I land on the train as it’s swirling by, swarming with Jackals.

Thought the Fence was more solid than this.

Intermittent sandstorms cause loss of sight. I set a layer of infrared on my HUD whenever the dust comes by.

“Mind you, there are passengers and cargo on board, so easy with the explosives."

“You think this was all a set-up?”

“G…” Adel sighs. “Maybe? Why? Focus.”

I grumble.

“You’ve got quite the imagination, don’t you?”

“Or maybe you just lack criticality.”

I could almost hear Adel roll her eyes. “Lori, this is a ‘rescue’ op first, and a show second. Your first priority is protecting the train’s contents.”

Even the best get their asses handed to them, Tania reminds me.

The fuckers claw at the roof and windows of the train cars.

Yet another generic action scene. Am I really even a hero?

They all turn their focus to me once I’m in their sight. Three more land behind me.

It’s taking more and more effort to do the same work, even when the suit does most of it. There’s only a small chance I’ll fall into a ravine or valley as the train moves along.

You don’t even care anymore. You don’t care that your fans don’t care. Just let them come to you and watch your back.

Did I ever care? It was more like, it’s all I had, I wasn’t even given the option of life in prison. Maybe for the better, but I wouldn't be any more sane.

With equal parts confidence and apathy, I walk forward, firing at two in front, slashing the other two right of them, and backflip over the three behind me as they charge in. Repeat procedure. Jackals fall off the train, hitting the dirt on either side.

“Can the cameras even see through the dust storms?” I ask Adel.

“Move up, there’s one car right behind the engine they’re making way into,” she orders.

I begin to run along the centerline of the train, hopping from car to car.

As I take aim, something lands in my reticle and kicks my target away. A silver, quadrupedal mechanical beast, similar in size to a Jackal, or perhaps even a mechanical rendition of one. The automaton then goes to claw and bite its way through the group, fighting the Jackals at their level.

“The fuck?” I shout to nobody over Earworm.

“I guess that’s Cynthia,” Adel nonchalantly says.

“Was she scheduled to show up?”

“They don’t tell me everything.”

Cynthia then gets through the work before I could.

“Let her take on what she wants, now just watch your own ass. Or, rather, ponytail.”

Behind the dust, another dozen or so come from the rearward cars.

“I think they want you two to work together. Keep your backs facing each other.”

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Cynthia’s definitely more eager than I am. My replacement is already here. There’s really not much question anymore.

I turn around and face them. The train starts to shake a bit, testing everyone’s foothold.

One Jackal pounced right on time as I turned around. I uppercut-slash through its snout.

They’re all in a line, set up perfectly for me. This is objectively easier than other sets. I’m just getting weak, at least mentally.

Four more weeks. Just four more fucking weeks.

Jamia pings, “And now with both heroines on board, we shall make this more than just your average rescue operation– most kills, wins, and earns a memorial road and train line in her name!”

Now I really don’t care to beat her.

Right as I finished the thought, Adel rings, “Look, I know you don’t give half a Jackal’s ass, but I suggest you at least try and look like you’re gunning for the memoriam."

“Why?”

“I’m not concerned about your ability to protect yourself. I don’t want to see you lose, mainly since I don’t think it’ll be something that’s good for you.”

I wanted to stop, stand, and think, but the Jackals prevented further contemplation.

“I still don’t care.”

“Then what is it you care about?”

Now she’s making it harder to do my damn job. I don’t answer, as I fire my SMG at two more.

“Whatever, I guess that’s a question for later, but I’m holding you to it. Just do your best for now.”

A splash of blood hits me from behind. I quickly look back as Cynthia grips a severed Jackal arm in between her mechanical jaws, throwing it at my feet.

“Looks like you owe me,” a speaker between her exosuit’s throat blares, before pouncing away. The chrome glistens in the dust storm, and the vivid crimson stripes, encrusted in burgundy from the slaughter, disappear once again towards the front of the train.

How can I be that far behind? What am I doing wrong?

I can’t decide if I hate or appreciate Cynthia’s gesture. So fucking smug.

“She’s in the lead by 5 kills,” Adel says. The train shakes as a gale blows us around. Some more Jackals are blown off.

“Come on, Lori. At least do it for me.”

Everything went quiet for a moment.

Do I even care about that either?

Apathy is just passive suicide, Tania once told me.

I guess the #1 thing I care about is my immediate life or death. But then I’m at a loss when death isn’t staring me in the face.

Two Jackals manage to knock me off my feet and I try to slow down my slide towards the edge of the train car with my claws, one foot sliding off, lying prone.

They come at me again, even more livid than usual. I swing my feet around and rabbit-kick one, but the other snags my ponytail, with the prongs of my helmet likely stabbing one of its eyes, and the jaws let me go.

“Don’t…” I growl, kicking the second away once again, “...touch…” stabbing the first once in the neck, “...my…” stabbing again, “hair!”

My response isn’t as taxing as it used to be. It’s just automatic now.

I turn around to cover the other Jackal in gunfire and slash several times at its face.

Don’t care to kill you, just want to see you bleed and suffer.

And only then, the adrenaline hits. I do another backflip, slice, land, jump, strafe... it all becomes a blur.

~~

We both stand at a podium with a bunch of press drones floating about among human journalists. The audience is greatly celebrating both Cynthia and I, and I maintain a flat face as she rolls around in the cheerslike a pig in shit.

“Today before us, we have two heroines. Today, they not only did their usual task of slaughtering the pests that plague all Hedonians, threatening to tear at our one and only flesh; not only did they do more than their fair share of contributing to the indirect protection of our lives, but without their efforts today, all 120 of the Heodnians, and the tons of precious freight on FPL 227 would no longer be. We all collectively owe our gratitude he powerful, fearsome, selfless, beautiful Lorianne Kruger and Cyntha Aldero!”

Another roar of applause.

“Come on now, at least wave,” Adel reminds me over Earworm.

I reluctantly put my hands up and feebly wave. Cynthia flexes her long, lean arms, and blows kisses to the crowd, in spite of the sweat brimming at the top of her forehead and scarlet hairtips.

At the dinner table, I had a measly serving of tofu, rice, and sweet onion sauce. Cynthia had a platter after platter of fruit, toast, peanut butter, a whole rainbow of pasta, some strange, heavily spiced preparation of Jackal meat, and was just as shamelessly shoveling it all in, grateful with every bite.

Adel points a piece of cinnamon toast in my face. “At least eat if you don’t care for the PR. You seriously need it.”

I feebly grab one piece and slowly nibble away. I guess if I had to eat something, the sweetness of this toast is nice.

Across the hall, a bunch of suits whom I assume are the show crew are shaking hands and pretending to be excited to see each other, celebrating the success of the operation.

“What’s here to celebrate, Ade?”

“What, why?”

"Do you want to work for her, on her suit? No, not really asking, that’s probably how it’s gonna be soon."

Adel's chewing slows down.

I turn to my plate. “Cynthia won. What makes you think they’re going to even keep me around?”

“I mean, two Hunters are better than one, no?”

“There can only be one.” I stare sternly at her. She still doesn’t get it. “Not only is Cynthia replacing me, I’m quitting. I already did the paperwork.”

Adel’s silent.

"It's going to be over in 4 weeks."

Still silent.

"I'm sorry."

She puts the toast down on the plate, slowly turning away from me.