Valiant: Tales From The Archive

[CURSEd #9: More To Life]

Log Date: 12/24/12763

Data Sources: Darrow Bennion

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

CURSE HQ: Proving Grounds

4:32pm SGT

No one expects to find themselves in the Proving Grounds on Krysmis Eve.

At the CURSE HQ, there’s plenty going on the week of Krysmis. It’s a time for people to go home and visit their families if they can, but if they can’t, there are plenty of parties and celebrations on the HQ itself. There’s gift exchanges, caroling groups, skating out on the frozen ponds in the HQ’s greenspaces. There’s even a cookie baking contest for those that want to square off in the kitchen. We all get to enjoy a bit of a break as hours for official responsibilities get scaled back, and training and certifications are put on hold until after the holiday.

I attend some of those events — not all of them, but whichever ones I feel like attending. Often it’s with Kent or Whisper, and the three of us usually make a point of hitting up Gritter’s on Krysmis Eve. As a matter of fact, that’s where I was headed when I’d paused in passing the Proving Grounds. I'd paused because there was someone in there, all alone, going to town on a punching bag. And when I stopped and got a closer look, I could see that person was Kwyn.

So now I was here in the Proving Grounds, making my way across the vast, empty floor towards her. She hears my footsteps and sees me coming, but after that goes back to pounding away at the punching bag.

“I’m fine, before you ask.” she pants once I close within talking range. “You don’t have to stay and keep me company.”

“I suppose I don’t.” I say, watching her wrapped hands hammer the bag. “But would you like me to?”

She pauses, bouncing on her toes as she sizes up the punching bag, then at me, then back at the punching bag. Indecisive. “You’re going to ask me what’s bothering me, aren’t you.”

“I was. But if you don’t want me to, I won’t.” I say, taking my hands out of my pockets, moving over to place a hand on the back of the punching bag and hold it steady in its hover column.

“I think I would’ve told you anyway.” she says, bringing her fists up again as she faces the punching bag. “How did you get over it, Dare? How did you get over that one friend that decided she didn’t want to be friends with you any more?”

I look down at that. Getting over Roya… there were a lot of things to say to that. The first answer that comes to mind is to tell Kwyn that the reason I got over Roya was because of Kwyn herself, but I think that’s a step in a direction I shouldn’t be going right now. Between her pining over her online friend, and also being interested in someone else on the HQ, now wasn’t the time to be putting that sort of line in the water.

“I let myself hurt.” I answer as her foot thuds against the punching bag. “I mourned for something I had lost, and let the emotions run their course. I got drunk with Kent once or twice, and we talked it out, like drinking buddies do. I hung out with Whisper, let her talk some sense into me. And then I took my friends’ advice, and I moved on. I still had plenty of other friends, and plenty of life to live.” I look around the punching bag at her. “It took a while, but I feel much better now.”

Kwyn’s tawny eyes stay fixed on the punching bag, nailing it with a trio of jabs. “So I should just… let him go and move on.”

“Well, if he doesn’t care about you, or respect that you care about him…”

“He messaged me the other day. The band girl he’s been chatting up has been yanking his chain and waffling around on committing. Apparently she’s been seeing another guy on the side.” Kwyn says, chaining a nasty right hook into the punching bag before backing off of it and huffing out a breath. “Why do we do this to ourselves, Dare?”

I can only shake my head. “We’re mortal.”

“I know.” she says, rubbing the back of her hand across her forehead, wiping away the sweat and the damp strands of hair that have escaped her ponytail. “We always reach for what we can’t have, or what’s not good for us. But even knowing that, it still hurts.” She looks away. “Whisper chasing you, you chasing me, me chasing him, him chasing her… none of us can turn around and appreciate what we’ve got.”

“Yeah, that’s— wait, what?” I say, peering around the punching bag at her.

“What?” she says, staring innocently back at me.

I stare at her for a long moment, then shake my head, stepping around the punching bag now that she’s done pounding it. “Nevermind.” I say, looking at the punching bag and giving it a little push. “There’s more to life than just love, y’know? It’s okay to be single. You wouldn’t know it from the holos and movies, but life can have purpose outside of being someone else’s other half.”

Kwyn’s eyes flick towards me. “You aren’t saying that just to make me feel better about myself, are you?”

“I’m not.” I say, tucking my hands back in my pockets.

She hitches a hand on her hip. “You saying it to feel better about yourself, then?”

I shrug. “Maybe. Honestly though, it’s healthy, isn’t it? That’s a good mental place to be. It’s nice to be with someone, but there’s nothing wrong with being able to be happy on your own. It means you don’t have to rely on someone else for your happiness. That way, if you can’t find someone, you can still live a happy, full life. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

She doesn’t answer right away. “I… guess you’re right.” she says after a moment. “I’d never really thought about that. But you’re right, there’s nothing wrong with being happy on your own.”

I nod. “And being single doesn’t necessarily mean that you have to be alone, I suppose… you can still have friends. Still have a social life. You can have all those things whether or not you’re with someone. There’s more to life than love, is all I’m trying to say, I guess. You don’t need it to be happy, despite what the rest of the galaxy is telling you.”

“Yeah… I guess that’s a good point.” Kwyn says, starting to unwrap her hands. “I don’t need to lean on someone else for my happiness. I can find that for myself, with or without them.” She smiles at me. “You’re a good mentor, Dare.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” I chuckle. “Tell you what. You want to come down to Gritter’s with me and Whisper and Kent? It’s a Krysmis tradition for us, drinks at the bar and a little bit of holiday revelry. Games and jokes and just chatting.”

Kwyn hesitates; for a moment it seems like she’s about to turn the offer down, but she nods slowly after a moment. “Y’know… yeah. Sure. I think I will. Can I go get cleaned up first?”

“Absolutely.” I say. “Meet you outside Gritter’s?”

“Yeah. See you in half an hour!” she says, starting to jog back to one of the entrances to the Proving Grounds, still unwrapping her hands as she goes. I watch her for a bit, then turn to make my way back to the door I came through.

I think it’s gonna be a good night.

Intercepted Communications

CURSE HQ, local text thread, 3 participants

Furball: so ur bringing ur trainee 2nite, Dare?

Axe: Yeah. Should be another 10 mins or so.

Greasemonkey: awwwwww yeeeeeaaaaah

Furball: keep it in ur pants u lech

Furball: or ur gonna end up wearing ur drink

Greasemonkey: that’s not the only thing I’ll b wearing

Axe: I’m going to give her permission to punch you, just so you’re aware.

Greasemonkey: jokes on u I’m into that

Greasemonkey: hit me bby 1 more time

Furball: u say that but u couldn’t go a round with Gossamer I bet

Greasemonkey: i’ll give it a try if u hook us up

Greasemonkey: actually w8 that depends

Greasemonkey: how freaky is she

Furball: y r u asking me

Furball: does it look like i’d sleep with a snobby elf

Furball: i have standards u know

Greasemonkey: coulda fooled me

Furball: u watch it buster, I’m sitting across the table from u

Furball: ur shins are forfeit

Axe: What is all this sin in my virtuous, Anayan text thread

Axe: Also why do you two type so fast, you’re literally sitting at the same table, right? You could just talk to each other, you know

Greasemonkey: cease

Greasemonkey: desist

Greasemonkey: logic is not allowed here

Axe: I’m this close to muting this thread

Axe: y’all blowing up my phone like a bombing run on a Collective planet

Furball: w8 no Axe don’t go

Furball: we’ll behave

Furball: promise

Greasemonkey: she’s crossing her fingers behind her back Dare

Greasemonkey: don’t trust her

Furball: liar

Greasemonkey: i’m sitting right across from u

Greasemonkey: i can c u

Greasemonkey: typing w/1 hand

Furball: that proves nothing

Furball: i’m totally behaving Dare

Furball: Dare?

Greasemonkey: i think he put us on mute

Greasemonkey: hey Dare

Greasemonkey: when r u gonna take a roll in the hay w/Kwyn

Greasemonkey: yeah i think he put us on mute

Greasemonkey: pretty sure he would’ve responded 2 that if he’d seen it

Furball: damn

Furball: Dare?

Furball: daaaaaaaaaaaaaaare

Furball: daaaaaaaare come back 2 us

Furball: we’ll behave promise, 4 real this time

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

CURSE HQ: Gritter’s Bar

4:50pm SGT

I'm leaning back against the wall outside Gritter’s, waiting for Kwyn and scrolling through Whisper and Kent’s texts, when I hear my name.

“Dare?”

I look up, then freeze. Standing a little ways from me is Roya, rocking a bit on her heels and looking nervous. And for my part, I’m speechless.

“Hey.” I say after a moment, lowering my phone. I’m not sure what else to say after that, though. Unsure of where we stand after the last time we spoke.

“Hey.” she says, reaching up tuck some of her blonde hair behind her ear. “I just saw you and, uh. Figured I’d see how you’re doing.”

“Oh.” I say. “I’m, uh. Fine. How about you?”

“I’m good.” she says. “I was on my way to the bar and I saw you, and I… just wanted to check in. And to say, um… I got a little wrapped up in things a few months ago. I was under a lot of stress and didn’t have really good perspective, and I didn’t mean anything by getting a little distance between us.”

It takes a moment for that to process. And I thought, based on what I’d seen in shows and movies, that this would be the part where the spiteful instinct takes over, that I say something sharp about how apologies should’ve been given earlier, but… I don’t feel that. I don’t feel angry, or spiteful, or anything like that.

I feel relieved, and… compassionate.

“It’s okay.” I say, muting my phone to mask the buzzing of messages coming from it. Whatever Kent and Whisper were talking about, it could wait. “I know you were having a hard time back then. Are you feeling okay now?”

She seems to relax at that, nodding. “Yeah. I took some time for myself, started seeing a therapist. I’m in a better place now. What about you? Are you okay?”

I have to think about that. Think about how difficult it was to deal with that lost friendship, how long it took me to adjust, to move on, to reorient my life. I could be angry about it, and it seemed like it’d be logical to be angry about it. But looking at her, I couldn’t find any anger in myself. I was just happy that she’d figured things out and was doing better now.

That must be how you can tell you really care about someone.

“I’m okay. Doing better now.” I say with a bit of a smile. There’s still distance there, and I don’t think that’s ever going to go away. It’s what she wanted, and I think it’s there to stay now that we’ve grown and matured into different people. But distance didn’t mean that we had to avoid each other or hate each other. We could go our own ways, living our own lives at a comfortable distance that would be safe for each of us. “Going for drinks tonight?”

“Yeah, Tess is supposed to be meeting me here.” she says, looking towards the entrance of Gritter’s.

“Well, don’t let me keep you.” I say. “You’ll probably want to grab a booth before everyone else does. Gritter’s fills up fast on Krysmis Eve.”

“Yeah.” she says, starting towards the entrance, before pausing and looking at me. “Y’know, I—”

“Hey Dare!” The shout comes from down the hall, and I turn to see Kwyn jogging towards us, hair still a little damp from a quick shower.

I raise my hand and wave to her, then glance back to Roya. “Yeah?” I ask.

Roya takes her eyes off Kwyn and gives me something of a rueful smile. “Nothing. I’ll let you be. Merry Krysmis, Dare.” And with that, she steps into the bar, disappearing from view.

“Who was that?” Kwyn asks as she reaches me.

For a moment I consider telling Kwyn who Roya was. But then I decide against it; I don’t want to deal with those questions tonight. If anything, I was happy to let the past be the past, and move on with the future that I’d learned to accept — a future without Roya in it.

“Just somebody that I used to know.” I say vaguely, glancing back at Kwyn and the Krysmis sweater she’s wearing — cream-colored, with little red pandas climbing all over the pattern. “I see you got the memo about the dress code.”

She grins, giving my arm a light punch. “Where’s your ugly sweater?”

“I don’t own one.” I grin back at her. “I don’t own clothes that I only wear one day of the year.”

“Excuses.” she scoffs, hitching her thumbs in the belt loops on her jeans. “Are Whisper and Kent already inside?”

“Yeah, they’ve got a booth reserved.” I say, pushing off the wall. “Don’t let Kent pressure you into getting anything alcoholic if you don’t want it. He’s not the one that’s footing the bill tonight.”

“Wait, is someone else paying for our drinks?” Kwyn asks, following as I round the corner into the bar.

“Whisper and I will take care of the tab tonight. Our treat.” I say, weaving around the loose bodies in the bar. “Kent never pays for his own drinks anyway, but Whisper and I are both Peacekeepers and we’ve got money to spare.”

“That’s really nice of you.” she remarks, weaving around some of the larger bodies in the bar. “You weren’t kidding when you said there were a lot of people here on Krysmis Eve.”

“Yeah, we usually punch out once it starts getting too crowded. It’s not to that point yet, though. It usually peaks after dinner, sometime around eight in the evening.” I say, spotting the booth that Whisper and Kent are at. Making my way over, I slide into the side where Kent is, while Kwyn sits down next to Whisper.

“It’s ‘bout time you got here!” Kent says. “We thought you’d gotten lost when you stopped answering on our text thread. Hope you don’t mind, Whisper ’n me already ordered our drinks.”

“Was just catching up with an old friend.” I say, opening the menu on the surface of the booth’s table. “Is the bar running any Krysmis specials?”

“Well, there is the rumnog…” Whisper says with a devilish grin.

I narrow one eye at Whisper. “I never said I’d carry you back to your room tonight.”

“But you willllllll.” she singsongs at me.

“Don’t worry. If he won’t, then I will.” Kent says with faux elegance, dusting his fingernails on his shirt. “Someone has to be the gentleman.”

Whisper sticks her tongue out at Kent. “In your dreams, greasemonkey. But if Dare won’t, then Kwyn can carry me.” She leans against Kwyn. “Right, rookie?”

Kwyn, who was sizing up the menu, reddens as Whisper leans against her. “Oh, uhm, sure! Yeah.”

I squint at Whisper. “…you were drinking before this, weren’t you.”

Out comes that devilish grin again. “Maybe a little.” she says, straightening up. “Don’t judge me. It’s Krysmis Eve.”

I shake my head as I go back to the menu, picking my drink and sending in the order. “You’re gonna regret it tomorrow.”

“I’ll be fiiiiiiiine.” she says, leaning the other way on her side of the booth. “Oh! Did you hear? Prophet got his ass handed to him again!”

“Oh yeah, that’s right.” Kent says, playing with his napkin. “They did run an op recently, right? Out on Vinnerheim. It was in the news. Another Quill Sanctuary got raided because they were harboring rogue Challengers, right?”

“Something like that.” I say, leaning back. “They encountered some resistance, but overall it was a success. The Challengers were forced to retreat, though we missed a chance to capture or kill them.”

“Man, why we talking about work stuff on Krysmis Eve?” Whisper whines, sitting her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. “Let’s talk about something fun, like, uh…” She looks around, scanning the bar as if looking for ideas, then fixes on one of the screens hanging over the bar. “Like that!”

The rest of us look at where she’s pointing. Playing on the screen is a tabloid report on the “Bad Guy Appreciation Page”, a website dedicated to amassing pictures of villains, crime lords, dictators, and tyrants, and rating them by their attractiveness.

“You wanna talk about how hot criminals are?” Kent says, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s a thing?” Kwyn says, staring at the screen. “But why would you…”

“People are more sympathetic to attractive bad guys.” Whisper says as our drinks arrive. “If you look good, people are more likely to listen to you. Simple as that.”

“Aaaaaaand it’s more likely that you’ll have your life spared if you’re an attractive villain.” Kent add, abandoning his napkin-fiddling for his drink. “When you eventually get defeated, that is. Since most usually do.”

“But isn’t it dangerous to idolize them like that?” Kwyn asks, tucking a reusable straw into her drink. “Pretty sure that gives them media exposure and allows people to support them when they shouldn’t be doing that…”

“The site was started as a joke, for cataloguing hot bad guys in movies and holos.” Whisper explains as she sets down her drink. “But then they split off a part of it to catalogue real bad guys. I just like checking it every now and then so I can see whose face I need to punch when I get the chance.”

“So this is like… the Krysmis roundup or something?” I ask, watching the screen as I sip from my drink. “It looks like they’re going through the website and pointing out all of the new additions for this year.”

“Yeah, and then they rate the top ten hottest bad guys in the galaxy.” Kent said, leaning back against the wall as he hooks an arm over the back of our booth seat. “S’not like they get a reward for it or anything, it’s just a bit of fun.”

“I dunno.” Kwyn says doubtfully. “Seems like they’re getting free positive media coverage.”

“Whaddaya gonna do, tell ‘em not to air it? That’s censorship, rookie.” Kent says, raising his drink. “Freedom of expression is a quintessential galactic right and all that. People are allowed to have opinions and express them. In fact, I’d say this is somethin’ you can only do with bad guys. If it was the other way around and they were rating the top ten hottest Peacekeepers or celebrities, you’d have people screaming their heads off about objectifying public figures an’ all that other hysteria.”

“Gotta love that double standard.” Whisper says, swigging from her glass. “When you objectify a bad guy, nobody cares that you’re sexualizing them, they’re just pissed you’re giving them positive coverage. But gods forbid you should turn around and give the same ‘positive coverage’ to good guys. Hell, some of us like that kind coverage! I’d be on one of those lists if they kept one for good guys! Probably break top ten if I was on that list. Right, Kent?”

“Eh, top twenty or thirty, maybe.” Kent equivocates, waving a hand back and forth.

Whisper squints at him. “What? Top thirty? Excuse you!”

“Look, let’s not lie, you’re hot. But you come up a little under average in a couple of departments.” Kent sighs, waving a hand over his head and then making a circling motion around his chest.

Whisper gasps, then looks to me. “Dare, punch him.”

I smirk a little. “That’d be setting a bad example for Kwyn, though—”

“He just called me short and tiny tits! Kwyn, are you just gonna sit there and let him get away with that?” Whisper demands.

I look to Kwyn, who looks like she’s been trying to keep a straight face. I suspect she’s accustomed to trying to be inoffensive and circumspect, yet she can’t deny there is humor in this kind of crudeness. “Well, rookie? What’s the verdict?”

She covers her mouth, trying to hide her smile. “I mean, if we’re talking about setting bad examples, Kent isn’t exactly a role model…”

“Auuuugh. Okay, that’s fair.” Kent groans, then sits upright in the booth. “I earned that one. Lemme have it, Axe.”

“Y’know, as often as this happens, I don’t think you’ll ever learn your lesson.” I say, setting my drink down so I can thump his arm. Not hard, but enough to get a grunt out of him.

“Not a chance in hell.” he grins, then looks back at the screen. “Aw hell no! How’d Songbird make it on there?”

“Wait, what?” Whisper says, twisting back around. “Songbird’s in the top ten? How? I’ve fought him before, he really cleans up in a suit and a tie, but not that much…”

Kwyn and I glance back to the screen, where a shot of Songbird looking over his shoulder is plastered across the No. 6 spot on BGAP’s list of the top ten hottest bad guys of the year. “Sporting a new haircut and a change of color, the galaxy’s most notorious Challenger has really come a long way from the mug shots of fifteen years ago! Most people remember Songbird with moppy red hair and the boring Challenger uniform, but with the return of the Challengers, he’s been sighted more recently with a sharp trim, a new, brooding intensity, and some hella style! Though there’s recently been an abundance of iconic photos of Songbird facing off against CURSE Peacekeepers, the ones that really put it over the top were a tranche of images released barely a week ago, depicting the Challenger in a dark study with an unidentified woman, engaged in some sort of bondage play—”

Kent spits out his drink. “I say, I say what?!”

“Shhh! Quiet! And sip it, don’t spray it!” Whisper hisses, making hushing motions at Kent even as her eyes stay fixed on the screen.

“—the photos, while not explicit, sure do imply a lot! Fifteen years seems to have made all the difference for the Novakiller. We’ve included a brief montage of the tranche in question here, but if you’d like to get a closer look, they’re also posted under the Songbird wiki page at gala.badguyappreciation.com.”

With that, a quick slideshow of the supposed images flashes across the screen, and they are admittedly steamy. But something is familiar about the green-haired woman involved in the pictures…

“That’s the Maskling that he had with him on Sybione!” Whisper exclaims. “She was tied up in the back of the car when Gossamer and I were sent to retrieve the archive!”

“Wait, really?” I say, looking back at her. “That’s the same Mask Knight that we chased to the Challenger Museum on Valcorria.” I look back to the screen. “Are they… a thing?”

“You guys know her?” Kwyn asks, looking at the both of us.

“I mean, not as such, no.” I say. “We don’t even know her name, but she’s been there in his orbit the couple of times we’ve crossed paths with him, apparently. I knew the Challengers and the Masklings were working together, but…”

“You thought that was figurative, not that they were actually literally in bed with each other.” Kent says, tipping his glass towards the rest of us. “And they’re pretty kinky, from the looks of it. Songbird never struck me as the type, but bad guys ain’t bad guys because they’re well-adjusted members o’ society, I s’ppose…”

“Oh god, please no.” Whisper says, planting a hand against one eye as she sets her drink down. “Stop. Thinking about Songbird getting it on with someone is gonna scar me.”

Kent grins, leaning forward over the table. “Aww, what’s wrong, Whisper? Does the thought of Songbird in his skivvies get you all hot and bothered?”

“What?! No!” Whisper exclaims.

“Sounds like someone’s in denial.” Kent shrugs, leaning back again.

“I dunno, he looked… pretty okay, I guess.” Kwyn mumbles into her drink.

I raise my eyebrows at that, smirking a little. “You don’t say?”

“See!” Whisper shrieks, pointing at Kwyn. “I’m not the only one that sees it!”

Kwyn’s eyes go wide. “Wait, what? No! I just said he looked good, not that—”

“Ha! Aahahahah! Ah gods, this is just too good!” Kent cackles, slapping his hand on the table. “This is what I come for. Look at how red both of you are!”

Whisper sticks her tongue out at Kent. “Like you’re any better, greasemonkey! Aren’t you horny for Laughing Alice or something?”

Kent snags up his drink, pointing with one finger. “Redheads are hot. Especially when they’re a little crazy. You can’t deny me that.”

I raise an eyebrow at that. “Yeah, but Laughing Alice is more than just a ‘little’ crazy. She’s criminally insane. Like, blow-up-an-orphanage-and-twerk-on-the-rubble type of insane.”

“Dare, we all need a little bit o’ crazy in our lives.” Kent says, sliding over and draping an arm over my shoulders. “It keeps things interesting. You, for example, could do with a bit of crazy in your life. What you need, my man, is a night with a wild little hellcat and I have got just the recommendation for you.”

I sip from my drink, looking at Kwyn. “See what I have to put up with around these two?” I ask, waving a thumb at Kent and Whisper.

She smiles at that, then looks back to the screen we were staring at. “Who’s Jett Black?”

The rest of us look up. Plastered on the screen is a picture of a tall, armored blonde, glaring down the camera with a hand on her hip and a set of massive dragon wings flared behind her back. She’s highlighted on the No. 1 spot on the BGAP’s top ten list, and for good reason — she’s simultaneously tall, attractive, toned, athletic, stylish, confident, intense, powerful. Most of us can only check the box on some of those, but she can check the box on every single one of them. A bona fide specimen of the impossible woman.

“Well, if you must know, she’s dead.” Kent answers Kwyn. “But she still takes the top of the list every year. I mean, just look at her. Tell me you wouldn’t give her first place.”

“She was a villain back during the Challenger years.” Whisper says, leaning back in her seat. “A real pain in the ass. A dragon that would condescend to being a semi-human warrior sorceress, but immediately switch back to her dragon form if she started losing a fight. Built an empire over in the Nhangyolt System, and was planning on expanding until we stopped her.”

“A damn shame.” Kent says, shaking his head. “The galaxy’s a little less rich for it.”

Whisper wrinkles her nose at Kent. “Dude, she was literally an autocrat that took over an entire system and put it under military rule. The galaxy’s better off without her.”

“Are you kidding me? Look at her! The woman is a goddess among mortals!” Kent says, throwing a hand towards the screen. “You’re going to look at that and tell me the galaxy is better off without her?”

“Oh my god, Kent! You’re telling me you would literally accept a dictatorship if it had long legs and a nice rack?”

“Whisper. C’mon. How many people would pledge loyalty to the Glorious Leader if the Glorious Leader looked like her and not some middle-aged man with a case of beer gut? If I’m going to get crushed under the boot of an authoritarian regime, I want those boots to be a set of high heels, and I want a woman like her wearing them! I have rights, dammit!”

I cough up some of my drink at that, and Kwyn snorts, letting out a laugh. Sharp and bright, more than the little chuckles I’ve heard from her so far. It’s the first time I’ve heard her laugh like this, and she covers her mouth, her smile still showing around the edges of her hand as she muffles her giggles. When she catches me grinning at her, she sinks in her seat a little, shoulders hunched as those giggles start getting sprinkled with hiccups.

“See what I have to put up with every day?” I snicker to her.

“Oh shut up.” Whisper says, swatting playfully at me from across the table. “You love us, admit it.”

“I mean, we have to bring the fun since Dare never has any.” Kent says, taking a swig of his beer. “He’s too busy saving the galaxy to have a good time.”

“Unlike you, I have a public-facing position and can’t be dropping hot takes left and right.” I say, rolling my eyes. “Can you imagine the hit our image would take if I got caught acting like you? Asking for a dead dragoness dictator to walk all over me, good grief. Some of us have to think about the consequences of what we say, y’know.”

“Dare’s nice. There’s nothing wrong with being nice.” Kwyn hiccups, sitting back up in her seat. “And he can crack a joke when he wants to.”

“Dare? Cracking jokes? Next you’ll be telling me that Nazka likes to party.” Kent says, waving off Kwyn’s assertion. “Or that Whisper’s gonna wear a skirt one day.”

“Yeah, all those things.” she snips back at him with a grin. “And I’m gonna tell you that you’ve got a charming personality, since we’re talking about impossible things.”

“Ohhhhh shots fired!” Whisper cackles, bouncing against the back of her seat. “Damn, she just grilled your ass like a poolside burger!”

“Tch, whatever, man.” Kent says, smirking sidelong at me. “She’s really not so bad. You know how to pick ‘em, Dare.”

“I didn’t pick anyone.” I say, sipping from my drink. “She’s the one that picked me.”

“Really?” Kent says, raising an eyebrow before looking at Kwyn. “My condolences. Fate’s rarely so cruel to new recruits.”

“You better remember who’s paying for your drinks, buster.”

“C’mon, Dare buddy, you wouldn’t cut me off on Krysmis Eve, would you…?”

“I dunno, would I?”

“Of course you wouldn’t. Wipe that look off your face, Whisper.”

“Dunno what you’re talking about. Me ’n Kwyn are just here for the show.”

Kwyn just grins over the rim of her glass at that, her eyes flicking to me. I smile back at her, sipping from my glass as Whisper and Kent keep bantering back and forth.

It’s gonna be a good Krysmis Eve, I think.

Intercepted Transmission

CURSE HQ Comms Tower to undisclosed recipient

10:38pm SGT

Nazka: Line secured. Mr. Grimes, can you hear me?

Grimes: Loud and clear, Deputy Administrator. I presume you’re enjoying Krysmis Eve?

N: I do not celebrate Krysmis, Mr. Grimes.

G: Pity. And here I was, bearing a Krysmis gift for you.

N: Dispense with the jokes, Mr. Grimes. If you have something of merit to bring to my attention, have out with it. I am ill-disposed to idle chatter.

G: Clearly. To the point, then: I know where the Dussel Mercforce’s mobile fortress will be in roughly a week’s time.

N: Is that so.

G: It is. And I know it with certainty. I’ll happily disclose the information to you once you send me the Drift’s assignment schedule.

N: Though I have said it before, I will iterate it again, Mr. Grimes: if your intel does not bear out, I will alter the assignment schedule. And that is the least of what CURSE can do if we find you are dealing deceptively with us.

G: Yes, yes, I’m sure you’ve got no end of ways to make my life difficult. You have something I want; I have something you want. It’s simple calculus, Deputy Administrator, and I see no reason to make it more complicated than it needs to be. I’ve neither the time nor the disposition for an unnecessary double-cross at my advanced age.

N: Wisdom on your part, then. I will have one of my people send the assignment schedule to you through the secured channel we agreed upon, and I will expect the eventual location of the Bulwark in turn. Fail to provide it in a timely manner and you will discover that the assignment schedule will quickly lose its utility.

G: Oh, but I can do you one better, Deputy Administrator. Not only will I provide you with the Bulwark’s location, but I’ll continue to send you updates to that location as the date draws nearer. It should grow ever more pinpoint precise as the window between the present and the future narrows.

N: If this is a misguided attempt to curry favor or impress me, Mr. Grimes, I would recommend you spare yourself the effort. I am no stranger to the science of temporal prediction, nor its many and sundry flaws. I would only hope for your sake that you do not lean too heavily on what is a notoriously fickle art.

G: I’m confident in the source of my intel, being that it’s not of this plane and less suspect to what we consider mortal flaws. But we digress. I’ll have the information right along to you once I’ve received the assignment schedule.

N: See to it that you do.

-click-

N: …

Gossamer: Now there’s an overconfident twit, if I ever heard one.

N: He is a small fish in a big pond, thinking he is a big fish in a small pond. But I tolerate his blathering because he is useful to us, for now.

Go: Do you really think the intel will pan out?

N: He seems to believe it will, which is reason enough. If it doesn’t, I will have SCION dispatch a team of Peacekeepers to deal with him. In the meantime, we have preparations to make. Assaulting a mobile fortress is not a simple task, even when you are able to prepare for its arrival. We need to put a contract together and offer it out to sufficiently-equipped mercforces that will be in range of the Bulwark.

Go: You know they’re going to charge us extra for the short notice on this. The bill’s going to be through the roof, only giving them a week to prepare for an attack on a mobile fortress.

N: You are correct, but I would rather expend money than expend lives on the endeavor. Committing our own ships and operatives to this risk at a time of unrest is unwise, especially when it could inhibit our capacity to respond to crises in other parts of the galaxy.

Go: This is basically admitting the resurgency is more of a threat to us than we’re admitting in public.

N: The resurgent Challengers number less than half a dozen. They are not the issue; the issue is that they have a mercforce at their disposal, with ships and soldiers and a mobile base of operations. We are about to remedy that, and once we do, you will find they are much less of a threat than they were before. And the rest of the galaxy will soon see the same.

Go: What, so we outsource the hard work to a bunch of mercs, then chase down and stomp out whatever’s left afterwards?

N: Do you oppose the approach?

Go: No, I like it. It’s brutal and efficient, and keeps our forces intact for other battles. And I suspect that at least some of it is SCION’s design, not yours. But if the rest of the galaxy discovers we’re outsourcing our battles to guns-for-hire, our image is going to take a hit. CURSE is supposed to solve problems, not pay other people to solve problems for them.

N: I do not plan on making a publicity stunt of this event, so that should not be an issue.  But even in the event that word of this outsourcing makes its way to the public, I am more than happy to take the week of bad PR if it means we do not have to put any of our assets at risk. We possess the financial solvency for a maneuver like this, and if it preserves our assets and the lives of our operatives, then I see no reason not to pursue it.

Go: Alright, alright, fine. That makes sense. You could’ve just said it was the right thing to do in order to preserve operative lives, and left the money angle out, y’know.

N: I could’ve, but you would’ve mocked me for the exhibition of something vaguely approaching idealistic sentiment.

Go: Hmm yes… I suppose I would’ve, now that you mention it. You know me too well.

N: A lament I’ve repeated to myself more times than I care to count.

Go: Catty tonight, are we?

N: Dealing with the likes of Grimes always wears on my patience. Is there something more you needed, Gossamer?

Go: Just a reminder to keep the Administrator in the loop. If you’re overstepping your authority and going behind her back on this…

N: I tell the Administrator what she needs to know, and don’t burden her with the minutiae. She trusts me to get results, and knows that sometimes those results come at a cost. It is not unlike the trust she puts in you, despite being aware of your less valorous qualities.

Go: …fair enough. I suppose we’re just the gloves she wears so she can get things done without having to get her hands dirty, aren’t we?

N: You and I both know that heroes can’t be seen with bloody hands.

Go: …heh. You have your moments, Nazka. I’ll let you be, then. Give the rest to SCION and then get some rest, yeah? He doesn’t have to sleep like we do.

N: Technically most Cybers do have a sleep equivalent in the form of a downtime cycle that they use to commit important information to long-term memory while clearing unneeded—

Go: Gods above, you’re impossible. Whatever, do what you want. Stay up all night if that floats your boat. I’m going to bed.

N: Noted. Goodnight.