INTRUDER DETECTED
INTRUDER HAS BREACHED ELIZA
INTRUDER IS APPROACHING INNER GARDEN FACILITIES
INTRUDER HAS DESTROYED ALL SECURITY AUTOMATICS PRESENTED
INTRUDER MUST BE REMOVED
DEPLOY ALL NECESSARY RESOURCES
ALERT
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Dragan let out a deep breath as he finally reappeared inside the apartment, carefully laying Mila down on the floor. She was still out cold, mumbling incoherently to herself as her eyelids twitched. Dragan couldn't exactly blame her: it had been a hell of a night.
Once he'd gotten out of that waste plant, escaping the area had been a breeze. Gemini World had no issues transporting an unconscious person along with himself, and so he'd been able to blink from rooftop to rooftop with impunity. Still… he'd spent a lot of the journey worried that a sudden use of that Aether-nullifying ability would stop him in his tracks -- or worse, consign him to nonexistence altogether.
He sat himself down on the floor too, cracking his neck as the exhaustion of the evening set in.
Had Muzazi gotten away? He couldn't imagine so, in the situation he'd been in. Aether could slow down the effects of drugs and toxins, but as far as Dragan knew it wouldn't negate them altogether. Muzazi likely would have dropped shortly after Dragan had escaped.
Did that mean he was dead? To be honest, Dragan couldn't picture it. Atoy Muzazi wasn't the sort of person who died. He'd do something absurd and cut the Grim Reaper to pieces before he got close. Besides, they'd wanted to bring him in for interrogation, hadn't they? Chances were that they'd taken him back to their headquarters.
Dragan's script buzzed, and he only barely restrained a groan. Skipper really didn't know how to take a hint.
He pushed the device to his ear and answered the call.
"What?" he snapped, annoyed.
"Hello, Dragan," said Giovanni Sigma Testament.
Dragan froze. The hot anger in his veins cooled into caution, and he slowly narrowed his eyes. It was important, though, that he showed no signs of fear. If he was being watched, that would be a display of weakness.
"Who is this?" he asked. He already knew the answer, but he was curious to see if Giovanni would lie.
"You know who it is," the voice on the other end chuckled. "Have you recovered from your injuries well? I certainly have."
Dragan raised an eyebrow, keeping his voice as bored-sounding as possible. "What's this, then? Little threatening call to keep me scared, off guard while you plan whatever your next attack is?"
"You didn't answer my question because you didn't want to provide me with any more information. That's very astute of you."
"And you didn't answer mine, either," Dragan said darkly.
"Hm?" Giovanni sounded amused. "Oh, you wanted to know the purpose of my calling. Despite what you think, I don't intend to frighten or intimidate you. Quite the opposite, really."
"That so?"
"It is. I've had the opportunity recently to reflect on my actions and my present circumstances. Please don't misunderstand -- I would still dearly love to kill you -- but it's become obvious that I have greater concerns than vengeance upon you. You've become a… distraction, more than anything, I suppose? Congratulations."
Dragan shivered. That malice had been inserted into Giovanni's speech like it was perfectly natural. "Am I supposed to be happy about that?"
"You should be ecstatic. I've decided to make you a generous offer, as a matter of fact."
"Wow." Dragan's tone had never been more deadpan in his life. "Goodie."
"For the next twenty-four hours, I shall allow you to move about the Menagerie unmolested. Even if my agents should spot you, or I should find you on surveillance, I will not move to attack you. You won't need to hide in the gutters any longer. I recommend you use this time to leave the Truemeet, and make arrangements so that I never see your miserable face again."
"I'm fair game after the twenty-four hours, then?"
The slightest note of anger entered Giovanni's voice. "Y forgives all, Dragan Hadrien, but I am a mere servant. You should be grateful to get this much. So… what do you say?"
Dragan swallowed, took a deep breath through his nose, and considered his next words carefully.
"Bye," he said, and then hung up.
Giovanni would not leave him alone. Even if he was being sincere about that twenty-four hour deal, Dragan simply couldn't risk it. He had to approach the situation as if he were in imminent danger of being killed.
The urge to act still twitched inside him. Muzazi was imprisoned. The Apexbishop of the Superbians wanted him dead. He couldn't just sit here and do nothing.
Victory belonged to the one who acted first. The only one who decided what happened to him was him. Dragan picked his script back up and called Bruno.
"Bruno?" he said. "Get Ruth. I've got a mission."
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Ruth cracked her neck as she stepped into the disused hangar, the lights automatically turning on for her.
Before her stood the Slipstream… uh… damn, she'd actually forgotten what number Slipstream they were on. It was probably safe to say about #5 or so, though. After the whole thing at the cathedral, they'd decided it wouldn't be safe to keep the ship out in the open, so Skipper had arranged to stash it in this warehouse on one of the Menagerie's lower decks.
Her brow furrowed. Bruno and Serena were meant to be hiding out with it, making repairs and guarding against trespassers. If the lights had just turned on for her, though, that meant nobody else was here. What was…?
"You're early," Bruno said gruffly from behind her.
Ruth glanced back over her shoulder. Bruno was leaning against the wall she'd just walked past, his arms crossed. She hadn't even noticed him.
"Nice," Ruth whistled. "How long have you been practicing that?"
Bruno shrugged, smirking ruefully. "Not like there's much else to do. Ship didn't need much more than routine maintenance, and once that was finished I was pretty much just dying of boredom."
His face spread into Serena's cheerful smile. "We were dying of boredom, actually!" she chirped. "It's so good to see you again, Miss Ruth!"
Ruth nodded. "Good to see you again, too, Serena. Dragan not here yet? Or Skipper?"
The smile returned to a scowl. "Like I said," Bruno sighed. "You're early. Still waiting on those guys."
Ruth echoed his sigh, sitting back on an available crate. To tell the truth, she'd been bored beyond belief too -- the request from Dragan to meet up had been something of a relief. Even if she didn't know what the hell they were doing here.
"Hey Bruno, Serena," she called out. "Mind if I ask you a question?"
Bruno raised an eyebrow. "Shoot."
"Why're you guys here? Doing this with Skipper, I mean?"
Serena frowned. "He hired us for a job, Miss Ruth. You were there. Don't you remember?"
"Yeah, but I mean… after that. You stuck around. Agreed to help out with all this. Hell, you're still on board to kill the Supreme. That's kind of a big ask, right? Why?"
The angle of Serena's frown shifted slightly, becoming Bruno's. Again, he shrugged. "What about you? Why're you here?"
Ruth rolled her eyes. "I asked first, dick."
Stolen story; please report.
"Fine, fine…" His arms still crossed, Bruno looked up at the ceiling, as if considering the question for the first time. "Well… I guess, the way I see it, the universe is like a machine. Like the ship, but a broken machine."
"How's that?" Ruth furrowed her brow.
"If the machine was working properly," Bruno said slowly. "Everyone would get along, there'd be no war or conflict, and everything would be the best it could possibly be. I mean, I've got no illusions about that ever happening -- but the way I see it, the Supremacy makes the problem worse. So it's gotta go. Simple as that."
Ruth glanced down at Bruno's gloved hands. "And… personal revenge?"
Serena's eye flicked towards her. "There's a little of that, too," she smiled. "What about you?"
Ruth looked down at the floor, and curiously enough she found herself folding her own arms. "When Skipper found me, I was… I was at the end of everything I had. If he hadn't found me, I'd be dead. He's given me something to live for, something to fight for… friends. Family, even. I owe him this."
Bruno frowned disapprovingly. "What, you're here out of obligation?"
"No, no!" Ruth said, perhaps just a little too quickly. "I think… I think taking down the Supreme is a good thing too. Maybe I just think that because Skipper thinks it, but still… I'm here to the end."
"Hmm." Bruno's response was simple. Ruth honestly couldn't tell whether he approved or not -- and she didn't get the chance to ask, as it was then that she heard the sound of the door opening once more.
Dragan stepped in, looking much healthier than the last time she'd seen him. He had all his limbs, for one thing -- and he was back to his usual level of paleness, rather than the pallor brought about by blood loss. He brushed some of the ambient dust off his shoulder as he strolled into the warehouse.
“Hey, guys,” he said, sounding tired. Not surprising, what with everything going on.
What was surprising was the company he was with -- the person walking behind him. It took Ruth a moment to remember her: the doctor from back on Yoslof, the one who’d been treating Bruno and Serena. Mary or Milly or something like that?
Ruth’s eyes flicked over to Dragan again. “What’s going on?”
He sighed. “Long story.”
“Tell it, then,” Bruno said, scratching his nose. His eyes were analytical, moving between Dragan and the doctor, trying to figure out the situation before it was said aloud.
Dragan nodded. “Sure. We’re not the only ones being screwed by the Final Church. Apparently, they were using Helga Malwarian as a science experiment and holding Mila hostage to lure out the Supremacy. Using her like the Supremacy used me, back on Caelus Breck.”
Bruno frowned. “Well, that sucks… but how’d you end up involved with all that? We’re meant to be laying low. Skipper’s orders.”
“I couldn’t do it,” Dragan said quietly, putting some serious thought into his answer. “Couldn’t watch someone I know get messed with the way I got messed with. I don’t know if it’s a moral thing, but… it would have pissed me off too much to just let it go.”
Serena sucked in air through her teeth. "Sounds reckless, Mr. Dragan. Shouldn't you have just played it safe?" Her gaze hardened into Bruno's as he glanced at Mila. "No offense."
"Um… none taken…" Mila spoke up for the first time, staring down at the floor. She gave off the impression of someone who very much didn't want to be noticed.
Ruth ran a hand through her hair. This was a lot to take in, but what's done was done. No point kicking a shitfit over it.
“Well, it’s over, I guess,” she finally said. “You want us to hide Mila too, then, so --”
“It’s not over,” Dragan said.
Ruth looked over to him, and he looked over at her. He did not blink, only stared at her with those bright blue eyes. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she got the sense that something about him had changed since the last time they'd seen each other. As to whether or not that was a good thing?
A shiver went down her spine.
"What do you mean?" she asked quietly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bruno step away from the wall, looking at Dragan quizzically as well.
"Things got complicated. I wasn't the only one who showed up to break Mila out."
"Who?" Bruno asked curtly.
Finally, Dragan blinked. "Atoy Muzazi."
Silence settled over the warehouse. Bruno visibly paled, and Ruth put a fist to her chin. Mila, for her part, just shuffled awkwardly in place.
And Dragan just stared.
"The Special Officer?" Serena asked, as if they knew anyone else by that name.
Dragan nodded.
"So what?" Ruth ran a hand through her hair again, anxiety twisting inside her heart. "The Supremacy are here, doing stuff? Do they know we're here? Are they after us?"
Mila raised her hands placatingly. "I, um, I don't think so. These guys -- they actually had me captured for a little while, and -- and interrogated and all that stuff, but they didn't ask me anything about you guys and all that. It was all about Helga, getting Helga away from the Humilists, and all that stuff… so, yeah."
Bruno furrowed his brow. "And did they get Helga away from the Humilists?"
Mila nodded. "Yes. And… she's with them now…"
"So what's the problem?" Bruno pressed on.
"Two problems," Dragan said. "Muzazi got captured by the Humilists when he was breaking Mila out. They're not gonna treat him kindly, and he did help us out back on Panacea."
"And second…?" Ruth narrowed her eyes.
"The second problem…" Mila said quietly -- she'd clearly discussed this with Dragan beforehand. "...the second problem is that the GID are still making Helga do what they want. If I can talk to her -- talk to her again -- I think I can do something. I think I can help her get out."
Bruno's eyes flicked back to Dragan, and the tone of his voice suggested he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. "A rescue mission. Against the GID. You're asking me this?"
It was natural for him to be wary. The last time Bruno and Serena had fallen into the GID's hands, they'd been tortured to the brink of their sanity. There was more than a trace of rage in Bruno's face and voice.
"No, I'm not," Dragan shook his head. "Don't worry. If we do this, you'd be part of the team going after Muzazi. It'd be two groups, moving simultaneously -- one breaking Muzazi out from the Humilists, the other helping Mila get Helga free."
Ruth chewed the nail of her index finger as she turned the proposal over in her mind. It sounded reckless, in a way she wouldn’t usually expect from Dragan, but it was clear that he'd put more than a little bit of thought into it. Besides…
… it had been a quiet couple of days, and her body was itching for a fight.
Her common sense made one last valiant charge. "Well, what does Skipper say?"
Dragan clicked his tongue, and his gaze turned dark. "I don't know. He isn't answering calls."
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Skipper pulled his fist free from the automatic, wiring and shards of metal clinging to his prosthetic arm. A single shake of the Aether-infused limb was enough to dislodge the debris.
The spherical automatic dropped down to the ground, joining the corpses of its comrades. That made around thirty or so now, littering the floor of this stark white chamber. The place reminded him a little of a hangar, but he could see no way for a ship to ever fly in or out of this place. The wall behind him was shattered, chunks of metal still dropping from the hole -- that was the entrance he’d made for himself.
Skipper took in a deep breath, and spread out his arms theatrically.
"Come on, guys!" he called out to the bleak room. "I just wanna talk!"
The voice of Asmagius, the Paradisas Apexbishop, echoed from hidden speakers. "There is nothing more for us to discuss, little man. You have received your answer. Leave this place."
Breaking into the ELIZA had been much easier than sneaking into it, all things considered. Once he'd changed his approach to have walls be something he blasted through rather than walked around, it hadn't taken him much time at all to reach this inner sanctum.
While members of the Paradisas' minds were uploaded onto their network, their bodies had to be stored and preserved. The facility where that was done was not far away, and Skipper knew full well the idea of him reaching it filled them with more terror than anything else. That was fine: they weren't his real target, but it sufficed to grab their attention.
Besides, his current plan required a little bit of terror.
"Nah," Skipper laughed, cracking his neck. "I don't think so. This is the part where you negotiate with me, pal."
Asmagius' answer did not come in the form of words.
Two massive panels of the floor slowly opened, like a massive door, and an elevator lifted something into view. An automatic, like the ones he'd been destroying for the last half hour, only much… much… much… bigger.
Skipper whistled.
The thing was gargantuan, the size of a house, staring at Skipper with a single red eye right in the center of its body. The main bulk of its form was made from a dark blue material, armour doubtlessly reinforced beyond belief, it's ovoid torso floating legless over the ground with a set of repulsors.
It had three liquid metal limbs on each side of its body, clearly capable of stretching out all the way across this chamber. At the end of each arm was a sharp-taloned hand, but Skipper had no doubt they'd be able to change themselves into any matter of tool.
Skipper's eyes took in all these details in less than a second. This was something right out of the history books. The Paradisas had clearly retrofitted it, but there was no mistaking what it had originally been.
"You guys are flattering me," he chuckled. "Who else knows you have this thing?"
"The Hierophant," Asmagius' voice boomed throughout the room. "One of the Twenty-Two. Make no mistake -- we have many weapons of this caliber."
Back during the Thousand Revolutions, a genius had created twenty-two automatics to aid in the annihilation of the Gene Tyrants. Each one had been designed to dispatch Gene Tyrants in single combat, and they had done their work well -- but when the Revolution had been completed, they had continued to rampage across the galaxy. Most of them had been destroyed…
… but clearly not all of them.
"I propose a duel, man called Skipper," Asmagius intoned. "If you can defeat the Hierophant, slayer of the Chitin Knight, then I shall heed your proposal once again. What is your answer?"
A cocky smirk spread over his face.
It was an obvious gambit on the Paradisas' part: ideally, they hoped that the Hierophant would kill him, but by framing it as a duel they ensured that he would not run away.
Well, whatever. Skipper was never one to turn down a spectacle.
Emerald Aether smashed against the ground, and that was answer enough.