Rusted grooves, rifling just maintained enough to work. Sights simply bolted on iron. Plastics and rubber faring poorly, rubbed away or tearing apart. Bolt and receiver coated in rust yet clean and stable. Making Micha sure it could still shoot him dead. A makeshift safety replacing the old one long since broken off, a squishy thumb still tabbing it down as its fellow held tight on the trigger. The other claw wrapped maliciously around the plastics covering the barrel, digging in deeper than their grip seemed to notice.

Training clear in stance and hold off. No callous shot ringing out to just end it before he even noticed he was blown. Drab mechanic overalls stained over and over, ripped at and sewn back up as best as could be managed. A harness and strap tight on their chest, bearing metal and magazine alike. Slapdash armor cut into shape and knotted into position, but one plate loose and close to their hip, and focused on in all over body language.

That gripping hand let itself slip free, dropping down to that free swinging plate. Rasping marks clear and symbolic. A system in place and a language all their own. And they were about to signal their find. Micha couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, but he fought hard to plead up and away from the death demanding attention. Trying desperately to look his executioner in the eye. Just barely succeeding, but failing still as that barrel slammed forward and flinched him back.

His head forced to rear, his objective won at cost. A mask of cloth wrapped tight around their snout, a helmet cut to fit their new proportions, and eyes locking with his with fire and blood reflecting all that could be seen. Except… as they caught sight of something freed from his enforced fear.

That signaling hand stayed its place, but the grip on the rifle lessened to temperance. Its barrel dropping to a lower target. Micha’s hands didn’t dare move from the ground, his knees from the grass, but his head found no such allowance as that barrel poked into his neck and yanked up. With his tag hooked around it.

Both barrel and name forced tight into his face, still more than willing to put an end to him. But those eyes full of war saw something greater still, and that glare broke down to oncoming realization.

That set signal disregarded and taking the place of the rifle flung back to their side. Both hands gripping tight to his tag and flipping it over like its words meant more than just his name. His head forced catawampus before that grip found solid ground.

And released with full understanding meeting his fearful lack thereof. In those dark eyes staring down on his though, he could see years of pain melt away like tears. And feel something rise to take its place like a happiness beyond words.

Those claws let go but shot to his shoulders, grip tight and unknowingly stabbing yet shaking him like this was an ecstatic reunion. Receiving only less fearful but still blindsided glances as they shook Micha apart. Those now clearly smiling eyes coming to their one sided understanding, and realizing this disparity in the tremble rung out of him. Turning their head, they let Micha take in the nearly unacceptable chances. A name scratched in familiar styling over the stenciling worn off of their helmet.

Maytag.

Micha’s eyes followed suit with his old comrade’s, only just seeing the middle-aged woman that had been covering his ass even before this mission went to hell. Flashes of the old days, of lectures and maybe one too many… Well it was hard to say it was beer, but it was something! Bits of combat intermixing with hours and hours of what you’re supposed to do to keep your uniform from fading. She wasn’t called Maytag for nothing, she was a damn seamstress before climbing into the pilot seat. She strummed a guitar a little too much and practically demanded to be Rachael’s godmother and fucking hell was it too much to see here right now!

Micha couldn’t help but shoot up and hug her with every bit of fear locked tension he’d held back. Like an instinct all its own. A spongy meeting only interrupted by the pack on his chest and the armor on hers.

But who cares!?

One of his friends was alive, his memories weren’t just empty history, and he wasn’t about to be shot in the face before he could even catch up to-

The hug broke in frantic stammering. Just without the words to try and find. Micha struggling to work out hand signs he could remember and what information to just pass on. Maytag’s eyes faltered slightly to confusion, but knew something was more important than even this reunion.

His eyes closed hard to try and yank more training free, only really succeeding in getting something close. His claw folding into a fist, but the pinky kept straight out, resembling pretty closely a Mark class mech like the one’s strewn about this dark field. Next a thumb jabbed up denoted an upgrade so not just the 85, but a second thumb of serious force tried to mark his sighting as even higher on the tech tree. And Maytag knew what that meant pretty clearly.

Her head turned down the road only just behind her, something like vain hope trying to catch another glimpse of it in the moonlight, but turning back to Micha with better understanding and a new smile in her eyes. Her hand reached down to the rasping pan at her hip before stopping short like that was an ill adapted reflex. She scrunched and remembered, gaze pulling around him to make sure that her new compatriots weren’t wondering why she was falling behind. A stern look falling back on him before he could follow her concern. This wasn’t a reunion that could last, they both had their own missions left to complete.

Her arms wrapped around him in one last thankful hug without even trying to let Micha continue. But releasing with her claws gripping his shoulders. Full understanding of what she had to do to help already nodding with sad eyes, just waiting for his go ahead to ensure he could follow his prey. Mirroring back just as sad at such a sudden resolution, Micha couldn’t help but nod in return.

They couldn’t follow each other, couldn’t make this reunion permanent. But a gentle claw on hers said enough that this was enough for now. At least they both knew they weren’t alone anymore. Though maybe that sentiment was one sided on his part.

Maytag, with her own fog no doubt cleared substantial, let go and took hold of her rifle and duty. To keep the rest of her chosen manders in line. Stepping around and shadowing Micha with bulked up purpose as he watched her stride proudly away. Sinking in turn back into the grass before anyone could catch sight of him.

A reluctant breath holding him up before he could move on, a hope held to that one side. That Dino was the one watching the battlefield from on high and this reunion was just the last on her list. It’d be hard to believe she’d follow anyone else, or stand to teach a bunch of new comrades how to sew and keep their rifles clean. A full body ripple mimicking a chuckle pulled him out and back on mission. The road ahead far too long to be held up anymore. And a bit of future to come back to if he can succeed. One far less lonely than before.

Watching the shadows filter away with their glowing heat backdrop, Micha continued the hunt. The ground staying soft but the grassy sea drying up in the dark expanse before him. The moon overhead just barely allowing him sight, but offering enough to see the lands ahead. Risen to plains more a valley, and the opposite side far rockier than the grasses let on.

Boulders taking the place of mechs to break the shallow waves, preferring instead to harbor denser foliage against the sun. When it was up anyway. Greens and yellows coating over them, and scrub and shrub dotting about between. And th-

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

The odd sunflower crowd startling the shit out of any who rounded their cover.

Closed and slumbering, wafting in the breeze like huddled thin body, but signifying something both horrifying… and hopeful all at once.

In the distance, shrouded by this night, sat a squat range once mighty. Once. It’s downfall its contents, the human interference with its geologic majesty. It housed stores and armories, vast stockpiles for the war oncoming. But its location was not secret enough and its value overemphasized. Thus it bore, and was bored into by, the most devastating munitions at the enemy’s disposal.

Nuclear fire of megatons extreme, and supplemented by ammo dumps thought safe. And so a volcano by conventional means was born in an instant, metric ton shrapnel scattering for miles. All of it awakened to its unfortunate possibilities. All of it radioactive and thrust to the wind.

But that past is at least a few more decades off of Micha’s, and some work to mitigate had already borne its fruit. Radiation being a rather nice nutrient to certain plant life. Both artificial and natural.

The lichen etching away at the outer surfaces made hot by the bombardment, the flowers soaking up the smaller bits sent to ground. The shrubs were just shrubs, striation in water availability and all that. Also grass has a hard time growing with so many rocks in the way so something has to fill the niche, and being hardy only helps it stand up to the extra heat imparted on it.

But of course all this was still foggy recollection, hearsay even at that. Stories of bombers rerouted to spread seeds almost too farfetched to take seriously. But it gave Micha a hope that persisted through the fog, that even nuclear annihilation wasn’t a permanent detriment.

So that startle became more of a feel good relief keeping his spirits up. Even as he found his trail trailing off. Deep mechanical footprints only leading in one direction, and it wasn’t down the road. But supplanted with another one way set parallel. Tire tracks. And those were far easier to follow into the brush and radioactive boulder fields.

The pair of thieves were meeting up, probably hiding their angular unnatural shapes amid the larger rocks. So softened road turned to hard earth and rocks as Micha followed the ruts broken in. Tossed stones and disturbed dust, flattened shrubs and the callous roadkill of entire families of sunflowers. It wasn’t hard to tell where they went. But that meant it would be even easier to see someone tracking them as well. So he had to trudge through the far less hospitable terrain that wasn’t so road worthy.

But hey, what’s a bit of radiation poisoning going to hurt. I mean his feet mostly. He’s not exactly susceptible to the DNA damage, but it was still going to be a pain.

Sharp rocks making every step for his squishy pads regrettable, pointy hostile scrub scraping at his clothes and skin, the ever present burn of ionic decay just making everything worse. And hey it’s been what, sixteen hours since he’d been woken up. He’s been cooked, battered, almost stabbed, almost shot, almost stepped on. Micha was tired, and the constant healing necessary to stave off cancer of the everything wasn’t doing his energy reserves much good. So the sight of a slight orange glow between massive craggy boulders was a godsend. And yet still needed everything left out of him.

A slow trudge became a methodical crawl. Each step trying is best not to loose a stone or rattle a shrub. And each step slower than the last, only adding to the atomic broil of his soles. A wince for every meter gained, his black skin turning red in enforced cell death, only just avoiding splitting open.

Distance closing, he shifted lower and slower. Though no sound was echoing around, he couldn’t let his guard down. His heartbeat was all there was to hear till he moved as close as he could. A slight vibration in the boulder ambled to, a familiar sensation. Muffled acoustics from overzealous stealth. And the sudden shifting of that orange light. The crag between as dark as the rest of the night. An opening, or a trap. He needed to see what awaited him.

An edging shift around to poke his head out catching that orange light move along to another crag. A spotlight searching and directed. A deeper look finding its source and the return of that angular armor scheme. The thief’s mech standing watch at the center of this space, three large rocks walling all but one side. And three spotlights tracking across every open area.

Micha scrambled back as another light flowed into his periphery. An uneven schedule or just poor placement. The mech’s sensor suite being used to whatever effect it could manage. At least its thermals were useless, though to an unequal detriment. The rock at Micha’s back tore at him, he could almost feel the drain in real time. He had to act fast or become a starved out crispy critter.

The light shifted, its edge oncoming quicker than the last, but its replacement not far off. One shot. The instant it went dark, Micha leapt into the gap, darkness deeper by proximity but little help. A mad scramble, haphazard bounds between stones and away from the odd brush, a desperate dash trying to get him under the angles of those sensors.

Half seen scenery, a box just ahead between the legs of that guard tower of a mech. Flanked on both sides by vertical fields of orange light, he had no choice but to charge into the heart of this defense. And failed in near spectacular fashion.

A chipped rock rolled under his weight, and burned up claws found themselves ill prepared to meet its edge. A pressure point flinch, knee giving way to gravity and shoulder to the dirt. Another point finding his knee as it caved to that ground. No mouth to scream this pain, but far from a soft landing nonetheless. Worse, a stopping of the motion desperatly needed right now!

Feet tore for traction as claws dug ahead. Frantic struggle fighting weakness beaten in. A barely managed lunge throwing him at his menace’s feet, and a frightful tuck getting his extremities out of the light before they set off an alarm. Careful not to touch the metal for fear of pressure sensors, he was safe. Laid out between mechanical tree trunks and crunching back upright in the shadow cast over him.

Short breath, a cooling feeling. The area wasn’t as hot as the rest. A pre-prepared hiding spot cleaned and hospitable. But it was clear that his thieves weren’t keen on camping out regardless. A more comfortable place to stay the night clear as Micha took in the full scene.

A full on command vehicle dominated most of the open space, box of a trailer making up its bulk with a step down cabin to pull it along, and a flatbed strutted heavy duty off its rear to carry its less mobile allies. A swath of antennae and transmitters seeking out the unseen overhead, and its windows blinded in metal but lit up from the inside.

Yup, it was M.U.T.T., a mobile utility and tactical transport. They were in there, no doubt about it. And more than likely so was his reactor.

An upward glance to the spotlight tracking above, a slight centering wait for it to pass, and Micha was stalking out of cover to this more conventional mode of transportation. He couldn’t confront them, least of all if this ‘Rezz’ was still in the exosuit she used to rip his home apart. And even less so after… after everything else that’s come in between. He had to sneak it out, grab it and go without them knowing. So he needed intel. And the underside of this rolling box was the only place in good enough shadow.

Crawling under before that light passed back over, he was breathing another full body relief. Though scrunching at the dust and motor oil permeating. But still, he made his way to the center of this box. Already hearing jubilation at his ultimate expense.

“-just happy you’re alright Rezz. I don’t need any more surprises today, okay.”

“Hehe. Well after this I’d say we'll all be set for a fucking age. No one’s gonna blame us if we take our chance right then and there.”

“Ugh… I wouldn’t go that far. And you know, she’d probably court martial you.”

“Who cares? We’d’ve just delivered the greatest find in the unit’s history. Intact. The medal alone is gonna win us all we’ll need. …And you’d be right there by my side too Dan.”

A pretty quick shift in the tone reeled Micha into the ground. Regret and small intrigue forcing him to look for an out, yet shamefully stay his place.

“Basking in the glory. Heheh!”

Before deflating it wholesale. This woman is cruel.

“Ughh. Just- just go back on watch already. This thing isn’t going to clean itself.”

“Okay, heh. Okay. I’ll see you in the morning.”

The door to the trailer creaked open on tight spring hinges and a pair of heavy boots slammed down into the dirt. The heavy suit she wore silently whirring away with giddy step.

“Yuggh… Why’d I have to go and fall for her of all people?”

The sound of Dan’s exacerbation and ensuing maintenance muffled the changing of the guard. Micha watching that armored silhouette crunch her way back to her seat of power. Watching her bask in the passing sweep as she stopped just shy of its shadow.

An unseen tension as he settled in for this foiled night’s break in. Instead, left with looking for a good enough hiding place. The armored bottom of the vehicle had to have some access, and so someplace to disappear into. A simple panel pushed up from its weight seal the clear and only contender, and swiftly squeezed into.

As that silhouette crouched low to the ground seemingly disturbed.

Micha squarely safe in a pocket in the armor, and given peace of mind for the trouble. Nestling up in a warm replacement for his bed almost too quickly, leaving suspicious eyes to be only just the wiser. Sleep forcing itself on faster than he could fight it. But he needed it. They all had a long road ahead of them.