Noir takes a quick but thourgh look around. The threat of more Corps dropships weighs heavily on Noir. This means he has to try to navigate them in a way to protect them from more attacks from the air. Overhearing Molly metioning Cie'th, Noir grits his teeth. Cie'th makes it even more differcult to navigate. Noir thinks that the Cie'th infested ground cover route is the best idea, even when the risk of dying is high. Seeing Julian and Nadia approaching him, Noir goes to him. "You might not like my tactical assessment. I will go into more detail once we all have gathered. I also suggest we make sure we have a good look for anything of use before we move on but we have to move with haste."

With her heart still beating furiously in her chest from the recently concluded battle, Nyxia sheathed her blades and willed herself to calm down. She gave Julian a curt nod at his order and immediately began surveying their surroundings. While there was no immediate danger in sight, there was no doubt that there will be more battles ahead. But there really was no use fretting about them at the moment.

One battle at a time.

Worry about battle when already in it but at the same time be prepared for it.

Julian was right though. They needed to move on. PSICOM will arrive soon and they can't be in the area when they do. Unless, of course, they wanted to turn what was supposed to be a run in the mill mission into a suicide one.

As if it isn't already that...

She paused when she heard Maurice mention some soldiers turning into monsters. A feeling of dread washed over her and her hands automatically grabbed hold of the hilts of her twin blades. Her weapons were a source of security for her. They had never failed to protect her, the only thing she can count on and the only thing that would see her to the very end.

Will that be my fate? To turn into a gruesome creature that no longer recognizes friend from foe? Will I be like father?

She felt the brand on her arm burn and she instinctively reached up and clutched it. Was it really burning? Or was it a pyschological effect? There was no real explanation for it and she didn't dare ask the others if they felt it too. It wasn't exactly something anyone would be willing to talk about. Whatever it was, it bothered her but she did her best to push the thought to the back of her head and focused on what they needed to do.

The relative calm in the area was punctuated in the distance by sounds of monstrous roaring and the stomping of feet. Julian and the others spent some time searching through the nearby area looking for anything of value in the battered wreckage of the gunship. Despite searching quickly, knowing every second spent in Bresha was another second that the Guardian Corps or PSICOM could use to catch up, it still took a fair amount of time to search through every nook and cranny.

>Spoils: Doctor’s Code, Black Belt, Rune Bracelet, Ember Ring, Spark Ring

Indeed, even as they looked over the spoils from their search, they were unaware of the incoming danger. A trio of shapes were traversing quickly, silent aside from the distortion of noise which warped to make way for the mass of their identical, asexual black-clad armor and muscular figures.

PSICOM soldiers, and highly trained ones at that, leapt between the stone structures nigh invisible by how they kept to the dark, revealed only by how the indigo reflectors of their armor juxtaposed to the lack of light. One of them vaulted over the rails of the buildings, padding quickly over the broken line of rock before bounding, their hands catching them on the rails, and springing upward onto a different structure’s spire. The other two stopped nearby, one hanging on one handed to the spire while their feet embraced against it and the other leaping into a sitting position on the opposite side. The one perched upon the thin point of the building’s peak withdrew a high-technology binocular device from the side of of their armor and held it over their eye modules. A brief moment of silence wrapped around them as the one holding the binoculars searched, and found, what they were looking for. Handheld imagery gave him ability to spot a certain, dark skinned, top-hat clad man holding the hands of a dainty girl with large alligator tears rolling down his eyes.

“Target Located,” A masculine voice thrummed through the armor, satisfied.

“A foolish endeavor, coming about here. What could he be thinking?” The one that held onto pire just below the perched one chippered in a soft, female voice.

“Doesn’t matter. We have a job to do.” The third, deeper male voice rumbled. He brought his hand up, stroking the underside of his jaw to engage the communicator. “Sir, we’ve found Julian. Moving to secure the target.” The third turned, giving a brief nod to the other two. He was the first to leap away, dropping from the ledge elegantly and running on ahead. The female was soon to follow, flipping away in her own stride and taking to the rooftops. The last male that had taken root on the spire watched the other two duck away and wrung his hands slowly. He stood at full length on the spire, his hands tucked behind his back once he’d slipped the binoculars back into the holster on his armor. He waited until he could see the other two had slipped silently into place.

His knees bent slowly, building power, and then jumped off powerfully. His long body rocketed through the air, twisting slowly as he sprang from the top of the spire and landed, rolling with the fall to take away any threat of damage, into the very courtyard in which Julian, Nadia, Noir and Molly stood. His body lunged forward so low that it nearly grazed the ground in its speed. Sliding beneath the legs of the imposing Noir, the other two that had taken position nearby also dropped into the center of the ground. All three brandished their military-issued dark swords and held them in threatening formation, their backs to Julian and blades drawn to those that surrounded him.

“Sir!” The female chirped loudly, her back close to Julian's right hand side. “We have come to extract you!”

“Clear the area!” The deeper-toned male shouted, holding formation on the left. The center one said nothing, merely glancing betwixt the opposing three; Nadia, Noir and Molly in turn.

Julian looked around at the group with bewilderment, his hand on his cane. They didn’t seem to be attacking at the moment, but this group of soldiers was again not part of the plan. PSICOM interfering in this mission could end with everyone in the group behind bars or killed, or even worse if the rumors of PSICOM’s crazy experiments held any water. “The situation is under control, PSICOM,” Julian spoke up. “Please stand down. These three have agreed to join my investigation, and I believe you have no jurisdiction in my investigations.” It wasn’t Julian’s finest bluff and he knew it, but the situation had moved beyond his control. He kept his hand on his cane, leaning against it nonchalantly even as the soldiers surrounded him.

Even as the top-hat clad man spoke, the center PSICOM soldier crouched down and sprung off of the pads of his feet with a small grunt. His body flipped back behind Julian’s, embracing him suddenly with his arms wrapped around the shorter man. The other two acted accordingly, tossing down a bottle of a grey, swirling mist that exploded in density in front of them. It seems that they ignored Julian’s words, instead favoring the orders of whatever higher up had given them their commands. Under the cover of the smokescreen, the soldier that clenched his arms around Julian held onto the smaller man tightly in a bridal position and ducked through the smoke away from the others, the other two soldiers following suit behind him. The deep-voiced soldier that ran behind them stroked the underside of his jaw once more to engage the communicator.

“Target Acquired, moving to the rendezvous.”

“No, you don’t,” Julian muttered under his breath as he conjured forth the power that his l’Cie mark had bestowed. In the blink of an eye, lightning sparked all around, temporarily shocking the PSICOM units as Julian wriggled free. The soldiers all skidded to a stop in their tracks, reeling as the dapper man leaped free from the grasp of the centermost one who huffed, his hand finding the ground and glaring after his target. “As I said, you have no jurisdiction,” Julian called before sprinting back to his allies faster than one would expect a man with a cane would run.

“He’s l’Cie! Traitor!” The woman stood up fully, her rage only pertinent through the way her shoulders raised. The deep-voiced one spoke through the communicator.

“He’s gone rogue. What do we do, sir?”

“Our job.” The centermost soldier hissed, answering the deep-voiced soldiers’ question himself before flicking his weapon back out before striding right back after the escaping top-hat. His subordinates followed his lead.

Julian could hear footsteps from all around as he darted forward, dodging a spray of bullets from the female PSICOM soldier. He could see the squad and Nyxia approaching the group from the corner of an intersection, and Julian put an extra burst of speed into his escape as he neared the smokescreen. “We’ve got company!” Julian called out to the others as he leapt through the fog, nearly crashing into a dark crystalline figure.

“You aren’t kidding,” Molly called out, pointing at several angry-looking Cie’th that had surrounded them. The fog cleared slightly to show the PSICOM troops right on Julian’s heels, but they stopped short as they saw the Cie’th. The largest one let out a roar and brought a mighty crystalline paw down to smash the ground. At the last second, Nyxia jumped in front, taking the blow meant for Julian with her weapon as he rolled away from the creature.

“See, this is what happens when PSICOM sticks their noses where they don’t belong!” Julian called out, frustration evident in his voice. He brought his cane up, wielding it as a magic wand as they were caught between a band of Cie’th and PSICOM. “Let’s do this!”

From the shadows stepped a man wearing slightly garish armor and wielding a three-pronged spear. “And this is what happens when a rogue investigator overturns things he should never see,” the PSICOM officer replied calmly, tossing his spear lightly from one hand to the other. “And so it falls to us to take out the trash yet again. A pity, Lieutenant Cagle. We had high hopes for you.”

Julian narrowed his eyes as the Executioner approached. There was little time for argument now, nor room for maneuvering out of this situation. “Fine. If you prefer to waste time on me than protecting Cocoon, come at me!”

>Start combat. You have a chance now to change Paradigms and equip new Accessories.

---

Group A Battle! - Starting Paradigm: Guerilla


Group A Battle! - Starting Paradigm: Relentless Assault

Group B Battle! - Starting Paradigm: Decimation

Combat Complete! 5 CP, 5000 gil, 2 Potions, 1 Phoenix Down.

As the number of foes dwindled to a single but powerful enemy for both groups, it was obvious that the l'Cie had won this battle. But the enemies were too stubborn to give up: the Ghast in its mindless rampage and the PSICOM Executioner in his nearly-as-mindless zeal. Finally, the enemies were cut down, and all seemed quiet...

...for now.

Nadia was grateful that the battle with the PSICOM was over with and their relentless vigil was definitely true from her idealistic training. ”That was terrifying…,” Nadia said, with a sigh of relief. She sheathed her scythe and looked around at everyone. She wanted to get out of here now. ”We should get out of here…,” Nadia said, a bit shaken with her hands. Her adrenaline went away and wondered what will happen next and wanted to relax now in a camp.

Nadia looked around and didn’t know where to go next since she needed to stay with Julian since he knows where to go. She walked towards Julian and looked down at the ground. ”W-Where is you're camp is?” Nadia asked, towards Julian but still looking at the ground. She raised her head but had a faux smile on her face, which turned back into a frown since she couldn’t really smile right now. She was reminded of the L'cie mark and started to tear up again.

The eyes of the PSICOM tracker gradually blinked awake from where he lay, previously unconscious from the battle only a moment prior. The exertion of the battle left his mouth dry and his muscles sore. He groaned, his vision wavering behind his mask as he looked up, no, glared at Julian through his mask. Before him his friends and his boss lay with their bodies on the ground. His body shook, exhausted from the battle before he slowly staggered up, his chest heaving as he raised his blade up to them.

“We’re not…” Huff… huff… “Done yet…!” His suit muffled his voice, and from how he looked ready to fall over, it was clear his body wasn’t intending to keep up. “You,” His voice wavered, pointing his blade at Julian. “Why would you… betray…” A step forward had the soldier staggering to remain upright, his chest heaved painfully. The PSICOM tracker growled softly in frustration. He had no other items to raise his downed comrades; only enough for the mission at hand with the intent to avoid all confrontation possible. Another step and the soldier crumbled at Julian’s feet, by how he trembled it was clear that alone was done with immense effort. He still clasped his PSICOM-issued blade in shaking fingers against the ground, the shadows of his comrades just behind him made him want to push on. “Damn you…!”

As the man struggled forward, Julian held a hand up to the others as if to suggest they let him speak. Julian stepped forward to meet him where he came to rest, and with an easy flick of his wrist, his cane batted the blade from the Tracker’s grasp. His actions earned a small gasp from the Tracker at his feet. “I betrayed no one,” Julian replied, kneeling down before the PSICOM soldier. “The Sanctum betrayed me. They betrayed all of Cocoon. They want this war, perhaps even more than Pulse does, and I aim to find out more.” He extended a hand to the Tracker. “What’s your name, soldier? I am sorry for your comrades, but as long as you do not attack, I have no reason to harm you. You will join us, at least as far as our base. If you are cooperative, perhaps further.”

“Hh… ha...haha…” The tracker had a laugh besmirched on his breath before smacking away Julian’s hand. His leg slowly pulled itself under his body, through the mask at his proximity, Julian could make out the glower of of grey eyes staring back at him. Human. “People like you… are what others get killed fighting against. You, l’Cie, scum!”

With a grunt, the Tracker launched his weak body onto Julian's, springing onto him with a surprising ferocity that put all his body weight onto the dark skinned man. As the man crashed into him, Julian grappled his opponent, his hands grasping those of his attacker. “People like me are what real people, you and your squad, are sent to kill with no regard for their lives!” He countered, shoving the man back from him. The tracker grunted, landing on his butt with his hands propping him up as he glared back up at Julian who continued on; “You don’t have the energy to continue on. You have two options: you can stay here and be destroyed by the Cie’th like a common dog, or you can join me and learn what a l’Cie is really like. Who knows? You might learn something.” Julian pointed the cane he carried at the Tracker, ready to counter at a moment’s notice. “Your choice.”

There was a moment of silence between the two of them, the Tracker staring up at the former commanding officer before him with his emblazoned symbol of dishonor, the mark of the l’Cie, branded on his hand. Rage welled within the the soldier and his exhausted hand shot out, without thinking, and grabbed the cane in both hands as he pulled himself to his knees, resting back on his legs. Once he’d pulled himself up, he used one hand to tear away his helmet, throwing it away and sending it skittering across the ground as a poff of white hair slid free, the sweat causing it to stick to his dark olive toned flesh only really a few shades off from Julian’s own. Wide, wild grey eyes glared back into Julian’s brown as his hands pressed the end of the stylish wand to his chest.

“If you’re going to leave me, then just kill me!” The unmasked tracker declared, gritting his sharp canines together. “That’s what a l’Cie is, isn’t it? Heathens that leave the rest of us to die for their own glory. I’ve already failed. If you’re going to kill me then just do it!" The trackers eyes stared coldly into Julian's, never relenting in its soldiers gaze even for a moment. Daring him. Challenging him.

Begging him.

Julian stared back into the PSICOM soldier’s eyes, pity filling his gaze. “Here is your first lesson: I am not a killer,” he replied softly. “What is your name, soldier?” Julian repeated, his voice calm and inviting.

More silence between the two of them.

“...Isis Ainmerht.” The dark skinned soldier said at last, his expression beginning to soften. Despite this, his expression remained firm in its amount of distrust, his lips coming together into a soft line. Still, his eyes glared into Julian’s.

“And I am Lieutenant Julian Cagle, Isis. I used to live three blocks from here. Pulse soldiers destroyed my home.” Julian held the gaze of the other man, his voice still remaining calm and calculated. “I love Bresha. This is my home--”

“Save it,” Isis spat impatiently, his teeth seeming to gleam in the light. “If you’re not going to kill me, then help me out of here before we all become Cie'th food.”

Julian nodded. “Noir, he is in your charge for now. Bind his hands; keep him safe. No weapons, of course. And Isis, if you wish to prove yourself useful, it would go a long ways towards ensuring everyone’s trust.” With that, Julian pulled the cane gently from Isis’s grasp, the magical energy he had been charging now dissipating harmlessly from the tip of the cane. “Camp is about an hour’s walk from here. No more detours. It's time to go home.”

Nyxia stared at the place where the Cie'th had been standing. It wasn't the first time she came across the monstrosities, there were a lot of them wandering around Pulse. But her reaction was still the same. Fear. Pity. Loathing. Every time she came across one, she was always reminded of what happened in her village...to her family. Every single time. She thought it would change as time passed, that she'd change. But nothing has. The more she faced them, the more she felt that surge of anger intermixed with sorrow and terror. Did they deserve death? They had been human once. As human as her father had been. As human as she was now. Did they deserve salvation that death brought them? Atrocious monsters that knows no compassion, that do not recognize friend from foe. Vile, disgusting aberrations made by so called gods. As terrible as her father had become. As horrible as she would become if she fails to fulfill her focus.

Her knuckles were white from gripping the hilts of her blades, her mind chaotic. She refused to let go of the only things that provided for her assurance. Having them in her hands gave her a false sense of security. She was safe as long as she held onto them. But her father's blood was on them, spilled by the very same blades. She could almost see them dripping off the sharpened surface.

She closed her eyes and tried to push the thoughts away. She needed something to focus on, to take her mind off the past that she can't change. She opened her troubled blue eyes and turned them towards Julian. She watched the exchange happening between him and the PSICOM his group had defeated. She immediately took on an offensive stance, having interpreted the subdued Tracker's body language as hostile. Her eyes tracked his movements, ready to fight in case the weakened man made a move to attack Julian.

A fight that would not happen.

She stared at the man as he revealed his face. White hair, olive skin and gray eyes. She heard his words. “That’s what a l’Cie is, isn’t it? Heathens that leave the rest of us to die for their own glory."

Heathens.

Yes. That was what they were now, weren't they?

The mark on her arm burned.

After huffing and puffing, Noir is upset with the current situation. He feels that he needs to let his frustration out. Without thinking and with a swift movement, Noir grabs Molly at the back of the head and throws her across the open space where the group currently stands. He stands straight up again and takes a deep breath before calming down before yelling to Molly. "Sorry about that. I will make up to you."

Now that he has calmed down somewhat, Noir looks back at a commotion between Julian and one of the PSICOM tracker. Being called heathens and killers does little to faze Noir. He knows that it is pointless to get upset by such trivial comments. Julian instructs Noir to disarm and bind the tracker and Noir do so without delay. He says to the tracker. "I am not happy about the circumstances either but we have to make do." After dealing with the tracker, Noir turns to the Julian. "I am ready to head out with the POW when everyone is ready to do so."

"Yeah, take that, you weenie!" Molly called out as the last Cie'th collapsed, its body dissipating into crystalline dust. "I don't know why everyone is so scared of these guys. That was eas--" Her statement was suddenly cut off by someone grabbing her by the back of the head. "... Wait, don't-- KUUUPOOOOOO!"

Molly sailed through the air, her eyes wide with fear as she watched the ground approach. She wrapped her arms around herself, hugging tightly and not even considering the possibility of flapping her wings to keep her steady. As her body hit the pavement, she felt herself bouncing forward as the world spun around her. After a half dozen bounces, she finally came to rest unmoving on the ground even as Noir "apologized," if that's what you call that pathetic excuse for an apology...

The sound of an unfamiliar voice brought her back from her fetal position, and she immediately flew back to rejoin the group. Her gun was extended, and she was ready to pull the trigger when she saw Julian motion for the others to stand down. As Julian grappled with his assailant, Molly flew over to snatch up the PSICOM standard issue blade and examined it. There was nothing out of the ordinary about it, as far as PSICOM standards were concerned. Standard AMP tech to bolster attacks, no magic potential. A good weaponsmith might be able to do something with it, but it was essentially useless for this group.

After the verbal fight with the PSICOM Tracker came to its conclusion, Molly sidled over next to Noir nonchalantly. Once he was finished with his official duty of bondsman, Molly fluttered behind him, raising the sword over her head and grinning evilly. A second later, the hilt of the weapon flew down, bonking the older gentleman on the back of his head with enough force to leave a mark, but not enough to permanently harm him. "I... am not... a ball!" Molly added, her words seething through clenched teeth. "Next time, maybe I'll throw you!" She then sauntered away in as huffy a flutter as she could manage.

Julian rolled his eyes at the antics as he checked to ensure no damage had come to his weapon during the struggle. After everything seemed okay, he stepped to the head of the group. "Thanks again, everyone. Whether you've placed your trust in me, or we're still figuring this whole brand mess out, it means a lot to have your support. We might be l'Cie, but that doesn't mean we have to stop being human too. Camp is about an hour from here, and we should return before the sun rises. Nothing good will come if we lead PSICOM and the Guardian Corps to our doors. I'll lead the way, but if anyone has any questions for me, I will be glad to answer them once we're on the road."

Julian looked back towards their new reluctant ally, gesturing in his general direction with his cane. "Prisoner of War, huh? I suppose that's one way to put it. I would hope we can come to see each other as something other than prisoner and jailor. My invitation extends to you as well, Isis." With that, he pointed his cane down towards the ground once again and, using it as a walking stick, proceeded to lead the group from the city. "Goodbye, Bresha. Hopefully we meet again under better circumstances."

((OOC: Collab with @JBRam2002 and @Landaus Five-One))

Nadia had much on her mind even though they now had a prisoner of convenience in terms of Isis. ”W-Why am I feeling as if I need to cry?” Nadia pondered to herself, with her tears going down her face. She was exhausted and yawned with her hand over her mouth because all of this was too much for her. She started to cry with her tears kinda overflowing since all of the problems leaving Pulse felt more or less tough. She did, however, notice her mark on her hand change. ”W-What does that mean?” Nadia thought to herself, a bit confused looking at her l’cie mark. She sighed with a bit of a confused look on her face.

As Julian led the way, he noticed Nadia crying again. For some reason, no one else seemed to step up whenever her tears began to flow, so Julian waved her forward. “What’s wrong?” he asked quietly as he pushed forward, using his cane as his walking stick. “I guess a better question would be what isn’t wrong, huh?” he added rhetorically. “First, this mission was sabotaged. Then, we became l’Cie. And then we got ambushed again by both PSICOM and the GC.” Evidently what he was saying wasn’t helping much, so Julian decided to change tactics. “What I mean to say is... well, everyone’s had a really rough day. And I’m here if you want to talk. I know I’m from Cocoon, but I’m a pretty good listener. It’s sorta my job.”

Nadia heard Julian’s voice and her confused look was still on her face a bit. She couldn’t really understand what was going on right now. She continued to walk forward but looked at Julian. ”Everything is happening to fast… and I can’t keep up,” Nadia said, with tears going down her cheeks. She was vulnerable and didn’t really understand the speed at which the world was going. ”I’m trying to keep a positive outlook but… what you said when we met on the beach… troubles me,” Nadia sobbed. She couldn’t hold back her tears since that pains her what was said on the beach.

For a moment, Julian wondered how long Nadia had been a soldier. From her reactions, it was likely she had never seen real combat before. If so, the way she had held herself in battle so far was admirable. “I wish I could tell you that it gets better,” Julian said softly, avoiding her gaze. “It doesn’t. Every death hurts you just as much as the first until you feel like you have nothing left inside. I never wanted to fight people either. That’s why I went into intel, but then I realized that’s where the worst things happen. It seemed every day I was learning something that destroyed everything I had been taught, everything I knew to be true. And then finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and left.”

Julian drew in a ragged breath. It would do neither of them any good if he began shedding tears as well. “Eventually, you just have to realize that there’s nothing else you could do. War is terrible, but not fighting, especially now that we’re l’Cie... well, that’s just suicide. We’ve got to press on. We have to defend ourselves and each other. Hopefully one day we’ll learn the truth.” Julian finally turned back to look at Nadia, his eyes searching hers. “That’s what worries you, isn’t it? The truth about your family? It’s why you joined up with me. Honestly, I don’t know what happened any more than you do. But as I was reading through the files of potential recruits, that’s what caught my eye. I’m not looking for everyone in my camp to be hardened soldiers or trained scouts. They don’t all have to be sharpshooters and assassins. We need people like you as well: people with compassion and the desire to search out the truth, no matter the cost.”

Nadia heard what Julian had said but was crying. Her hands were shaking again but at least she wasn’t wielding her scythe or would have dropped it again. ”I only been… in the army for two years…,” Nadia said, with a sigh and tears going down her cheeks. She was bit saddened when he asked her the two questions in a row. ”The truth… means everything for me… I hope we do uncover that,” Nadia said, with tears. She was walked with a bit of a saddened body language to her. ”H-How big is your camp?” Nadia asked. She tried to calm herself down with a question that helps her because she is these people’s cook after all.

“It’s not too large. We’re only about a dozen people strong, but with this group, we’ve added a few to our numbers. I’ve also got a network of people that aren’t in the camp.” Julian reached into his pocket and produced a handkerchief. “I suppose you could use this, although I would like it back once it is washed,” he said, handing it towards her. “But everyone in the camp works together and pitches in. They take turns on watch, run errands, and make sure everyone has what they need. Even me. I believe tonight’s watch is... some sharpshooter by the name of Rice. Good eye, better shot. I’ll introduce everyone to them in the morning.”

Nadia heard what Julian said and gratefully took Julian’s handkerchief. ”T-Thank you… Julian…,” Nadia said. She started using the handkerchief to dry her tears, that keep on flowing. She felt a bit better with what he had said. ”Y-Yeah, that will be nice. To meet everyone,” Nadia said. She had been through much but she has to stay strong for everyone else too. ”I’ll need to remember to do that,” Nadia thought to herself, mostly thinking about the handkerchief that Julian gave her to clean after she’s done with it. She had a soft smile on her face.

Thank heavens for distractions in the form of a stuffed toy like creature. Pulling herself out of her depressing thoughts and sheathing Promise and Betrayal in their scabbards, Nyxia watched the moogle’s antics in amusement. When things finally settled down and Julian led the group towards the direction of the camp, she fell into step with the rest of the group although she kept a small distance away from them.

Molly fluttered along, still mumbling disgruntledly to herself as the group made its way through the dark of night. Why anyone would think it was okay to throw a small fluffy animal who was certainly not cute in any way was beyond her. However, during her grumbling, she noticed that one of the group was keeping to herself more than normal. Molly fluttered over towards Nyxia. “Moogle got your tongue, kupo?” she asked.

The time it took for Molly to head on towards her, Nyxia’s thoughts had turned back to her predicament. Marked and hated, just like what the PSICOM Tracker said. Was she really still human like what Julian said? Or was she slowly turning into a monster?

She was brought out of her reverie by the moogle’s question. She looked up. “I don’t think there’s anything to talk about,” she replied with a shrug.

“Oh of course,” Molly replied, nodding thoughtfully. “Today has seemed like a completely normal day, after all. Nothing out of the ordinary. No wars, no Cie’th trying to kill us. I hear that the price of corn might be rising soon.” The moogle turned back to Nyxia and shook her head emphatically, which in turn caused most of her body to waggle back and forth. “Of course there are things to talk about! Like that brand of yours. If you don’t talk about it, you’re more likely to end up like one of those things you just fought, you know?”

Nyxia’s expression turned dark at the mention of her brand. ”If I turn into one of those monsters, then someone better make sure to put me down,” she said, letting a bit of bitterness and anger seep into her words. That was her fate now, was it not? She unconsciously lifted her hand and clutched the arm where the brand was. Even though she had hidden it from sight, it was there. There was no denying that. She sighed and looked at the moogle. ”I suppose it is best to make the most out of the time that I’m still human.”

Molly nodded. “I can’t pretend to know what it’s like to be a l’Cie,” she said sympathetically, a paw reaching out to lightly tap Nyxia’s shoulder. “But if you don’t keep your chin up, I do know that the power your brand gives you will be worthless. It hurts, but you have to keep a smile on. You haven’t lost yet, so don’t give up on me now.”

Keep a smile on… Nyxia repeated silently to herself. No, there was nothing to smile about. Nothing at all. She stopped smiling a long time ago. She would have told the moogle off. What did she know about hurting, about losing and giving up? The resentful words were already on her lips but the lighthearted creature was only trying to cheer her up. She didn’t deserve the words. So instead, the Pulsian scout gave her the smallest of smiles that she could muster.

“There we go!” Molly replied, a wide grin appearing on her face. “I knew you could do it!” The moogle seemed utterly pleased with her ability to cheer someone up, and utterly oblivious to the minimal extent of cheering her comments had made. “You can always talk to Molly,” she said happily. “I’m a great conversationalist, you will find. Quite knowledgeable on many subjects, from fal’Cie to mass production of food systems in Cocoon to aerodynamics and AMP technology. I would be glad to share anything I know!”

Had Nyxia been the same as she was before she lost her family, she would have found the moogle’s cheerfulness infectious. But not now. Not anymore. And as always, she downplayed her emotions and pretended to be fine. She nodded. ”I’ll keep that in mind,” she said simply.

“Of course you will!” Molly replied cheerfully. “I like you, Nyxia! You’re much nicer than that other mean guy. Did you see him throw me? The nerve! You’d never do that though.” Molly again patted Nyxia’s shoulder and hummed a quiet tune to herself as she floated along, doing her best to keep Nyxia company.

”I hope you weren’t hurt,” Nyxia replied, giving the floating ball of fluff a quick glance. It must be nice to be so carefree like her. ”Have you…” she started and then paused in hesitation. ”...come across a lot of Fal’Cies?” she finsihed. Molly did say that she can ask anything.

“Nope!” Molly replied, just as enthusiastically as before. “But I’ve read about a lot of them. Fal’Cies are responsible for nearly everything you see here in Cocoon, from maintaining the temperature to the food supply, even providing a light source and the day/night cycle! On Pulse, they are just as important. I hear some even create and destroy entire species as required by the local ecology! I wonder what the fal’Cie you faced was responsible for. Did it tell you its purpose?”

Wrong topic. Nyxia didn’t really care much for Fal’Cies as Molly appear to be. She was only interested in one thing. Killing them. While Shemhazai’s death didn’t really make much of a difference, she figured hunting down and killing more would satisfy her lust for retribution. She tried to keep her tone of voice neutral. “No, it didn’t.”

“A pity. Knowing the fal’Cie’s motivation is a good way to figure out its Focus,” Molly replied. “Hopefully we can figure out the Focus before it’s too late.” She was suddenly quiet, nearly as quiet as Nyxia had been, and her face looked like she was pondering the deepest questions of the universe. “So, if you’re from Pulse, and Julian is from Cocoon.... I wonder why you all got recruited by the same fal’Cie. Usually they only recruit people from their own world.”

...Usually they only recruit people from their own world. Molly’s words echoed in Nyxia’s head. It was a curious thing why the Fal’Cie would do that and for the first time since being branded, the violet haired Pulsian felt less hostile and a little bit curious. ”That is something to think about.”

“Either way, I'm sure you will complete your Focus and get your reward of eternal life!” Molly continued exuberantly. “And I'll do whatever I can to help you all out. It's the least I could do after you all saved me back there. I think we'll all be best of friends!”

Nyxia looked at the moogle and merely nodded.

Isis had glared daggers at the slightly shorter man as he bound his hands, spitting off to the side once he’d mentioned not being happy with the circumstances at hand. He’d watched the exchange between he and the moogle. Isis liked the moogles, as if he could find anymore reason to instantly dislike the man binding his hands. The dark-skinned man leered and leaned forward, his voice a hiss as he stared the smaller, but buffer man down. His white hair fell into his face.

”You l’Cie treat your subordinates like garbage too I see. You must be a Pulsian.” Isis’ eyes visibly flicked up and down the man before him baring his sharper canine teeth as he spoke. ”Your attire reeks of it. You reek of it. I’m sure it was one of your kind who brought this upon a respectable military officer, you wretched cur.”

Noir rubs the back of his hit where Molly hit him before turning his attention to Isis. Noir brushes the hostile comments off before replying. "I understand your enmity somewhat but I did not ask to become a l’Cie. Also you should consider yourself lucky that you are alive." Noir thinks that Isis just has to deal with the situation that they are all in. "We better get you up and walking if you want to get out of here."

”Do you ever say anything that’s not obvious you stocky ugallu twit?” Isis spat, annoyed as he glared at Noir. He didn’t spare him a second glance, already ready to move ahead as he pulled himself forward in his grasp. Despite the bags under his eyes, the sweat making his white hair cling to his face and the utter exhaustion thrumming through his body he pushed forward. ”I’m not a fan of idiots who have to spell out every little thing they think and you are just the brawn enough to make it clear to me you can’t handle yourself for shit. And those clothes--you’re Pulsian, right? I’m more than certain you’re the one that dragged Julian into this, you savage wretch.”

Noir shakes his head in disagreement while holding back insults. "It was actually him that brought us together. There were a few more in the beginning in both sides but we lost them in the confusion. Do not assume everything. " Noir thinks to himself that this is going to be a long and difficult journey. "The only question I have for you is that what makes being born in Cocoon better than being born on Gran Pulse?"

”The lack of monsters would certainly be a start!” The dark skinned, taller man spat. His eyes narrowed down the bridge of his nose at the muscular pulsian. ”Our technology makes for much higher education--I doubt you even know what an airbike is do you? Pheh,” Isis leaned back on his heels as he walked. He was annoyed with this man leading him and chose not to look his direction any further, the placid disgust completely visible on his face. “Probably riddled with some form of disease, now that I think about it.”

"Us Pulsians might not have the fancy tech that you have but that does not mean we are stupid either.” Noir can now understand the hatred that many other pulsians have against cocoonians but this does not give reason to go kill each other. "The monsters are an issue but we make do. I can say that most cocoonians have pampered life, compared to that on Gran Pulse." Noir hopes that his ‘comment’ does not cause Isis too much distress.

The feel of wetness on Noir’s cheeks is sudden. The flash of grey eyes flare with an inner fire that is dulled in exhaustion has them in a glaze despite his fury, and in his face so suddenly that it may have taken him a moment to gauge that the tracker had whirled around in front of Noir and into his path, stopped, and spat into his face. ”You know nothing of what I have endured you filthy, scheming heathen.”

That was the final straw for Noir. After wiping the spit away, Noir draws a tonfa and knocks Isis across the head thus knocking him out. Noir sheathes his tonfa and slings Isis over his shoulder before continuing on. Noir knows that that Julian is not going to hear about this and will likely be get an earful once he does.

((OOC: Combo Post with @JBRam2002 & @ChickenTeriyaki))

The first several minutes of their journey was filled with conversation and, in some cases, bickering, but the crew soon quieted down, their exhaustion overtaking their speech. The group made the rest of the way in relative silence, Julian leading their formation and rarely looking back. Eventually, they could see a fire burning in the distance. “That’s our camp,” Julian said quietly. “We should be there in only a few more minutes.”

The plains were rather peaceful during the group’s steady march. Herds of animals walked by, not paying heed towards the advance of the party. Unknown to them, they had company. Within a cluster of trees hid a sneaky mercenary, who held his guns close to him. He wasn’t exactly a mercenary, but he used to be one.

And he was just as cunning as one of them would be.

His eyes focused upon the vast scenery, despite the dark of the night hindering his optical prowess. Within his sight would be the camp that he was in charge of defending. He then noticed a group of people approaching. Within the group, he spotted a handful of people with various attire. Using what the light of the bonfire provided him with, he made out the appearances of some of the people within the party. The sentry recognized the unique outfits that some of the newcomers were wearing, and a surge of adrenaline ran throughout his body.

Pulsians.

The sentry had to act quickly. He made his way out of the cover provided to him by the trees and approached the group with precisely timed footsteps. His stealth was not something to mess with. Upon getting close enough to the party, he aimed a handgun at them and began to speak:

“Looks like there are beans to be spilled.”

As they approached the camp, Julian seemed to relax significantly. Their mission was at an end and, despite the various setbacks, could be considered at least a partial success. As such, he was caught unawares as the man approached them. Julian immediately raised his cane to counter, but soon lowered it upon recognizing the voice. “Rice. It’s me, Julian. I’m back from my mission, and I brought a few new allies for our cause.”

“Julian? Welcome to the club, then.”

Upon hearing Julian’s name, the sentry lowered his handgun and holstered it. He walked towards the bonfire, which illuminated the slender body of a man clad in a military vest and several other bodily implements. He squatted and let the heat wash over his face, and the group would be able to make out the face of a red-haired man wearing glasses tinted with a similar shade of red.

“Good evening peeps. You’re all going to be staying here for the rest of the day. Name’s Rice, by the way.”

Julian nodded and pointed out the new faces. “And we’ve also... captured a member of PSICOM,” Julian added, pointing towards Isis. “We’re still figuring out what to do with him, but please keep an eye on him until we have more information.” With that, Julian gave a short yawn. “Man, I’m beat. We’ve been running almost all day. Could you run ahead and tell Cid we’re coming?”

The sentry nodded at Julian’s news.

“That’s some loot you’ve got there, friend. I’ll be watching the PSICOM member until you get the needed info. Cid’ll know of you arrival shortly. Sorry for the hostility, by the way. My flashlight ran out of power.”

“By the way, I can’t believe you’ve been running around all day while wearing that silly hat. Don’t tell me you’re hiding a chocobo in there, kiddo.”

With all that said, Rice took off. He muttered a few words to himself, then turned back for a moment and aimed a wide grin at some brown-haired girl within the group. He then walked away.

“Some people appreciate fashion!” Julian called after Rice as he walked off. He gave a quiet huff of annoyance before collecting himself once more. “Shall we?” he said to the group. “I’m sure I’m not the only one who would appreciate taking a load off his feet. Hopefully, there will be no more surprises until we get there.”

As he spoke, he glanced over the crew and noticed for the first time the state that Isis was in. “I know he can be a talkative one, but was that really necessary?” Julian asked, rubbing his temples. “Fine, as long as he’ll be okay, I’m sure a headache or two is a better price to pay. Let’s go.”

Julian led the group across a scenic outcropping, the skies just barely beginning to brighten from the impending dawn. Members of the camp began to stir, and Cid could be seen talking to the redheaded scout next to the bonfire. “Maurice, please make sure our guest of honor wakes up and sees me in my tent. I’ll need to figure out what we should do with him. The rest of you, please introduce yourselves. Get to know the crew. With PSICOM on our heels, we’ll need to pack up and leave soon, but we should have time for a short rest first.”

She was oblivious.

The female automata, dutifully dampening the garden surrounding the outskirts of their tiny encampment, appeared negligent to the scuttle of scurrying members into their relished site. This morning, she was NOT assigned to WATCH, but to CULTIVATE, ignoring the insightful significance of the anomalous troupe bearing a few Pulsians, a flying Moogle and a single bound PSICOM officer, in addition to the wavering heat signatures of a particular imprint that almost branded each individual. Whitefield seemed not vociferous nor hostile, based on her cardiac scans before and after his engagement with Julian; thus, logically no alarm beckoned.

Besides, drudgery called.

The fashionably dressed machine neither disliked nor enjoyed this assignment, but, somehow, inherently felt drawn to nurture such inferior life forms. Despite a plant’s inability to easily communicate or perceive pain, the android often referenced historical scientific ledgers while in pursuit of her designated dawn’s mundane task, which proclaimed that some evolved sprouts notoriously possessed far more senses, heightened past a spectrum that people could barely distinguish.

She muttered verbatim the text to herself, inaudibly, while showering the roses and lilies with her outstretched arm. She stood intermittently motionless with the hose, except for the spewed water, then, with every few seconds adjusted her pivoting midriff to accommodate the position of the ejected stream in an arc slowly gaping elliptically, similar to a sprinkler. Her torso then finally returned promptly, in a counter-clockwise fashion, to a new designated position, once the last portion of the vibrant patch received its due dew.

“Arabidopsis thaliana wields more than ten different photoreceptors, far beyond a human’s three photopsins for red, blue and green, the two rhodopsins extricating light from shadow, and the cryptochrome that regulates the circadian rhythm. Plants detect electromagnetic waves both longer and shorter than people can. While we can convert these visual indicators to pictures, they can convert these signals into growth cues.”

Olfaction without noses? Again a letter-perfect response entered the ambiance; its muted pitter-patter rhythm mimicked the systematic aquatic splashes upon leaves and stems, hewn from her sunrise obligation.

“Ethylene gesturing allows the volatile detection of ripening amongst fruits. As another instance, the parasitic Cuscuta Pentagona ferrets its tomato host via multiple chemical odors, avoiding noxious repellents.”

Tactition and thermoception without a nervous system? More rote was whispered.

“The process centers on Pulvinus motor parenchyma, rather neurons via touch-activated TCH gene transcription and translation; these are the same calmodulin proteins involved in such animal processes as inflammation, vascular function, nerve growth, and memory.”

Memory? The capacity to encode, retain, and retrieve information.

“Fir and birch trees, together, network themselves underground through labyrinths of mycorrhizal roots, to convey warnings of impending insect assaults, and also to deliver carbon, nitrogen, and phosphorus to saplings in need. They recognize and remember their seedlings as kin, utilizing the fungal web to trade nutrients, sharing resources to propagate harmoniously each of their respective species.”

Abaxas Daniels paused her quiet recital, rocking back and forth. The abundant dihydrogen monoxide dribbled haphazardly, while she pondered the difference between her existential state and the orchard’s. Dropping the irrigating tube, the feminine machination paced suddenly to the center greenhouse, which lodged the jewels of her creator’s farm.

Amorphophallus titanum. The Titus Arum.

It harbored the greatest unbranched inflorescence between both worlds, typically residing on limestone hills in rainforests, populated more densely on Gran Pulse than Cocoon. Its stench reeked of death; the smell of rotting corpses was funneled to surround their bivouac as a deterrent for any stray, unwelcome Cie’th. These carrion flowers bloomed though once every 7 years, a mythic semblance to every epoch of grains and machines Cid had sown and manufactured. They required many to be fostered in various seasons to urbane its unattractive perfume.

Then that familiar voice, several hundred yards away, registered loud and clear.

“Maurice, please make sure our guest of honor wakes up and sees me in my tent. I’ll need to figure out what we should do with him. The rest of you, please introduce yourselves. Get to know the crew. With PSICOM on our heels, we’ll need to pack up and leave soon, but we should have time for a short rest first.”

The camp was compromised.

With this instruction, the robot dashed, with the lower extremity prosthetic always taking a larger stride, to arrive eventually in front of the approaching company. Her amiability proceeded, hinting no sign of cordiality or reserve, in her primer.

“Greetings. I am a Biological Retro-Activated Xenologue. You can call me, B.R.A.X. for short. I enjoy Chocobos.”

A forced smile erupted on her mechanical façade.

“What are your names?”

---

---

Slowly and quietly a young woman by the name of Vallis Nato Adelinde crossed through the woods near the location that was currently base camp for her and others. She had been hunting in these woods for a little under an hour now when, by sheer luck, noticed faint tracks on the ground. She was now following the tracks while being as quiet as possible. She hadn't made a single peep since she found the tracks and finally, after about ten minutes, came across a small brook running through the forest. Near the brook, she noticed a deer drinking from the water not the slightest bit aware of Ade's presence. Slowly, Adelinde grabbed an arrow and knocked it onto her bow. Steadily she pulled the arrow back whilst lining up the shot. She waited for the deer to finish drinking and once it lifted its head Ade let the arrow fly.

After the successful hunt, it had taken Ade about half an hour to get back to camp with her haul. Proud of herself she took it to Cid and left it with him. After this, she went back to her tent to rest until everyone else got back.

While resting Adelinde had decided to reread the small book her family had got for her before she left. It was the only thing she took everywhere with her because it made her remember them. She's been gone for a long time but having this book has made her feel a little at ease. Soon she heard talking outside of the tent. Poking her head out she saw that Julien and his group, along with others, were now in the camp. She put the book back then exited the tent as B.R.A.X. introduced herself to the new faces. Since Julien wanted them to get to know each other she decided to introduce herself as well. "Hi. I'm Vallis Nato Adelinde. It is a pleasure to meet you all."

Nadia walked behind Julian and was enjoying all the conversations by hearing carefully in what they meant and stuff. She was startled by all the new faces within the camp. She gave a soft smile and a bit of confusion at BRAX. ”I’m Yaschas Dia Nadia… Hello,” Nadia said, with a smile on her face. She had never been bombarded with new names in a while but there’s many names in this camp that she will have to get to know. She felt a bit more relaxed and was no longer startled. She yawned a bit because she was a bit tired. ”Oh, yeah… I am a cook…,” Nadia said, with a bit of a distracted look on her face since she’s exhausted.

”I’m Yaschas Dia Nadia… Hello. Oh, yeah... I am a cook.”

The machine could discern that the residual glossy lacrimation enveloping each eyeball insinuated that this young female had recently sobbed. Unfortunately, the amount, frequency, and inciting trigger for the tears were beyond her algorithms. She would have to ASK.

“Greetings and salutations, Chef Nadia! Your specific services will be unnecessary for me as I do not eat for nourishment nor pleasure. I believe everyone else, though, will seek you during times of hunger.”

Stepping up, parading her prosthetic as her lead, she glanced at the various personages comprising of the group behind the stylish Julian, specifically the teenager of the Dia tribe. Her Pulsian red, pink, green and silver attire flamboyantly clashed with the blue wreathes that surrounded her constricted pupils, attracted further attention from Brax.

“Do you cry often? Why so? And please elaborate if sadness accompanies this shedding of biological fluids.”

@Landaus Five-One

Nyxia wasn't the talkative type and as a woman came up to them and introduced herself, she hung back and watched. She studied the fashionably dressed woman, noting that there was something strange with her. Something that she couldn't quite put her finger on. When she introduced herself as B.R.A.X she was automatically fascinated. Biological Retro-Activated Xenologue. She was a machine although she looked convincingly human. It was Nyxia's first time encountering one and now gazed at her with open curiosity. What sort of power does she run on? Was she capable of emotions and independent thought? Or was she running purely on pre-installed programming? Her fascination with the automata was enough to make her step forward and introduce herself but before she could do so, another woman stepped up to them.

Adelinde of the Nato clan from Vallis Media. Another Pulsian. She would make sure to remember her name. The mountainous pathway between Archylte Steppe and Yaschas Massif flashed through her head. She was familiar with its twists and turns, having passed through it several times in her quest to find herself and the meaning of her existence. Perhaps it wasn't as bad as she thought being in the party she was in, having a number of Pulsians around.

She would have to introduce herself properly to the Adelinde later.

She turned her attention back to B.R.A.X but found her already conversing with Nadia. It would be terribly rude to interrupt them and so instead, the purple haired Pulsian focused her attention back to Adelinde. Now was a good time as any for her to speak up and introduced herself to the Vallis Media native. In an accent distinct to people in Oerba, she greeted her. "Well met, Adelinde. My name is Oerba Xin Nyxia," she said.

Isis had been more or less just dropped off in front of the camps fire, a deep scowl on his face as he curled his long legs upright from the fire. Though the fires light danced in his grey eyes, he wasn't looking towards them. Rather, he was glaring off into the distance--perhaps even pouting? Nay, sulking over the current turn of events. His lidded eyes had heavily lifted to gaze at the pattering, dancing flame before him and filled his breath with the smell of tinder--comforting juxtaposed to a mild stench of sweat and blood was still on his body from the events earlier, a headache pounding through his head at how intensely the second in command had hit him before but at least with his helmet long gone he could breathe relatively easily. The helmet had always been somewhat suffocating and it made battle difficult. Movement caught his eye, the white haired soldier lifted his head to glare at the treacherous l'Cie in his top hat as he moved about camp. The tallest among them pulled his legs closer to his chest, wrinkling his nose in disgust of the vision, the idol, the face of the group that he had been sent to reclaim him from. Who would wish for an existence like him? "Pheh." Isis spat into the fire, a bad taste in his mouth.

As Julian's silhouette disappeared into his tent, another man stepped forward, standing behind Isis. "The lieutenant will see you now," Maurice said, pointing towards the tent Julian had entered. "I suggest you don't put up a fight. He's not a bad guy when you get to know him." Maurice offered a hand towards Isis to help him to his feet. "Best not keep him waiting."

"...Tch," Isis slapped Maurice's hand away and grunted as he pulled himself to his feet without assistance. He rubs his cheek with the binds of his wrists, his forehead creased in annoyance at the notion of needing to speak with the traitor of Cocoon. "Your security is shit," Isis spat at Maurice, moving on ahead of him towards Julian’s tent. "Were I not exhausted, I'd have leapt free of you bastards by now." Isis ducked his head inside of where Julian had passed into, squinting in the dim light of the tent. "Yeah, I'm here."

Julian sat upon a wicker chair, reading a few papers by the light of a small lantern. Rustic would be one way to describe the tent. A folding table was near the center, just next to the tent pole that held the canvas aloft. The table itself was bare, but several cabinets stood in the corner, no doubt containing a myriad of information. On the far side was a bedroll, neatly kept but unfurled, adjacent to a bag that contained the lieutenant's personal effects.

Julian himself hardly seemed to even acknowledge Isis's presence for a moment, at least until he had finished scanning the page. He then looked up at the taller man and lay down the paper. Isis could clearly see his own image emblazoned on the obverse. "Your file is impressive," Julian said, forgoing any greeting. "A loyal soldier. The Sanctum would be proud. I hope you don't mind if I have a few questions for you." The comment held little emotion in it, as if the statement were more speaking of fact than a suggestion.

Isis snorted, glancing down at the paperwork as he stood near the entrance of the tent. "How'd you get that file so fast?" His white eyebrow slowly lifted, inquisitive. His grey eyes were once again on Julian's brown, a sort of trepidation there that had remained since they first made eye contact. "You turned tail and fled so quickly there's no way you could have gotten those documents in time. You can't tell me you took them ahead of time--just in case something like this would come up?" He scoffs, tilting his nose upward.

"I have my sources," Julian replied. "The greatest thing about this age is that information is easily gleaned if you know where to look and who to ask." Julian leaned back in his seat, the wicker creaking slightly. "I am sure you are curious, even if you won't allow yourself to recognize it. I hold no secrets from my allies, except for names of the innocent. Perhaps if you proved yourself worthy to be called an ally, I would answer some of your questions. But first, you answer mine." Julian stood from his chair and approached, walking towards Isis with slow but purposeful strides. He reached behind the taller man and let loose the ties that held open the tent flap before securing it shut. "Privacy is hard to find on the battlefield," Julian muttered as he turned to face the bound prisoner again. He leaned against the table, staring back into Isis's eyes for a moment. "Why were you searching for me?" Julian asked after a moment of silence.

Isis, surprised, pulled his hands forward. Gently, he rubbed at his wrists and looked at the darker skinned man in his top hat. Slowly, the soldiers eyebrows creased in confusion. "I told you already," He spat, tilting his head up. "I had my orders, didn't I? I had to find you and bring you back. We had no idea what you were doing on the battlefield."

"PSICOM knows more than they let on," Julian replied, his gaze never leaving Isis's. "That mission was an ambush set up to take us down. You almost succeeded too. I lost two soldiers in that warehouse." Julian pushed off from the table, stepping forward until he was barely inches from Isis. "Or are you just a peon? Always getting ordered around, never being told why? Do you ever stop to wonder why PSICOM purges whole villages that were in contact with Pulse: woman, child, pets, everyone? The answer might surprise you." Julian's voice was low as he peered deep into Isis's gaze, trying to read the other man's expressions below the exterior façade of anger.

Isis said nothing. He glared right back at Julian. His teeth grit together as Julian stared him down, frustrated at his internal lack of knowledge as to what Julian was talking about. Whole villages for contact with Pulse? He'd worked reconnaissance; retrieval missions. Spying. He'd never... He'd never do anything like that. If he was ordered, maybe but... Isis' eyes steeled themselves. He preferred not to give Julian the satisfaction of the soldier's status. He had to lean down to be face to face with Julian quite a ways being so much taller than he. "Kiss my ass, you low-tier tonberry fuck."

Julian shrugged nonchalantly at Isis's response. "Your training serves you well, but you forget: my entire mission relies on intelligence. I have forgotten more about PSICOM and the Sanctum than you will ever know. Perhaps..." Julian broke the staring contest with Isis and walked over to one of his cabinets. After shuffling through a handful of files, be pulled out a bulky folder and set it down on the table with a thud. The folder was opened revealing pages labeled "Confidential" in bold red letters, as well as a datapad. Julian pressed a button and the screen lit up showing a video of dozens of civilians being lined up for a firing squad. "Every day we allow these atrocities to continue is another day that we hold civilian blood on our hands. Pulse isn't the enemy. I'm not the enemy. These orders came directly from the Sanctum. Go ahead. Read the file. Read about how the unnamed seven-year-old girl was shot by PSICOM or how 24-year-old Alice Walgrove was beheaded by their Commander without a trial, cheered on by the entire squad. I can wait."

" . . . "

Though his flesh didn't pale, Isis could feel the color slowly drain from his face. He stared down at the pages, at the datapad. His stomach churned and he felt so suddenly, violently ill. If what he said was true, then PSICOM was no better than whoever it was that killed his parents. A corporation he had helped for years because they took pity on him in his time of need; and at the root of them, evil? He couldn't stomach it.

Before he knew it, Isis had picked up the paperwork in his dextrous fingers, his grey eyes staring down at the papers. For the first time since meeting him, Julians would see Isis' eyes crease in visible stress.

He couldn't read these. He couldn't even believe they existed.

It was an automatic response for him to tear the file to pieces, his eyes filling with a red fire that glinted off his pupils, his teeth gnashing together as the confetti of documented filth scattered to the floor. The datapad snapped in his hands, a dark shadow having fallen over his eyes as the cogs and wires fell through his fingers.

Everything he knew.

Everything he'd believed.

It was like what he held in his thin fingers and shaking palm. And now, sliding free and hitting the ground where it poffed up dust, there was no better way for it to be seen. Isis stared down at the broken tech and the ripped papers.

". . . I'm leaving."

His back slowly turned to the man in the top hat, the taste of bile on his tongue. It couldn't be true. His hand caught the tent seam, white hair covering his eyes.

"I couldn't believe it either," Julian replied, stepping forward and placing a hand on Isis's shoulder. "So I kept digging. And digging. That cabinet? Full of villages and townsfolk that suffered the same fate. They are who I fight for." His grip seemed to tighten as Julian's voice wavered slightly, even as he sounded like he was reciting something he had read a thousand times. " 'Alice Walgrove, 24, having recently graduated summa cum laude from law school in Palumpolum, traveled to the small town of Garlea the night before the raid by Pulse soldiers. She is survived by her fiancé, Steven Curtis, and her parents, Norma and Geoffrey. She will forever be loved.' That... that was her obituary. I even saw her tombstone." Julian gave a quiet sniff before releasing Isis's shoulder, his hand sliding down to rest between the man's shoulder blades. "You have two choices before you. You may join us and set right what we can, or we will have to further confine you until we move on. I hope you would join us."

[color=chocolate]”You’re a sap, has anyone ever told you that?”[/color Isis turned his head, sneering at the smaller man behind him. ”PSICOM has no doubt noticed I am missing and my comrades dead and are tracking us now. Give me one good reason why I should care to join you and not just wait for the cavalry to arrive to get as far away from you lot as humanly possible right now.”

“You don't honestly expect that PSICOM will search for a single missing soldier on a battlefield, do you?” Julian replied, calling Isis’s bluff. He sighed and stepped back from the man, shaking his head. “I get it. You think I'm a traitor. A coward that turned his back on Cocoon. And who knows, maybe I am. But I also know that out of all the people I met in either PSICOM or the GC, I was one of the only ones who cared enough to keep digging. I can't convince someone to join if they've made up their minds about me.” Julian looked at the broken pieces of the datapad and grimaced. “No matter how much you want me to hate you, believe me when I say I don't. That's just not who I am. If you care to learn the truth, you should join us. If you prefer to be one of the blind masses being led off a cliff to their own destruction, then by all means, walk on out of this tent.”

There was a brief pause as Isis glanced the man behind him up and down. Then his head turned away completely.

”I’d heard stories of you. What a shame they all turned out to be farse.” Isis’ hand pulled at the tent flap as he strode outside weakly, still more gaunt than not, weakened with his encounter with them earlier. He took note of the female android walking around. The sheer amount of people here was ridiculous. They were l’Cie, right? He had difficulty believing that they’d amassed such a population of a small village with this camp. After what he’d learned in the tent, Isis’ stomach felt bruised and nauseous. No. It wasn’t true. Julius had to be a liar, that’s all that made sense.

Once he got out of here and back to HQ, he’d make sure to track down Julius again himself and end the bastard right then and there.

Nadia was confused with what Brax had said with a slight smile. ”T-Thank you, BRAX,” Nadia replied to Brax’s first statement with a bit confusion in her voice. She had a bit of a shock from with the two questions that Brax had asked. ”Y-Yes I do cry often… when I learned somethings and yeah it is sadness,” Nadia said, a bit teary eyed. Her body language was definitely showing she was exhausted. She yawned a bit but she was nice to meet new people.

@Gordian Nought