Chapter Text
1.
“We’ve set the house up for two,”Galedan remarked.“Experience shows that a lone man in the middle of nowhere attracts far more suspicion than a couple. If you run into a stray hiker or a copper, just say your partner is out for a bit. It’s less‘serial killer’and more‘rural domesticity.’I’ve left some blank certificates; feel free to invent a name you like. Though I suspect you haven’t got any in mind.”
Lion offered Galedan a look of pure frost. As Astelan’s right-hand man, Galedan wasn’t bothered with being polite; his voice carried the distinct tang of a man who’d rather be anywhere else. Lion couldn't blame him, really. With the internal feud between the Terra and Caliban factions in the Order reaching a boiling point, Lion’s meteoric rise had left Astelan feeling distinctly twitchy.
Consequently, because Lion had the audacity to voice a dissenting opinion and ignore a few pre-arranged tactical deployments, Astelan had thrown a tantrum. He’d concocted a pretext about a"year-long deep-cover mission"and banished Lion to this godforsaken wilderness. It was truly staggering. We were in the twenty-first century, yet people still resorted to such petty, irrational exile simply because they were feeling a bit insecure.
Lion, however, wasn’t particularly fussed. He’d already laid his groundwork. A year away from the den of vipers was the perfect opportunity to vanish, wait for his plans to ferment, and eventually return to gut his opposition—Astelan included—and take full control.
So, Lion didn't react to Galedan’s petty provocations. He’d collect that debt later. Instead, he performed a silent reconnaissance of the cabin, checking the gear. Emerging, he asked,“Why are both sets of supplies for men? Is my cover story meant to be a bit theatrical?”
“Is there a problem?”Galedan retorted.
Lion suspected the logistics officer had simply pocketed a kickback by buying two-for-one male sets. He didn’t bring it up; he’d let Luther deal with the embezzlement audits later.
“Fine,”he said.
“Right then,”Galedan said as he prepared to leave.“Spend the year playing the hunter. Don't blow your cover, and don't lead anyone here.”
“When do I get my objectives?”Lion asked.
Galedan gave a sharp, mocking grunt.
“The Order will notify you when they’ve decided on something.”The subtext was clear:Rot here and rot quietly.
Lion watched Galedan’s car vanish into the forest trail before heading inside. The"small"cabin was actually quite spacious and well-appointed. Not that Lion cared for creature comforts, but it was liveable. He headed straight for the cellar. Behind a hidden door—locked by a genetic scanner—lay a substantial armoury. It held everything from standard-issue sidearms to the Order’s most classified"black tech."
He spent days stripping and reassembling every weapon, ensuring Astelan hadn't left any nasty surprises or tracking bugs. Anything suspicious was promptly dismantled and binned.
However, the Order possessed a hoard of truly bizarre gadgets. Even for a man like Lion, who knew the organisation’s secrets inside out, some items remained baffling.
Take, for instance, the object currently in his hand. It looked like a plastic toy gun. Lion frowned, turning it over in the dappled sunlight. It felt cheap. It had a single, prominent red button. On the base, someone had scrawled:Bulk Exterminatus Trigger. Next to it was a small sticker:DO NOT USE OR YOUR LIFE IS OVER—by Watchers in the Dark.
The terms meant nothing to him.
Surely a plastic trinket with such a ridiculous name couldn’t be a genuine EMP weapon. What would happen if he pointed it at the sky and pressed the button? Would a plane fall out of the air?
With a shrug of idle curiosity, Lion pointed it at the eastern horizon and clicked the button a few times.
A minute later, the sky filled with the frantic roar of a failing helicopter engine. A trail of blue-white smoke streaked across the sky, followed by a thunderous crump from behind the eastern ridge.
Lion stood still for a moment, then bolted towards the crash site.
2.
The helicopter had slammed into the mountainside, nose-first. It was a complete write-off. Lion took one look and concluded the pilot was likely a smear on the upholstery. To his surprise, there was a survivor.
Rounding the burning wreckage, he found a man crawling out of the cabin, collapsing at the forest’s edge. He had short blonde hair, a build similar to Lion’s own, and looked remarkably well-preserved for someone who had just fallen out of the sky. Just a few bruises. A tough bastard, evidently.
Lion glanced back at the wreck; the fire was nearing the fuel tank. He hoisted the survivor up and dragged him towards the treeline. Just as they reached a small pond, the helicopter went up in a spectacular explosion, sending the local turtle population into a panicked exodus.
The blast jolted the survivor awake. He blinked, looking at Lion, then at the inferno.
“Oh,”he said.“Right.”
Lion’s hand drifted toward the pistol tucked into the small of his back.
The wreckage was clearly a Stormbird HH30000—a vehicle for the ultra-wealthy. This man’s clothes confirmed he was someone of consequence. This meant complications.
Lion didn't usually do guilt, but he was feeling a distinct sense of annoyance. He really shouldn't have pressed that button. He wasn't entirely sure if his"Bulk Exterminatus"had done it, but the timing was suspicious.
The survivor sat up, nursing his head.“My helicopter crashed, didn't it?”
It was a question of conscience, but Lion’s heart was made of sterner stuff.
“Yes,”Lion said.
“You saved me?”
“I did.”
The survivor looked at the smoke.“The others?”
“No one else made it. It’s a miracle you’re breathing,”Lion said. That part, at least, was true.
The survivor looked at the rising plume of black smoke, his expression unreadable.“I see...”
He turned back to Lion with a sincere expression.“Regardless, thank you. I’d be ash without you.”
“...How should I address you?”Lion asked, his hand tightening on his gun.
“My name is Robert...”The man stopped, a look of confusion washing over him. He grew tense.“That’s strange. I can’t remember my last name. What’s happening?”
“Transient amnesia,”Lion supplied.“Shock and trauma. It’s common. It’ll pass.”
“Is that so? Good. And you? Do you have a satellite phone? I need to contact the outside world. People need to know where I am,”Robert said.“I’m sure I’ll remember who I am once I talk to the police.”
“No,”Lion said.
“No?”
This was becoming a problem. Lion stared at him. The crash was in a deep valley; the smoke wouldn't be seen from far off. But if Robert contacted the authorities, they’d investigate the witness. They might even find out Lion had been pointing strange plastic toys at the sky. It wasn't that Lion had a guilty conscience—it was simply that his cover and the secret mission would be blown. He didn't want to give Astelan any more ammunition for their internal feud.
“I don’t have a satellite phone,”Lion lied.“It’s a three-day hike to the nearest town.”
“Can you take me there?”
“No. I’m busy.”
“Then how do I get back?”
“Walk,”Lion said.“I’ll give you a map.”
“Fine. I’ve got trekking experience. Once I hit town, I’ll make sure everyone knows you’re the hero who saved me.”
“When you get there, say you walked out on your own. Don’t mention me. Forget I exist.”
“I can’t do that,”Robert said.“You risked your life. I’m not the type to ignore a debt of honour.”
“It’s not necessary.”
“Why?”
“...Virtue is its own reward,”Lion said, reciting a line from one of Luther’s knightly romances. To date, Lion’s anonymity had rarely been associated with virtue.
Robert looked at him, deeply sceptical.
“No,”he decided.“I’m going to remember you. You’ve acted heroically, and people ought to know about it.”
There it was. Lion had limited experience with"normal"high-functioning humans, but he knew the type. Educated, successful, confident—bordering on arrogant. They assessed situations quickly and clung to their conclusions. If you tried to reason with them, they’d counter with even more high-minded reasoning. They seemed rational, but were utterly impossible to talk to.
It was truly staggering. We were in the twenty-first century, yet people still refused to listen to a simple request. What a nuisance.
“Actually,”Robert said, standing up.“I think there was a radio on the heli. I’ll go check. If it’s not melted, maybe I can—”
He started walking toward the wreck.
Lion didn't hesitate. He snatched a large turtle from the grass and, with a lightning-fast motion, beaned Robert right on the back of the head.
Thwack. Robert crumpled into a heap without a sound.
Lion stared at the unconscious man. That was his second regret of the day. He didn't know why he’d saved him, and he didn't know why he hadn't just shot him. Leaving him by the exploding wreck would have saved so much trouble. Not that he felt guilty. Definitely not.
Should he just finish him?
Yes, probably for the best.
Just then, Robert groaned and stirred. Lion looked at the struggling turtle in his hand, then back at Robert. The man wasn't just lucky; he had a skull like a tank’s hull.
Robert opened his eyes, looking at Lion with blue eyes that were now even more vacant than before.
“Uh... hello?”he mumbled, trying to stand.“Where am I? What happened? Ouch. Why does my head hurt?”
He looked at Lion.
“Who are you?”
Lion’s hand moved away from his gun.
“You don't recognise me?”
“Should I?”Robert looked utterly lost.“For that matter... who am I?”
Oh.
The turtle, having flailed its limbs for long enough, finally wriggled free from Lion’s grip, falling into the grass and crawling away looking distinctly offended.
“Well,”Lion said.“Your name is Robert.”
Robert nodded, looking relieved.
“Good. I was worried it might be something difficult to spell. And you? Who are you?”
Lion occasionally disliked his own instincts. They moved too fast, often saving his life but rarely explaining their reasoning to his conscious brain.
It was truly staggering. We were in the twenty-first century, yet his subconscious was still making executive decisions without consulting him.
But his mouth was already moving.
“The situation is this,”Lion heard himself say.“My name is Lion El'Jonson. I’m a hunter living in these woods. And you... you’re my partner.”
Robert stared at him, blank-faced.
“Partner?”
“Yes. I’m your husband,”Lion said.
Logically, this was the best strategic move besides homicide. As long as Robert was an amnesiac, Lion could keep him tucked away in the forest, protecting his cover. Besides, he didn't really want to kill the man just yet; anyone who could survive a crash and a turtle-to-the-cranium had to be useful. He’d have plenty of time to dispose of him later if needed.
“Really?”Robert didn't look convinced. He scanned Lion’s face.“If you’re my husband, why don’t I remember you?”
“You were hit by a falling branch while picking blueberries,”Lion explained smoothly.“Amnesia is perfectly natural. It’ll come back to you.”And when it does, I’ll kill you.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to doubt you,”Robert said earnestly. He was clearly a well-bred sort. He looked a bit bashful—an honest nature struggling with the awkwardness of the situation.“It’s just... if my partner were someone as... as impressive-looking as you, I’d have thought it would be unforgettable. I didn’t realise I was so lucky.”
It wasn't that Lion was susceptible to flattery. Absolutely not.
He extended a hand to Robert.“Come on. We need to bandage your head. Let’s go home.”
“We have a home?”Robert asked, brightening.
“Of course. It’s nearby.”Lion knew he could forge the papers in minutes. The extra set of clothes and gear in the cabin would serve as the perfect stage props.
“Wonderful,”Robert said, taking Lion’s hand. Then, he asked solemnly,“Can I call you by your name?”
“Naturally,”Lion said. Social conventions dictated as much.
“Lion,”Robert said.
Lion froze for a heartbeat.
It wasn't that the voice was particularly pleasant. It was simply the way it sounded coming from his lips—so steady, so natural, so calm. It sounded as though the name had been called from that heart and those lips a thousand times over, in a thousand lifetimes before this one.