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===[CHAPTER 46: THE MIRAGE]===
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Thunder rumbled over Helena's skies. The emergency lights powering the inside of the ULA base had all been shut off. The windows were being watched by armed rebels. Everyone gathered inside. There was the distinct smell of seawater in the air, and it was cool during the night. The gunfire that had become such a familiar occurrence throughout the city streets Helena had died down, for a bit at least. Sometimes there were pockets of sporadic gunfire that peppered the skies. But now, a heavy quietness had fallen over the city like a weighted blanket. Soldiers were posted around the headquarters, watching, waiting. They used their binoculars to scan the dark streets surrounding them. Eli occasionally tried to see what they were seeing, but he found nothing except the darkened interiors of abandoned tenements and empty homes. At least, mostly empty. He knew for a fact that there were still residents who chose not to flee, or who otherwise were unable to. And that was without considering the people within the ULA base...
The temperature had fallen, somewhat. The muggy atmosphere had been replaced by a cool breeze which flowed through the building occasionally and brought fresh air into an otherwise stuffed interior. A mild relief, but nothing could calm his nerves down enough to make his hands stop shaking.
Eli found himself idly pacing. He made the rounds through the corridors of the building, passing through the flocks of refugees... phantoms actually. Narva-Phantoms, Eli imagined their name. Most of them were either asleep or trying desperately to fall asleep. Even the children among them had slept quietly, wrapped in the arms of their parents, hoping that dawn would bring them luck and that they’d be able to return home. If their homes even remained, that is.
As he was conducting one of his patrols, he spotted activity among a group huddled close by the wall. Five in total. Phantoms. His squad of Misfit was mostly still awake, and it looked like they were engaged in some sort of discussion. Dutch was whispering to them, looking from one to another with wide eyes begging for them to listen. Matteo meanwhile was doing his duties as a medic, assisting the rebels with his practical expertise even during these quiet hours of the night. His medical bag looked a lot emptier than it had when they first arrived onto Narva, and judging by the way a few of the ULA's own doctors huddled around him, it was clear that Matteo was teaching them techniques to heal wounds and tend to injuries that they'd never considered before. Right now they were observing the wounded leg of an elf child, her blue dress stained with red elven blood from the wound. Remarkably, the girl wasn't crying despite being so small, and the injury so large. Matteo was using his most encouraging voice to reassure her, occasionally making jokes with the child as much as the nearby translation spells would allow for, and the elf seemed bubbly in response, though occasionally winces and sharp whines alluded to the fact that the girl was indeed still in pain. Carefully, Matteo tended to her wounds with the little amounts of bandages he had left, making wise use of them.
As Eli watched Matteo dress the injury, Matteo no longer seemed like a Phantom trapped in the Coalition's Penal-Unit system. He didn't seem like a heartless monster who was willing to sacrifice his fellow Phantoms to the Coalition for his own ride back to Earth. Matteo seemed like the opposite, in fact. Like a father. What was his kid's name again? Ottavia? Maybe there were still some pieces of his fatherhood that showed in his passion to heal others, but Eli was still having a difficult time reconciling that with his brutally pragmatic nature by default. Eli watched him from the distance, idly...
“Eli?”
A voice snapped Eli out of his thoughts. Its proximity, from right behind his back, frightened him. He jumped up, turning around only to see that Otaes' bone mask staring back at him, glowing blue eyes literally piercing the darkness and boring a hole back at him. She was leaning against a shadowy brick wall, only a few steps away from Eli.
“Holy hell, Otaes, you need to stop sneaking up behind me like that!" Eli whisper-shouted in response, as he felt a small bit of his soul leaving his body.
"I've been here for an hour," She shrugged, "You maybe need to calm down."
"I am calm," Eli affirmed, "I'm just..."
"Panicking?" Otaes interjected with a slight nod of her head.
"On the inside. But otherwise, I'm calm."
"Right."
Eli's gaze returned back to Matteo. The man had finally completed the wrap around the girl's leg, and the two were all-smiles. The girl jumped down from the seat she was in, testing out her leg, stopping to accept an fruit from Matteo's hands. The two hugged, before she half-skipped, half-limped, back to her parents.
"For someone who is as paranoid as you are, you certainly love staring at others," Otaes jabbed.
Eli rolled his eyes, "Matteo and I have a complicated relationship, if that's what you're getting at. And uh... there's a lot of refu- phantoms, here."
"So you're scared?"
Eli shrugged, “A little. But who wouldn’t be?”
“There’s nothing wrong with that, you know? I’m only asking because, to be honest, I’m a bit nervous as well.”
Eli grinned, “Really? The great elf warrior Otaes… scared?”
She narrowed her eyes, “I can still tear their throats out, yours too. You know that right?” Eli shivered inwardly. His lack of response prompted a strange look from Otaes, “That was a joke, Eli.”
“Sorry, it’s hard to tell when you really mean you’re gonna violently murder me and when you’re just saying that because you know you can.”
“Oh, come on now, that’s not fair,” She gestured to herself, “I’m perfectly capable of humor. You should know that by now.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it. Besides, with that mask of yours it’s kind of impossible to tell what you’re thinking.”
Otaes shrugged, “That’s good. It means the mask is doing its job.”
“Why do you Warrior Elf guys wear those things anyway? Are they like body armor or something?” Eli asked. He’d been dying to ask why ever since the two had met. Otaes was the first actual person she’d met here on Narva who was from the planet, and so far she seemed more human than he’d expected a warrior elf to be. The only thing ruining that idea was the mask.
“They’re cultural. Only other members of the Raritan tribe are allowed to see Kitchi warriors maskless.”
“Why?” He asked.
“I’ve heard a story that centuries ago, before the Kiote Union was a thing, Kitchi used to be personal assassins for the tribal chiefs. We weren’t always united. The Raritans, Ximac, Tappa… they used to fight each other all the time and the chiefs were big targets. Since assassins have to remain hidden, the Kitchi of the time hid their faces with masks made out of bone," Eli nodded along as he listened to her, “But that’s just a tale. I’m not sure if it’s really true or not. Now it’s just standard practice to make sure we’re hidden.”
“Well, I think it’s about time to see who you really are. Take it off.”
“Take off my mask?”
“Go on.”
“I’d have to kill you afterwards,” She stated, very matter-of-factly.
“Why? Are you ugly?”
It looked like Otaes gave a breathless chuckle from underneath her mask, “No. Quite the opposite, actually.”
“Well then? You know my face, you even broke me out of prison.”
“I wasn’t joking about killing you. That’s the rule,” Otaes said, “You either have to be part of the tribe, or in my family.”
“Well, how would one become a part of the tribe?” Eli asked her.
“You’d either have to be born as one of us or somehow get married to a Kitchi. That’s about it.”
“So, no face reveal?”
She shook her head. Another silence fell between the two semi-strangers. Her eyes travelled to the floor near her boots, he rested against the opposing wall looking the other way. Still restless as he did so. The thought weighed heavily on his mind. Still unable to fully rest himself, despite sleep eluding him for so long.
“It’s the people,” Eli blurted out, “Dutch has been begging me to take them with us. And I know we should. The Imperials are coming and these guys are gonna..." Eli winced, not wanting to describe just how bad the situation was to her when already felt like complete shit. Juma's flat denial had been a punch to the gut. An expected one, but demoralizing none the less, "But I don’t know how.”
“You were just talking to your commanders, right? Have you tried asking them.”
“Yeah, and what do you think they said?”
“No?”
Eli nodded, “I don’t know what to do. The rebels are saying that the Avonians are throwing everything and the Kitchen sink at us, but there’s so many people in the way. They’ll get hurt. I just know it. But it’s like Sparrow doesn’t even care what happens to them. It's like he wants them to get hurt. And I don't know what to do.”
He sighed, shutting his eyes. He could practically feel the stress on his back, like a backpack full of heavy rocks that he couldn’t quite shrug off, no matter how much he tried.
“They’ll get hurt,” Otaes repeated, “You know, you don’t have to do what Sparrow tells you to do. Or Overwatch for that matter. You should do what you think is right.”
“Yeah, it’s not like they’re the ones who control whether we go back to our planet or anything,” he tried to resist, but his tendencies for passive-aggressive sarcasm kept bleeding through.
“Well, what’s more important to you? You going back to Earth, or the lives of innocent people?”
Eli was about to say that getting back to Earth was clearly more important, but he couldn’t say that. It wasn’t true. Not entirely. He did care about their lives. They were indeed Phantoms now. Just like him and Misfit. It wasn’t just a moral obligation, but it was practically a responsibility.
But going back to Earth was, of course, the entire reason he was here. Narva was not his home, and the only way to get back to Earth was to just do whatever it was that Overwatch wanted. He had no other goals than to keep Misfit alive, and get everyone back to where they belonged. In that sense, he could see some of Matteo’s cold practicality rubbing off on him. He wasn’t wrong. Matteo knew that the Coalition held the key to the portal. If they didn’t do what Overwatch wanted, Misfit could kiss Earth and everything that they knew goodbye.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
But surely, the lives of the innocent outweighed something so seemingly selfish. Surely.
Otaes had phrased the question in a way where it sounded like she didn’t care either way. She wasn’t blaming him if he decided to just do what Sparrow and Overwatch wanted. But she also didn’t care if he wanted to follow what he thought was right. Or would she? Would she try to talk him out of it like Sparrow had? Would she even help? Afterall, her life didn’t depend on Misfit as much as Eli’s life did. She had Temetet and the griffon monster underneath her watch. If things went south for Misfit, at least she had her own way back home.
“People’s lives are always more important. They’re Phantoms now,” Eli said. Almost as if it were a sacred ritual, he patted the cyan delta on his shoulder, “We look after our own.”
“Then do what you think is right. Who cares what Sparrow and Overwatch say? If you think going back home is your priority, then go back home and leave this planet. But if you really think the lives of the people are worth more, do whatever it takes to keep them safe. Even if it means sacrificing your own chances of going back to Earth, at least you would’ve stuck true to your values,” Otaes tapped her mask, “I hold my values close. I’ll do whatever it takes to defend them. You should do the same.”
Eli sighed, “You make it sound easy. It's not like you're gonna get thrown into solitary confinement for the rest of your life. We got out of solitary once because we were lucky. Because you stepped in, as a matter of fact,” Eli sighed, "We're on strike two. There is no strike three. If we fuck this up, you'll never hear from us again."
Otaes looked down at the floor near Eli's feet, pondering what he'd said. Lost in thought. Even with the mask hiding her face, he could practically see the gears turning. It was a difficult situation to put it mildly. Misfit was caught in a Catch 22. They could shrug their shoulders and leave the Phantoms to their fates, betraying everything that made a Phantom - a Phantom. Or, they could intervene and somehow force Overwatch's hand to allow those rebels on board - a feat in itself that would prove borderline impossible through Misfit's actions alone - only to wind up dead-on-sight when they got back to The Nexus. Or worse, the sterile walls of his solitary cell still haunted him. Eli's last sentence was only a few years holed up in there, and he'd gone borderline insane after spending a day and a half inside. What about the rest of his life? Nothing but the cold floor, the unreachable window, and permanent silence...
"It isn't easy, you're right. But I don't think doing the right thing has ever been easy. If it were, our worlds wouldn't be in the conditions they are now," Otaes sighed. She took a few steps closer, kneeling down at Eli's side to get level with him, though her eyes were now fixed on the walls in front of them, "You know what I mean. And, I am not ordering you to do this because I know that the burden of the repercussions are on you. This is your choice. But, I think if you want to see the world improve in at least somewhat, the first step needs to be taken by yourself. That doesn't mean you aren't afraid. Without fear, there can't be courage. Bravery needs fear. You know?"
Eli was silent, his gaze falling back towards the creaky floorboards. The rumble of thunder outside punctuated the loose air, filling Eli's minds with visions of Avonian giants on the horizon. Marching, closer...
"I know you humans are brave, that's why I insisted that you were all released from solitary confinement. You helped me and you didn't have to. You could've peeled off and ran as soon as we got separated. Misfit could've fled during the attack on the Palace. You could've abandoned my brother when he needed you. But you didn't. You knew that by calling Overwatch for help, you'd be sent into solitary, and you were. But you didn't let that stop you."
"It was an easier choice then when we weren't trying to challenge Overwatch. At least not directly."
"Right... but you raided an armory, apparently attacked a guard, and deserted, just to reunite with your squadmates? Your fight wasn't again Overwatch, but you're kidding yourself if you thought there was any sort of a plan that didn't involve challenging them in a way they wouldn't accept. By calling them for help, you accepted the inevitable."
Another round of silence passed between the two...
Otaes shrugged, “You either do it, or you don’t. Do what you think is the right thing. Not what Sparrow wants you to do, not what your commanders want you to do, but whatever you and Misfit decide.”
“We're just prisoners.”
“True… but you aren’t a robot. You have feelings too, right? They don’t own you.”
Eli was left somewhat unsatisfied with the answer. But how could he argue against that? She was right, wasn’t she? It was their call. Surely, Overwatch wouldn’t waste all that effort trying to extract Sparrow to just abandon him to die with Misfit. If he managed to get Sparrow on their side, then that gave Misfit bargaining power. Overwatch would have to do what they say if they wanted Sparrow. Bringing the Coalition down to a bargaining position would be a victory that was rare gotten for Phantoms. Non-existent for those in the Penal-Unit. It would be a first.
But it would be short lived. The moment they set foot in the Nexus… it’d be solitary. Or worse. They’d definitely get their sentences extended again. But half of Misfit knew they were never getting out of Narva free anyway. Would it have changed much?
He needed more time to think about it, yet he hated the idea. Both options were horrible. But only one would leave him satisfied with the knowledge that they had at least tried to do the right thing.
“You’ll help us out?” Eli asked her.
Otaes nodded, “Of course. I don’t really have a choice.”
“You have Archer. You can always fly back home.”
“What kind of Warrior would I be if I left my friends behind?”
“So, we are friends.”
“You saved Temetet. I saved you. We definitely aren’t enemies. Right?”
Eli felt a smile creep across his face, but for only a split second before his lips fell once again to being flat. He let the back of his head fall against the wall, closing his eyes. Thinking what his next words were gonna be. There wasn’t much to it. Either he did, or he didn’t. Just as she had pointed out. The decision wasn’t fully up to him, but he did matter. It was all a question of where he and Misfit stood.
“You know, I’m old enough to remember this place before the Kiote War.”
“What?”
“Helena used to be a huge spot for Kiote merchants to trade. My father was a warrior once but, after the Sacred War, he settled down to become a merchant. He used to take me on his trips across the Peninsula before Marshall Navarro overthrew the Republic,” She took a look out of the window, dark moody clouds hovering just above them now, threatening a downpour. In the distance, bombed out tenements and abandoned homes. The towers of Renewal stood in the distance, powerful, even in this state of decay, “It was different. Most parts of the River Republic were poor, even back then. The slums were always here. But the towers, the propaganda, the military, that’s all new.”
“How times change. How long ago was that when you and your dad used to come down here?”
“Years. I was thirteen when he was still alive. He used to bring me to the Port of Helena, somewhere down that way,” she pointed outside of the window on the wall she leaned on. Through the storm, the street continued indefinitely into the night. Through the darkness, there were a few scattered lights that illuminated structures on the horizon. Cranes. The Port wasn’t too far away from the ULA base, only a half mile it seemed to him, “We’d pick up Oceanian candies and sodas to bring them back home. Mom always hated them, they were too sweet for her. But Temetet loved them. My dad taught me how to navigate the markets. Some merchants like furs, some wanted animal meat or their bones, others wanted rare fruits that only we could get a hold of… Dad taught me to trade the things I had, Mom taught me to hunt to get things in the first place.”
“So it was your mother who taught you how to kill?”
“She taught me everything there is to be a Warrior Elf since I was a small child. She was among the best warriors in her day. She was ‘The Mirage’…”
“The Mirage?”
“Thirty years ago, there was a war that shattered the world. The Sacred War. And among all the chaos that the war brought with it, there was a legendary griffon-warrior who’d dominated the skies above the Kiote Peninsula, defending our homes from the Oran and Valdacian Orderite exterminators. And that legend was my mother. The Mirage,” Otaes’ eyes trailed off into the darkness of the room, somberly. Her voice sounded bittersweet, as she recalled the legend of her mother. Eli couldn’t see it, but he could tell that through the mask, she was smiling.
“I thought you were The Mirage?”
Otaes shook her head, tapping the mask, “Technically I am. It’s a title I inherited from my mother. The oldest child of a Warrior takes up the mantle. She gave me this mask. And this photo of her…”
Eli observed the fine details of the mask once again. The tropical green paint that covered the bone-like surface, dark colors mixing with the lighter ones in the background giving it a unique ‘camouflage’-like color. And then finally a red slash of paint across the eye. It was a unique design, one that he harped on long enough for her to notice, “That’s my addition,” she said, tracing the line of red paint with a finger, “My contribution to her legacy.”
Otaes dug a hand into one of the pockets along her tunic, producing a small paper – wrinkled and even a bit yellowed with age and wear. There were cuts and tears along the paper’s surface. Eli carefully took it into his hands, flipping the surface over only to be greeted by an image – or rather – a photograph. It was an old image, clearly. Black and white were the only discernable colors with thick dark shadows and bright white lights.
A mile above the ground, up in clear skies interrupted only by a few scattered clouds just above and small tears in the image. Two griffons were flying in a formation. One griffon – mostly white with a few black markings – was trailing not too far behind another one, flying deep towards the sun and the horizon. Looking closer, Eli could make out the riders flying on the backs of those griffons, two of them. The one in front was difficult to see, and Eli could only make out vague impressions of their form. But the one behind was looking at the camera, wearing a mask like Otaes’ own, pointing towards the rider and griffon at the lead.
The picture was beautiful, even in spite of its signs of age. Eli found himself staring at the black and white surface for far longer than he thought he would, taking in the sight of two griffon riders chasing each other in the clear skies.
“That’s both my parents closer towards the end of the Sacred War. Mom was the one up front; Dad was the one trailing her. The picture was taken by one of their buddies in the griffon squadron, but I think he was shot down before the war ended. This is the only image that I have of either of my parents… The Mirage and her wingman, my Dad.”
Eli chuckled as he handed the picture back to her, “Your parents met in the war?”
“That’s where they fell in love, so my Dad used to say anyway,” Otaes replied sounding equally amused in her own right.
“Some love story.”
“Yeah…Isn’t it?”
Hearing about The Mirage, a legendary warrior of the Kiote people, as Otaes’ own mother made Eli pause to consider for a moment. Otaes wasn’t exactly trying to hide it, but she must be constantly striving to be like her once heroic mother. Trying beyond all else to live up to the name “The Mirage”. And suddenly, everything about her seemed to make sense. Her insistence on being the best warrior there is, her persistence, her strength, and her determination to ensure that Temetet too was mentored properly – much in the same way that her mother had mentored her likely, she too would mentor her brother.
But, there must’ve also been feelings of inadequacy somewhere behind that mask. Constantly having to live up to the name of The Mirage, staying in her shadow. It would’ve been rough for anyone, “So where is she?” Eli asked her.
She shook her head, “Dead.”
“Both of your parents?”
Her eyes closed somberly in confirmation. Eli frowned, “I’m sorry-“
“It’s alright. It was a while ago anyway.”
“How long? If you don’t mind me asking?” Eli asked her.
“Both of my parents died during the Kiote War, but at different stages. Mom served on the frontlines during the beginning, but she was downed when I was twelve,” her eyes narrowed, and her tone shifted into one of pure spite, “They say she was cornered by a squadron of elite Imperial dragon riders, but I find that unlikely, she was too quick to let that happen. More likely, she was shot down by a missile or some other Avonian anti-air system, new technology that she hadn’t been familiar with. My father took care of us alone for two years, until he was also killed during an Imperial bombing run on Raritan.”
Eli stumbled, “I’m really sorry to hear- “
“Again. It’s fine. Nothing you could’ve done about it,” Otaes brushed it off, though beneath it all Eli could hear the lingering pain in her voice. She tried to laugh it off, “You know… it’s funny. Really. Sometimes I still wonder if she was really shot down at all. Maybe, The Mirage is still alive. Somewhere near the border. Terrorizing the skies for the Imperials, even now. But then I remember that the war’s over and she still hasn’t come back. Or at least the war was over.”
They both sat in another brief period of silence. His attention was drawn to the hushed chatter of Misfit not too far away. He could hear the first pitter pattering’s of rain falling on windows. Thunder rumbled in the distance like a vibrant background of drums being struck.
The world wasn’t his to defend. But the people were real. They had their own lives and families too. It wouldn’t be fair to them if Eli didn’t at least try. Nobody should live their lives as a Phantom, especially not alone as he had.
He listened to the rain drumming against the wall. It was soothing in a strange way. It probably had something to do with talking to Otaes, maybe. Strange to think that when he first laid eyes on her, he was utterly terrified of the warrior. But now?
She was more human than Major Kovic or Captain Juma ever were. That’s for sure.
He pushed off from the wall, “I’ll do it.”
“Do what?” she asked, watching him stand upright.
“I’ll try to get the people to safety. At least, relatively. But I need to convince Sparrow first, and I don’t have much time.”
“Why him?”
“Sparrow’s the only one who has the power to force Overwatch’s hand. He’s what they’re after. If they can’t get him, they’ll have wasted this entire operation for nothing…” He trailed off, looking to the stormy skies, seeing as the raindrops fell against the window, splattering across the glass. The damp and humid weather fogged the glass, blurring whatever source of light managed to trickle through – be it the flash of lightning, or the rare flashlight of a rebel patrolling outside, “They’ll be forced to do what we say.”
He frowned, looking at her again, “I know you don’t like Sparrow…”
“That doesn’t matter,” She told him, “Just do what you know is right…”
Eli smiled, “It’s about time we did something good for once. Not for The Coalition, not for any of that… but for the sake of it.”
He nodded, pushing off the wall to go towards his squad. Otaes’ eyes trailed him, watching the human disappear into the group.
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