The highs of the battle had worn off as Cass struggled to keep pace with the party that marched onward. Rye did lag behind to ensure the smaller Astral didn't collapse on the steel train tracks they walked upon. With the afternoon light now fading into dusk, the group of Proxies had set their sights for a warehouse that Isles believed Vox ran off too. But as Cass lagged behind further and further, Oriol stopped from her position in the vanguard to look at the exhausted rat-kin.

"You should take off your runeweave, it'll help replenish your RL," she instructed, watching Cass bump into Rye's gut amidst his stupor.

"Ah...discúlpame, Rye," Cass quietly apologized as his half-lidded gaze shifted over to Oriol. "RL? What does my Radiance Level have to do with my runeweave."

"It wasn't a suggestion, recruit."

Begrudgingly, Cass worked to strip the aviator's jacket he wore off of his body. The weathered threads giving off a dulled shimmer of prismatic color before they quickly dissipated as Cass held the jacket by the collar. Oriol looked onward expectedly while Isles worked to light a cigarette during this small stop.

"Well? Feeling better?" Oriol asked.

"No," Cass replied, tugging uncomfortably at the plain, white shirt he had been wearing underneath. The sleeves of which reaching to his wrists in length. Something was making him anxious, his fidgeting proving restless, and the cold perceptive stare from Isles did not make him anymore less nervous.

"All of your runeweave, most Proxies wear layers of it for added protection, and the more you have the more it drains your Radiance to maintain itself," Oriol continued, her stern and calculating voice becoming frustrated and impatient the longer they idled.

"But this coat from Ms. Wright is all I have for runeweave. I didn't know what it was before she signed me on, honest," Cass pleaded as his grip on his shirt tightened.

With tensions rising, Strafe and Rye were eager to jump to Cass's defense, but their intentions were quickly stifled by one sentence.

"Take off the shirt."

A demand that was perceived as odd as the one who spoke it walked towards Cass. Her imposing height and bulky frame casting a shadow down upon the rat as the trailing smoke of her cigarette made the dim light emitting from her iced irises hauntingly intimidating.

"If you insist..." Cass muttered, giving into Isles' demand. His fingers moved to hesitantly remove the only garment keeping his upper-body modest. Once removed, the inspecting stares of the party washed over his athletic frame blanketed by a coat of soft, chocolate-colored fur. But more importantly, they locked onto the several polygonal pins that were embedded within the flesh of his body, each pin horribly scarring the muscle they latched too. Pins that dug within his arms, chest, abdomen, and along his back as a foreign scripture were engraved upon their silver faces.

"You're augmented!?" Razel blurted out in surprise. "No wonder you were able to take down that tower of rust with just those whack-ass yo-yos."

"But what's the deal?" Strafe asked, looking toward Isles who backed off from Cass, "Were you able to tell something was off?"

"More than off. Those augments are sapping at his Radiance," Isles surmised.

"But why would he resort to such intrusive augments," Rye lamented as he could not bring himself to keep looking upon Cass's scarred body that was staked by the perverse pins.

"It was never my desire to have these..." Cass whispered, placing an index finger upon the pin that was stuck to his chest over where his heart would be. He dug his fingernail underneath the ridge of the pin, threatening to rip it off as the pale lacerations of his skin underneath festered around the metal implement.

"My father took me to see a doctor in the Undermarkets of Millington, said he wanted to give me something to help me further my ability to become a professional athlete, I was nothing more than an investment for him," Cass said as his dulled, golden eyes befell on the pin over his heart. "All he cared about was how I could make it to the big leagues and be his golden ticket out of debt by giving him the millions I would've made. Instead I was barred from competing, this 'Kit' being an illegal augment to begin with due to its intrusiveness. It's why he had to resort to the underbelly of the city to even have me go through with the procedure."

"And so, I went on to work in the shipyard with him. Might as well put the strength bolstering augment to use, right?" he asked rhetorically, coupling it with a low, exasperated chuckle.

"And how do you plan to use those augments, Cass?" Oriol spoke up, with her stern, feline gaze falling onto him. She held a firm, judgmental frown. Crossing her arms underneath her chest, while awaiting an answer.

The sudden question caught him off-guard, evident by his slender tail standing at attention. Though, he did feel a sense of clarity. A revelation that spurred on his courage that had slumbered ever since the conclusion of their earlier battle. "I will use them to secure the completion of our contract. I'll fight to my fullest, even if it means breaking myself to come home successful."

The glimmer in his eyes had returned, burning alight with his unwavering perseverance as Rye and Oriol nodded affirmatively. Razel and Strafe grinned proudly after hearing his resolve as Isles continued to idly smoke her cigarette.

"Just the answer I wanted to hear," Oriol said, her criticizing frown flipping into a muted, satisfied smile. "You'll just have to be more liberal with the use of your runeweave. So keep it off unless we're engaged in combat," Oriol instructed once more before signaling for the party to keep moving forward. She rested her sights upon the warehouse at the end of the dirt path they walked upon.

"You better be right about Vox being there, I'm not even going to ask for your excuse as to how you let her wander that far," Razel said while facing Isles, walking hand in hand with Strafe.

"Don't be so hard on her, I'm sure she just got distracted from whatever those farming automatons were about. Speaking of which, do we even know what they were infected by?" Strafe asked, looking toward Oriol with an awkward smile.

"Don't look at me, that's the first I'm seeing of them," Oriol deflected before looking over to Rye and Isles.

"We were not aware that such entities could control animated constructs such as those farmers," Rye remarked as a mournful frown crept along his maw, the grip he had on his axe's haft tightening in response to a memory resurfacing. "But we are aware that those disgusting bulbs would latch onto corpses and control them like puppets. They were a deadly corruption in our lands of Sagittarius. Many tribes were unable to excise them. Many fell."

"Oh gosh, I'm sorry to hear that Rye. I didn't mean to pry..." Strafe apologized sincerely, holding her head low. But despite the torment in his eyes, Rye still offered her a reconciling smile.

"Manipulator Within Many. A type of Dimmed," Isles spoke up once more as inquiring eyes befell her, watching her take a drag from her cigarette. "Heard it from the Undermarkets. The Dimmed are Astrals and Radiants who have lost their hearts. Their Radiance. So they come after us to extract the Radiance the Dimmed need to survive. Without it, they'd die. Same with us."

The Dimmed were something nobody in the party had heard of until now. It was true that the heart found within Radiants and Astrals provided their bodies with the Radiance needed to keep living. But for there to be entities lacking such an important organ that could be walking the same world was unsettling. Radiance was the lifeblood of everything living on Dawn, and to those corrupted beings, they were merely walking bags stuffed full of it. Waiting to be reaped. To be culled.

Instinctively, Razel pulled Strafe closer. Her lover clung to her clothing, watching as Isles' lips were pulled into a slight, contemplative smile. "To call a being without a heart alive. Maybe life lies in the soul. The borders of life, death, and everything in-between. Always fickle. So very fickle."

"Are you saying those bulbs had souls, then? Did those things we fought use to be...people?" Cass asked of Isles, feeling a primeval nausea churn within the depths of his stomach. One that could only be evoked from taking the life of another. He did know that he was going to have clash against others while undertaking this mission, but he never believed it would be this soon. He did not want it to be this soon for he was not ready to spill another's blood.

"No. I didn't see traces of souls. Perhaps spawn from another type of Dimmed," Isles rationalized, but this raised an alarm within the rest of the party as Razel stopped in her tracks.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"What do you mean 'see'? What do you know that you're not telling us?" Razel asked with her teeth grit. "First I pay you to be Strafe and Vox's bodyguard, and now you're going to drop that bomb on us?"

"And you can't?" Isles remarked with a smug smile, billowing out a plume of burnt, inhaled tobacco into the open air. "My eyes are different from yours. Put two and two together."

"I don't need your dog-ass to be giving me lip when you couldn't even do your job," Razel retaliated as Strafe's thick tail slapped against the squirrel-folk's rear. "Khh--what was that for?!"

"Ooohh, okay, giving me lip now, is that it?" Strafe responded with a cheeky pout that quickly turned into her giving way to a playful squeal upon Razel pinching her plush cheeks.

"Fine, I get it. I'll behave, but seriously don't just go slapping my ass like that. That tail's heavy..." Razel said with a chuckle, letting go of Strafe's cheek before giving it a quick peck. Seeing her face turn red drew a smile from Razel, though it was short lived when she turned her focus toward the tall biker. "And Isles?"

"Hm?"

"Put out that cigarette when we meet up with Vox."

"Understood."

* * *

With dusk turning into night, the incandescent light of the numerous stars shining above showered in through the windows of the warehouse. Their illumination mirroring off of the polished sheen of a short, bipedal robot who hurriedly carried crates of harvested crops toward a loading bay. Its white, painted body was contrasted by the black, hooded jacket it wore as the sleeveless garment was left unzipped. Its physique was cartoonish in their proportions as its head was fashioned after that of a fox. Its smooth face was predominantly made from a black LED screen that displayed a digitized pair of big, neon-green eyes as its sharp, jagged mouth sported a speaker at the back of its throat.

"Are you done loading the last batch, Vox?" a trill voice called out from an opened, narrow window of a parked train's motor coach. The train itself had a total of six cars, one being for its crew while the other five were boxcars for cargo. The overall design of the train was reminiscent of old steam trains as the lettering "S.R.C." was emblazoned on the bulky, circular face plate of the locomotive. The pure, white and yellow paints that decorated its cars were pristine and free of grime. A testament to its crew's love and care for the train.

"Almost!" Vox replied, its mouth moving with the syllables of the words it spoke as its digital voice was youthful and spirited. "I can see why you and Break needed the extra hands, Vande. Honestly inspiring that you two who are as small as me could operate all of this!"

Small didn't begin to describe their size in relation to the warehouse they were in. Infinitesimal they were as the many shelves that stretched to the ceiling above disappeared from the floating shadows, obscuring their true height. Then there was the train itself that rested comfortably within the building. The space it took up was miniscule. Negligible.

"Awh, thanks Vox! Though we have to hand it to those automatons as well for keeping up with the farms after all this time. All we really do is collect the harvest and ship it off to cities that actually need or want it," the voice spoke again as the source of it made themself known.

A plump, short kobold with emerald scales was seen in the doorway of the motorcar with a large conductor's hat sitting loftily atop his head. The word "SKYRUNNER" was embroidered along its white felt. He wore a bulky coat that matched his hat as its yellow lining complimented the gold buttons of the black vest he wore underneath. His hands that only had four digits each rested upon his hips clothed in black, knee-cut trousers that fit snug around his thick thighs and the base of his stubby tail.

"How long do you exactly plan on helping us out? Didn't you say you were a part of another company?" Vande asked as his crimson eyes scanned over a small tablet he held, his short claws tapping against the screen with each press of his finger.

"Huh? Oh! Right...jeez, ma must be losing her mind now that I think about it," it replied with an awkward laugh. "You wouldn't happen to know of any hiding spots?"

"Why even come here then if you know you're going to be in trouble? Seems a bit counter-intuitive."

"I just like helping people! And the farmer that led me here seemed nice! Even gave me a lil' shovel. Though I don't know the first thing about farming."

"At least you're honest," Vande remarked with a small laugh. "I'll be in here checking over the upcoming schedule and inventory. Just knock if you need something, if anything you can stay on-board until morning."

"Wow! Really?! You're so kind Mister Vande!" Vox cheered as the kobold smiled wearily.

With his parting show of kindness, Vande closed the door to the motorcar. He was alone with his thoughts and tablet who's lit screen kept the surrounding darkness from consuming him. That is if it hadn't been for a gloved hand that reached behind him and forcibly grabbed hold of his snout. The strong grip kept him from screaming out for help. His arms becoming locked and subdued by his assailant, his back pinned against their body.

"It's alright, it's alright. Just breathe," the assailant directed, her voice stern and calculating as the light from the tablet shimmered off her feline eyes. "Vandeveer Blakey, Grade 6 Proxy working under the Skyrunner Company. It's on your jacket," Oriol said, patting his right sleeve with a hand where a graphic of dragon's head resided with his surname printed onto it.

She felt Vande's breathing only accelerate. Every small fidget he did to try to break free from her submission only forced her to tighten it, her hold slowly draining the will to fight from him. "Do you know anything about the growths found on the automatons from outside? Nod or shake your head."

Vande frightfully shook his head. His eyes welling up with tears.

"Do you know anything about who made those automatons? Nod or shake your head."

Once more, Vande shook his head as his tears moistened the gloved hand that was held against his snout. He saw Oriol's face peer over from above him. The spirit of a brutal demon resided within those amber slits that glared down at him, itching to claim his life. But, that predatory gaze softened when she spoke her next sentence.

"I'm going to let you go in the count of three. Don't do anything you'd regret."

"One."

"Two."

"Three."

And as promised, her grip loosened, releasing his snout from her grip. Vande dropped to knees as Oriol watched him sputter in pitiful attempts to calm himself down.

"What was that for?! If you were going to be friendly in the end then why hold me up?!" he protested as irritated wrath had contorted his otherwise cute face into an intense scowl. His sharp teeth bared.

"Precaution. You're free to carry on as you will, but I am taking that robot with me," Oriol said, standing up from her crouched position and heading for the door. "Seeing as you say you know nothing, I would suggest you find an alternative to those farmers as they have turned hostile by some sort of mutation. It'd be safer if you didn't return."

"Whuh? What are you even talking about--"

Loud, fervent knocks pounded away upon the motorcar's door interjected his speech. Concern filled both Oriol and Vande as the former opened the door.

"Vande! Vande! Va--AAAH!!!" Vox screamed upon seeing someone other than the expected kobold open the door, a metal paw reaching to grasp upon her non-existent heart from shock.

"Easy Vox, what happened?" Oriol said in attempts to comfort Vox, her eyes peering past it to try to see what could've riled the robot up. Her slitted eyes drifted upward upon seeing the shelves that stretched toward the ceiling. Although she could not discern its color due to the lack of light, she made out a thick, veiny tendril constrict and slither around the metal framework of a nearby shelf.

"I don't know!!! I was just moving some boxes and-and-and...and then one fell from the sky!!!" Vox explained through simulated sobbing as digital tears were displayed on her LED visor. "It almost hit me on the head!!!"

"Then I think it's best you stop working for now," Oriol instructed before opening the door wider and inviting it inside. "Come on, we'll wait in the train until morning like Vandeveer here suggested."

"But there's some more crates out there left to pack!" Vox protested, but entered the motorcar nonetheless. Vande himself went wide-eyed upon hearing Oriol's last remark, but seeing her raise a shushing finger upon her lips quelled the kobold's own protests.

"It's alright recruit, we'll see them loaded once morning comes," Oriol reaffirmed as pressed the thumb of her right hand against her palm. This small gesture then sent a signal to a knife lodged into one of the building's walls from outside. The pommel of the knife's grip gave off a pulsing, red light as Razel, Cass, and Rye watched it flash from their pre-determined positions.

"That can't be good, are you sure it's alright for Isles to stay behind with Strafe?" Cass questioned Razel who held a sword of Southern Geminese make by her side.

The weapon was a nodachi, its impressive length being longer than Cass's total height as its white tsuka had four golden, crescent moons running along its surface. The black tsuba of the nodachi sword sealed it shut against the white saya it rested against as a contrasting sageo was fastened where her hand rested. A monochromatic weapon for a monochromatic woman.

"Yeah, I still trust her more than you," Razel replied curtly, stepping toward the wall with her free hand reaching to hold her by her waist.

Rye pulled Cass aside who still held onto his aviator's coat. "And we think it's best for you to remain here. We do not know what sort of entities lurk within, and you are still recovering your Radiance. So please, remain here."

Despite his wishes to prove that he can be trustworthy and capable, he knew his limits and he didn't want to wave off Rye's genuine concern for him. "I will stay, then. But if I think something's wrong I will jump in to help."

Rye patted his shoulder with a proud smile, "Let us hope it does not come to that."

Their brief moment of camaraderie was cut short as Razel had delivered a cleaving, vertical slash through the metal wall of the warehouse. She then delivered another, perpendicular cut to it before reeling back her left leg and unleashing a powerful kick. The force of which blowing back the steel wall that crumpled and folded into itself to create an entryway for her and Rye.

Without so much as a word, Razel had stormed through the hole she had carved. Rye took this as his cue to follow behind as Cass watched the two disappear into the awaiting darkness of the giant warehouse. He stepped up to the hastily made entryway, keeping one foot within the building and the other outside of it.

"Please be safe."