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===[CHAPTER 51: HOLD]===

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The process to load all the civilians onto the helicopter out of Helena was gruelingly long. Misfit and the Rebels worked shoulder to shoulder, carrying the wounded and assisting the elderly first – and then the masses. They tried to ensure that those who could not stand were given seats aboard the transport, but of course those were limited. The helicopter had become overcrowded, and there were still at least a dozen others left. They all had to squeeze in, like packing sardines into a can. It made Eli somewhat concerned that the helicopter might actually struggle to carry the weight, but of course, weight was little to no issue for the massive blades and the sheer power of its engine.

The storm had weakened to the point that when the last civilian was ushered into the transit, the rain was only a drizzle. Misty droplets of water gently scratching against Eli’s skin, a stark contrast to the storm of water pouring from the skies above Helena.

Misfit stepped away from the helicopter, exhausted, while the regulars shut the doors. The squad of prisoners were weary, saying little to each other as saw the regulars off. They would be left behind, but Overwatch would have to come back for them. Though, the lull in the Avonian assault wouldn’t last forever. Eventually, the Imperial Army would arrive, and with them, the brunt of their assault forces. If Overwatch didn’t return soon enough, the Rebel HQ would be flattened to rubble along with anyone inside. Eli knew that perfectly well. He could only hope that time was on their side.

He wanted to be happy as he watched the blades of the helicopter spin to full power, blowing air, dust and rain into his eyes. Feel a sense of relief that he had done the right thing. That this was in fact, good. That he’d stuck true to his values and that of Misfit’s and that they had done something that brought more good than harm into the world around them, for once. But he had trouble feeling that way. There was a fear that Eli might’ve accidentally cosigned the refugees to a fate even worse than death here in Helena – living under whatever dark plans that Kovic and the rest of Overwatch held for them. Would they too wind up as slaves? Working for someone else, laboring away to build Kovic’s Utopia, for pittance in return?

He could feel the insides of his body rotting, like a weighted stone placed right in his core. Though the storm was giving way, he knew there was another on the horizon. And the second verse promised to be worse than the first. As the helicopter ascended into the increasing light of grey morning skies, Misfit and the Rebels watched from a distance. Saying nothing. All was quiet save for the blades of the helicopter and its engine, even that slowly fading as it flew further away.

For it was only the calm before the real storm. Before true hell was brought onto them.

When the helicopter had lifted itself into the light grey overcast above and disappeared out of sight, there was nothing left except for that weight buried in his chest. No happiness, no feelings of excitement or relief, no triumph against Overwatch, nothing. At least no feelings of that happy variety.

All that remained was that feeling of hollowness. Decay. Uncertainty. Like looking towards the horizon of Seoul on that fateful day. Watching as a mushroom cloud enveloped the sleek skyscrapers and laid ruin to the surrounding world. A reminder that although they had escaped the worst possible outcome, something terrible was lurking just around the corner. Watching. Waiting.

As he walked back inside of the base to dry off, he couldn’t help but dwell on the feeling. There was just too much uncertainty. What would the regulars tell Overwatch once they had gotten out of range from the Avonian signals jam? Would they abandon Misfit? That wouldn’t make sense, to take the refugees and leave Sparrow behind. They’d just shoot themselves in the foot.

And then there was Sparrow himself, a man who Eli was torn on the issue of trusting. He couldn’t trust him. At all. But why had he stepped in at all? Why did he let Eli win? Not only letting him win, but actively supporting him against the regulars who had been sent to save him. What exactly was Sparrow thinking? Was he thinking at all? Was there any kind of plan going on in Sparrow’s mind?

Nothing made sense, and the harder he thought about it, the more it made his head spin. His hand went to caress his forehead, feeling a migraine incoming. He was met with the bandages wrapped around his forehead, a reminder of what had happened only a few short hours prior. The fact that he was here walking at all was nothing short of a miracle, only to have the feeling of relief robbed from him. Speaking of which, where had Temetet and Otaes gone?

When he opened the doors, he was met with complete silence. Scarce traces of lights filtered in through the broken windows, grey and monotonous. The absence of the refugees made the inside of the base feel like a ghost town, with the only remnants of their existence being the bloodied makeshift beds and the belongings a few had left behind. A stuffed dragon was lying on the floor next to a certain bed, perhaps a child’s toy which had been dropped before they were evacuated.

He felt his eyelids growing heavy and he knew that the lack of sleep was getting to him. He resolved to take advantage of the lull in the Avonian assault, finding a spot somewhere in the base where it was quiet and isolated from Misfit. He didn’t want to face them yet, and the last person he wanted to speak to was Sparrow. There was something else that he was forgetting, but the cobwebs in his brain were beginning to grow thick, and he really needed to get some rest.

His search took him through several doors, through the decaying halls peppered with bullet holes, through which small gusts of air carried the scent of the nearby ocean to his nose. It was oddly peaceful, walking through such an empty facility. Where there was once either the sounds of hundreds of the sick and wounded, or the unceasing barrage of gunfire and warfare, now only the echoing percussion of his footsteps greeted his ears. What life he did manage to find up here though were few and far in between. The odd rebel here and about. Eli was pleased to know that the rebels no longer considered him and his squad as a threat. But with the stunt they’d just pulled off, he wondered how much longer that would last. And in typical fashion, his peacefulness could not last. For everywhere, he could feel a hint of anxiety settle in. His conscious feared that at any moment, an Alpha Suppressor or squad of militia would turn the corner and start shooting while he was unprepared – yet of course, that would not happen.

He decided to let his guard down. He was relatively safe here. At least he wasn’t in danger of being outright murdered out here. It was no safe harbor, that’s for sure, but it was better than nothing, and especially so given their situation only a few short moments ago. Though, it would not last for long. The Avonians would return with their cavalry, and the relative safety of this intermission would vanish into thin air just as quickly as it had arrived. They had barely won against the Imperials the first time, once more – against the brunt of their army and with most of the rebel’s resources drained, even without the refugees to take care of, nobody’s survival was guaranteed.

Just as he turned a corner and past a particularly heavy door to be spat out into what seemed to be a dormant room his eyes landed on someone that he didn’t want to see. Someone that he’d been unconsciously trying to avoid. It wasn’t Sparrow nor anyone from Misfit. But the warrior elf herself. Otaes.

Her mask was being dimly lit by the soft glow of early morning light that managed to trickle in through the windows. The slash of red paint over the left eye distinguished her mask as being the one and only Otaes. She was alone, with zero sign of Temetet anywhere nearby, nor the big griffon Archer.

Eli froze the moment he recognized who it was. Hoping he hadn’t been noticed yet, he turned heel and made his way back for the door through which he’d came in.

“I’m guessing that pacing isn’t helping anymore, right?”

Her voice stopped him before he could even complete his turn. His throat was suddenly dry and faulty. He didn’t want to face her. He had enough to worry about right now, being murdered by Otaes for seeing her brother’s face was just something he didn’t want to deal with right now.

“It never did,” Eli said, his back still half-turned to her.

“Ah. And we’re right back to square one.”

“You’re scared again?”

“Nervous,” Otaes admitted, “Who wouldn’t be?”

“Certainly not you.”

“You think too highly of me.”

“Didn’t we have this conversation before?”

“We did, then again aren’t we in the same situation as before?”

“Not really. Look, I’m sorry Otaes,” Eli spat out finally. Deciding to get to the topic immediately rather than doing this silly dance around it where both of them were stalling to the point. He knew what was wrong. She knew what was wrong, “I didn’t want to see Temetet without his mask. I know it’s a cultural value to you guys, I get that entirely. But you shouldn’t be too hard on Temetet. He saved my life! That kid protected me! Without him, I wouldn’t be standing here right now!”

“He saved you?” She sounded surprised.

“Several times in fact!”

“Strange. When I was talking to him he swore up and down that it was the other way around, that you were the one who saved him.”

“Look, I just don’t want to see anything bad happen to Temetet because of what I did. It was an accident.”

He saw her eyes close almost wistfully behind her mask, leaning back further against the wall, “It’s too late for that. I’m not going to do anything, to you or him for that matter.”

“But isn’t the rule that-“

“I know what the rule is. Truthfully, it doesn’t matter now. Temetet was only a Kitchi in training. Besides, it was an accident. It wasn’t like you forced it from him. I saw the way the two of you fought against the Imperials. You’d die right there to defend each other. I’m not going to be upset at that.”

“So… I’m guessing that’s where the good news ends?”

“Temetet isn’t a Kitchi in training anymore. In fact, he’ll never be a Kitchi. Ever.” The news was delivered bluntly, as if it were an obvious fact of life that Eli had somehow managed to miss.

At first he wasn’t sure what exactly to say, and so he just stood there like an idiot, trying to process what had been said.

He dragged his eyes away from her, staring at the cold floor now. In the distance he could hear the distinct rumbling echo of thunder crackle once more over Helena’s ruined slums and artificial core.

The fact that Temetet had somehow been automatically barred from ever being a Kitchi warrior didn’t sit right with him. Eli knew how much he had wanted that title. From his time spent in Raritan to right here in Helena. Temetet craved that title like a starved man does an exquisite meal. But it had been taken from him, due to no real fault of his own. And what was worse was that Temetet had gone far above and beyond what was required of him. He’d stuck true with Eli and done right for him, saving his life was enough to make Temetet more than a friend. But one of Misfit.

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“It’s not right,” Eli said finally after he’d had enough of the awkwardly stretched silence.

“It doesn’t matter what’s right.”

“I don’t care. He saved my life. He’s the only reason why I’m here talking to you right now,” Eli told her as if she was the one making the rules. Of course, Otaes couldn’t help it, judging by the way she lethargically sat against the wall, looking at the bombed-out slums of Raritan, “This whole thing… the entire reason why you’re here helping me at all is because of Temetet’s training, right? If he can’t even become a Kitchi – because of something that wasn’t even his fault – it makes everything pointless!”

“I know,” There was a certain inflection in her voice that made Eli pause. It was strange coming from her. Like a squeak almost. Or something else. It wasn’t until Eli heard her sniffling, and noticed the wet stains across her tribal clothes, that he realized she’d been crying before he walked in. And he felt horrible.

He stepped closer, “I’m sorry-“

“It’s not your fault.”

“I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s not your fault,” She repeated just as simply as she had before.

Again, he was at a loss for words. Trying to find some way to make her feel better. But he was no Dutch, not quick with a light hearted joke. The only thing he could think to do was to just shut his mouth and let her speak.

“Are you alright?” He asked her.

She hesitated for a moment. He noticed Otaes turn her back to him as she reached underneath her mask. Wiping her tears with a sleeve, adding another damp spot next to all of the others. He gave her the space she probably needed, “It’s everything,” She coughed out something that sounded like a dry chuckle, “It’s funny really. Half of me is relieved that Temetet can’t become a Kitchi anymore. I saw him after the fight. His injuries… bleeding from everywhere. I thought…” She gasped for air, clearly struggling through her words. It was difficult to listen to, as Eli stood there, just across the room, listening.

“I thought I wouldn’t be able to save him. Something about it just reminded me of when I was young and the Avonian bombs had killed my father. And it was just me and Temetet. And Archer. Of course, we had Archer too. But we were so vulnerable. Back then, it felt like any day I could just wake up and,” She raised a hand up, snapping a fingers, “They would be dead. And I’d be alone. I never wanted to feel that vulnerable again, you know? That’s why I did everything that I did, so Temetet could stay as far away from here as possible. And where did that lead to? He gets stabbed in the neck by a cursed Imperial. That’s what I get. I get to stand over him and fight to keep my own brother from bleeding out onto the floor. That’s what I get in return.”

Eli unconsciously had taken a few steps closer, not even aware of what he was doing – and certainly not why. It just felt appropriate to not stand halfway across the room from her. He wasn’t sure why it wasn’t. But something told him so.

He was listening though. No matter what, he was listening. He couldn’t help but listen. This elf, a creature he had no idea could ever possibly exist what seemed like a few short weeks ago, was spilling her heart out to him. And in that vein, she seemed more relatable than ever.

“I do everything right, and it doesn’t even matter to them.”

“To who?”

She shrugged, again wiping another tear way from underneath her mask, “The Council of Elders. Ani. It doesn’t matter what I do for them, it’ll never be enough. I could cut my heart out and serve it to them on a silver plate and they’d take it, turn around, and ask for my brain next. It doesn’t matter. And I just feel so betrayed all the time. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.”

Betrayed by those in charge. The image of Kovic’s sterile face formed in Eli’s mind. Not necessarily Kovic himself, but the idea of Overwatch Command as a whole. Of the Coalition.

It took him back to his first night on Planet Narva, just after the battle when everything was quiet. Back when Cato was still alive and had just convinced two of Misfit’s members to flee into the jungle away from the ever-present danger of The Nexus. Badger had told him something like what Otaes told him now. Betrayal. That after everything they had sacrificed, nothing stopped them from being thrown into the Penal Unit as expendables. Even worse, sent out into what was effectively a death sentence here on Planet Narva. Eli lost his home to storms created by the very people Kovic wanted to build a utopia for, he lost his closest friends in a war that the Coalition had started, he’d lost everything to them. And when he had the nerve to leave, after so much abuse, he ended up as a slave. Freedom, as basic of an idea as it was, that too had been stripped away by their hands.

“It’s not fair,” Eli said to her, feeling his own anger boil in his heart, “You give, and they take, and you give, and they take. But when you ask for a break, they take everything from you. It just isn’t fair.”

She heard what sounded like a hint of laughter from her, “At least you understand what I mean.”

“How could I not? I’m a Phantom. We’re experts in being used.”

Otaes looked Eli up and down, as if only just now realizing who was standing before her. Something seemed strange in the way she looked at him, which should’ve been impossible to discern due to her masks complete obfuscation of her face. And yet, Eli noticed. She cocked her head to the side, gesturing for Eli to come closer.

“The bandages. You’ve gotten them dirty.”

He was once again reminded of the cool gauze's presence wrapped across his forehead and face. He raised a half-aware hand up to feel them, noticing how stiff and soiled they had become in such a short time, “Oh… I didn’t mean to.”

She drew closer to Eli, reaching a hand to him, “May I?” she asked.

Eli leaned closer to her, bringing his head to about the same level as her torso. They were both about the same height, and Otaes by no means needed the extra space. But it was a gesture that Eli was willing to trust her with his wounds.

She placed a hand onto his forehead. The tips of her fingers were cold against his skin. Maybe he was running a fever? Whatever the case, she proceeded taking off the bandages wrapped around his skull one by one.

“They’re well done,” she commented, “Who did these?”

“Matteo. He’s a natural at this stuff you know?”

“Matteo…” she repeated the name, “That’s the older human with you, right? With the beard?”

“That’s the one.”

“Tell him that he needs to teach me how to dress wounds like this.”

“You don’t need that. You’ve got magic elf powers, right?” Eli half smiled, “It’s only us boring magicless people that have gotta do stuff like this."

“Here on Narva, they’re called NoMaj, the Non-Magical. Besides, remember Raritan? You can block magical energy, even natural magic, but you can’t block… well, this I guess. Really, sometimes elves rely on their magical abilities too much. I'll admit that much."

Eli chortled, "Don't get all soft on me now. We're only human."

Otaes gave Eli a quick glance before returning back to the bandages, "You know... on Narva, when humans say that, they usually mean it in a kind of supremacist way."

Eli froze for a moment, "Oh! I didn't mean-" Before he could take back what he said, Otaes interrupted him.

"Let me finish... when you say it, you Earth humans that is, I know you don't mean it like that. It's more like you're putting yourselves down, if anything. Saying that there's something uniquely lacking or bothersome about being human. Why is that?"

He shrugged, "Well... on Earth, we're the only sapients, you know? We're the only ones above nature in a sense. The natural world functions the way its supposed to. You get the idea that there aren't any mistakes in nature. Life continues the way it was meant to, animals hunt, animals die, animals reproduce, life goes on. Mistakes are a human thing. We're the unnatural ones. We're the ones who build governments, we're the ones who came up murder and slavery. We're the ones who wage wars and commit atrocities. We're the ones who make mistakes. So when you say, 'only human', you're admitting to being inherently flawed. You're made of flesh and blood. You're born to make mistakes, they're a given. But even despite that, you still try to do what's right. You have to live. There's nothing else you can do. And part of your journey is trying to overcome your own humanity and be better than that. That's how I understand it."

"Hm," Otaes gave a pleased sounding hum, "Oddly humbling. A lot of that translates over to being an elf. For all that our magical touch grants us, we're not perfect beings. Despite what some Orderites and supremacists might say, being in touch with magic doesn't make us inherently superior or above imperfection. Humans are not unique in being flawed. And elves are far removed from purity. But we try our best... most of us anyway," Suddenly Otaes paused, "Do you think you'd murder someone?"

A serious surge of dread burned a hole through Eli's chest at her question. The image of his gun, his Staff Sergeant, the blood that followed and his escape. The flash of nuclear fire over the desiccated husks of Seoul's skyscrapers. The neglect. The regret. He grimaced briefly, hoping she didn't notice. Part of his mind wanted to admit what he'd done to her. Perhaps she'd be forgiving. But now didn't seem like the right time. Especially since he still hadn't told Misfit yet. But if not now... when? After this, if Overwatch did ever circle back to lift them out of Helena, this would almost certainly be the last time Eli and Otaes would see each other. Hell, it may have been the last time Eli and Misfit would see each other. If they weren't outright shot like the two phantoms Kovic executed in front of the crowd, they would be thrown into solitary. Sentenced to rotting away alone. If Eli didn't open up to them now, he would miss the opportunity. And he'd go down as a liar on top if it all...

"Well... I'm capable of it," Eli gave as a half-answer.

"Capable huh..." Otaes mused. Thankfully, she moved on, continuing to take off the bandages, "On Narva, very little separates Humans from Elves. Temetet knows more than I do, he likes reading the scientific articles he can get his hands on, but from what I understand we're essentially the same species. Just one has magical powers and the other doesn't. And yet, a lot of elves and humans like to act like there's something inherently different about us that justifies the inferiority one and the superiority of the other. Both humans and elves do this. The idiots don't even realize that they're only providing more arguments for how close they are to each other. We're kin species, as Temetet calls it. And if Humans and Elves are so similar, virtually the same species, I find it difficult to see other species as much different either. Even the Kobolds and Sentient Dragons."

"The Avonians are elves aren't they?"

Otaes gave him a middling gesture, "Mostly. Emperor Kirk calls himself the ruler of all elvenkind, as idiotic as that idea is. Trust me, I hate the sound of it more than you can imagine. But there's other species living inside the Empire, usually as a second class. The Imperials, as evil as they are, aren't Orderites. Racial purity isn't the primary motivation of Imperial cruelty."

The last strip of gauze was slowly peeled from Eli’s skin. He could tell by the way it stuck to his forehead, refusing to let go, that it had become completely soiled both by Eli's blood, sweat, and whatever dirt had managed to get kicked into it from the few short hours since. The thought of her touching all of that made Eli wonder… and then he thought some more as a greater silence fell between the two.

“Otaes. Can I ask you a question?”

“Go for it.”

“Why…?” Eli trailed off, not sure exactly how he wanted to frame it. She looked down at him.

“Why what?”

“Why are you helping us so much? You aren’t us. You don’t have to stay here. Temetet can’t become a Kitchi anymore, so it’s not like you have to stick around so he’ll pass. And all this waiting for the Imperial Army to come in and destroy us… it is really my own fault. It’s my problem, not yours.”

She didn’t respond immediately. Like she too was trying to come up with some sort of answer or explanation of her own to counter Eli’s concern. Her rebuttal was signaled by a shrug of the shoulders, “You and Misfit. You’ve been on Narva for… what, a month now? You aren’t strangers with them anymore. You can’t abandon them right?”

“We are aliens to you though.”

Again, she shrugged, “In a literal way, sure. You are aliens in the literal sense that you weren’t born here on Narva. But what did we just talk about? It's not like I've never seen a human before. Misfit is friendly enough. You’ve saved Temetet twice now, and he certainly likes you. There’s something familiar about that. You know what I mean? I don’t want to feel like I’ve abandoned you guys after you’ve done so much for us. It wouldn’t be right.”

“I’d understand.”

“Of course, you would. That’s your issue. You trust people too easily.”

That last line from Otaes threw Eli’s brain for a whirl. Him, trusting people too easily? That’s what she thought was wrong with him? How did she come to that conclusion?

He chuckled to himself in a vain effort to mask his confusion, “Yeah…”

Or was she talking about someone in specific?

Sparrow.

While it is true that he had trusted him a while ago, he didn’t know anymore how to feel about him. The fact that he so often bordered the line between friend and foe. Someone there to help him get to his goals, and someone there who stood in the way. He had done nothing to directly harm Misfit, just disagreement over methods to what appeared the same cause. And hadn’t Sparrow proved that he was an ally with his sudden show of support in the face of the regulars?

All of that though, when just minutes prior, he was suggesting that they leave the crowd to their deaths. Had he really stuck up for Eli and Misfit because he thought that it was the right thing to do? Or was there another goal for him? An ulterior motive. For Sparrow was the type who was far smarter than he let on. There had to be a plan for all of this. His spontaneity, his effortlessly cool persona, his revolutionary speak, all of it was artificial. Some parts more than others. But those were not the constructs of a real person. They were a façade. A mask to hide something far worse that lay underneath. He couldn’t trust Sparrow, not now, not ever, not at all.

Eli wanted to ask Otaes about her relationship with Sparrow. He trusted her enough to know that she wouldn’t lie to him. Or at least he hoped he could.

He opened his mouth to speak but was stopped by a distinct sound piercing through the air. A droning whistle from outside. Otaes and Eli immediately stood up completely, turning to the window. A single glowing artillery shell fell from the skies. He braced for another artillery barrage, just like before. But it was only the one shell. None other.

In the split moment that he could be aware of it, he wondered why it was alone. Until the shell burst into air and its contents spilled out, swamping the entire area.

Strawberry red gas.