The deactivated form of Ironclad Ballista loomed over the battlefield like a metallic monstrosity taking a nap. The once-raging battlefield was now an awkward tableau of exhaustion and uncertainty. Mark, his shoulder throbbing with a vengeance, tried to project a facade of leadership, but every grimace as he adjusted his arm betrayed the pain.

Across the dusty expanse stood the rebel clones. Gone was their earlier ferocity, replaced by a mixture of disorganization and grumbling. Sigma, ever the drill sergeant, barked orders, his voice echoing in the silence.

"Brick, get that leg off it! It's scrap metal, not a souvenir! And Wraith, stop picking your teeth with that control panel wire – there's a decontamination protocol for a reason!"

The rebel clones, unlike Mark's stoic team, responded with a chorus of groans and muttered complaints. One, a particularly burly clone with an impressive beard despite his apparent youth, scratched his head with a mechanical arm and mumbled, "Yeah, yeah, boss. We got it."

Mark stifled a smile. These rebels, for all their fervor, lacked a certain…polish. Compared to their well-oiled machine of a team, they were a chaotic bunch held together by sheer willpower and Sigma's iron fist – or maybe it was a cybernetic fist in this case.

His gaze drifted towards the rebel activity. Unlike Mark's team, who were busy salvaging weaponry and patching up their armor, the rebels focused on something entirely different. They were meticulously harvesting data chips and wires from Ballista's wreckage, their movements quick and practiced.

Elara, ever the pragmatist, strolled towards the rebels, her boots kicking up a trail of dust. "Aren't you guys forgetting something?" she asked, her voice laced with amusement. "There's a perfectly good energy cannon right there. Seems like a bit more valuable than a few wires."

A hulking figure, the bearded clone Mark noticed earlier, turned to face her. Brick, his name tag proudly displayed on his armor, scratched his beard with his non-mechanical arm. "Nah, the cannons are nice trophies, but that energy shield? That's what we're here for."

Elara raised an eyebrow. "Energy shield? Are you nuts? We barely scratched the thing!"

Brick chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "Looks can be deceiving. We're more interested in why it had that shield in the first place." He gestured towards the data chips in his hand. "These babies hold the key."

Mark realized just then how disconnected their experiences were. They were fighting for survival, while the rebels were on a whole other mission – a mission driven by knowledge rather than brute force.

The awkward silence was broken by a rumbling sound emanating from Mark's backpack. He sheepishly unzipped it, revealing a collection of protein bars wrapped in industrial-grade foil. "Uh, anyone interested in sustenance? Long flight back, you know."

He offered the bars to the nearest rebel clone, a young woman with bright pink hair and a perpetual scowl on her face. She snatched a bar, her eyes filled with cautious optimism. But one bite was all it took. Her face contorted in disgust.

"Ugh! Tastes like recycled gym socks!" she spat, tossing the bar onto the ground. The other rebels recoiled in horror.

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Mark winced. "Well, they're nutritionally balanced…" he mumbled, his voice trailing off.

Before the awkwardness could escalate further, Sigma materialized beside Mark, his cybernetic eye flickering with amusement. "You humans and your…interesting food choices," he rumbled. He then reached into a satchel strapped to his back and pulled out a pressurized canister. A pulsating, green goo resided inside.

"Here," he said, offering the canister to Mark. "Try some EnerGoo. It's…acquired taste, but gives you a decent energy boost."

Mark stared at the pulsating monstrosity, his stomach churning. "Uh, I think I'll pass," he politely declined.

Elara, however, couldn't resist a jab. "Looks like someone's food choices are even stranger."

A begrudging truce was declared, punctuated by nervous laughter. The two teams huddled together, sharing their respective "delicacies" with hesitant politeness. It wasn't gourmet dining, but it was a start.

While the others indulged in their bizarre culinary exchange, Mark and Elara volunteered their tech expertise to help analyze the data chips. They found themselves working alongside a scrawny young rebel named Glitch, his fingers flying across a holographic keyboard with an almost manic speed.

"Bingo!" Glitch's voice, barely a squeak over the whirring of salvaged technology, echoed with excitement. "Found a partial schematic for the energy shield. It…it's not human tech, It resembles ancient System relics."

Mark felt a jolt course through him. System relics. Whispers of lost technology, fragments of a forgotten civilization that predated even the Warlords. Could these Warlords, or whoever was supplying them, have stumbled upon a cache of this ancient tech?

He recalled fragmented stories, campfire tales of shimmering metal plates found buried in the desert, of strange symbols etched onto ruined structures. Were those stories more than just myths?

"Ancient System relics?" Elara echoed, her brow furrowed in concentration. "But that's impossible. We were told such technology was lost."

Glitch, his face flushed with the thrill of discovery, tapped away at the holographic keyboard, pulling up fragmented images. "Look at the energy flow patterns. They're eerily similar to what's documented in the few remaining pre-System archives."

Mark scanned the images, the data streams blurring into a kaleidoscope of symbols and energy signatures. It was beyond his technical expertise, yet a cold dread settled in his gut. If these Warlords were getting their hands on System relics, what else could they be hiding?

Sigma, who had been watching their progress with a mixture of stoicism and suppressed fear, finally spoke. "This changes everything," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "If the Warlords have access to this tech, they'll be unstoppable."

Elara, ever the strategist, interjected. "We need to find the source of this technology. And fast. Before the Warlords use it to crush any resistance left."

A weighty silence descended upon the group. The camaraderie forged over a shared meal of dubious protein bars and pulsating goo had been replaced by a heavy sense of dread. The fight against the Warlords had just taken a sinister turn.

Suddenly, a crackle of static erupted from their communication device. A frantic voice broke through the static, filled with urgency.

"This is outpost Delta! We're under attack! Requesting immediate…"

The voice was cut short by a strangled cry and a cacophony of blaster fire. Silence descended once more, heavy with a chilling realization.

"Delta?" Sigma's voice was a growl of suppressed rage. "That's…that's where we came from."

Mark and Elara exchanged a worried glance. The neutral settlement under attack wasn't just any settlement – it was the rebel's home, the place where their rebellion had begun. It seemed their uneasy alliance was about to be tested in a way none of them could have anticipated.