[IC] NCQuest -- To Be Rebooted

[NuttsnBolts]

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

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It was the morning and Madison was nestled within the soft snow as she watched the beams of radiant light stretch out over the horizon. They were gentle, warm, and filled with a subtle sense of joy that tried so desperately to fight off the sorrows and tears which had fallen down her right cheek; an unfortunate scene of a girl with the inability to completely release her emotions thanks to the cybernetics implants on the left side of her face. They were crystal speckled droplets, frozen on the surface, and the tears scorched down Madison's face like tiny, serrated diamonds that left highways of red, irritated skin. The girl watched the horizon from her secluded lookout, eyeing off the various mountains and ravines as she buried her chin between her knees. It was only the sounds of a transport leaving the facility that caused her attention to finally shift.

The vehicle left the perimeter, carving its way across the lands as it headed off to Falcon's Reach. If Madison's assumptions were correct it was the same transport that bought her to the base the previous year, a moment when she officially signed up to become a part of this dysfunctional family of pilots and mechanics. Through the snow it travelled as it left the safety of the compound; through the snow it travelled leaving its mark as the first official expedition since the reigns of Graham and Celina; through the snow it travelled... carrying three, New Anchorage, pilots

"COWARD!!!"

A scream of frustration escaped the young girl's mouth, aimed at a certain parental figure for his actions the previous night, but instead the echoes of the mountains chose to respond with earnest might. They reflected back her words, they cut their way through her weakened defences, and they hit her inner spirit like a ballistic mortar shot. Madison felt her heart sink to depths she had not felt before, questioning her own self value as she mulled over the reactions from the audience at the press conference, and opinions of the other pilots.

"I'm not... a coward." Words mumbled with hurt as she subconsciously allowed her own words of anger to enter into her thoughts, a harsh reality of how she viewed her own self value. "I am not... a coward."

Cautiously the girl reached into her lap, placing her hands around a wooden handle, a utensil of Duncan's toolbox that slept silently and safely within its leather home. She hadn't slept, and the growing insomnia plagued her mind with ideas and thoughts with what she had to do. The steel blade began to sing as she cautiously drew it from a deep slumber. A sheet of metal that glistened with the sunlight from the morning sun, cleanly polished and razor sharp. She eyed the blade, seeing herself reflected straight back at her, a sight of a pink haired woman with a bloodshot eye from the emotional tears; such a horrifying sight to behold.

"I am not a coward," a gentle whisper.

The hand reached around to her hair, grasping the long strands that flowed down over her shoulders as she pulled them back to expose her naked neck. Then, as if by invitation, Duncan's blade was lifted into position and rested carefully upon her soft skin. The stone cold edge rocked back and forth as she consciously positioned it, ready to choose the resolve that she desperately needed for herself... and for everyone else.

"I am Madison Cole..."

Final words of courage, a set of eyes that closed, the final gulp, and the ear piercing sound of a harrowing slice echoed across the snow.

* * *

One by one strands of baby pink began to fall, dancing in the breeze as they slowly fell towards the snow. The girl never before had hair that flowed so beautifully down her back, but ever since she had awoken, ever since she had appeared as a different person in a different body, she had been treated as the child, a baby, that girl who needed the protection of every other pilot. For Madison, enough was enough and she was ready to return to the old Madi and fight whatever it was that had been brewing up inside her since the accident.

Standing up from the snow and turning back towards the outpost entrance, Madison made the long, arduous walk back into the base, stomach growling from hunger, and ready to prove everyone... fucking... wrong.

[mickilennial]

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En Route to Falcon's Reach | Transport Velichle
March 27th, 2677

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The drive to Falcon’s Reach was “awkward”. It was a strange word for Stein to consider, but she couldn’t find a better one when she was thinking about the whole situation. Alan had kept quiet for the entire duration of the journey across the Alaskan tundra and Percy probably sensed the tension in the air and decided it wasn’t worth making small-talk. There was a murmur inside of the blonde-haired NC pilot, that maybe she said something unwise in the back-and-forth. Maybe her perspective was wrong? It was hard thing to think about for her given how emotionally detached she tried to be. Her brows narrowed as she looked over the mission details over again, trying to push past her thoughts.

The information they still didn’t know was decidedly vague. A neural hub reactivation, no NC support, three pilots instead of just one; none of the details really added up to the full picture. Stein wondered what they weren’t being informed of and what specifics they were missing in the grand scheme of things. Questions Stein had asked herself only hours prior before they left Smith’s Rest. She knew it was stupid to repeat asking herself the question, but she wasn’t expecting an answer to suddenly come to her mind. The idea was more to keep focused. After all, soldiers who doubted themselves ended up dead. She crossed her arms, pushing her right foot up against the dashboard.

“All of you can stop moping. We’ve arrived.” The transport pilot, Alexandria Paxinou, stifled a chuckle.

Stein nodded as Alexandria spoke up, the first time since they had left the base and introduced themselves. It was good they had arrived at their destination, even if it came with a little glibness from the person tasked with getting them there.

“Well, I hope this ‘Daniel Krane’ has more answers for us.”

The transport pushed forward over a frost-covered bridge, the roughness causing the vehicle to jump from the ground for a moment. Alexandria’s eyes not leaving the road as she responded to Stein’s remark about Krane. “Well, gee, I don’t see why he wouldn’t. He is the head of the whole settlement. Though, yeah, I guess that depends if he thinks you need to know what he knows. Serious types are like that. No offense.”

Stein nodded as she prepared for the vehicle to reach Falcon’s Reach’s command center.

---

Falcon's Reach | Command Center
March 27th, 2677

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Falcon’s Reach was unimpressive to the human eye. It was a settlement of scavengers and scrappers, far beyond the idea of the “perfect” post-apocalyptic city. But Stein had seen many of such places during her time routing raiders and protecting similar types of places from monolithic creatures that wished to do it harm. Though unlike Alan and Percy she wasn’t cut from the same cloth and she knew it. She wondered if it would’ve been wiser to allow Alan to take lead in talking with the people in Falcon’s Reach, but yet at the same time Commander Graham had given her the responsibility to direct the mission. It was something she would have to think over as she walked to meet the leader of Falcon’s Reach she thought about it.

One thing that struck her almost immediately was how the armed militia was a far stretch from Graham’s organization and fatigues. They were a scrappy lot who barely looked like they could operate in a firefight, let alone defend a settlement. She supposed it was much like how Smith’s Rest was years ago before she ended up stranded in the region. It seemed the only thing you needed to be a soldier in Falcon’s Reach was have two hands and be able to pull a trigger.

Reminds me of that settlement in the Oregon territory a few years back.

It didn’t take more than a few minutes before they were met with the appearance of Daniel Krane and his personal assortment of armed guards; guards who look a lot more composed than the ones Stein had noticed only moments prior. As the leader of Falcon’s Reach she expected something more of the man, but he did live out where apocalyptic monsters and raiders were a lot more wanton and prevalent. He was a tall man, about six foot even, with long shadows underneath his eyes and an appearance that could only be described as “ghoul-like”.

“Welcome to Falcon’s Reach.”

His voice wasn’t as unpleasant as one may have thought. It was rough, sure, but all that meant was he spent a lot of time at the local canteen. But by his tone alone Stein knew he had a lot more on his mind than being friendly for the sake of friendly. He looked from Percy to Stein to Alan before he let out a heavy sigh.

“They only sent three of you? Fantastic.”

[Mcmolly]

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

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Vera didn’t remain in the cafeteria long after she finished eating. Normally she wouldn’t have minded sticking around to chat up the other pilots, but with some of the more familiar faces already miles away, piling onto the morning’s general discomfort, she politely excused herself to Joshua and headed into the hall.

It would be time to start training soon, she guessed. She’d hook herself into one of the simulations and spend a few hours getting used to the feeling of being, well, a giant robot. Equal parts thrilling and unsettling. But before that…

The Jackspar house was built on routines. Mom had them, Vera had them, and Lizzy had them. Her sister’s had transferred the easiest into their new lives, and so that made her daily haunts predictable. It was morning, there were no pressing engagements, so Vera determined that she should veer to the pilots’ gym. Lizzy always did physical warmups out of bed, then again after breakfast. Back home she’d had to do them to eat at all. Now, she supposed, it was just habit.

Sure enough Vera found her there. She was alone, and taking advantage of that, had music blaring from her data-tool so loud it nearly floored Vera when she opened the door. Thankfully the walls were thick. Even more thankfully, Lizzy noticed her immediately and lowered the volume—not completely, but enough. Vera couldn’t fault her for it, back home every day for her had been silence.

“Vi,” she greeted, monotone, but Vera deciphered a pleasantness in it. “You’re up early.”

“Everyone is today, I think.”

“It would seem,” Lizzy huffed. She’d taken up at the chain-dangling punching bag, and it looked as if she’d been at it for a while. Her fatigue jacket hung by the door, and the pants were rolled up high on her shins. Recently she’d taken to pulling her hair back into a tail when she trained, and while Vera thought it looked nice, tough even, part of her worried she might eventually just cut it all off.

Lizzy assumed a fighting stance, and went to work on the bag again. Vera hopped onto the small rise of the makeshift boxing ring and sat there by the data-tool, watching her. There was a striking dissimilarity—to her, at least—in the way her sister fought, and how she danced. In the comfort and privacy of her hobby, with Vera her opposite, she was like a tide. She was serene, moving to and fro as the waves did, imperceptibly, rising and falling with elegance that might have been orchestrated by similarly cosmic forces. Vera knew Lizzy would never wear a dress, but liked to think that, if she did, and to delve even further into impossibility, if she danced, she might look like a drifting, ghostly sea-being—the kind that she’d read about, that were so far down they had to make their own light.

With the bag as her partner, she was much less aquatic. Every action was sturdy—not stiff, but sturdy—every movement sure, and purposeful. The ambiguity was not for her, it was for the bag. She did not stop to consider her partner, to let it breath or to move in accordance with it, she had the lead. When she pivoted, and the bag swung past her, she’d just as quickly yank the momentum from it with a flurry of fists, knees and elbows. No, these were very much strong, unyielding, earthy movements.

“So Percy, Stein and Alan took off for the mission,” Vera said.

“I’m aware,” Lizzy hissed between strikes.

“Think they’ll be alright?”

“I think at least one of them will be.”

Vera might have laughed if she thought Lizzy was trying to be funny, but she knew the statement, and the lack of faith, were sincere. The curtness surprised her nonetheless.

“You alright? You seem upset.”

“I’m fine.”

“Did you want to go?”

Lizzy struck the bag a tad harder. The chain shrieked. “I’m a soldier of New Anchorage, of course I wanted to go. All of us should want to go. I’m sure Fouren and Moore were just thrilled for the opportunity.”

“Right,” Vera mumbled. “You…sure you’re not mad?”

“I am not mad. It’s not my place to voice doubts in the decisions of my superiors. I won’t pretend like I understand Graham’s reasoning. But I am not mad.” Lizzy’s focus on the bag grew more intense. She struck harder, faster, dipped the swings she let through and followed up on them with ferocity that made Vera feel a bit bad for the stitched-up sack of stuffing. She went on. “Our first contact with this settlement in months—if not longer. They need help, we want to establish relations. What should we do? We should send a team who can competently navigate the Alaskan front, effectively handle any raider presence, and properly represent the operations and interests of New Anchorage. I know, let’s send the Russian, the Waster, and Moore!”

Percy’s name was punctuated with a particularly weighty uppercut that sent the chain warbling. Lizzy exhaled and held the bag steady.

“Uh. Don’t tell Percy I said that.” she said, catching her breath. “I’m…trying to be nicer. To people.”

Vera laughed, somewhere between nervous and genuine. On one hand it was nice to see Lizzy get passionate, on the other, she worried about how many of those punches could have been meant for Percy, or Alan, or anyone else.

“For what it’s worth, pretty sure they’re just going there to help. Don’t think it’s a negotiation.”

“Everything is a negotiation.” The words were cold, certain, and familiar. Vera wasn’t sure how she felt hearing her sister repeat one of mom’s mantras. Before she could dwell to long on it, Lizzy changed the subject. “Have you seen Madison this morning?”

“Oh,” Vera blinked herself back. “Uh, no, I haven't She wasn’t in the dining hall yet when I was there. You lookin’ for her?”

“Yes. There’s something I’d like to talk to her about.”

Lizzy snagged her data-tool, her jacket, and slid into her boots. She checked back over her shoulder as she tidied up her uniform, and it seemed to Vera like she was being analyzed.

“How’s the plug? Are you sleeping alright?”

“It’s fine.”

“It’ll be a bit uncomfortable for a while, but if it gets too bad or it starts hurting all the time, you should talk to Lofgren.”

Vera giggled. “It’s fine, Lizzy. Really. I’m good. I’m even training.”

Her sister smiled, just barely. “I’ll have to hear all about it, later. I’m going to check the mess hall. If you need me later, I’ll be around.”

They waved goodbye, then Lizzy left. Vera hopped down from the ring, and considered staying for a bit. She threw a few jabs at the bag, but found it was much tougher than she’d thought, and remembered anyway that she had other, more important things to do, like find Stein’s father. The conversation with Josh had distracted her again, but now she was awake, she’d eaten, she was focused.

Vera barged back out into the hall, and set out for Mr. Kalfox’s office. She was determined to get answers, or at least warn him that a big fan of his had come to town.

[Ladypug]

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Falcon's Reach || Transport Vehicle; Command Center
March 27th, 2677

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As Percy opens the door to leave the vehicle with Alan and Stein, he turns to Alexandria. "Make sure the trip home is extra bumpy, alright? I think you missed a couple potholes," He smiles tersely, and then goes to follow the other two.

His intent was to just to mess with her - he'd ridden with her at least three times now - but his tone of voice made it sound like he was more angry than snarky. Sadly, he did'nt realize how angry he sounded until he heard the gates closing behind them. He turned - why, he didn't know; It'd be too awkward to apologize now - but by the time he was turned around, the gates were shut tight. It would be oh-so easy to just dive headfirst into one of the many whirring machines around him to end it all and avoid having to look her or Madison in the face ever again. Instead of that, though, he grit his teeth and just half-jogged to catch back up to the other two, rubbing his hands together to warm them up. The usual cold on top of the blood rushing to his face to form the obvious signal he fucked up socially made his hands go numb for a moment. He should've put some gloves on.

Wait... Madison. Percy groaned softly as he recollected bits and pieces of the night before for probably the thousandth time that morning. The thing he remembers most is.. well, it was getting slapped harder than he'd ever been slapped by a woman (other than Laura) in his life, but following close behind was that look of betrayal on Madison's face. The thought of her being so upset put his stomach in knots. As soon as he gets back he has got to hunt her down and-

He almost walked into Alan and Stein. Apparently he was so zoned out and in his own head, he failed to realize where they were walking.

“They only sent three of you? Fantastic.”

Before either Stein or Alan could say anything more useful, Percy replied, "Would four of us have been better?"

[NuttsnBolts]

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

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The Australian waltzed into the cafeteria, dreary and obviously suffering from a hangover from the previous day's drinking session. She obviously hadn't learned the art of pacing herself and today was going to be another one of those write offs with her nursing the agony of a throbbing headache. She could have sworn that she hadn't drunk that much, but did it really matter considering she was still sitting in limbo waiting for their next mission to start up?

That's right... limbo. While Stein, Alan, and Percy had managed to score tickets to a vacation away from base, Tahlia along with many of the others were stuck in the same song and dance that they had performed for the past eternity; a sloppy scoop of gruel for the daily intake of energy.

Tahlia dropped the tray of food onto the table, watching as it bounced once or twice before it decided to kick the cutlery onto the metal surface. She didn't really want to make the effort to collect the utensils but it was an unfortunate necessity with the alternate being to eat with her hands, much like a caveman from a millennia ago. How embarrassing would that be, to act like a complete ass hat in front of the others. It'd almost be as bad as hitting on Per...

Tahlia sat there like a stunned rabbit, retracing the thoughts that had passed through her mind.

"Hitting on Percy..."

The deep inhale of air as Tahlia recollected the fuzzy memories of the previous night; she had hit on Percy. The red-haired coward who brings his child onto base without any thought to what dangers that might bring to the team, and yet somehow he still manages to have some form of a family while she sat alone with a tray full of sludge in this frozen wasteland.

"God fucking dammit," the former commander slurred as she pushed away the tray, instantly loosing her appetite and choosing instead to light up a morning smoke.

[DruSM157]

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Falcon's Reach | Bar
March 27th, 2677

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The man was busy reading something on his PDA. He'd been sitting there for hours now, with an expensive bottle of whiskey beside him at the small wooden table and a small shot glass he continually refilled every so often. He'd not spoken to anyone in the immediate area, though many of the patrons had kept a wary eye on him. His hair was cut rugged and short, and his beard was slightly scraggly, but not too long. That was enough to set him apart from the usual aging waster, but what really made him stand out was his coat. Long, black and lined with synthetic fur, it looked completely out of place towards the roughshod and patchwork outfits many of the common people of Falcon's Reach wore. He exuded money, but his weathered face and lack of care around him also permeated another kind of energy: danger.

He seemed interested in a video feed on his device, something he kept close enough to his chest that no one was too interested in actually looking over his shoulder to see. Instead, he was busy watching as three figures made their way into the command center of the settlement. He seemed to focus on one of the people walking out of the camera's view. His eyes widened for a moment, before turning into slits.

He grinned.

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Falcon's Reach | Command Center
March 27th, 2677

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Alan had seen his fair share of rough faces and tired men in his lifetime; community leaders so far from the cities tended to age quickly due to the stress of raiders, poor supplies, general unhappiness and the sheer lack of comfort that came with the wastes. This...leader was no different. Whereas Percy or Stein may have been uncomfortable with his ghoul-like features, Alan was comforted by them.

The face of a leader who struggled was the face of a man who bore the hardships of his people. He'd been fucked over by enough round-faced and well-fed men in his time to know that it's the smiling man with overstuffed pockets that will have his people turn their guns on you without a second thought. Then again, desperate men also make the same kinds of desperate decisions...

Alan finally broke the silence by answering the man's sarcastic "enthusiasm" of the team. "Don't worry," He began, trying to sound as confident as he could. "We'll be able to move a lot quicker and quieter than a full battalion. And we've held our in firefights in and out of our NCs. We'll do the job just right." False bravado? Or just puffery to make this guy a little less worried that there were three cold bodies here with field equipment instead of the heavy support they had access to. It didn't matter. Do or die. Just smile, follow orders until the day comes to get what you want.

[mickilennial]

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Falcon's Reach | Command Center
March 27th, 2677

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“Oh yeah, way better. 'cause then there’d be another guy to put in front of the bullets.”

Daniel Krane remarked to the person who had asked him the question. He supposed a lot of it was his own damn fault. He didn’t trust Smith’s Rest before they had accepted a Denver-Vegas proxy into their administration, so the current state of relations was far less than trusting and cooperative. But the new “minister” of the settlement didn’t let up on how every settlement in Alaska should work together officially. Falcon’s Reach was being recruited for the idea of New Anchorage, and if there was one thing he liked about the new minister was that she knew how to paint a picture. A democratic coalition to stand alone against the corporations that were breathing down their neck while they worried about raiders, monsters, and other things that Krane tended to deal with.

He took his flask and swallowed a mouthful of whiskey before looking over the three pilots in front of him. At the very least two of them looked like they could shoot a guy in the face and not stress themselves over it. His eyes drifted to the scrappy man next to the short blonde girl – he smelled familiar, like a man he knew he could count on. His appearance and posture didn’t reek of the corporations or inexperience and that was something Krane liked. A fellow waster who knew what had to be done.

“I figured as much. Smith’s Rest wouldn’t have sent me soldiers who can’t handle themselves.” He remarked before he looked over to another militia member, giving him a nod to give his own input. “Skarsgård, why don’t you share your information with our guests and get them what they need. Sooner we deal with this, sooner it’ll be handled.”

Daniel Skarsgård was younger than him, with a thicker beard and a shaved head. The waster in front of him probably pegged him as the likely the “go-getter” of the Krane's men. Such an assertion wouldn’t have been incorrect. Skarsgård was not only Krane’s second-in-command, but also Krane’s leyline to the community members of Falcon’s Reach as a whole. People liked him and unlike Krane he didn’t look like he had given up on life, though he was by no means a person who had not lived a hard life. Krane had little doubt that once life had enough of his old, irrelevant ass that Skarsgård would take over as the resident commander of Falcon’s Reach and do a much better job than he had done over the past few decades.

“Right. We sent some hill scouts up the river several hours ago—the raiders have made camp, like they’re waiting for something or someone. Probably want to beat you lot into taking control of the node. God knows we’ll be right fucked if that goes online against us.” He looked to Alan, as if he recognized that the other two weren’t wasters by the way they looked and their posture.

“What function does the device provide for you?” The blonde woman inquired as Krane leaned back and let his second do the talking. For a second, he looked over to Krane as if asking permission to respond, who gave him the nod.

“Some old world tech, surface-to-air weapon. We use it to defend the settlement and smaller holds in the region. Keep us clear of monsters and raiders. Our neural technician and only pilot might know specifics.”

Krane figured it would take one question and they would be off to speak with their involuntarily retired NC pilot and Skarsgård would do the rest in case they needed munitions, rations, or whatever else. Krane needed to stay in the command center to keep an eye on not only the raider situation but a few faces in town that were familiar, trouble ones that he wasn’t keen on letting stir any trouble. Sometimes he wondered if Smith’s Rest had the same anxieties and if they handled them any bit like he did. But Krane knew he couldn't lollygag and daydream about these sort of things for long. With that in mind, he sat his flask down on a nearby table as he turned back around to face one of the monitors.

As Skarsgård began to escort the three away he wondered how exactly these pilots would handle their first firefight, Falcon's Reach-style.

[Ladypug]

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Falcon's Reach | Command Center
March 27th, 2677

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"So..." Percy began, attempting to secure the rights to ask the first question, "Uh, they set up camp instead of just going up and activating the thing? That's.. weird, right?"

“Not really. They are essentially holding Falcon’s Reach hostage. It puts our settlement at risk of the local wildlife among other things. The weird thing isn’t they are sitting on it, the weird thing is they haven’t demanded any credits yet.”

Percy slowly nods, following along. "Alright, cool. And.. the only reason you can't send any of your people is because you're scared of... What? Deer? Rabbits? Are you kidding me? he makes a sound somewhere between a snort and a scoff, "You have got to be joking, right-?"

“-You’ve never been outside of Smith’s Rest, have you?” Skarsgård uttered, unimpressed by Percy’s candor. He sighed as he continued down the corridor in front of him. “The Alaskan wildlife is dangerous and we need the manpower to defend Falcon’s Reach from frenzied salasaurs, dire eagles, and land sharks."

It took Percy a beat to comprehend that last bit, and even still... "Wait-"

Skarsgård continues over Percy's confusion, "The device controls a defense system that lets us optimize our people’s safety considering we’re in what some of the corporations call a wilderness red zone.”

"But wait-" Percy's voice was frustratingly softer, allowing Stein to interrupt with ease.

“That makes a degree of sense."

Percy couldn't help but shoot an incredulous look at Stein - well, the back of her head, but still. She's not even phased by that? How is he the only one that's freaking out right now!?

“On top of all of that, the only guy we have that has a neural uplink is in no shape to go to the node. We would’ve asked Graham to drop you guys in your NCs, but we don’t want the neural uplink destroyed. That’s basically priority number one.”

Percy nods in understanding despite not entirely listening, "Yeah, sure, ok, I- I just- I'm think I'm still stuck on fucking land sharks?!" He just couldn't believe what he was hearing. It sounded fake, but the way he said it made it sound like it was just as normal as any other animal. Sharks with legs, obviously, are not normal.. Or maybe they are, and the world is far more horrifying than he thought it was. I shouldn't have brought a child into this world, holy shit.

“Laugh all you want, but a land shark can drag a man thirty feet trying to tear his leg off,” Alan muttered.

"I'm not laughing," Percy retorts, "I'm kinda horrified, actually."

Skarsgård scoffed, glancing towards Alan. “You sure he’s a pilot?”

“He’s capable and he’s survived combat already. I trust him enough, even if he’s a little green.”

“Fair enough.”

[mickilennial]

---

Falcon's Reach | Nearing the NC Labs
March 27th, 2677

---

Stein remained mostly quiet as she followed the man through the command center’s stiff, barely held-together corridors. Fouren had taken lead with being more personable with the people of Falcon’s Reach, though she supposed that made sense given that he had been like them not too long ago. These were people who would’ve called her a “corporate belle” at best and a sellout city merc at worst, so she knew to keep her comments brief and to-the-point if she had anything she needed to say. There was a small tick in her brain that was trying to remind her that she was taking lead on this mission, but she knew such thoughts were non-optimal and if she acted on them the situation would not result well for the mission in the long-term.

As the group discussed things about the Alaskan wildlife, Stein did find herself genuinely surprised. Genuinely surprised that a native of the region had no idea of the dangers of his own region. She knew Moore was a sheltered man but had he never left Smith’s Rest? Had he never heard stories of the wildlife and other dangers beyond the raider groups? How was that even possible? Stein imagined him to be a weak, cowardly man but he was still a “passable” pilot and had passed all of Graham’s tests. But knowing what she now knew it did make her wonder how capable he actually was and when it came to a real firefight how long it would take until his dogged luck finally ran out.

She supposed she would have to see if today was that day.

Fouren shuffled his hands in his pockets, his eyes still set on their escort – Daniel Skarsgård. “We definitely need info from the pilot and tech; they'll probably know the exact location of the uplink and that’ll decide our best route through that giant ship. One last question, though, so we have enough to cover our asses out there. Have you guys seen any NC activity in the area in the past few months?”

It was a smart question. Stein figured she would have asked something similar if she was more personable. Knowing the exact raider influence in the area was ideal and if any of those raiders had NCs they would probably have to rethink their approach. If raiders could get the NC device recalibrated to attack Falcon’s Reach they could carve out a whole new sector for themselves. She now understood why Graham didn’t want to fly them in and why he had only sent the bare minimum he did. Risking three pilots was the maximum amount he could do and if the three of them died he still would’ve retained their NCs. Falcon’s Reach didn’t want the device destroyed, Graham didn’t want to take unnecessary risks, Celina wanted Falcon’s Reach to be brought officially into the New Anchorage coalition. It all made sense.

“Another settlement north of here went dark…. Two Rivers, I think it’s called. But we were kind of preoccupied to pay mind to it. Word was some kind of golden mech was tearing into them with two others.”

The man turned the corner, though Stein saw Fouren stop for a moment before he continued following. “A gold mech, huh.”

Skarsgård nodded, “Weird, right? Somebody really likes to be the center of attention. Never heard of someone painting their colors gold before.”

Stein had heard of the reputation of someone fitting the description that Fouren and Skarsgård were discussing but she wasn’t sure what to think about it. The man she knew of had a reputation in Fairbanks and some southern Denver-Vegas holdings. If such a person was up here in Alaska then she figured it was for a good reason like a payoff or some kind of corporate sponsorship. But Alaska was mostly barren, why would either of those things be a factor? It was a thought that she couldn’t ever have the answer to, at least, not until she fought this “golden NC” herself. She took a light breath and decided it may have been a good idea to comment on such prospects.

“Someone that bold would have many enemies. The reward must outweigh the risks for him to openly attack settlements in such a way.”

Skarsgård shrugged. “Sometimes people don’t think on facts and figures. I know it’s hard for a corp’ to believe that, but not everyone who raids settlements does it for profit. Hell, some assholes do it for fun. And that’s without factoring in the NC bullshit that fucks with your head. What do you call it, again? Polar Shit?”

She stifled a chuckle, “Polaris Shift.”

There was a moment there that Stein couldn’t disagree with the man, even though he wasn’t a pilot himself and lacked true insight about what they faced as neural combatants. People who were rotten before they stepped into the machine became much much worse through time and experience and that was without factoring in the effects of a Polaris Shift. If this “golden NC” was as experienced as she believed and as arbitrary as Skarsgård suggested, then Stein wasn’t sure what he would be like. Was wealth secondary? Was his prime directive to make people suffer? What was he after? What was the goal of destroying a settlement like Two Rivers? Was there a goal at all? Was it related to the neural device they were going after? Or was it all unrelated and she was just overthinking the situation?

She supposed she would have to find out.

[DruSM157]

---

Falcon's Reach | Command Center
March 27th, 2677

---

Gold Mech.

As Skarsgård and Stein continued to converse, Alan couldn’t shake those words. Golden mech. Gold mech. Constantly repeating in his head. Stein and the other man were too busy conversing to see that Alan had broken out into a cold sweat. That his palms were shaking ever so slightly. That his pupils had dilated. It was good that this was unnoticed: he looked like a junkie craving a habit and having Stein or Percy believe that he was that kind of waster wouldn’t help anything. No, it’d make everything worse.

After all, this was the proof he needed.

He’d seen that Golden Mech tear apart his friends, burn his home and nearly kill him as well. He’d replayed that mission over a thousand nights in his head when he couldn’t sleep. Constantly remembering, unable to forget or forgive what had happened. Alan began backing towards the door of the room. “Hey, sorry-“ he interjected, stumbling in his words for a moment.“Where’s the bathroom around here? I just—” he stopped, trying to focus. “Just need to visit the little pilot’s room for a sec.”

Skarsgård raised an eyebrow and nodded. “It’s down the hall and to the left.” The bonds of fellow wasters at least had that trust between them. Alan quickly exited the room and stepped quickly and with purpose towards the bathroom. He opened the door, and quickly knelt down making sure there were no feet in the stalls around. Finding himself alone for a quick moment, he exhaled loudly, and placed both his hands on the sides of the porcelain bathroom sink. He looked up to see his face in the mirror: his cheeks were flushed. Beads of sweat were dripping down his forehead. He looked sick. He felt sick.

Pip. Dicer. Janus. How many years was it now since he’d seem them alive?

Mother. Father. How badly mauled were their bodies by that mech?

He wanted to throw up. His stomach churned. But the day’s rations were so far settled now he knew he would simply be dry heaving over a toilet. He had to calm down. Deep breath in. Hold for six seconds. Deep breath out.

Cold water splashed across his face as he tried to wash away the proof of his obsession before heading back. No need to make his companions worry, or realize what he was planning to do now. Two Rivers was just a warning. New Anchorage was the target, and the smaller settlements would be decimated first. But the largest one? When would he strike?

He’d be there, waiting for him. He’d find him. And one of them would die.

After that, I’ll be free.

Alan dried his face off, and made his way back to the group. “Sorry,” he said, trying to play off his sudden retreat. “Breakfast must’ve shot right through me.”

[mickilennial]

---

Falcon's Reach | NC Labs
March 27th, 2677

---

“We're here.”

Skarsgård moved forward, leading the group until they entered what appeared to be some kind of laboratory that looked like a rudimentary version of Dr. Lofgren’s own research center back in Smith’s Rest. Inside was only three people, two of which were seeming to be running basic diagnostics on the old hardware. The third was a man in a wheelchair with a soft expression and old gray-blue irises, it took him a full minute to register that people had come to see him. A nametag hung from his jacket.

N. Voloshyna.

Skarsgård sighed, looking at the state of a man who used to be the most terrifying pilot in the Alaskan territories and the hero of Falcon's Reach a hundred times over. He was a shell of what he used to be, but after all the effects of piloting for over eight decades Skarsgård supposed that he was a product of a lifetime of abuse, struggle, and injuries. If it was twenty years ago, they wouldn’t have even needed help from one of their rival settlements. But Krane knew what had to be done and Skarsgård wasn’t privy to doubt him.

“Nikolai, the folks from Smith’s Rest want some information about the site. You’ve been there before.”

It was a full thirty seconds before the old pilot turned in his wheelchair to ‘inspect’ the people in front of him and reply. “Ah… I see. I’m not sure how I can help, but yes. What do you need from me?”

Skarsgård took his position against a nearby wall, foot pressed against the metal as he observed the conversation. He didn’t really have any input; at this point it was up to the people from Smith’s Rest to take lead. He still didn’t trust the whole situation Falcon’s Reach was put in, but there was little to be done. If Krane died and he was in charge of administrating the situation he wasn’t sure what he would’ve done differently. Smith’s Rest had become a force to be reckoned with – though they were abandoning their waster roots to accommodate corporate ideals. From the outside it looked like Celina Jackspar was trying to build herself up as a new CEO, but at the same time she wasn’t conquering anyone and was giving more aid to people that used to be her settlements rivals and enemies. Maybe the sleights Falcon’s Reach had suffered at the hands of Smith’s Rest was over and done with? What if it was water under the bridge?

He considered the thought as the brown-haired member of the three pilots that stood beside the ginger and blonde stepped forward.

[Ladypug]

---

Falcon's Reach | Approaching the NC Labs
March 27th, 2677

---

"Sorry, breakfast must’ve shot right through me.”

Percy's eyes narrowed, but only slightly. Despite Alan's attempts at hiding it, Percy could just tell that there was something else afoot. He didn't know exactly what it was, how to approach it, or if he even should. He didn't want to draw any more attention to Alan if he could help it, but he couldn't not say anything, either. He tried to just bite his tongue and continue walking, but he couldn't keep himself from worrying. Shit, Alan wouldn't have been this worried over him, so why should he worry about him? It didn't change the fact that Percy was worried, though. Very worried. He couldn't just stop worrying, especially if they were about to walk into a firefight like he'd assumed they were going to. If Alan was worked up about something, that means the only stable one was Stein, which wouldn't bode well for any of them. Percy's beyond help, so Alan has got to be the other stable, or they'll all die. He took a breath before he finally spoke.

"You sure you're alright?" Percy's tone was concerned, but soft.

"Yeah," Alan said, busily following behind the others, like a lost child trying to follow his friends when he'd been left behind. "I'm fine. Just had an upset stomach. I'm better now."

Percy opened his mouth to say something else, but he shut it just as quickly, humming in response instead. He wasn't dumb. He knew a lie when he heard one, but he wasn't about to turn it into an ordeal. Not here, anyway.

---

Falcon's Reach | NC Labs
March 27th, 2677

---

Though he let Alan walk forward and start talking, he took maybe two or three steps forward as well. There's no way that he's reading it correctly - except he is. He did read it correctly. That little nametag said Voloshyna, clear as day. Good God, what the hell else is going to floor him today? Should he say something about it? Can he? Why is someone related to Vera not with her?

"Mister..." Alan looked at the nametag, speaking slower in what Percy assumed was an attempt to say the name correctly. "Voloshyna?" He extended a hand to the older man. "My name is Alan Fouren, New Anchorage Squad C Commander. This is Anastasia Kalfox, Squad A Commander, and Percy Moore, one of our pilots."

Percy just kind of nodded when his name was said - he was still hung up on the fact a Voloshyna was even here, and not with Vera. He had assumed that maybe Vera was orphaned and Miss Jackspar had adopted her, but... Percy forced a polite smile on his face, but if anyone cared to notice, it'd be obvious that his brain's going 30 miles a minute.

"We've been ordered to take back that neural uplink and get it back online for your people," Alan's personality had seemed to shift again - he was all talk now, focused on the mission. "Skarsgård has explained to us you're the man to talk to about the uplink station. I need to know the exact location, ways to get to the uplink, and any other information you can give us about this location. Any built in defenses, areas that could be used as traps, even if you have an old map of the area; I need it."

"...Yes, I’m sure I have some in my datatool. Maps, I mean," Nikolai responded, remaining in his seat while his left hand thumbed the metallic stick he used for supporting his legs. “I can transmit them."

The old man seemed to mull over Alan’s other questions. The silence was deafening to Percy's ears as all of his own questions bounced around in his head - How long has he been here? Does he even know Vera exists? Does Vera know he exists? What is his relation to her, even? Father? Grandfather? Why is he here and not with her?

"The uplink is at the center of the ship," Nikolai finally says, "It's in an old lab or something. Command center? Uplink node?" He paused, as if struggling to find the right word. "There’s a breach in the hull I made with my NC... unless the raiders blocked it off. Northwestern side of it, I think.”

Stein spoke next, asking plainly. “What of the traps and defenses?”

"Right. Sorry about that, young lady. My memory is not what it used to be. There could be turrets - I remember disarming a few. Trip-wires would be smart, too. Maybe even mines. It depends if our common enemy wants to leave the ship in one piece. I wish I could remember... better."

"Do you remember- uh.. Do you know a Vera? Vera Voloshyna?" Percy knew that it had literally nothing to do with anything right now, but it'd drive him up a wall if he didn't ask.

"Vera.. Vera..." The old man uttered as his eyes looked to Percy, though he wasn’t alone.

Alan and Stein had moved to look at him and inside Percy’s neurotic head he could hear Stein’s complaints with his question already – what does this question have to do with the mission? Percy frankly didn’t care if it was relevant in the moment. There's no harm in asking, and if the one person who he knew would care isn't here to ask it, then who else will?

"Ah. Right. The girl. Sure," The old man finally answered. Percy grimaced in response - maybe he's just giving him an answer to shut him up. Well the joke's on him, cause he's not shutting up.

"She’s about this tall," Percy rose his hand about yay high to better illustrate, "blonde hair.. Uh.. Green? Eyes. Wears a furry hat all the time? Any of that ringing a bell?"

“And why should I care exactly?”

"Why shouldn’t you care?" Percy’s tone shifted from mere curiosity to irritation. "I mean, I certainly don't remember meeting anyone else with the same name as her except you, and I-"

"-I’m not sure how this is relevant to the mission at large, Moore,” Stein interjected, crossing her arms as she did so.

"It's not," Percy admits, "But... Stein, come on. Surely you think it's weird too, right? Right?"

“My feelings are irrelevant. We are here for a specific job.” She stated bluntly before looking back to the old pilot, not allowing Percy a moment to respond to what she had said. “We'll use the geographic information to map out the best possible method of advance. As mission lead," The emphasis on those two words made Percy wince. "I appreciate the support you’ve given us. Is there anything else you can recall about the location before we get our bearings and move on? Time is of the essence.”

“The local wildlife presents many dangers," Nikolai replied. "If you're going on foot, I would suggest you tread carefully and bring a grappling tool. The land is... uneven. A collapse could lead to a quick death if you don’t have your wits about you.”

Percy let out a breath he didn't know he was even holding. He had so, so much more to say, and so much more to ask, but with the combination of his own scatter-brainedness and Stein's not-so-subtle insistence to hurry it along... He sighed again, more quietly this time. He shouldn't even care about it this much. Vera isn't his kid, she's technically Celina's. If Ms. Jackspar didn't care enough to get Vera in contact with a relative, why should he? Would Vera even care? She's gotten along just fine without knowing, or even wanting to know, so maybe he really is just wasting everyone's time. Or maybe Vera would care. Maybe Vera would care, and she'd be even more stubborn about it. She wouldn't leave until she got every little drop of information she wanted, and even then she'd ring out as much as she could from the geezer.

Why do I do this to myself?

[Mcmolly]

---

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

---

Finding Mister Kalfox wasn’t difficult in the end. “The Office of Financial Administration” might not have been large, but there were enough big words that following the signs was easy. Easier than was finding the Financial Administrator himself. Or his office, anyway.

Vera was stood outside the door, fidgeting, twiddling her thumbs, rocking on her heels, finding any way to avoid knocking. Only now was it occurring to her how ridiculous this all seemed, even after Percy had proved to her that she’d been scared for nothing.

But how could it be nothing? The poor woman had mentioned Ingram and Ana by name. She knew enough that the Kalfox name had weight beyond New Anchorage’s walls, and the idea that someone knew Stein’s father wasn’t completely outlandish, but what about Ana? How had she known Ana? Percy was a nobody, who would possibly know the Moores? More than that, who would possibly know the Moores enough to threaten them?

Maybe this was because Percy was a pilot. It worried her to think as much, but what else was anyone supposed to expect out of a life of fighting and killing in the cockpit of a giant robot? What if he’d just shot the wrong person, made the wrong enemy, and now Ana was in danger?

Vera swallowed down the thoughts of herself garnering such enemies. That wouldn’t be her, she would do things differently. She would.

Steeling herself, Vera knocked on the door and tried the handle—unlocked. She cracked it slightly, enough to get her voice in.

“Mister Kalfox?” she called inside. “Are you in? I uh…something's…can we talk? If you have a moment, I mean.”