped back.

"Well, I hate this," they said, to nobody at all. "I hate this so much."

The price of saving them is knowing them. Give and take, doll. Make up your mind.

"Gods, I hate this."

But not enough to quit.

Aoi was waiting for them after dinner, sitting on the counter in the music store with an expectant look on her face. She grinned as they crossed the threshold, hopping down and holding her arms out. "Maybe you could hug me first?" She shrugged. "Add more agency to it, y'know?"

They nodded, closing the distance and, very hesitantly, very stiffly, forcing themself to hug her. One arm over her shoulder, one arm under her shoulder blades. The tiniest bit of pressure. Mechanical, detached. Feeling human yet, doll?

She set her arms on them lightly, mirroring their embrace.

It wasn't much better. But it was slightly better. Sort of.

Twenty. Nineteen. Eighteen.

Hands.

Fourteen. Thirteen. Twelve.

Sword.

Nine. Eight. Seven.

Blood.

Three. Two. One. Zero.

They tapped her shoulder, and she stepped back immediately.

"Thanks." They clenched and unclenched their hands, heart racing as they tried very hard to stay present.

"Pleasure's all mine, Marty!" She looked proud. "I'm glad you're trying, even if it ends up being a total bust."

"Me too." They walked over to one of her boxes of CDs, flipping through the albums just to do something. "Better than never knowing, right?"

"Exactly!" Aoi joined them, leaning over their shoulder. It set their nerves on edge, but they forced the feeling down. "Whatcha in the mood for today?"

"Looking for something…" They waved their hand in a circle, trying to summon the words. "Collective? A lot of people, singing together."

"Oh, choir music!" Aoi said, then stopped. "Like, religious music or just… people singing in a group?"

"Just as a group, please." They smiled.

She pulled another box off a nearby stack, flipping through the cases with precision. "Here! New Amsterdam Chorus. Lots of older folk music, no instruments." She passed them the CD, still wrapped in plastic film. "Oooooh, I have some musical theatre soundtracks somewhere, too— I'll see if I can find them. This should hold you over 'til then!"

"Thanks." Return the gesture. Share. "I spent a while in Fortuna during the war. Didn't realise how… depressing it'd be to sing We All Lift by myself." They turned the case over in their hands, skimming through the track list— nothing they recognised. I don't know what I expected.

"You sing?" Aoi audibly perked up, shifting a teensy bit closer to them.

"Not much." They smiled sheepishly, meeting her eyes for a moment. "I'm not exactly trained, so..." Change focus before she asks more. "Um. We All Lift is a Solari work song. Not as much power to it when there's only one person singing, y'know? Feels like magic in a crowd, though."

For the first time in a few… thousand (?) years, they felt homesick.

"Maybe we can have a karaoke night! We haven't had one in. So. Long." Aoi broke their micro-reverie with her usual enthusiastic charm. "You could teach it to us! Then you'd have someone to sing with again. I've been dying to see if I can talk the others into karaoke, this is perfect!"

They smiled. They could feel a lump in their throat again— probably just because I already got worked up today. "That'd be nice," they responded. Really, really nice.

Aoi grinned. "I'll get it set up with Arthur, then!" She put the crate of CDs back on its stack, dusting her hands off with an excited light in her eyes. "Whaddya think, Friday night? Think I could convince Quincy to get us some drinks and stuff by then."

Ayhan nodded, choking on tears again. They took a deep breath, steadying themself as subtly as they could.

Aoi, Unum watch her, was observant, as always.

"Whoa, you okay? Did I say something?" Aoi moved closer, offering her hand, palm-up. Doing her best to respect their boundaries, clearly.

They sniffled, clearing their throat. "No, no. I… I had something… Something came up earlier and… You're being really nice, it just kinda…" They shrugged, their voice cutting off. They took her hand, desperately trying not to break all the way down. Holding on like a lifeline.

She brushed her thumb over the copper filigree of their hand in a small circle, giving them a warm smile. "No worries. I'm sticking around until you're okay, okay?"

They stood there for what felt like a very long time, doing their best to reel in their emotions.

Breathing slowly.

Eyes closed.

Not allowing themself to linger on any single thought for long.

Forcing themself to be still, to be calm, to be level.

They blinked, their attention focusing on reality once again.

"I need to go, thank you. I have a supply run tomorrow morning, and… I should at least pretend to have gone to bed at a decent time." They patted her hand, and she let go.

"Sweet dreams!" She waved goodbye as they turned towards the stairs.

"You, too, surah."

Chapter Text

-{Amir}-

It wasn't a crush, right?

He'd had crushes before. Crushes were something he had on distant people he'd never really have a chance with because they never really crossed paths. Appreciation from afar.

Like Green Backpack in your comp sci class. Or the barista with the tattoos and spiky hair that worked weekends at the coffee place. Or that cashier at the movie rental place that took your recommendations seriously.

The one person he'd had a crush on that broke that rule was the girl he'd been trying to impress working for Omni, and… Well. That hadn't exactly panned out.

Nah. This was just friends.

You're just used to people brushing you off, is all. Not used to someone being around you this much. Friends. Just friendly friends. Friendly Future, friend.

Still… he couldn't shake the thought from his head.

I just need to sleep more. Probably just overtired. Anxious. Yeah. As usual. Just stressed out and tired.

He tapped his fingers on his desk, staring at the notepad in front of him. Notes he'd scribbled down from the Drifter's KIM chats with him, ready to add to the web encyclopedia he'd been building. Mostly about the Origin System, yeah, but he'd been intermittently adding on to a page about them, too.

About Duviri. The Zariman. As much as he could remember about the little stories and jokes they told. He'd copied down their 'dojo dossier' and added that, even.

They knew about the page, of course. It'd been their idea in the first place— fewer chances for someone to accidentally step on their toes during a regular conversation and all that jazz. But… Now it felt kinda… stalker-y.

…Especially considering he'd reread it about six times in 24 hours.

He'd initially opened it to add their birthday, then remembered the others would have access to the page pretty much immediately. That had led to noticing a spelling error, then he had to check the rest of the page, obviously.

That had led to suddenly being very disappointed there wasn't more. That he didn't know more.

Which had led to the next two read-throughs, hoping he'd jog his own memory.

The next one had been another 'grammar check.' That's how he justified it, anyways.

He'd left it alone for a few hours, preoccupied with missions and inventory checks and chores. Then they'd caught him looking at them while he was dragging his blankets and stuff to the mall's makeshift laundry setup. He'd come back and read the page another two times, trying to figure out if there was anything specific he could ask them. Gaps in their stories, or details they'd skimmed over. That kind of thing.

And then, just now, he'd read it over to make sure he hadn't said anything weird about them. Making sure it was all professional, detached. Just facts, no emotions or implications. See? It's nothing. Subconscious Amir didn't even think anything.

He powered down the POM-2, standing and flopping down on his bed. He stared off into the dark, wiggling one foot as he laid there.

Just friends. No big deal.

He, eventually, managed to fall asleep.

Someone was knocking on his door. Aggressively.

EMERGENCYSOMEONE'SDEADGETUPGETUPGETUP

He had the door open in less than a second, hearing the sound of static popping around him as he flew out of bed.

The Drifter was standing there, fist still raised to the air where the door had been. Eyes wide in that cornered-animal look they'd had before. Voidlight was strobing around them, like it was measuring their heart rate. Their very fast, very erratic heart rate, if it was doing that.

"You good, Future?" He looked past them into the food court, nerves suddenly much more on edge from their decidedly freaked-out demeanor. Dark and abandoned. "Did something happen? What's up? Istheresomethingwrong?"

They made a weird croaking noise, then swallowed hard. "Nightmare." They whispered. "Bad. Bad utz."

"Oh. Right. Okay, uh…"

Utz?

"Did… you… want to hang out out there, or..?"

They shook their head frantically, eyes darting nervously to the shadowy parts of the dark commons.

"Well, there's… There's not much room back here, but…" He stepped back, turning his desk chair around and sitting down. They stepped inside, pointing at the light switch and looking at him for permission.

"Yeah, go for it."

They threw the switch, and the dim bulbs of the fixture above them flickered to life. It cast the room in a distinctly dingy light. They stood awkwardly in the doorway, still watching the shadows for… probably something horrifying from the future.

"You can sit down on my bed, it's cool." Shut up brain shut up brain shut up brain.

They fumbled for the doorknob, quietly latching the door. Shutting out the dark. They visibly relaxed, like they'd been waiting for something to jump out at them. They nodded, sitting down and tracing a fold in his blanket.

"Wanna talk about it or pretend it didn't happen?" He rocked back on the legs of the chair a tiny bit, trying his best to think of something to talk about if they chose option B.

Plants? I don't know enough about plants. Robots… might be part of the nightmare. OH! Maybe today's inventory? With the disappearing ammo? Yeah, that's a good one.

"… Pretend." They muttered. Barely.

"Words gone again, huh?" He waited. They nodded. "Here, use this," he said, tearing off the top paper of his notepad. "You need a pen or do you have one?"

They pulled a ballpoint from their gear belt— Why are you wearing your mission gear?— and wrote something down, turning the page around to show him.

Thanks.

"No prob, Bob." He grinned at them, rubbing sleep from his eyes and yawning. "So, wanna hear about the stupidest thing from my audit this afternoon?"

They nodded, still not looking at him.

"So, there I was, surrounded by all this loose ammo Quincy found on the last supply run, right? All jumbled up and mixed around, really annoying to unscramble. I got all of it sorted, had it all laid out, already started counting it. Even drew up a little spreadsheet thingy to keep track of it all. Weeeeell…" He held his hands out in front of him, palm-down, fingers splayed out. "I get all the way to the, like, twelfth pile. And I think, 'Hey, didn't there use to be, like, a lot more bullets in that first pile? And I check the spreadsheet, and I count the pile again, and I'm right."

They looked up, tilting their head at the wall, brow furrowed. One foot outta the brain goblin zone. He smiled, continuing.

"So I go, huh. Weird. Anywho, just keep going. Maybe someone came over and grabbed it and I was just zoned out, right? No big deal. BUT." He raised a finger, punctuating the word. "After I finish counting, I look back over and the pile's back to normal. Like nothing happened! And I checked the spreadsheet again, right? Because I made a note changing the count for that pile, since it had changed. It was back to the first number again! But it couldn't have been Quincy being invisible and messing with me, he was out with Lettie on a perimeter check. And you were… Actually, now that I think about it…" He narrowed his eyes at them. "I don't actually remember where you were. Suspicious, if you ask me."

They shot him an offended look, scribbling something on the notepad. So just bcuz I can b invisible means it was me?

"Well, who else could it have been?" He crossed his arms, waiting as they formulated their answer.

Aoi. Bullets = metal. Never crossed ur mind?

Of course. Why didn't I think—

He gasped melodramatically. "Betrayed by Aoi?! It can't be!" He shook his head. "It makes so much sense! The fact I didn't hear anything, didn't see anyone. She heisted those bullets from right under my nose and I didn't even see it!" He pinched the bridge of his nose, propping his elbow on his desk like a noir detective, putting on a transatlantic accent. "That dame is trouble."

The Drifter snorted. He looked over at them again. They were still fidgeting with the blanket, but they had enough wherewithal to pointedly roll their eyes at him. They wrote another note, looking back at the floor.

Did u actually not think of her or r u just being silly?

"No, yeah. I hadn't thought of Aoi. She was supposed to be doing maintenance on that messed up drain in the bathroom."

Realization struck. He gasped. "She didn't even leave the bathroom, did she?! Just levitated the bullets from the doorway, put them back, and went back to work!"

The Drifter nodded, laughing quietly.

"Ohhhhh, I'm SO getting her back for that. Whaddya think, change her KIM password remotely? Yeah, then when she goes to ask for help with it, I change it back so it's like it never happened!" He snapped his fingers. "You're a regular evil genius, Future. Thanks for the idea!"

They scrunched their face up in confusion, spluttering. They scrambled for the paper and pen.

Don't pin this on me!

"Nah, if this goes sideways you're coming down with me. I'd never have figured out it was her if you hadn't pointed it out." He resumed the film noir accent, pulling an overly-serious face. "You act as half of the dynamic detective duo, you get half the fallout, see?"

You're impossible.

"You're one to talk! Aren't you, like, four paradoxes stacked up in a trench coat?"

He regretted saying it as soon as the words came out of his mouth. They nodded, their smile dropping into a forced, polite expression.

"Never mind, that was a total bummer move. My bad. Changing the subject! So, you said you were getting… Aíbinn? That's her name, right? Am I saying it right?"

They nodded.

"Cool. You said you're making her a mini plant collection thing, right? Would you mind letting me see it before you send it off? I figured it might make a cool addition to your page on the web encyclopedia thingy. Since… you… like plants, and all." I'll take World's Most Obvious Explanations for 200, Alex.

They tilted their head, writing something for a very very long time oh no.

Notes 4 Aibinn aren't anything new 2 u guys. Makes more sense 2 add info about plants f/ the Origin System. I can loan u 1 of my main notebooks instead? Has pictures, pressed samples, etc.

"Oh, yeah, that makes sense. Sure, if you're cool with it." He became acutely aware of the fact that they were offering to lend him something WAY more helpful than his initial suggestion.

And got very warm. Very very uncomfortably warm. Sol, did the heat kick on or something?

And also very aware of the fact they were sitting in his room. His room, which they had never been in before. Ever. On his bed. In the middle of the night. Alone.

Nopenopenopestopitbrainknockitoffnopenopenope

"Hey, weird question, do you know who's doing the rounds tonight?" Play it cool. Smooth. No big deal. Just curious.

Eleanor → Arthur just now, then → Lettie → Aoi. Y?

"Eh, just wondering." Definitely not worried someone (cough cough Quincy cough cough Aoi) is gonna realize you're in here and make a thing out of it. Not at all. Nope. He rocked back on the chair again, doing his best to look nonchalant.

They squinted at him, scanning his face with a calculating look.

"What?"

U suck at lying.

"Hey, isn't that a good thing? Lying's not nice, Future." He waggled a finger at them scoldingly, shaking his head in faux disappointment.

U still suck at it.

"Fine. You caught me. I wanted to know if I could sneak out and go for a run. No chance with Arthur prowling around like freakin' Batguy." He stretched, looking away. Half-hoping they'd drop it, brush it off as him just being hyper again. Like always.

What did I literally just tell u?

He sighed, jogging one leg and lowering his voice. "Can we just pretend I didn't ask? It's personal."

They looked at him again, searching.

Fine. Who's Batguy, again?

He gasped, staring at them in utter disbelief. "I haven't shown you anything about Batguy?!"

Pretty sure u have. Give me a break, middle of night. Need a refresher.

"He's the main hero in the PEC Comics runs. Like a super detective with an insane amount of money. Secret identity. Lots of gadgets. Has a kid sidekick? Ringing any bells?"

They nodded, writing again.

Right. Fights the Clown.

"Exactly! Phew, thought I was gonna lose my geek cred for a second there. What kind of comic aficionado doesn't tell a time traveler about Batguy?!"

Pretty sure most don't have that problem. No worries, ur credentials r all in order.

He snickered at their choice of words. "What, like there's a test or something? Do I have to renew my geek cred?"

Only if u'd forgotten 2 mention Batguy. U'd have 2 start again f/ scratch. They grinned antagonistically, looking up at his collectables and comics crowding the old breakroom cabinets.

"Aw, man, that'd take forever. You know how hard it is to find some of this stuff?" He widened his eyes, puffing out his cheeks. "I found most of this stuff on missions. Some of it's kinda busted up from, y'know, the rubble and Effervon and stuff, but it's… It's limited edition, now, I guess. Beggars can't be choosers." Not in a zombie hellscape, that's for sure.

They stood, looking closer at a Contessa comic on one of the shelves near the door.

"That's the first issue. I got a scan of it loaded onto my PC, so it can chill on the shelf and stay all nice instead of getting messed up from being read over and over. I can send you the files, if you want?" More than a little hopeful.

They nodded, gave him a thumbs up, then pointed at a damaged, visibly cheap-y action figure. Tilted their head in a silent question.

"Found that in here, actually. They had a lost and found box and someone just left it when the evac got called. Probably didn't care enough to toss it considering… everything. I felt bad about being all picky on which plastic dudes got to sit on the shelf, so he gets to hang out with the rest of my doodads." Really cool and suave. Very mature. Doodads is such an intelligent word choice.

They smiled, grabbing the paper and pen off the end of his bed. They flipped the page, chewing their lip as they wrote what, compared to their other notes, seemed like a short novel. They looked back at the shelf of 'doodads' as they handed him the notepad.

I have floofs that used 2 belong 2 a Grineer defector. His name was Gral. He smuggled intel for Solaris U. They needed a good home after he got caught. Stained, ripped up, hardly any stuffing left. But I couldn't leave them all by themselves, right?

"Exactly! You get it! They're not real, obviously, they're just things, but… the guilt is real." Again with the warm. The really nerve-wracking warm that made him feel like there were ten thousand eyes watching him.

They tilted their head to an extreme, squinting at his watch— trying to read it upside-down.

"Uh, two thirty. Ish. Give or take a few seconds. Two thirty-one, now." He looked up at them, trying not to think about how close they were standing. "Why, you got a hot date or something?" He joked, hoping desperately that the joke would land normally and not weird creepy prying about your personal life-ly. Please, brain, shut up.

They snorted.

Timing 4 next shift change 4 me 2 leave. Spare us both a scolding abt sleep deprivation from Lt. Batguy. Or Lettie.

He felt his face warm, his pulse spiking in his ears and cheeks. Because that's what friends are concerned about when they hang out late at night. "Oh, right. When..?"

Usually at 3.

"So, whatcha wanna do 'til then? I've got this awful point-and-click game on my PC, it's so bad. The puzzles are okay, but the actual story sucks." They look confused, whoops. "Or we could just talk more, your call."

I'm OK w/ just talking. Keeps my mind off things.

"Right. 'Things.' One question about the whole… 'things' thing, and then we can talk about whatever, 'kay?"

They nodded.

"Space stuff or Duviri stuff?"

Here. And Duviri. Things in the shadows.

"Cool. Well, not cool, obviously. Helpful to know. Anyways." He cleared his throat, standing up very carefully to avoid bumping into them. "'Scuse me. Sorry. Uh, I know you got a kick out of Dungam, right? I've got a figurine from that over here." He gestured at a shelf over his desk. "Here, lemme move real quick so you can actually. Y'know. See it."

He stepped around them, standing near the door and watching nervously as they leaned over his PC to look at the shelf. They turned around, grinning wide.

Creative pose.

Oh, no.

He ducked his head to the side, staring at the shelf. Please don't be anything weird. Pleasepleaseplease.

The Dungam figure was posed like a character from Legionnaire Lua, right next to a Lg. Halley statuette. Tiny peace sign and all. Thank Lua. Heh. 'Cause— focus.

"Oh, yeah. Forgot I did that. Yeah, I found the Lg. Halley thing a few weeks after I built him and figured heywhynotfunposeright?" He sent a small arc of electricity bouncing between his hands.

They're friends! :)

"Yeah, guess so, huh?" He checked his watch again, more out of nervous habit than anything. 2:34. Basically twenty minutes. Just five minutes four times, right? Easy. I can handle that.

The Drifter tapped his arm, offering the notepad.

If u want me 2 leave, I can. Barged in, I get it.

"Youdon'thavetoleaveifyoudon'twantto. Leave early, I mean. I know what it's like, don't worry about it. It's fine. Wouldn't be cool of me to kick you out, since I said you could come get me and everything—" Ea-SY, motormouth!

I clearly set u on edge. Dramatic entrance. I'll head out and let u get back to sleep.

He shook his head, opening his mouth and searching for words that weren't coming out. Yes, but it's not you that's the problem. I mean, it is you, but it's not your fault. No, don't say that. Any of that. Start over.

"Uh."

Fantastic job.

Thanks for the paper. See u tomorrow.

"No, seriously, if you want to stay you can. I don't mind. Honestly, it's kinda fun telling you about this stuff." He grinned, sheepish.

They shook their head, shrugging and handing him back the notepad. They motioned for him to move away from the door, smiling and waving goodbye.

"Okay, then. Good luck on your stealth check. See ya." He stepped out of their way, waving back.

They disappeared, invisible before they even opened the door. It swung open, then gently back shut, barely making a noise as it latched.

They left, right? That was them leaving?

He waved his arm in the space by the door, confirming. Yeah. Gone.

He let out a nervous, high-pitched laugh, combing his hair back with his fingers and falling backwards onto his bed.

Just sleep on it! It's nothing! Just the adrenaline of the sudden wake-up, it's nothing. Shhhhhhhhhhhhut up brain! Sleep time. Sleeeeeep time.

...

He tossed and turned the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

June 9, 1999

Another hell-scrub. Another stupid hell-scrub.

He didn't mind being out of the action— well, out of the fight, technically— but it felt like hell-scrubs were all they were doing that week. Everyone came back all gross from Techrot and irritable from the heat, muttering token thank-you's as they headed to the showers. Nobody wanted to do anything when they got back and he was going bananas.

Huh. I kinda miss bananas.

The overriding and 'tactical acquisition' parts of hell-scrubs were fun, yeah, but once the mission was over?

Booooooored.

The Drifter had been out on a mission every day for three days straight. They had come back, hit the showers, then disappeared for the rest of the day, every day. Like clockwork. They'd suddenly stopped taking Mirage with them at all, giving a half-baked excuse about 'complacency' when he'd asked. Clearly irritated. They'd gotten a lot more… grumpy.

Wonder why they stopped.

Maybe they had a fight with her?

… Could they have a fight with her? Is a Warframe alive enough for that?

He prompted another scrubber back to the surface, somewhere around Lettie's last coordinate ping. "Hell-scrubber coming up near you, Lettie!"

"Copy."

"Status on that next safe of yours, Beckett?" Arthur's voice was muffled by someone (something?) screaming in the background. "Quickly?"

Amir glanced at the decoder script to the side of his screen, running a thousand-gajillion passwords against a Scaldra vault's security system. "Still cooking. Gimme, I don't know, two more minutes?" He tapped his fingers on the desk, full of nervous energy. And regular hyperactivity energy. And electrical energy. "I can't really predict what's gonna do the trick and pop this sucker open, alright? I just work here."

"Marty, status report." Arthur clearly ignored his joke.

"Not dead yet." They shouted, their feed crackling like a Geiger counter. "Activating a scrubber to keep it that way."

"Same here." Lettie added. "It's bad today, ¿no?"

Amir watched as two coordinate points blinked out, clearing the spent scrubbers from the list. They'd only been out for about an hour, and they'd burned through eight. Not even counting the SporeX they'd probably looted from fallen Scaldra. "Is it fighting back or something? Like, against the whole 'deja vu' thing?"

"Probably. Or it just likes the sun." The Drifter responded. He could've sworn he heard whispering at the tail end of their sentence. Not them whispering. Creepy ghost whispering. Like their door. Eugh.

He checked the vault status again. Nothing. "Come on. Don't tell me you did password security training now." He reached for the keyboard, manually inputting a string of passkeys at light speed. The vault opened— medical supplies. Hard-to-come-by specialty medical supplies. "Got the goodies! Fancy medical stuff. Got someone on their way to the drop point with 'em now!"

"Copy that." Arthur sounded slightly less grumpy. Close enough to a thank you. Sure.

"I've got something big over here, could use some back—" Lettie's line cut out for a long moment. "—Now! Get your a—"

Amir scanned the tracking program frantically, searching for something he really didn't want to see.

Oh, no.

One scrubber was no longer stationary.

"It's a scrubber, must've gotten gunked up. Uh, Arthur, northwest two blocks. Future, you're four blocks west. Head back towards that bodega with the green awning."

Nobody responded, but he could see their coordinates updating. Heading for Lettie. "You alive, Lettie?"

She swore in response. A really long string of words in Tenochtitlan he knew just enough of to figure out the gist. Something about someone's mother, Tuesday, and gasoline.

I'm gonna guess that's a yes, then.

Arthur was within a few yards of her now, according to his coordinate map. The Drifter was still about a block away, blipping in and out of tracking. Void stuff. "This thing oughta go down quick if you can get some Effervon or something on it." He swore— not as long-windedly as Lettie, but— "I don't know, fire? Maybe fire will help?"

"Exactly how are we supposed to set this thing on fire, Amir?" The Drifter snapped. Their line was barely audible over the crackling interference. "Can't even hold the ramn sikkhat still. There's a tank of Effervon over here by me, lead it my way and I'll douse it."

"Copy." Lettie and Arthur's tiny waypoints started moving closer to the Drifter's, followed by the rotted scrubber.

"Amir, see if you can pop this thing's activation code. Disorient it or something, I don't—" Their sentence was cut off by a horrible screechy noise, like feedback cranked up to eleven. He scrambled for the prompt window, typing as fast as he could. Error message.

"No luck, Future, sorry."

"Marty, we're clear, hit the vat." Arthur ordered. They didn't respond, but the moving scrubber's dot slowly blinked out. "All clear. We need to head back, this is getting dicey."

"Getting dicey?!" Lettie hissed. "It's been dicey. Keep up."

Her waypoint moved, and so did Arthur's.

The Drifter's didn't.

"You alright, Future?" He double-checked the scrubber list— the Techrotted one was gone. Not moving, not active. "Drift? You there?"

Static.

"Drifter, status report." Arthur's coordinates started shifting back towards them, still (presumably) sitting on top of the Effervon tank. "Come in."

Still nothing. Lettie turned back, too.

There was a long silence over comms. Amir started pacing, walking around the security room with his eyes firmly fixed on the computer screen. C'mon, c'mon, say something!

"Heading back now. All clear." Lettie grumbled.

"What happened? Are th— are you all okay?" He corrected himself before he sounded too specifically worried. "You're a good half-mile away from the bikes, just a heads up. South."

"Nothing serious. You did the last audit, did we have any mouthwash? Or anything pop up in that cache of yours? Phantasma had their mouth open." Lettie sounded distracted.

Amir grimaced, suddenly wondering if Techrot tasted as bad as it smelled. "Not sure about us, but I know Quincy's got some if all else fails." He glanced at the vault manifest, skimming for keywords. "Uh, none that I can see in the list of goodies."

He looked back at the coordinate map, comparing the distance between the others and the spot they'd stashed their bikes. "Halfway there. You need to go east a block or so before heading south again. Looks like there's an old blockade in the way."

"Copy that. Go talk to Quincy before we get back. Need to know if I need to improvise something." Lettie ordered.

Amir stood, looking toward the shooting range with trepidation. "Okay, but he probably won't listen to me. Just… y'know."

"I don't give a—"

"I'm going!" He cut her off before she could chew him out. Don't need that on top of everything.

Quincy was standing at the range counter, looking at something in front of him. Amir cleared his throat, and Quincy just about hit the roof. "Sol's sack, Amir!" He whipped around, shoving whatever he was looking at over the far edge of the counter. "What d'you want?"

"Lettie needs a bottle of mouthwash. She's on her way back and wants a yes or no before she gets here." Amir put on his best business-only face.

"Yeah, for a price. Nothin's free, Jitter." Quincy turned away, moving to hop the counter and collect his whatever-it-was.

"Could you do it as a favor to Drifter? They got a faceful of Babau… splatter."

That got Quincy's attention. He looked back, raising an eyebrow with a disgusted look. "I don't give handouts, mate. Tell Let I'll bring it, and she owes me one. Acquisition fee, allat."

"Wow, Quincy, how selfless of you. Bring it to the garage or something, I don't know." Amir walked away, now also irritated. "Lettie, mouthwash is a go. Quincy wants a favor for it."

"Tell him he can take his favor and shove it up his—"

"Tell him yourself, okay?" He snapped. "He'll change his mind just to spite me." He stormed back to the computer, checking their location. "I'm guessing you're good from there. No need for GPS."

"If we're not on the bikes, we're not clear." Arthur warned. "Stay on the line in case something comes up."

Uggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh.

"Fine." Amir sulked. "See the bikes yet?"

"Watch the attitude, Sparky." The Drifter's line was still staticky. They sounded hoarse. "It's not exactly all lilies and kavat whiskers out here. We're doing our best. "

He made a rude gesture at the computer, now full-blown pissed off. "So am I, in case you didn't notice. A 'thank you' every once in a while won't kill any of you, you know." He watched their pinpoint markers stack up on the bikes' location, then switched his radio off. He was going for a run as soon as they were all back inside. He didn't care how hot it was. Good. They'll all leave me alone.