[IC] NCQuest -- To Be Rebooted

[NuttsnBolts]

T a h l i a

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• Convention Center, Smith's Rest •

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"Shaddup. We don't need to hear.. whatever you were gonna say."

Before Percy could process in the thoughts of how a bottle of turps was left for him at the bar counter, it began to gracefully rise into the air; a movement of magic and awe until one's own attention was drawn to the female hand who was gently pinching hold of the cap itself. With a twist of the wrist and a now firm grip, the poison was repositioned in a way which allowed the cunning individual to drink straight from the source itself.

"Keep downing it 'ike dat and you'll fucking 'nd up maggot'd." Clearly a pot calling the kettle black situation as Tahlia downed the alcohol in both an effort to steal Percy's hard-earned drink, but also to continue on her amazing journey to become the next champion of Smith's Rest's Most Drunk. Leaning down and resting her chin on Percy's shoulder, Tahlia wrapped her free arm around his collar, slapping her hand lightly against his chest. She clawed lightly at his body with her fingers as she bought the bottle round and placed it to his lips, tiping it so that he was forced the drink; to take an unwanted gulp at the cost of an unintentional spill down his shirt.

"Ha! Fucking weak!" the Australian snorted as she teased the man for his poor efforts.

Tahlia proceeded to position her lips close to his ear as she went on to whisper sweet temptations into his fragile soul. "So what was it you were saying about getting down to your socks? You know... I'd be willing to take that further, if that's what you want?"

"Tahlia! Stop it."

The eyes shifted around to gaze at the source of the incoming demand, a sight of Tahlia's previous drinking partner who decided to interupt the duo from the table behind Percy.

"What the fuck Mads? You even said yourself that y'old freckles here needs some cheering up, and well fuck... a sympathy root never hurt no one."

Tahlia pulled back from Percy, giving him a shove before slamming the bottle into his open lap. "Besides... I don't fuck pilots who cry in their cockpits." A cigarette pack was pulled out of the pocket and pursed up to Tahlia's lips. As she drew her hand away a single, lone stick remained of the pack's original presence, awaiting to be lit by the former commander herself. She leaned up against the bar and muttered the rest of her words through her occupied mouth, "You're not that screwed up? Ain't'ya mate?"

Standing up from her seat and walking over in a sombre way to Percy, Madison hooked her arm through the man's elbow and lightly tugged him off the stool, "Come on Freckles. It's time to go and see how Ana is doing."

Without even asking, and simply from the look on Madison's face, Tahlia could see that this time she perhaps crossed the line; an impression that she simply shrugged off as little importance.

[Ladypug]

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Percy Moore
_{LOCALE // Smith's Rest, New Anchorage
TIME // Afternoon-ish}

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"So what was it you were saying about getting down to your socks?" Tahlia whispered, her breath on his neck making Percy shiver a little. "You know... I'd be willing to take that further, if that's what you want?"

He swallowed as his body betrayed him. The light drunken flush on his face got redder, and he could feel the hairs standing up on his neck. Did she really just say that? Is she kidding or is she being for real? He could only wipe his mouth with his shirt then stutter out a soft "What?" before he heard Madison object.

"What the fuck Mads?" came the drunker of the two women, "You even said yourself that y'old Freckles here needs some cheering up, and well fuck... a sympathy root never hurt no one."

A dumb grin crept onto Percy's face as his brain took the raunchy thoughts popping into his head and running with them - and then he felt the bottle in his lap. He went to take one more good swig from it as Tahlia asked him her question. The redhead's grin got a little bigger as he very blatantly fibbed, holding the bottle sort of limply. "Psh, nah. I-I'm.. I'm so not a crier. I don't do that."

Percy then dared to leeeaannn closer so he could keep his voice low, setting his bottle down, "Wit'hat said, how's about we go somewhere a lil' less cr-OHshit."

And the pilot got pulled off the stool by Madison. "Come on Freckles. It's time to go and see how Ana is doing." the bubblegum haired woman insisted.

"Pf, Ana's fine," Percy said, using his free hand to wave it off, "She's wit'Zach at home. S'no big deal-" a little laugh as he pulls his arm from Madison but continued to walk with her, "You, uh- What, you- Are you jealous? I mean.. you're really cute, but that's the problem!"

Before Madi could figure out whether to be offended or not, Percy continued going as far as to stop her and then grab her face in his hands, sort of smushing her cheeks together. "You're really cute. Like.." Percy let go of her face, resuming his walk with her, "like a puppy. I can't fuck a puppy, Madi. I c-can't- _Goddammit-" The redhead pilot stumbles over his own feet a little bit, having to stand still for a minute to make sure he wasn't about to topple face-first into the floor. With a little nod, he walks backwards, away from the exit, towards the bar, but still speaking with Madison, "But'cha know what I can get in bed with me? A woman - 'specially if she wa-AH!"

Once again, Percy stumbles, but instead of catching himself, he falls backwards into a table - the side of the table hit him the back and he was forced to sit at whatever chair was closest. He tried to act as if it was totally intentional, leaning into the table like he's some suave Casanova, but the pained grimace on his face said it all. He stayed quiet for a moment before he turned to look at the people he was sitting with - Eli and Alan.

"Oh, hey, hope y'don't mind me droppin' in li'that," Percy said, his voice a little choked from the pain, but he grinned at his pun. He didn't even do that on purpose, it just slipped out.

[mickilennial]

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Smith's Rest, New Anchorage | Convention Center
March 26th, 2677

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Is this for fuckin’ real? This is like Christmas.

A wide grin crossed Ryn’s face as she witnessed the scene before her. In many ways, it was a spectacle that she hadn’t gotten a chance to see in a long time. The number of missions Ryn could recall that ended with her comrades-in-arms getting shitfaced in the canteen were too many, but to see the person she liked the least in New Anchorage lose control like this for the first time since she got off the train was gratifying beyond belief. She still remembered his condescending comments when she got pointed out by Percy for being a “child” and it not being “appropriate” for her to join the team. It was those words that had made a vendetta form in her head and if all it took was a group of people from his own town judging him she was glad she got to see it. She was glad to see all of it.

So glad she could barely hold her snickering back as Percy began to trip over his own feet. Literally. Had Ryn not been so preoccupied with her own amusement she would have wondered what Vera's take on the whole situation was.

[Mcmolly]

V e r a

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• Convention Center, Smith's Rest •

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“Oh no,” Vera mumbled, as she watched Percy’s drunken show from the counter. She wasn’t alone, his antics garnered attention from most of the handful of patrons there were, including–most attentively, it seemed–the pumpkin-haired girl beside her. Ryn watched with unbroken fascination, wearing the sort of smile Vera had come to associate with cartoonish villains.

Madison came along at last, and showed herself to be a rather surprising voice of reason. Not that Percy was in much of a state to be reached by reason, as he stumbled along, guided by the smaller pilot. They were speaking, but she could really make out much, and what she could came more from Percy’s own drunkenly-escalated voice. She thought, ‘Poor Madi. She’s had a rough enough day.’

Eventually Percy broke away again. “Uh oh,” the barkeep grumbled. He sighed, and started collecting empty glasses from the counter. “I warned him.”

“Sorry about this,” Vera offered.

“No need to be sorry until he breaks or throws up on something.”

She tried to laugh, but it came out more awkward and nervous than sincere, so she returned to the sight. Percy had veered off-course, if he’d even had one, and landed squarely if painfully at the table with Alan and, 'Oh, there’s Lizzy.'

In any other circumstance, Vera would have rejoiced to see her sister surrounded by her fellow pilots. However, given how strung-up everyone was, and how well Lizzy had taken Percy’s last outburst in the facility, she worried. Though she still could only understand–and even then hardly–Percy, she watched her sister’s response closely. Lizzy looked him up and down like she’d check a document for spelling errors, listened quietly, then nodded and mouthed a few words back, probably just returning the greeting. No flash of anger, no anxiety in her eyes or nervous fidgeting, her sister was calm and collected.

Ryn was giggling, quietly, held-back, but they were beside each other and it was hard to mistake. At first she, guiltily, felt a bit indignant; was this really the time for laughing, while their friend was making a scene? Vera glanced back to Percy and the others, and wondered if she was perhaps taking things a little seriously. Maybe Ryn had the right idea, maybe it was funny, but something told her the other girl was finding humor in it for all the wrong reasons. After all, it wasn’t exactly a secret that she and Percy didn’t get along.

“Oof, kinda hard to watch,” Vera said, and it was–for her. She liked Percy, she wanted him to be okay. No one seemed to like him much, and she hoped someday he’d prove them all wrong. But it certainly didn’t seem like it was going to be today.

Hopping off of the stool, she zipped up her coat. “Think I’m gonna go for another walk, try and kill some time before they let Graham go. Been feelin’ kinda homesick anyway.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie, she was feeling homesick and she did want to kill time. She just also didn’t want to do so watching Percy make a fool of himself, and worse, see people tear at him for it, however well-deserved it might be. So, adjusting her ushanka, she made for the door–careful to give Percy and her sister’s table a wide berth–and prepared for the cold.

[mickilennial]

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Smith's Rest, New Anchorage | Convention Center
March 26th, 2677

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New Anchorage, huh?

It had been over seven years since Irina Snigir had set foot in Smith’s Rest, though her return to the settlement wasn’t one she made lightly and without distinct purpose. The truth of it all was that she had returned to southern Alaska to confirm the basis of a rumor she had been hearing for several months; a rumor that New Anchorage had hired one of her oldest enemies, a man by the name of Ingram Kalfox, a man whom deserved to die. It almost felt euphoric as she entered the convention center with the knowledge that she could finally be done with Ingram and his despicable and irredeemable sins; to finally be free. She almost didn’t care that the convention hall was fitted with armed soldiers and townsfolk. She knew that if she killed Ingram here and now in front of everyone the worst thing that could befall her was a temporary arrest. For the first time in months, she felt she was free of the effects of her Polaris Shift... or at least, that’s what she thought.

Something clicked in her mind as she stood in the nestled crowd, watching the interviews go by her hands began to curl into fists as they reached out and grabbed the bottommost fibers of her jacket in an anxious tension. Here eyes looked at the pilots closely, her brows narrowed and teeth clenched. She saw Ingram there at the table, and as thankful as she was for him to not notice her she felt herself inert and unable as the minutes began to feel like hours of unbearable torture.

Why can’t you do it? It’s so easy. Just reach for your pistol and put a whole clip in his skull. Watch it pop. It’ll be cathartic. All of your troubles will go away. But maybe they won’t. Maybe you’ll miss. Maybe you’ll get killed by the soldiers before you even think to try. What’s wrong ‘Irina’? Maybe you aren’t as strong as you thought. Maybe you’re worse than he is.

The thoughts in her head began to turn into neurotic, paranoid lapses and Irina couldn’t do anything about it. Only hear her nerves and worst fears speak out to her; colliding with her own rational thoughts. She quickly turned around, the hood held around her head falling back as she made her way to the doors. Her expression soured but it spoke a thousand words; it demanded anyone in her way to move and to do so quickly. In her head she was panicking and cursing at herself, abhorring her indecision and commitment to letting Ingram and her fears win. She knew she had to do something, but she would not be able to do it here in the center of the convention hall. That much was certain. She just needed to get out of the convention center and wait for her window.

That window came when she noticed the blonde-haired thirteen year old pilot from the interviews wander outside--into the streets--in a huff. With a cigarette in mouth and an uneasy expression on her face she moved to intersect with the girl, whom she was approaching from behind at a rapidly faster pace. Eventually, she called out to the girl.

“Stop. I’d like a word with you.”

She wondered if the girl thought she was going to push her into an alley and rob her of her credits before shooting her point blank. She wouldn’t have blamed her if that was what she thought. She wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.

But then again, she never thought clearly.

[Mcmolly]

V e r a

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• Convention Center, Smith's Rest •

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It was still cold, Vera wasn’t sure what she’d expected. She wasn’t so flustered as to try and dunk her head into the fluff again, but a nervous boiling had begun to bubble up back in the bar, and she was thankful for the little twists and drifts of icy air that wormed their way between the fabrics of her coat. Of course, as soon as they led to shivers, their presence would no longer be as welcomed. So, to stave that off for as long as possible, she stuffed her hands into her pockets and trotted off at a leisurely pace.

Soon enough that too was interrupted.

“Stop. I’d like a word with you.”

Vera jumped and swiveled around, surprised to see how quickly a woman she hadn’t so much as heard had snuck up on her. She didn’t look particularly official–then again few people besides her mother did–and she didn’t have a badge or anything of the like, but there was something else. Something in the woman’s face, her expression, how everything seemed to be off to her like she was coping with a bout of vertigo, it made Vera afraid, deeply. They were hard eyes staring back at her. Disciplined eyes. Eyes of authority.

“Oh gosh, are you in with the convention?” she stumbled over every word. It couldn’t be that their first day back in town they’d already gotten into trouble, it just couldn’t be. “Is it the noise? You guys probably heard us from the canteen. I’m so sorry, I think–really just one of my friends, a pilot, I think he’s just had a little too much to drink, you know? We’re not trying to make a racket, I promise.”

“This isn’t about them.”

“Oh," Vera said, relieved though now just as much confused. “Well uh, what's up? Everything alright?"

Before Vera had a chance to react she found her shoulder grabbed by the cold hands of her pursuer. She saw it coming, Graham’s training had conditioned her just the same but between the surgeries and being disoriented it caught her off guard. It didn’t help the woman was stronger and faster, not unlike a soldier. Without much of a struggle, she was quickly backed into the adjacent wall.

“Don’t. Trust. Ingram. Kalfox.”

Vera stared at the woman like she had headlights for eyes. One hand had, on freshly-forged instinct, come up and grabbed the invading arm by the wrist, but she was small, pinned. Her other hand covered her face, expecting some kind of blow, but nothing came. Nothing but the unnaturally cold warning.

“Wh-huh? What? What do you mean?" she asked, more sputtered, actually. She tried to press herself away, feet up trying to bar the woman's legs from shoving her further, but she kept an iron grip on the sleeve.

“Ingram Kalfox is not your friend. He is not your ally. He is not a saint. Do not trust him.” She spoke again in the same militant tone. Her cold, faded green eyes invoked a sense of seriousness and rage.

Then she let go of Vera’s shoulder, as if affirming that she was not here to hurt her but something entirely different. Nonetheless Vera quaked, and for a few moments kept hanging onto the sleeve. When she realized of course, she let go, but couldn't take her eyes away. Didn't. She yielded gaze, but watched the woman's face. It was strong but weathered, and anger seeped through its cracks, almost desperate. She didn't know this woman, but she knew that look, faces like it, she'd seen it almost every day in Lizzy, sometimes even in mom.

“Okay," Vera said, nodding gently, putting her hands up, as if she even needed to surrender against someone like her. “Something's wrong, I get it, and it's stressing you out. But try and sit in my shoes, this is weird, right? I'm not saying I don't trust you I'm saying this is weird. I'm not gonna call for anyone, okay? You could explain it to me, help me and I'll help you."

“I can’t explain it, Vera. It’s probably better that I don’t. Ingram Kalfox will seek to ruin you and if you let him, he will. Everyone who has ever known him knows this. If you are alone with him, your childhood will be over. Just like Ana’s.” She paused, as if the woman realized something and didn’t like it. Before Vera could speak out with any more questions a gloved hand covered her mouth. “Don’t ignore what I am saying. Always have a gun in your pocket.”

As Vera reached for the woman’s hand for a second time she released her grip and turned as she began to hear footsteps and took off in the opposite direction. Vera wanted to shout 'wait!' or 'stop!' or anything, but when she tried, she coughed, and by then the woman was gone. Still, she scrambled after for a few feet, trying to spy her among the people walking this way and that, but it was hopeless. A few passersby shot her odd looks, but otherwise, it was all as if nothing had happened.

But that wasn't true, something had happened. A stranger had just warned her at force about Stein's dad, and Ana, and she found herself reeling. What had happened to Ana? Was she in trouble? Stein had never mentioned much about her dad, but everyone seemed to get on well enough with him. Everyone except Percy, anyway.

“Oh god," she said, spooking herself. What if Ana was in trouble? She didn't have the clear head or the time to try and work out how, or why, but if there was even "if", then she was wasting time. Wildly, she oriented herself back towards the canteen, and sprinted off to find Percy.

[NuttsnBolts]

M a d i s o n

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• Convention Center, Smith's Rest •

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"PERCY!!!"

The cutesy name that Madison gave to the red headed wore off as the girl's quivering voice made an attempt to scold him for his unwanted actions. She felt violated, it was as though she had become a sex prop to someone's unhealthy relationship. The way he spoke to her, the way he told her she was a cute puppy and that he couldn't bring himself to fuck. Did he really believe that she was leading him away so she could satisfy his lustful desires?

"How can you view me like that?" The girl's voice ran hot as it filled with a mixture of high emotions and the faint sparkles of tears; an expression of distress that came to the harsh conclusion of a facial slap. It was the right hand that she had chosen to attack her companion with, following through with an earth shattering crack as the artificial backhand landed on his gummy cheek flesh.

"I'm not a whore!" Madison yelled loudly at the drunk and disorderly while he laid on the table between Eli and Alan. It was enough to draw the attention of even those who managed to ignore the intoxicated man's actions. "And you know I don't have an interest in guys, so why would you say stuff like that?"

She stood over him, sniffling and flabbergasted to what he was saying. If alcohol was a substance that would bring out the most deepest of desires, was sleeping around with random women one of those? "I just cannot believe you!" She began as she schooled the man on what it was that got her all riled up. "I was in a coma for months—I'm trying to get better—and here's you, someone who is much like a father to me and all you seem to be interested in is sticking your dick into whatever slut comes your way."

By this point in time Madison was filled a mixture of betrayal and anger: the betrayal that Percy would ignore his friend's legitimate concerns, and the anger of his self centred attitude. Her fist were clenched hard as her mind went through a thousand phrases that she could say right now.

What about Ana?
What about me?
Percy, you're so selfish sometimes.

She wanted to yell at him, punch him in the face, and make him take back what he said about her, but none of these warranted a vocal outburst considering the drunk would probably forget it all in the morning. Instead she turned to leave the cafeteria in search of a washroom to escape from the shit world that she had been reborn into those many months ago. She stomped forth, every step landing with that all-so-familiar boom for which she was known for. She was on her way when Miss Cole passed by the Australian who she had held a conversation with previously.

Madison stopped, turned her head to Tahlia knowing this was all really her fault, and through water filled eyes screamed at the top of her lungs.

"SLUT!!!!"

The Australian raised an eyebrow as she drew a breath through the freshly lit cigarette, choosing to not reply with anything while she surveyed the young girl's movements to the doorway. She had her opinions on the Percy/Madison fiasco but at this point in time she was keen on holding her cards close to the chest.

[Ladypug]

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Percy Moore
_{LOCALE // Smith's Rest, New Anchorage
TIME // Afternoon-ish}

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Percy was completely and utterly silent the whole time Madison talked him down, the scolding and the good hard slap to the face sobering him up just enough to realize he was being absolutely inappropriate. His big drunken grin was replaced with the far more familiar look of concern and nervousness. Madison doesn't deserve that kind of behavior out of him. While he actually had no clue of her preferences, he did know that Madison looked up to him. Just like he saw her as a sort of second daughter, she sees him as a father figure. That made his stomach churn - the thought of saying similar things to Ana really put it into perspective. As she stormed off, one thought crossed his mind. I fucked up hugely.

Even if his brain was a muddled drunk haze, he was trying to think of how in the hell to even begin to apologize for being such a creep. Would an apology even make it better? He had a strong feeling it really wouldn't. He froze up as he noticed all the pairs of eyes glaring at him, his stomach lurching once again. He gave a brief glance to his two fellow pilots, but then focused back on everyone else, chest tightening.

First it was the shit on stage, and now it's this? Percy would be shocked if his dumb face wasn't on the news the next day. He swallowed whatever it was that was burning the back of his throat, be it literal bile or just the figurative sting of anxiety, and he quickly stood up, stumbling out of the canteen. The lobby looked far more inviting than either the conference hall or the canteen.

With a mumbled apology to nobody in particular - the whole room, really - he walked out of the canteen. Since he took a seat closest to an exit, the obvious odor of alcohol went with him. More people stared, their gazes gouging into Percy's skin as he sat down. As much as he wanted to run and just go home with Ana and Zach, Graham stated that the group had to stay in that building until it was over, or else. The pilot didn't want to figure out what 'or else' might be, so Percy didn't. He instead leaned back into the chair and watched the small flecks of snow fall to the ground outside. His breathing had slowed and calmed when noticed he had a notification. He pulled it up, and when he read it, he smiled just a little.

[+]

From: Zach Young
To: Percy Moore
Subject: undefined

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝙰𝚗𝚊 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚉𝚊𝚌𝚑. 𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚉𝚊𝚌𝚑. 𝙸, 𝙰𝚗𝚊, 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝. 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞! 𝙶𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝! <𝟹 (𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝)

Sincerely,
Zach Young

As Percy marked it as read and locked his datapad again, he sighed. At least he's doing right by Ana, right?

[Ladypug]

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Percy Moore
_{LOCALE // Smith's Rest, New Anchorage
TIME // Evening}

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It wasn’t dead silent in the convention center’s foyer; not between the wind and the conference still going on, Ms. Jackspar’s voice booming yet muffled by closed doors. While there was no way to hear what was being said, Percy felt that might have been for the best. Still, it was quiet - quiet enough for Percy to stretch and wish naps in public were socially acceptable and not a sign of being a goddamn mess. He still had a headache, and he was absolutely exhausted. People are draining. What he'd give to laze in bed at home - Home home, not on base - and scroll through the news on his datapad till he nodded off right now.

Just as he was beginning to zone out into his own still-foggy thoughts, he was jolted to alertness. A small child threw the doors leading into the canteen open - Vera, the younger Jackspar girl. She seemed frazzled. “No, everything’s fine! Just looking for–” and she stopped, spotting him where he sat. “Percy!”

Letting the door shut behind, she all but sprinted over to him, a hand holding the ushanka to her head, while the ear-pads flopped about. “Percy! Is everything okay? What’re you– never mind. Hey, listen, where’s Ana?”

Percy winced at the loud, frantic feminine voice. It took him a moment to process the words coming from her mouth due to the now slightly worsened headache and fuzzy brain, but he did eventually answer, "Shezin bed at home wi'Zach, how come?" Still slurring his words a little, of course. With a huff and an eyeroll at himself, he spoke a little slower in an attempt to enunciate his words better. "Is somethin' wrong, Vera?"

“I don’t know, that’s it! I don’t–” She stopped, blinked, looked at him funny. “Are you okay?”

"Oh, yeah. 'm good. Totally fine. Just.. t-tired," Percy laughed the slightest bit, "Whaddabout Ana, now? Did'ja wanna go see her?-"

“-No, Percy, we both have to go see her, I think– I don’t know, it was weird– I think she’s in trouble. Like, I think someone’s after her!”

The redhead's neutral expression shifted into one of disbelief. Percy knew that kids - especially teenagers - could be real assholes, and they could easily disregard morals for a laugh. He used to hang around those kinds of kids, hell. His voice took on a little bit of a serious tone - not like he believed her, but more like she had best not be joking with him. "What makes y'say that?"

Vera stuttered, like she couldn’t believe he was still sitting down. “Okay, so, I went outside for a bit to take a walk ‘cause Ryn was making fun of you, and like it was kinda cold but it’s not bad so I thought I could go around the town without any trouble. But this lady, she pulled me into an alley, and she said all these things, and she said things about Stein’s dad and something about Ana’s life being over! Percy, I think something’s gonna happen to Ana!”

"Stein's dad?" Percy still sounded like he wasn't totally on board. "Ingram? Why would Ingram want to-" and then he remembered the first time they met. That look that the blond gave his daughter. He had the immediate gut reaction that it wasn't just an innocent glance before, but now with this new information..? It made him grimace. He stood from the chair as he spoke, urgency in his tone, "Wha'lady? What'd she say- Did she say what exactly, or..?"

“No, I-I don't remember, she just said to stay away from Ingram and that Ana... Something, something is wrong with Ana! Percy, call Zach!"

The pilot didn't need to be told twice - he unlocked his datapad swiftly, swiped through his contacts, and finally tapped on Zach's name in the list as he leaned against the wall, waiting for Zach's face to pop up on his screen-

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Zach Young
_{LOCALE // Smith's Rest, New Anchorage
TIME // Evening}

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Zach groaned as he heard the beeping on his datatool. He just took the thing off! He covers his face with his hands, then he snatches it from the side-table and answers the video call, not even having to check the name that's flashing on screen, "Percy, I literally just put her to bed and laid down myself. All is fine."

Percy grimaced at him, "I didn't even say anything yet."

"Cause I know exactly what you were going to say," Zach said. "So, Ana's fine, and she's-"

"Go. Check. On. My. Child." Percy growled, gritting his teeth, "Or I swear to God I'm gonna go over there and-"

"Jesus, ok, ok - Hey, you ever thought about meditation or something to help you chill the fuck out?" Zach snipped back as he got up and went to Ana's room, being careful to step softly as to not wake the girl. Percy just huffed in response, the angle of the video changing showing he's more than likely crossing his arms like he's some tough guy. They've had their fair share of physical altercations in the past, and every time Zach overpowered and restrained him - Percy is in no way a fuckin' tough guy. Oh what he'd give to be able to pummel Percy into the ground without consequences sometimes..

Zach carefully opens Ana's gaudily painted pink bedroom door, and switches the camera from front-facing to back-facing to show that Ana is indeed comfy and warm in bed, her face barely visible under the nest of blankets around her. Zach hears Percy try not to bust out into a laugh-

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Percy Moore
_{LOCALE // Smith's Rest, New Anchorage
TIME // Evening}

---

---

-but as soon as he turned the camera back onto front-facing, Percy's face straightened right back up. Oh what he'd give to punch Zach in the face when he gives that stupid shit-eating I told you so grin.

"Told you so." Zach bragged in a sing-song voice as he gingerly shut the door, a very smug, very snarky grin on his face.

"Oh, shove it up your ass, Zach."

"You're welcome, by th-"

Percy ends the call before Zach's egotism oozes out of his screen, rolling his eyes as he does so. Even when he's buzzed it's hard to deal with the guy.

Vera looked about as confused as she did happy. “O-okay...So...?

"She's fine," Percy said as he turned the screen of his datapad off. "Nothin' to worry about."

“Sure, yeah, just... Vera wheeled around on her heel and scratched her head. “What in the world was that lady talking about? Maybe she meant she'll be in trouble later? Percy, what should we do?"

"Ana's gonna be back w'me tomorrow, so.. uh," Percy shrugs a little bit, "I-I dunno. I'll.. Vigilance."

Not that Percy wasn't already hyper aware when Ana was with him, but if she's in some kind of trouble.. Percy squints a little bit as he realizes he has no idea what to even look out for. All this anxiety and nowhere to direct it - no different than his usual!

He frowns a little bit as he asks, "Did this lady even say what kinda trouble? Other than Ingram, like.. What? What's he gonna do? Did she say?" As he continues to go down this line of thought, more questions pop up in his head, "Who is this lady anyway? I mean- Hah, there's addicts and lunatics running around all over Smith's Rest. Could just be some conspiracy theory bullsh-uh.. Bull. Conspiracy theory bull."

“Yeah, okay, I guess- I dunno. It all added up kinda weird. She mentioned Ingram and said Ana was in danger, and Ana's your kid and you're the only one who doesn't really get along with Ingram so I thought... I.. I dunno what I thought, it just felt wrong."

"That's understandable," Percy reassured, "but I mean.. She's alright. She's safe in her bed at home 'n Zach's there if something did happen - hah, would you try to take a kid from that big guy? Everything's gonna be fine. Surely." The pilot's tone of voice and facial expression disagreed with each other - his tone was calm, but his face was unsure, fearful.

Vera didn't seem convinced, though she was trying to smile.

"Uh.. I mean, either way, thanks for letting me know. You're a good kid, Vera. ..Most the time. When you're not encouraging my daughter to do stupid dangerous sh-tuff. Nosomuch then.. But right now? Good kid."

Percy hesitated, but then he gave Vera a very awkward pat on the head. He immediately regret his decision to do so when he saw Vera looking at him with the most confused expression he had ever seen on a child.

“Uh... Yeah. Thanks, Percy. You're prolly right about it being nothing. Yeah, it's.. It's nothing.... But I'll talk to mister Kalfox tomorrow, just to be safe. You have a good night." and she was backing off, making her way into the canteen once again.

"Alright, you do th-Oh. Wait. Wait! Wait, wait, wait, Vera, no-" Percy ran to her - very nearly into her - and stopped her with a grab of the shoulder - probably a little harder than he meant, but holy shit just no. She turned around again as Percy spoke and stumbled over his words for a moment, "Wait- Hah, no. No, you're.. I- We- no, I'll talk to him. You don't worry- don't get wrapped up in it, it's.. I'll handle it."

Vera smiled again, it seemed more genuine, if a bit sad. “I appreciate it Percy, but Ana's my friend too, and.. The lady did kinda push me into an alley - We can both talk to mister Kalfox. If he thinks it's anything to worry about we'll tell Graham and my mom, too."

Percy frowned, his voice shifting to a more authoritative voice than Vera was used to coming from the usually softer-spoken pilot, "Vera, I'll handle it. I know you want to help, but I can't-" And any authority he may have had fizzles as he struggles to find words again, "As a father, I- If Ingram's going to hurt Ana, what's stopping him from-" He doesn't want to put that thought in her head. He can't. Then he sighs his voice softening, "Alright. Alright, we'll go together, then." The pilot makes sure to put extra emphasis on together.

“Yeah," Vera said, and though she didn't seem fazed by his shift, her smile did disappear. “Cause Ana is what's important here, okay?"

"Obviously," Percy couldn't help but snip, disbelief on his face - "Did it sound I was implying she wasn't?"

“No, Percy. No you didn't."

...The way that Vera said that honestly made Percy uncomfortable. Was she lying to his face, or was this conversation simply exhausting her at this point? The eye contact made is even worse - his gaze shifts from her to some abstract design on the wall, then back to her as his heart beats just a little quicker.

"Mister Kalfox's office after lunch tomorrow?"

Percy takes a moment to respond due to the sudden spike of anxiety, but eventually he does softly reply with a "Yeah."

Vera nodded, gave him a wave, then turned her attention to her datatool and made her way back into the canteen.

Percy slowly sat back down on the bench and simply watched the snow pick up outside the large windows, flakes fluttering about as frantically as his own thoughts were in that moment.

I need another drink.

[mickilennial]

---

Smith's Rest, New Anchorage | Convention Center
March 26th, 2677

---

At least I can say that this night hasn’t been boring.

The thought crossed Kane’s mind as he sat in the canteen as he had during the outburst and the red-haired child that stood in front of him barely able to still contain herself, even after the other girl had left in what Kane assumed was an innate disapproval of such antics. At the very least Kane had a better understanding of some of his supposed comrades, though he did wonder how the more tense days to come were going to influence things. Would this drunken outburst and public mockery lead to a worse situation down the line? or was it going to be business as usual? It was something to think on and observe. Kane rose another cigarette to his lips as he took the old flip lighter from the table and ignited the rolled narcotic.

“Looks like this fun and exciting meeting is coming to an end. The big wigs are about done answering their own questions.”

Kane’s eyes moved to the direction of the voice – a man he recognized as another one of the NC pilots and the one who had the only “positive” response from the audience during the interviews: Joshua Ray. Kane wasn’t sure Ray’s brand of sarcasm was something he particularly enjoyed, but it was certainly less frigid and terse as the two blonde women they worked alongside in the piloting division. He would take a sarcastic asshole any day over frigid, machinelike, and terse. At the very least it felt human. But on the other hand, Joshua Ray wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly that was how the convention assembly was going to go, so coming up to him to tell him the obvious was an action that definitely piqued Kane’s curiosity. Though he couldn’t guess really guess what Ray’s intent was outside to either gloat or get rid of his own incessant boredom. Despite being comrades-in-arms of sorts, Kane still wasn’t sure what to make of him.

It was an uncertainty that bothered the experienced NC pilot.

You’re surprised? Kane inquired as he removed the cigarette from his lips.

Kane, with cigarette still in mouth, doubted that Joshua was surprised. It made little sense for the black-haired pilot to be shocked that the administration knew how to play the game a lot better than a handful of unorthodox and inexperienced pilots. He had been around long enough to know that much. So what was his game? Trying to be helpful? Relieving his boredom? Wanting to socialize or gossip? Subtle flirting? It could’ve been anything under the sun as far as Kane could imagine.

The black-haired pilot laughed as he shook his head, “Nah. Graham’s a real professional and Lady Macbeth is the last person I’d want to be alone in the same room with.”

Kane raised a brow, “Lady Macbeth?”

“Hasn’t anybody other than Alan read a holonovel before? Maaan.” He sighed, “Don’t worry about it.”

Kane wouldn’t; he had better things to do than get Ray or Fouren’s archaic references that had no bearing on the here and the now. However, before Kane could reply Kathryn Dradht’s voice cut in on the conversation. Hell, for a second Kane had entirely forgotten the high strung little girl was still sitting at the same table as he was. It didn’t help that she was speaking with a mouth full of her own plate of food. Kane cringed, hadn’t her mother ever taught her any basic manners?

“You and Alan are fuckin’ nerds, you know that, right?”

Kane exhaled smoke from his nose as he put the piece down on the side of his recently empty plate that he had now taken to using as a makeshift ashtray. “They’re definitely something, yeah. We should prepare to leave. It’s about time for our glorious commander to cart us back ‘home’, I think. Ryn, do you think you could go off and tell Vera to get ready if she isn’t already?”

The young girl nodded, her mouth still full of food. “Yeah. Give me a minute.”

Kane nodded as he stood up from his seat, looking towards the other adult. “You tell Jackspar and the rest. I’m going to find Moore to make sure he doesn’t miss the trip and get reprimanded. Because, you know, someone has to.”

[mickilennial]

---

time skip

---

[mickilennial]

---

Smith's Rest, New Anchorage | Operations HQ
March 27th, 2677

---

For some, needing to line up at mission control and prepare for a mission on the fly before even the first bite of breakfast was exhausting and maybe even unbearable, but for Stein, it didn’t really bother her in the slightest. However, the blonde-haired pilot wasn’t too thrilled with the concept of working closely with Percy Moore and Alan Fouren on an operation that had her trudging through the Alaskan tundra on a covert op that essentially asked her to work as infantry rather than a pilot; but Stein was still trained as a soldier, to volunteer and prepare for any level of experience in a military operation without question or protest. That hadn’t changed.

The blonde-haired girl took a light breath as she closed the door to the locker, ensuring she had what she needed before they regrouped with their transit operator and made way to the settlement of Falcon’s Reach. The mission as described by Commander Graham was simple enough. The three of them were expected to meet an accompaniment of survival scouts and militia in Falcon’s Reach before they traveled northward until they reached the old ruin in question where an old neural device had gone dark. It likely required an individual with a neural uplink integrated within them to reactivate which was why three of them were offered as support.

But Graham told them to be on their guard. Falcon’s Reach was the least supportive of a coalition between Smith’s Rest due to past occurrences and neural devices didn’t just happen to magically turn off. Stein suspected that Falcon’s Reach wasn’t sharing the whole story – if it was a simple matter of turning something back on and they needed a pilot to do so, why ask for three of them? It was a question that kept her curious as she made sure she had her handgun, combat knife, survival kit, and datatool all prepared. She even had retrieved a subcompact assault rifle from the armory as her instincts told her would be a wise decision. Ballistic armor to be fitted underneath her cold weather attire as well.

When that was finished she looked over to the other two who were preparing their own kits. One thought came to her mind about all of this.

I just hope Moore doesn’t end up doing something stupid and make this mission harder than it has to be.

[DruSM157]

---

Smith's Rest, New Anchorage | Operations HQ
Present Day

---

“On foot? You’re shittin’ me, right?”

Of course, Stein wasn’t shitting anyone. Alan doubted Stein had the capability to even excrete waste. She probably just dropped a tiny cube of detritus in the morning which was then incinerated and finished booting up for her daily missions. After three months living in close quarters with this woman, Alan still struggled to find any human connection with her. Her name was enough of an indicator at that. Truth be told, understanding the etymology of stein beyond a reference to a drinking mug had been a fun research adventure for Alan, perusing old reference works in his PDA. Not that any of his fellow pilots would understand how he made mental connections for each of them. Since he himself was like the soldier, aloof and distant with others. The difference was he wasn’t cold, he was just false in his attitudes and his words.

A liar. Or a con man. A shit-eating grin, a greased palm, and a fine “look-over-there” as he slipped away into the shadows. The only real thing he could count on was the Wild Wolf, and he felt more and more distant from his mech the longer he went from piloting the machine. Here he was, working with a soldier and a middle-aged rookie. He never thought he’d be fighting alongside these two..

---

Smith's Rest, New Anchorage | Hangar
14 Hours Ago

---

...I never thought I'd be out fighting alongside...

Alan Foren gazed upwards at the large machine that he had piloted for the lion’s share of his adulthood. How long had it been since he’d actually been inside the cockpit? How long had it been since he’d been engaged in actual combat? Sure there’d been the sims from time to time, but the actual weight shifting of the odd patchwork like pieces of the machine, knowing how to shift as he moved to keep proper balance… if he didn’t get a chance to take Wild Wolf out into the field soon, he was afraid he’d forget how to pilot the damn thing. It felt like a lifetime, between the attack and the awful speeches, he just wanted to be somewhere that felt like home.

The Wild Wolf’s cockpit was his home, anyways. There were the barracks, the lockers, the mess; but those places were part of the NA. Wolf was home. The only surviving debris from Dead Springs besides him at any rate. He felt a pang of regret deep in his chest. How many years now had he pushed Dead Springs further down, under the surface? How many years had it been now since he’d felt the tearing of metal tear through the cockpit; what had felt like his own chest being ripped open; cutting at his face and scarring him? How many missions, how many sorties, how many bodies buried now? He was so lost in his own thoughts that the sudden, jarring sound of mechanical tools above his head and the bright sparks of a torch broke his spiral of self-loathing and put him into sudden defense.

“H-hey!” He yelled, moving towards a maintenance platform that was still lowered on the ground, “what the hell are you doing up there?” He looked around for something he could use as a weapon: a wrench or a metal hammer, even a cutting torch. If more of those bastards from the attack were here, trying to sabotage the mechs when they weren’t in use...

The sound of the tools abruptly cut as the engineer from above looked down towards him as they paused their current work on the Wild Wolf. It was hard to make out with all of the noise in the hangars, but the voice was definitely female. That much Alan could tell. “Depends where you want to start?!”

“Fucking shit.” Alan muttered under his breath, hopping onto another maintenance lift, slowly moving up towards the catwalk and towards the female working on his mech. Even though he’d been around New Anchorage for three months, he’d done his damnedest to keep to himself. He’d met a few of the main staff, there was no getting around shaking hands with the people who looked down on you, after all, but his normal time in the hangar was after the staff had left. Who the hell was messing with the Wild Wolf at this hour? As he approached the catwalk, he called to the girl, “Is it the left neck connector wire?” He was trying to eye her work the best he could. While he’d never been the greatest mechanic, he knew the Wild Wolf from top to bottom, finances and perfectionism being the two driving forces for him to constantly titter over the machine. “It got hit bad in a dust storm outside of Chicago last year.” he added, sizing the woman up. He’d seen her around a few times, and at the very least felt that she wasn’t going to shoot him if he turned away from her.

The woman leaned up against the Wild Wolf, utility tool in hand as she pushed up her visor up to her head, causing her raven-colored bangs to be pulled up in the process. She crossed her arms before the lift ultimately came to a stop, a curious look on her face. It appeared she had little-to-no qualms about taking a break to facilitate conversation between herself and one of the pilots.

“This may be a wild guess, but you must be the pilot of this thing, huh?”

“Yeah, I’ve piloted Wild Wolf now for about five years. Every scratch and dent, I’ve felt.”

“I’m kind of new to the independent scene; but it takes a lot of something to come out of it without being toasted. The life expectancy for an independent is much lower, right?”

“Yeah, most don’t make it past the six month mark in the indies. I guess that’s why some of the pilots here are former company folks. With the indies, you get younger folks like Ryn and me.” He nearly froze when he realized he’d brought up the girl in normal conversation. He wasn’t thinking right. He had to be cautious about what he said especially to these NA workers.

The girl nodded, “Well, I wouldn’t call a lot of the pilots ‘corporate’ either. Outside Kane and Stein. New Anchorage is kind of dysfunctional if you think about it. Bringing a bunch of outsiders, locals, and corporates together and thinking they are not going to fight is kind of crazy. I think so, anyway.”

“I’ve been lucky enough that I haven’t really fought with any of the pilots. But then again, I’m used to working with folks who look at me like i’m going to steal everything not bolted down.” He chuckled to himself.

“Well, that’s good. Fights aren’t very fun.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” he muttered. “So, why are you up here so late messin’ with my mech?”

“Couldn’t sleep, so I decided to finish up some of the work I haven’t finished. Commander told me he needed them at one hundred percent by the end of the week.”

“I tend to come up here and see the Wolf when I can’t sleep. So I guess I can’t be too pissy with you then.” He tried to eye up her work. “Well, at the very least I can give you a hand if you want. I’ve done field maintenance since I started piloting.”

She smirked, “Not much to be done, if I’m going to be completely honest. It’s mostly busywork. There was a lot more work to be done at the beginning of the year, which is all pretty much done now. But I’d rather be doing busywork up here than be doing busywork down there.”

He nodded in agreement. “I’ve spent so much time training, it feels like I’ve forgotten what it’s like to actually be in the cockpit. All the sims I’ve ran with the others are nice and all, but it’s nothing compared to actually being in the mech.” His face contorted into a half-hearted grin. “Only thing I’ve ever been good at, at least.”

“So how long ago is that, Mr. Wolf? The stuff you’re good at.”

“Alan.” he corrected her. “Sorry...never even introduced myself. I’m not very good at the whole…” he motioned his arms in an awkward motion, “talking...thing.”

He returned to her question after awkwardly apologizing, “I’ve only been a pilot for...about five years give or take. I guess it’ll be six years soon.”

She pressed her back against the railing, “I think that was my first year at Fairbanks, right out of the engineering academy back home.”

“Nice. Junker towns had… something like schools, but out in the wastes there was never any chance for a real education. You don’t really talk like a girl from the Megacities. Where are you from?”

“Louisville.”

“Well, I’ll be damned. I’m from outside Atlanta. Back when I started piloting, we led a few caravans through Louisville and some of the townships around. I’ve seen the market district a few times. Seems funny to me, your first year out of your academy was my first year around there. It’s an interesting coincidence.”

“There’s a lot of that here, I guess. Graham’s organization has attracted all sorts of people.”

"You’re not wrong. We've got folks who I never thought I'd be out fighting alongside."

“That a good thing or a bad thing?”

“That’s…” Alan looked down. He wasn’t in the mood in in the headspace to go around telling people his own “real” feelings. “It’s a mix of both. I’m working with good pilots and rookies. It’s just tough to parse being in an independant that’s more… structured than most places.”

“I was here back when Sophia was in charge. It wasn’t structured like this. That’s all been part of how Graham thinks things need to be run. It’s…” The female engineer broke eye contact to look off to the side, her hands gripping the guard railing as she did so. She took a light breath, but tried to hide what Alan recognized as someone who had reservations. “…it’s an adjustment.”

“I guess a lot has changed around here that I don’t know about.” The young man scratched his messy hair and looked over the railing, placing his elbows on the metal rails and leaning slightly, staring at the hangar below.

“That’s why we need to be positive. Look forward, not back. These are some of the most beautiful and amazing machines ever created. They have so much potential to be used for good. We could put a construction frame over them instead of weapons. Rebuild everything. Build new things. The world doesn’t have to be an empty, broken thing.”

Alan chuckled. “I wish it could be like that. I’d rather use the Wolf for easy missions like transporting goods or protecting people instead of having to fight and kill.” He leaned over a little more, pointing to the large weapon on the Wild Wolf’s left arm. “You see that? It’s built like a giant industrial saw. It’s used to cut into a mech, but you could also use it to cut through metal debris. Even the weapons we use now can be repurposed into something better.”

She nodded, “But the world is built on a monopoly. A monopoly of war and fear and control. That’s why I’m never ever working for a corporation again. I don’t want to be part of the problem. New Anchorage is something new. Something different. Maybe it’s stupid or naive to think that it can change things. But it’s the right kind of stupid.”

“If there’s any chance of something better out there, then we’ve got to go through some powerful people to make that change. Companies with endless resources compared to ours.” He laughed. “It’s suicide, if you think about it.”

The woman’s hands gripped the cold metal bars tightly. “It is suicide not to. There are so many independents out there that are loosely affiliated with the megacities. For the protection. Did you know people in Fairbanks actively encouraged raiders to remind those settlements that the world was dangerous? To remind them how valuable their allegiance was? It’s terrible. It’s immoral. It’s accepted. And somehow Louisville executives kept it quiet.”

Her smile dropped.

“And what are we engineers and soldiers told? To do our jobs. That it is how the world works. Fuck. That.”

Alan’s hands grasped the cold metal railing. He was silent, staring intensely at the hangar floor now. His eyes were no longer soft and wistful from his conversation with her; but instead they were harsh, wild and obsessive. He was visibly shaking from her words. Did you know?

“Yeah. I know.” He muttered, his voice ice cold. “Fairbanks did the same thing to my hometown.”

She looked in his direction, a sympathetic frown pursed on her lips. “I’m really sorry that happened to you. That kind of thing is one of the reasons I left Fairbanks.”

“There was nothing I could do. One kid in a junker mech?” He closed his eyes and grinned, his face a harsh mask of pain. “One pilot is meaningless compared to how many there are in the world. Sure, they call us “special” for being able to sync, but how many thousands upon thousands of pilots are actually out there? And the big cities? They’re the ones who lead the ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the pilots.”

His mind was racing. The dust. Rusted metal. Pain, blood, screaming. Fire. Dead bodies. The corpses all blurred together in his memories; the bodies of his family, his neighbors, his friends...and the bodies of their murderers. How long had he gone without rest, stalking and hunting them down?

Too long. Sure, the paper went back to the cities. Sure the trail went all the way up to the dirty rotten Fairbanks offices. There were so many fantasies that plagued him at night, dreams of blowing his way through countless soldiers to find the fat cats in suits who ran the world, the so-called gods that ran this festering radioactive dead world. And in those dreams, those wild, fiery fantasies, he took every pound of flesh he knew he deserved from them. He gave them sacrifices of blood, broken bones and an ecstasy of pain that only a man who truly saw the brink of humanity’s coldness could deliver. He’d woken up hard after fantasies like that. But that’s all they were. Dreams.

---

Smith's Rest, New Anchorage | Operations HQ
Present Day

---

Alan blinked himself back to reality, looking around. It seemed that neither Stein nor Percy noticed he’d zoned out for a few minutes. He opened his locker, getting his own gear. Similar to what Stein had gathered up already. Instead of a compact assault rifle, he grabbed a scout rifle, checking the scope and making sure he had enough ammo. “Well,” he muttered looking at the two, “are we ready?”

[mickilennial]

---

Smith's Rest, New Anchorage | Operations HQ
March 27th, 2677

---

“I have been ready for approximately two minutes and thirty-seven seconds.” Stein uttered, in response to Alan’s question.

She stood at the ready, like any soldier would – her eyes observing the two other men as they prepared their kits and readied themselves for their first official mission as a team since Michael Graham took over as acting commander from Sophia Torres. She still remembered her first mission and the fleeting memory of one of the pilots who told New Anchorage to go “fuck themselves” after they got word the way things ran were going to change. In short, they didn’t renew their contract and they were gone before Stein knew it. It was a conclusion she didn’t care too much over considering the fact that they had been one of the few pilots she felt like she understood. Stein didn’t lose sleep over it, but seeing the hangar missing an extra NC and missing out on particular training sessions was something jarring.

She crossed her arms as she looked to Percy, who seemed to be the last of the three to get ready. Stein wasn’t a people person but she could tell something was on his mind despite the early hours.

[Mcmolly]

C E L I N A J A C K S P A R

---

Smith's Rest, New Anchorage
Present Day

---

Mornings for Celina had always started early. She awoke, often before the sun, and strived to be out of the door by first light. Since the election her routine had grown only more vigorous; she now ate at the office, or if the welcome-workload was abnormally high, made due with coffee—she was a tower, but a narrow one. This didn’t save her any great amount of time, but it did get her out of the house faster. Since the girls had gone, she found that she preferred being elsewhere, curiously.

The walk to work was considerable, and brisk, but Celina had always been a durable woman. She was Alaskan-born, she’d suffered through unyielding winters on little more than brittle shelter and willpower. The breeze would not shake her. Relocation had been offered as a result of her new office, but she’d refused. To say turning down a suite in the higher, sturdier buildings closer to the centre was purely for humility’s sake would have been a lie. She knew it looked better for her to remain living amongst the civilians. It served her more to remain firmly in the lay-land where her roots were than to watch her growing city from the comfort of a penthouse, just as it served New Anchorage to have a leader who didn’t put herself above them. There was no small satisfaction in the fact that she’d secured a rather unanimous approval within the settlement. But her home, Smith’s Rest as it would forever be, was not the only settlement she needed to be concerned with.

“Good morning, Chief Minister!” Her attendant, an eager if somewhat scattered young woman named Naomi, greeted her outside of her office. She was partway through her twenties and quite apparently pregnant, but despite this she always managed to meet Celina on-time, with a cup of coffee and a daily schedule ready.

“Good morning,” she returned, and entered the office. Naomi followed.

The room was nothing special, bigger in reputation than actual size. A desk with its back to a window that saw the centre from two-stories up. Cabinets lined one wall, a long couch the other with a table bearing water for guests. She’d have preferred something with a few of the distant facility, but she also held a certain fondness for the grit of the settlement’s middle.

Naomi laid out an over-stuffed folder as Celina took her seat. Falcon’s Reach. Most of the papers she’d already read over the past few weeks. They detailed mainly the nature of the expedition Graham was sending out to them, which concerned her little. What Falcon’s Reach wanted from them mattered significantly less than the fact that they’d asked for help. Smith’s Rest had doubtlessly grown into the strongest of the independent Alaskan settlements, but they were still a far cry from being a true presence. If New Anchorage was going to become a truly independent entity, they needed more than one up-jumped settlement. Much more. Others might have employed more direct methods, since it wasn’t exactly difficult to force subjugation on others with a fleet of NC’s behind you. The Megacity demonstrated this clearly.

But it was not her goal to herald in a Megacity. At least not as they were understood now.

Their methods were effective, but flawed in inconsistent, yet nuanced and exploitable ways. Fairbanks had a history of ignoring their outlier settlements, Red Star prized machine over pilot, and Volkov—as much as they were owed for New Anchorage’s survival—was no stranger to unrest at even the most trusted levels. Already these flaws had netted her star-players from across the world. Tahlia Styles, daughter of Jin Styles and renowned commander from Broken Hill. Anastasia Kalfox, Volkov prodigy. Fouren and Drahdt, whose dossiers may have been less decorated, were certainly no less promising. Even out of the pilot seat she had in her fold a storied commander from Denver-Vegas, and the Ingram Kalfox.

It would have been easy to glance at New Anchorage and see nothing more than a sprawling tower of ice-crusted iron. And it would be a mistake.

“So, Falcon’s Reach is ready and expecting our team. They’re holding off on the ‘thanks’ for now but I’ll bet that comes in spades once this is all taken care of,” Naomi said, sifting through a few of the papers.

Celina expected as much. Smith’s Rest and Falcon’s Reach had never been much more than neighbors, it was right for them to be skeptical, which only meant their appreciation would be more sincere. The payment for this little mission wasn’t stellar, in fact it was markedly less than they should have expected, even from a waster plot like theirs. That was the point. The payment was more of a formality, coverage for the labor and some of the supplies they’d use, little else. What she truly wanted from this was conversation, and favor. She had no problems helping Falcon’s Reach establish itself, she only wanted to be a part of their reconstruction—and she wanted them to know that. What mattered here was unity. If they could bring Falcon’s Reach into the fold, then suddenly their territory, their eyes and their eyes, reached much farther.

“When it is, I’d like you to invite them to send a delegation to our next town hall. Tell them to come with a list of their most pressing issues.”

“Yes ma’am. And your meeting with the builders’ guild is still on for two-o’-clock. Here’s the rest of the schedule, no major last-minute changes but some shuffling. Anything else?”

Celina shook her head no, and Naomi left the room. She had barely enough time to look through the rest of the schedule before her data-tool hummed an incoming call. Her daughter. She tapped to receive it, and went back to arranging her papers.

“Good morning, mother.”

“Good morning, Elizabeth. I trust everything is moving along there.”

“Yes ma’am. Kalfox, Fouren and Moore will be preparing to leave soon.”

“Moore. Right, yes, I’d almost forgotten. Good, he could use the opportunity to better his standing with the public. In the worst case, he still has Kalfox and Fouren with him.”

“Of course.”

Elizabeth’s tone was flat, it always was when they spoke, but Celina had an ear for divining meaning from it. It was obvious to her that she was not content with Graham’s selection, that perhaps she doubted Moore’s capabilities, or Fouren’s reliability. It was obvious to her that Elizabeth felt wasted with her feet on the ground, because that was how Celina had raised her.

“Your sister’s recovery should be coming along nicely.” Celina said. Changing the topic was easy when it came to Vera, moreover it was almost impossible for Elizabeth to remain stony then.

She spoke hopefully. “It is. She’s started physical training, and should be fit for simulations. There’s been no discussion yet as to her NC, but I believe they’ll likely repurpose Sky’s for her.”

“Good. New Anchorage has a keen eye on the children. I doubt they’ll get much out of miss Drahdt outside of the missions, so it’s important Vera maintains a good public appearance.”

“Of course.”

Silence then. Elizabeth had been more prone to that recently.

“Well. If you don’t have anything else to report, that will be all. Once the expedition returns, I’ll want the unofficial details. I’m sure Moore and Fouren will be willing enough to talk. Goodbye, Elizabeth.”

“Goodbye.”

Celina hung up and sat back in her chair. Turning to the window, she wished again for a view of the facility, or past that the vast Alaskan wastes beyond New Anchorage’s walls. Once that sight had been nothing but a bleak reminder of their meaningless existence, but nowadays she often took the opportunity to look upon it. Now it was more than just frozen soil and snow. Now, every inch of that pale horizon was potential. It was New Anchorage.

[Ladypug]

---

---

Percy Moore
_{LOCALE // Percy's Quarters || Smith's Rest, New Anchorage
TIME // Morning}

---

---

Percy barely had time to open his eyes before he was face-in-toilet, his body violently ejecting the sparse contents of his stomach. His throat burned, his brain felt like a mess of cotton balls and mush, and it felt like a jackhammer - no, TWO jackhammers - were pounding on his head on the opposite sides. How much did he have last night? He belches- shit, nope, more puke. Thank God he's by himself right now, or else Ana would probably be freaking out and calling for Rebecca or Lofgren, and it'd just exacerbate this killer headache, and-

Percy physically covers his ears when he hears a voice over the intercoms request Stein, Alan, and himself to go to mission control, cringing all the while. Too loud. Waaayy too fucking loud. He hasn't even brushed his teeth to get rid of the vile bile taste in his mouth and they're calling him up to do who knows what. He's being punished for being a crap father, isn't he? He sighs, grimacing slightly - he gets up, flushing the ick before he goes to his sink to at the very least swish some mouthwash and load on some spray cologne. That's the least he can do to pretend he's a functional, well-adjusted adult, right? Nobody's gonna notice that he's a total mess.

---

---

_{LOCALE // Operations HQ || Smith's Rest, New Anchorage
TIME // Still Morning}

---

---

They're looking at him like he's a total mess, and he knows it. He barely got a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the door handle, and even through that warped lens he could see he looked like a corpse walking. Not that he ever looked like he was 100% functional all the time, but damn this is a low he hasn't hit in a while. Or maybe he has hit this kind of low recently and he's in denial. It's hard to tell anymore. What he'd give just to be at home - his actual home - with Ana drinking hot chocolate and reading to her right now, but no. No, instead, he's in this cramped room with two people he knows hate him, going on a mission where they'd probably leave him for dead if they had the chance. Not that he didn't want to die anyway, but he'd prefer the last face he sees to be his own child's, not people who decided to abandon him in the cold of Alaska.

“Well... Are we ready?”

“I have been ready for approximately two minutes and thirty-seven seconds.”

She seriously kept count down to the second? Damn. "Well I'm ready as I'll ever be." Percy replies, slinging the backpack around his one shoulder.. and stumbling from the weight and inertia of the pack. "Holy shit how is this so heavy?" he says more to himself than to the other two, hastily taking out excess stuff - he got thoroughly lost in his own head and didn't even notice he packed entirely too much for a mission that should only take maybe a day at most.

"...Well, uh, I'm apparently going to need a little bit longer. Gotta.. put all this back... I'm such a fuckin' idiot, goddammit, stupid, what the fuck is.. " and he trails off as he's putting everything back in its place the best he can until he's down to what he actually needs.

[DruSM157]

---

Smith's Rest, New Anchorage | Operations HQ
Present Day

---

“Hold up there, Percival,” Alan stated abruptly, leaning down to assist the man as he struggled with his pack.

”Focus on the bare necessities,” he mused, “and stick with a weapon you’re comfortable with too.”

Percy’s eyes narrowed at Alan. He looked angry that Alan would even be so condescending to treat him like an idiot.“Well no, duh. I just — I got distracted, whatever, I got it, leave me alone.”

”You’re fucking sauced,” Alan whispered almost inaudibly into Percy’s ear. The smell of booze was obvious, and his bloodshot eyes were an almost dead giveaway as well. The wastes were full of many things, and it had drunks and booze hounds to spare. “So drop the pissy act and let me help you. There’s no reason to get your ass thrown in the brig for showing up to assignments drunk, after all.” Alan’s sudden forceful nature came out of nowhere; a side of him that he hadn’t portrayed in his entire time in New Anchorage. The only person around that would have seen this side of Alan was busy being a fussy brat in the barracks, and she wasn’t one to share the times he’d had to save her vulgar ass.

“I’m not drunk,” Percy replied, sort of pushing Alan away - not hard, but enough to make him take a step back. “I’m hungover. There’s a difference - unbearable headaches, for one.”

“Breath that smells like death for another one?” Alan ribbed, pulling out useless items like a cooking stove and a second radio, ”But whether you’re coming off it or just getting on the wagon, brass doesn’t take too kindly to soldiers who aren’t as awake, alert or useful. And right now you’re gonna be dead weight if you don’t sober up.”

“Am I ever not dead weight?” Percy laughed, grinning like somehow that was hilarious he just said that. Perhaps it was hilarious to Percy.

Alan gave Percy a cold, unparsed stare. He and Stein could have had a ‘cold stone face’ stare down contest with that look. It was obvious that Alan did not take Percy’s self-deprecation in stride. ”If you wanna come home to your little girl in one piece, I suggest you start working on not being dead weight. Dead weight is the first to get picked off or left behind.”

“Don’t you bring my daughter into this,” Percy’s tone got defensive, “You don’t have the right, dickhead.”

”I’d rather not see any more kids end up like me, Percival.” Alan threw the last of the useless junk into the locker and got up.

”Alright,” he paused, staring at Stein for what seemed like too long of a moment, “should...I call you Commander? I mean, you’re taking point for this mission, right?” He prayed with every fiber of his being that Stein would take the reins. The thought of being responsible for the lives of these two made his stomach twist into knots. He was intimidated by Stein and he didn’t want to see Percy die on his first sortie with him. And part of him believed that if he were in charge…

It would wind up just like that day outside Dead Springs.

“Correct. You’re both acting like idiots, I advise you to stop acting as such considering we do not need any liabilities in the field.” Stein uttered, having watched the entire altercation, her tone as monotone as it usually was despite it being no secret that she did not think the conversation between both grown men was valuable.

”Wise words, Commander.” Alan said with a grunt as he threw his own pack over his shoulder. His tone was not completely respectful, but he was making his way towards the locker room exit. ”Welp, no use wasting any more daylight.”

---

Transport Vehicle | En Route to Falcon’s Reach
Present Day

---

Alan's Music

Alan was busy fiddling with a PDA in his seat, looking over differing bits of data while music softly played from his device, and he rhythmically swayed a boot-covered foot to the dark guitar chords and twangs which easily gave away his southern roots. He kept it low enough not to be obnoxious, but he had no idea if Stein or Percy would find the bluegrass twang too much for their sensitive ears. Falcon’s Reach was a few hours drive away and the thought of engaging either Percy or Stein in actual conversation seemed more dangerous than trying to creep through a minefield.

Percy was also messing with his datapad, double and triple checking that he told Zach to keep Ana there for a little bit longer - he didn’t trust anyone at base to keep an eye on her, so she may as well spend more time with the guy. Percy was almost jealous of him - what gave Zach the right to have more time with his child than him? He felt that it was bullshit. Percy should be there with her right now, not him. But it was sort of his own fault, wasn’t it?

The silence was cold and awkward. The music could only distract Alan for so long, before the swaying of his foot became restless. The maps and dossier info could only hold his attention for so long, and he finally broke the silence.”Uh,” Alan muttered, looking around at the two, trying to break the icy silence. ”So...what do you two do for fun? When...we’re not...doing training or being attacked?”

“I am not sure what fundamental purpose that holds for the task at hand?”

Percy looked up from the screen, looking at Alan like he was insane or something. It was a look that stated, dare he start idle conversation? But he humored him; the silence started to become deafening, and he was horrified of where his thoughts would go anyway. “I used to take photos.. I kinda know how to whittle, sorta... Um…” Percy actually looked a little bit surprised at himself; he really needed to get a damn hobby! All he had been doing is caring for Ana and doing… this. Did he really have the time to pick something like that up, though? “What about you?”

He responded to Stein first, ”Geez Commander,” again, his usage of ‘commander’ did not seem all the bit reverential, “you’d think you’d want to know more about the folks you’re working with.” He turned to Percy, ”I collect books. Well, holonovels, anyways. I have about three thousand or so volumes collected now.”

“I have read both of your dossiers. I don’t see why I need to know anything beyond that.” Stein replied – directly commenting before Percy had a chance to reply himself.

“Oh… Nifty.” The way Percy said that made it very clear he didn’t find it nifty.

“So when a pilot gets emotionally compromised, what will you do? Threaten them and then walk away? Shoot them?” Alan seemed slightly cross with her. ”Pilots are humans. And piloting an NC? It can fuck with the brain. You talked about liabilities earlier. So what happens when someone does become a liability?”

“You stop them from being a liability.”

”Spoken like a true soldier.” What made her any different than any other NC pilot that worked for the cities? Just because she was indie now was meaningless, wasn’t it? She was just a fucking machine, programmed by Volkov to kill. Was she any different than those sent by Fairbanks to destroy his home? He stared at her again, closed his eyes, sighed and finally went back to his PDA, his hands shaking slightly.

“It’s what I am, yes.” She responded matter-of-factly, pausing for a moment before turning to him and continuing her line of thought. “However, I don’t disagree that understanding your comrades is valuable. Knowing your comrades is needed to predict the battlefield. But knowing insignificant bits of information like communal hobbies is not part of that need. I operate as per the mission and my orders. I will not hesitate to take a discharged bullet or thermal blast for New Anchorage. I will not hesitate to kill for New Anchorage. I do not need to know if you enjoy the holovids of Marion Trovoski to do so.”

There was something… calming about that reponse. Alan wondered if that’s why he found himself at times drawn to her. She always seemed calm, beyond the cold. It pissed him off at times, and perhaps that’s why he constantly found himself being too casual, too forward, too condescending…

She was everything he wasn’t.

”I—” he sighed, “—I apologize for being short with you, Commander.” This time there was no venomous undertone to the word. “I’ll shut up.” He said, pulling up a holonovel copy of Browning’s Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came and silently mouthed the words to himself, lost in thought.

“I shut my eyes and turned them on my heart,
As a man calls for wine before he fights,
I asked one draught of earlier, happier sights,
Ere fitly I could hope to play my part.”

[mickilennial]

---

Smith's Rest, New Anchorage | HQ Mess Hall
March 27th, 2677

---

Jesus Christ on a Pine Tree. I hate mornings.

While Stein, Alan, and Percy had been called into command for a mission, Joshua was trying to get settled in his breakfast for the morning. He stood in line, a loud, ungainly yawn breaking from his voice. In front of him was one of the child pilots; the one who wasn’t a loud-mouthed piece of shit. Joshua wiped his eyes clean as he tried to remember the name that he should’ve memorized by this point. But despite Joshua’s sarcastic and friendly demeanor he didn’t really stop to memorize anyone’s names beyond an exception or two. It was like his mother used to tell him: remembering a name was like naming a pig, you’re going to give a shit when it gets cooked. Smart advice to live by, as far as he was concerned.

He thought hard about the child pilot in front of him.

What was her name again?

Sera? No that wasn’t it. Not like it mattered. It was way too early to remember names of people he didn’t really ‘know’. But it still didn’t disinterest him in having something of a genuine conversation. Especially considering the fact that the only pilot he really talked to in the mornings was the other waster who had an ounce of cultural appreciation – and that person was out on a mission. He considered having another “debate” with the knife girl but he didn’t really see her nor did he really want to talk to her. So the blonde girl child was a good of choice as any.

“Hey, blondie. You’re up early. Considering. You must love this slosh they shovel to us.”

[Mcmolly]

---

Smith's Rest, New Anchorage | HQ Mess Hall
March 27th, 2677

---

It had been a rough morning for Vera. She’d woken up sore, having rolled over in her sleep and disturbed the skin still healing around her plug. Lofgren had made it very clear the thing was anchored to her, but she still worried it might somehow get displaced. Then she’d found Lizzy showering in her clothes, entirely absent—evidently it had been a rough morning for her as well. She wasn’t around now, but it was early, she was probably talking to mom.

On top of everything else, there was a mission going on. Stein, Percy and Alan were all gonna be off doing who knew what in Falcon’s Reach, for who knew how long. She was worried, less for Stein and Alan than Percy, but she worried about them too. Ana probably didn’t even know her dad was going off, or maybe Percy had gotten word to Zach. Either way, him being gone, especially with what had happened at the convention, made her nervous.

Suddenly reminded, she looked around for Stein’s father. Mr. Kalfox was supposed to have been her first order of business, but between the poor sleep and Lizzy, she’d forgotten. He wasn’t about now, or at least she couldn’t spot him if he was, and she resigned to go by his office after breakfast instead.

Someone else was around though. They greeted her from behind while she waited her turn for food, and she struggled for only a moment through the morning fog to pull a name from her memory.

“Josh!” she greeted, cheerily. “Hey, yeah, no this stuff? It’s great. I mean, it’s alright. Honestly you should have seen what my mom used to make, I’m happy enough this food is hot.”

As if on cue, the man behind the counter dropped a bowl of steaming oatmeal onto her tray. She smiled thankfully to him, and scooched down.

“So how’re you doing?”

[mickilennial]

---

Smith's Rest, New Anchorage | HQ Mess Hall
March 27th, 2677

---

Joshua chuckled as the younger pilot called military oatmeal “great”. It was a weird thing to hear, but if he had to be honest it was probably not that far different than the food he had growing up in Last Respite. Though, he much preferred rice gruel to whatever synthetic mesh New Anchorage’s oatmeal was composed out of. Not a lot of natural produce in Alaska, or at the very least not oats.

“Oh you know, it’s a morning.” He commented, responding to the girl’s question.

Joshua didn’t really enjoy “mornings” as a concept in the first place, chalk that up with being put through a pseudo-military workout and regimen for a few months and there was no way he was not going to sound a bit sleepy. After all, Joshua was used to staying up late and debating the finer points of theology, philosophy, and wasting time pretending to be an astronomer. His eyes still felt heavy and his body ached. He was pretty sure part of it was from the convention and the other part was talking to the blue-haired scientist down in neuroscience and drinking some old wine for several hours afterward. He probably should’ve slept sooner. But at least he didn’t end up with a hangover – he wasn’t sure how he would be acting if he had been utterly sloshed.

“What about you?”

“Ah,” she said, chuckling. “It’s a morning. Wanna sit?”

“Unless you want to eat standing up. But that’d be pretty weird.” Joshua uttered as he walked away from the line after receiving his portions, following Vera to one of the nearby long tables. The two of them took their seats near the end, facing the exit. Joshua recalled a conversation he overheard once where the knife girl called it one of the better spots to sit in the mess. Joshua wasn't sure Vera chose out of reverance for the other woman or because she liked it because it was a bit out of the way.

“So, you hear about the mission? Cool stuff huh? Going all the way out to Falcon’s Reach.”

“Never heard of it.” Joshua shrugged as he took his seat, shoveling a spoonful of oatmeal in his mouth.

He had been in Alaska for a few months now, but he didn’t really think about traveling or learning about the important settlements in the area. As far as he was concerned he only really needed to read dossiers, sign digital paperwork, and go where he was told before making the next paycheck before scouring every merchant for a new holonovel or holofilm that interested him. For locals like Vera it must’ve seemed weird to hear such remarks, but Joshua wasn’t going to feign interest if he wasn’t interested in such things. That said, he wasn’t going to be rude about it, either.

“I’m sure freckles will tell you all about it when he gets back.”

“Freckles,” she wondered, then it clicked. “Oh right. Yeah. Glad to hear someone thinks he’ll make it back, I’m sure a few people prolly aren’t so confident.”

“I don’t think there’s any chance of that happening.” Joshua raised a brow, surprised she would be so candid about such a thing. “I mean, he’s survived this long, right? I’m sure he’ll be fine. Besides, with southern and the bionic woman with him? He’ll be fine.”

“Oh sure, definitely.” She said, digging into her own bowl. “Hey so, how’re you feeling after the convention? Little nerve-wracking wasn’t it?”

“For some of the pilots, yeah.”

“Not you? Used to that sort of attention?”

Joshua laughed. “Used to seeing it, maybe. It’s just your everyday political posturing. I’ve had the spotlight on me a few times, so I guess I’m just not really winded by it anymore. I expected this sort of thing when I signed up.”

“Oh, wow. Guess I’ll have to work on it then. Got a…lot of stuff to work on.” she said, a bit more nervously than she meant to. “Do you like it then? Being a pilot, I mean. Y’know, is it what you wanted to do?”

He shook his head as he cut a piece of toast into halves. “It’s a job.”

It was a question that Joshua asked himself often – did he like doing what he did – and really, it was a tough one, even for him. When he was growing up in Last Respite he wanted to be an astronaut and explore the stars above them like someone from the past did. It wasn’t really an option in terms of “careers” in the world he lived in and definitely not a middle-of-nowhere settlement like Last Respite. He still loved space and stories about it, but he had conceded at this point in his life that he had to be a NC pilot. As he shoved the piece of toast in his mouth, he elaborated on his answer, though he didn’t really tell her if it was what he wanted to do or not.

“But I don’t hate it. Hard to hate something you were ‘born’ to do. Piloting a NC is a special thing, you know?”

“I’d like to think so. Not a lot of people get the chance to make the sort of difference we can, or help people like we do. My sister said it was like… well, like you said, she was born to do it. It’s a duty kinda thing. But then some people… I dunno, some people just get sort of forced into it, and it feels weird being like ‘no I want this.”

She looked up from her bowl then, blinked, and felt a bit embarrassed, a laugh leaving her as she did so. “Not to overshare or anything.”

Joshua laughed back, amused by Vera’s over politeness. “Call it manifest destiny, I guess. Those who can pilot will pilot. It’s just a matter of when the universe tells us ‘Yes, this is happening.’ I think there are a lot of pilots here with a lot of stories regarding that; when they accepted their burden to bear. But I guess I am being way too serious for like six in the morning.”

Joshua grabbed the other halve of the toast he had cut and dipped it into the oatmeal before folding it as he did so. After he took a bit of the oat-soaked bread he looked closely at Vera; her comment about people being ‘forced into’ it still echoing in his mind. The black-hair man found it interesting how a young girl could have developed such opinions given her rather sunny disposition. He wondered if that refreshing optimism and kindness would be perverted when she actually got in a machine and took her first life. It was something to muse while he finished his breakfast, at least.