Actions

Work Header

in the shadow of a crumbling behemoth

Summary:

There are two kinds of people on the small island nation. Those within the City's boundaries, and those without.

Two guns of the City make their stop for the night in the abandoned no man's land. They are proud of the work they do, to keep the order. And yet their humanity cannot help but seep through the cracks.

Work Text:

Miles beyond the chained fence of the City, far enough away where even the spires that pierced the heavens had vanished beyond the horizon, two people who were not people made their camp.

They had followed a ribbon of highway for most of their trek, staying in the shadow of the crumbling behemoth that still stood after decades of abandonment. Passed through abandoned towns and roadways reclaimed by nature. Not a trace to be seen of those they hunted, not through shattered window nor boot trodden grass; just they two and the hollow shell of a world beyond their Home. Until the homes and roads had thinned away, leaving just the highway and rolling fields that waved lazily in the early autumn air.

Soren paced the set perimeter. He practically skipped, muscles singing with the energy provided to him by the scientists that had molded him. The two could have continued into the night, well into the next day, before fatigue had even begun to nip at their heels. And most missions were kept on tight schedules for that reason. There was no reason to allot four days when it could be done in two, with the benefit of keeping their weapons' edges from growing dull.

This mission was different. It was a simple matter of tracking the whereabouts of an Outlier settlement. Their time frame was four days for something that normally would only need two: find the last known location, scout out the possible route they took to evade government eyes, return to base. The task would then be handed to another team, something that still set Soren's teeth on edge and made his hackles rise. He understood the reasoning, and never once dared argue the matter; his partner had recently been approved to return to the field, and no one wanted to overwork the new augmentations.

An breeze rolled across the untamed land, grass and weeds waving in its wake. Soren's nose twitched with its trace of ocean, just a few miles east of them. Like most residents of the City, he had only visited the ocean that surrounded their small island nation on field trips, where the citizens were kept under watchful eye so no harm would become of them. It wasn't until his adulthood job assessment (average outcome, as most of his age group was, that promised him a good life as a mid-level financier) and subsequent military volunteering at the recommendation of his coaches that he was given a longer rope.

He almost wished his assignments had allowed him a detour to the ocean, to watch the crashing waves upon the shore and the way light scattered across the water. To perhaps see across the ocean to the alien lands beyond where he would never set foot. Almost.

Soren shrugged his shoulders, rolling his head on his neck, chasing away those traces of jealousy that had no place in the gun of his City. Metal inserts that guarded his bones shifted and clicked, settling back into place with the satisfaction of a popped joint. Claws flicked in and out of his knuckles with the curling of his hands and a slight tensing of his forearm.

Above him, stars watched, freed of light pollution. He doubted anyone but those in the farm settlements got to see such things on as consistent basis as he did. Keen eyes (soon to be keener, his next procedure was a few months away) traced half remembered constellations, slowing to a stop. In the absence of his footsteps, the ambiance of the world grew to a roar. No hum of city life, no cars or sirens or chattering of the brass, just insects and unseen animals darting from their hiding spots in the rustling of grass.

"I take it you're done?" His companion had appeared at his shoulder on silent feet. Soren had the wherewithal not to jump, instead pivoting on his heel.

AP-WC014 was expressionless, as they so often were. Their eyes glittered with gently pulsing circuitry, lightning snapping across stormy gray eyes. Soren thought it suited them, but early compliments had been met with stony silence and hunched shoulders. 

"With what?"

"Pacing. I was getting exhausted just watching you." Their words rasped out of their throat, soft and breathy, with nothing for them to catch on to make the right vibrations. Their lips curled into something that straddled the line between a smile and a grimace, flashing pointed teeth at him.

"You know me," Soren said. "Restless."

When they had been assigned to work together, years ago by then, Soren hadn't known why his partner didn't have a proper name. Of course, all those inducted into the program no longer had much of an identity outside of weapon but Soren had some contact with his family, and he certainly had been able to keep his name. He'd probed and been rebuffed, warned by his betters that some needed to earn their names.

For the first while, AP-WC014 was silent. There was a scar that snaked collarbone to jaw, surgical thin, too long to be fully hidden by any high collared uniform. Soren had thought them incapable of speech altogether, some injury or accident rendering them mute. And they never communicated with hand signs, or by writing things down, only did what had to be done with stone faced determination. It wasn't until a while on, when the two had fallen into a strange kind of step, that they had said anything to him: a quick are you okay? after a rough firefight. Soren had been poking at a tear in his uniform that revealed the bulletproof clothing underneath, and had jumped a foot. He stammered out didn't get hurt and they'd laughed, slapping him on the back.

sorry, they said. bad dogs don't bark. They'd tapped at their scar, and that was that. Soren became the only one who got to see AP-WC014.

The two grew closer. Closer than they were ever meant to, Soren was sure. He talked about his former life that he'd shed to someone who listened in silence, face twitching with an emotion they tried to smother in the deep and dark pit of their soul. A floodgate hadn't opened, when Soren dared to ask what about you? but their expression grew tight, stricken, a distant look creeping into their eye and set of their brow. i don't remember. Not even a name. In quiet hours, when they found themselves pressed closed together in a bunk without anyone to see or reprimand, Soren had suggested Alf. And it had been lucky Alf's voice no longer worked the way it should, as the way a bark of laughter tore from their throat would have brought their commanders running.

Rumors trickled through the recruits in low and conspiratorial voices. They had no more information on Alf than Soren did, and none cared to learn (it wasn't their business to know such things, Soren knew, they served their City and that was that). But one thing made its way to him in voices dripping with something that was almost fear:

wild caught.

Soren still rolled the phrase around in his mouth and against his teeth. Everyone in the country lived in the City, where lives were orderly and simple and safe. Everyone had their role to play. And yet some people refused to comply. They either fled beyond the City fence or had never set foot inside its borders at all, forced into a nomadic life. Often those born beyond who were captured were put through education programs, so that they could enter society the way they were always meant to. And sometimes, they weren't. Soren had never asked what crimes his partner had committed to be cast out. They were a good Gun, always did the job without hesitation, and that's all that really mattered.

"Is it weird, to be back out here?" He flicked his wrist out at the landscape. The moon and blinking stars coated the world in a pale glow, still but for the occasional twitching of nocturnal life.

"Sometimes." Alf drew their hand across their chest, rubbing at their new surgical scar. "I don't really remember it."

Soren had seen the scar hidden by their hair at the base of their skull. A twisted knot of a thing, more haphazard than he was used to. Curiosity still tore at him, burying its claws in cabled muscle and nipping at still tender flesh, but fear held his tongue still.

"You ever think about running?"

Alf staggered, blinked owlishly as they caught themselves. "No."

"Really?" Soren kept his tone light, playful. Alf had the haunted look of a cornered animal. "Not once? It's a big world." and you can't like doing this to people you might've known, once. That thought curdled in the back of his throat.

"Where would I go?" Alf asked, voice tight and breath quickening. "This is what I am now." There was no hint of agony or regret, just a flicker of eyes that would not quite meet Soren's.

Rubbing became itching. Clawing. Soren reached out and took their hand, pressing the pad of his thumb against their palm, feeling the inlays of metal that made their claws and strengthened bone. Felt the faint lines of old scars and tense muscles.

"Don't want you messing up the surgical site," he said, faint smile curling his lips. "I'd hate to see you have to go under the knife again for this." Something dark flickered across their face, but for what reason Soren could not say. "Sorry I brought it up. It was stupid. Who cares, right? It's just a lot of nothing."

No stability. No roles to play. Nothing to live and die for. A shudder passed through Soren. He squeezed Alf's hand in reassurance, leaning forward to nuzzle against them. A prickle of guilt at acting beyond his role. A competing flare of relief at this private moment. Alf hesitated, just a moment. Just a heartbeat. Then leaned into Soren with a heavy sigh. Chests pressed together, Soren could feel the heavy thump of a heart and the thrum of new blood that rushed through augmented veins. He'd traced their pale outlines on more than one occasion with a feather light touch.

"It's a good life," Alf said, looking out past Soren's shoulder to the world beyond. Glowing and beautiful and so very empty. Their voice slurred with exhaustion, their weight pressing on Soren as the trek of the day caught up with them.

"It is." He wrapped an arm around them, guiding them around to face the sleeping bags laid out by a concrete pillar. He hoped nothing bothered them during the night; their hearing was sharp enough that approaching human footsteps would awake them, and Alf needed a full night's rest. "Let's get to sleep."

The sun would crest the horizon and two people who were no longer people would continue on their way.