~March 5th, 140 AH~
~The Caverns, Comms Centre~
Relief and agitation battled each other within Asena’s chest, as she followed Akash into the room that served as the Apfel Alliance’s window to the outside world.
Even by the standards of a city that had been long abandoned by its inhabitants, the comms centre was in worse disrepair than most other landmarks, containing not so much an entrance as a large hole in its dilapidated walls. As Asena ducked under the hole’s crumbling edges, she wondered, not for the first time, what manner of violence had brought it into being. Internal conflict? Outside threat?
She let the thought trail off as soon as it arose, distracted as she was by her own immediate predicament. For both internal conflict and outside threat had visited her at once, bearing down on her position in the all too familiar form of a crimson centipede.
“Managed to retrieve Corporal Ondas, but have had to abandon his Eidolon.” Graeme O’Riordan’s running sit rep streamed through the radio. His speech retained its usual military precision, but Asena thought she could hear the cracks in its veneer—the fear that lapped against the Panzer’s sense of duty. “Now retreating toward the Drawbridge. Permission to… use it once we’re there?”
“Yes, do it! Of course you have permission!”
Asena watched Akash lose his composure in real time. It was happening again: a naive Gaertner thrust into an unfamiliar and impossible role. She watched this, and her own agitation threatened to wash away her misguided relief.
She understood Panzer Graeme’s hesitation. The Drawbridge was the enormous disguised elevator that doubled as the main entrance and exit to and from the Caverns. To activate it would be tantamount to revealing the Alliance’s position to Akropolis.
Yet she also sensed that the concern was moot. Her brother had already spotted Alliance members along the Caverns’ perimeter. If Makiri were allowed to take this intel home with him, it’d be a matter of time before he and the rest of the Joint Forces sniffed out the Drawbridge’s existence and exact location, disguised or not.
Had Akash also reached the same conclusion before clearing the Panzers to use the Drawbridge? Or was he simply letting his compassionate Gaertner self come to the fore? Asena wondered, not for the first time, what manner of motivation dictated the moment-to-moment decisions of her chosen leader. Cold calculation? Pure emotion?
She wondered also at his latest decision to bring her with him as he took over comms. For the express purpose of his orders seemed to contradict their implicit intent. Don’t even think about sortieing and joining the fight. But follow me into the one place in all the Caverns where you can hear and react to everything that’s happening on the surface.
It would’ve been safer and simpler to keep her in the dark. Literally. Lock her in the Armoury and have someone stand watch. She might even have been grateful for it. For as determined as she was to commit to her new life and chosen war, when it came to her brother and her fiancé squaring off inside their respective metal giants, ignorance was bliss. Nonparticipation was relief.
And yet, her agitation only grew and grew. The words that streamed in from the radio made sure of it.
“Confirming that Lieutenant Athelstan has arrived on the scene and has engaged the hostile unit.”
Her agitation grew.
“Looks like the hostile unit has already forgotten about us Panzers. Should we assist?”
“No. Both of your Eidolons are running low on Reserves. We’ll have to rely on Zelen to pull through for us.”
Her agitation lapped against her sense of relief.
“… We’re going to halt our retreat. No need to lead the enemy back to the Drawbridge if the Lieutenant could drive him away. We’ll hang around in case he needs us.”
Her agitation coalesced into a flash of realization. And with that realization rose an impetus. Far more powerful than either agitation or relief.
She needed to know. Needed to participate. Needed to act.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Akash Varana’s voice was calm and measured, absent its earlier duress. Pure emotion? Or cold calculation?
Asena, for her part, already had one foot out the hole in the wall. She declared simply, “I’m going to sortie. And I’m going to join the fight.”
Akash nodded. “If that’s your decision, then I won’t stop you,” he said, now allowing just a hint of emotion to colour his voice. “But let me leave you with a new order: live.”
~March 5th, 140 AH~
~The Caverns, Surface~
Asena pointed her own metallic giant into the buffeting wind—toward a midnight-blue phantom and the crimson centipede that held it within its deadly gaze.
She had no time to think, to wonder, to decide. The impetus was all, and she followed it to its natural conclusion. Followed it into the fray.
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The pale blue ray of [WINCHESTER] whizzed past her and Kingfisher both as she grabbed him from mid-air and dove to the ground. The model ES-V was heavy yet disconcertingly limp in her arms. Had Zelen already lost consciousness? If not, he was likely close to it. She laid Zelen down on the desert floor, then shot to the air to face the enemy that had incapacitated him.
By then, Asena was no longer surprised by her own calmness. Strangely enough, her calm hadn’t been the product of poise nor conviction. If anything, her mind was more jumbled than ever, pulled in too many directions by the possibilities and indecisions that were about to fly her way. But it was, paradoxically, this overwhelming confusion that narrowed her immediate future into a singular purpose.
For the only thing she was certain of was that she needed to be here. Be present. Be the pilot of her own destiny.
The crimson frame of Spindrift flew her way with decisive speed and unchecked aggression. Asena’s surprise was but instantaneous, before she was forced to react and make good on her orders from Akash.
Swings of [NAGINATA] to deflect a volley of [MISSILES]. Quickthrust to back out of [MJOLNIR]’s range. Flip over [NAGINATA]’s blade-head to shield against another round of [WINCHESTER].
Even as she bucked and sagged under Spindrift’s barrage, she retained enough presence of mind to realize two things. First, that her brother knew not whom or what he was up against (how could he? Hers was the first any Joint Forces personnel had seen of a model M-024). And second, that his current lack of intel offered her a unique advantage, one that likely would never again present itself.
How could an M-024 subdue an ES-V? Think. Her impetus had led her into the fray, and now her abilities needed to pull her through. She had to think, wonder, and decide on how to best the man who was the best.
By all logic, an M-024 was inferior to an ES-V in nearly every way: slower, coarser in movement, and limited to a single armament. Yet this single armament also served as its one advantage, with its immunity from cooldowns allowing for—theoretically, at least—constant pressure to be applied to its target.
Then there was also that mysterious yellow bar, one that wasn’t so mysterious anymore, now that Asena had seen what it portended. This yellow bar next to the ER gauge had already filled halfway, just from the opening exchange. She knew that, as long as she could survive just a little longer, she could turn the table on Spindrift. Call down the dancer to possess her Eidolon, better to bring that ‘constant pressure’ from theory into practice.
She only hoped that, this time, she could hold onto more of herself. Be present. Be the pilot of her own destiny.
Oblivious to his opponent’s internal conflict, Spindrift transitioned into his next series of attacks. [WINCHESTER] first, closely followed by [MISSILE LAUNCHER] into space. Asena dodged the former, then noticed too late that she’d flown straight into the latter. Then, as she frantically swung her [NAGINATA] to ward off the ordnances, Spindrift moved in to punish her lapse in concentration.
The clash of [MJOLNIR] against [NAGINATA] transmitted its impact directly into Asena’s being. The entire cockpit shook violently, and her body with it. Her arms instantly lost all feeling, with every bone and every nerve along their grooves seemingly knocked out of place.
She didn’t need to look at her HUD to know that an unconscionable amount of her Armour had been stripped clean by this one hit. As if that weren’t enough, the ensuing shockwave sent her flying backwards, stripped of control as well as Armour.
Fear gripped her then. For she knew that she’d never been closer to death.
But she didn’t want to think about death. Nor about the man who fully intended to administer it. Even in her dying moments, she refused to be a passenger.
Be the pilot. Scream into the Nexus, with all the desperation of a cornered animal fighting for its very life.
The yellow bar was full. The Nexus heeded Asena’s scream. And raised a warrior from the graveyard of the universe’s memories.
Spindrift drove forward, with all three of his weapons on cooldown but aiming nevertheless to finish the fight with his bare hands. Unbeknownst to him, his opponent was no longer the awkward novice that had reeled under the might of his hammer. Asena—or was it her [REVENANT]?—pirouetted into Spindrift’s finisher, rolling through the attack while driving [NAGINATA]’s blade into his exposed back.
Spindrift too spun. Just in the nick of time and away from Asena’s counter. Was it his instincts that saved him, or his knowledge of [THE INEVITABLE]? In either case, this second exchange between an M-024 and an ES-V ended in another stalemate. Yet the momentum was now decidedly on Asena’s side.
Along with these thoughts—cold calculation—she came to another realization. That she was in control. Not fully perhaps, but enough to perceive and understand every one of her decisions and actions. Enough to turn theory into practice, all while she played the active participant.
This time, Asena took the iniative. Took the fight to Spindrift. A flurry of cuts, jabs, and swings: unbeholden to cooldowns and unrestrained by hesitations.
Constant pressure. Each impact was small and manageable, but a whole string of them proved as formidable as one strike from a warhammer. Spindrift reeled under his opponent’s attacks, with his Einkunst powerless in the face of an avalanche of [INEVITABILITIES].
But Makiri Shiranui was, not for nothing, the killingest Reiter in recorded history. LS [AEGIS], active again after a lengthy cooldown that had started from his first fight against Kingfisher. It bought him time, and more importantly, it bought him space to launch his counterattack.
[WINCHESTER] and [MJOLNIR] together. An all-or-nothing finisher that was reserved for the direst of predicaments—for the deadliest of opponents. He wouldn’t miss. Couldn’t miss. For to do so would be to leave himself utterly defenseless. And to be defenseless in the heat of battle meant death.
That was one [INEVITABILITY] anyone could see and understand.
Including Asena. Her senses, heightened by the memories of a seasoned warrior, saw and understood Spindrift’s desperation: his last-gasp attempt to finish a fight he could no longer sustain. And this vision of the inevitable gave her the fractions of a second she needed to solidify her advantage.
[NAGINATA]’s shaft spun earthward and knocked against Spindrift’s left arm, dislodging [WINCHESTER] and sending its round well wide of the mark. In the same motion, [NAGINATA]’s blade shot to the sky and sliced through the right arm, an instant before [MJOLNIR] could connect with an M-024’s central chassis.
And with that, Spindrift stopped completely.
Had he finally run out of Reserves? Or had he—bereft of defensive options and missing an arm—seen the writing on the wall and accepted [THE INEVITABLE]? In either case, this third exchange between brother and sister ended in the former’s decisive defeat. As for the latter…
Asena—all of her, both [REVENANT] and present—raised [NAGINATA] into an overhead stance, poised for a finisher of her own. By then, she was no longer surprised by her own calmness.
All of her uncertainties had condensed into this one moment of clarity. She’d done more than participate, more than act. And now… it was time to wrest control of her own destiny. Permanently and irrevocably.
Past, futures, and possibilities flew across the haze of battle. A warrior’s blade swung downward, and reflected upon its pale blue surface, loomed the shadow of a fast-approaching phantom.