Valiant

[Valiant #3: Songbird]

Log Date: 8/28/12763

Data Sources: Feroce Acceso, Lucanthiline, Kiwi

Intercepted Transmission

[Origin: Unknown] to Valcorria High Orbit Comms Relay

8:28am SGT

Lucanthiline: Boss—

Unidentified Individual: Jeezus how’d you know it was me, I haven’t even said anything yet.

L: This is your third call in as many hours.

UI: So?

L: Report’s the same. 5377 is doing fine. We’re just waiting for the Maskling's flight to touch down; I sent him out into the city to scout a bit, see the sights, enjoy himself while we’re waiting to get a bead on the Maskling. Suggested he should go to the Challenger Museum. Figured he might like that.

UI: Oh. Probably not a great idea, that.

L: Really?

UI: Yeah, he’s… emotional.

L: Emotional.

UI: Yeah.

L: You say that like it’s medical condition.

UI: Well, he’s overly emotional.

L: He seems pretty reserved to me.

UI: He usually does.

L: …Boss, I have no idea what you’re trying to tell me here.

UI: How do I put this? The Museum will probably hold a lot of memories for him, and he’s… the kid’s emotional, and sentimental, but he keeps it all penned up inside himself. It’s what fuels his fire. It’s not a bad thing, but sometimes it’s not a good thing either.

L: …are you trying to warn me, or something…?

UI: Y’know what, I think I’m going to come out there. I want to see him myself.

L: Wait what, you’re coming out here? Now?

UI: Yeah. (indistinct orders shouted away from the receiver)

L: Can you do that?

UI: Bitch please, I’m the Lieutenant Commander. I do what I want.

L: …alright, umm… so, should I expect you to arrive within the week? Should we hold here once we’ve captured the Maskling?

UI: I’ll be there today.

L: Today? Aren’t you halfway across the galaxy right now?

UI: (more shouted orders) Yeah, I’ll be there today. What’s the time on Valcorria right now?

L: Still morning over here.

UI: I’ll be there by the afternoon, then. Midafternoon at latest.

L: Alright, should I… prep anything for you, or…?

UI: Focus on your current mission. I can take care of myself, I don’t need a welcoming committee. But do me a favor, dear — send a message out to activate our resources in that region and have them prep for my arrival.

L: Alright, I’ll do that, then. Should I tell 5377 that you’ll be coming?

UI: No, don’t tell him. I want him to focus on the mission as well. And besides… I want to see the look on his face when I show up.

L: You’ve got that tone in your voice… you’re enjoying this, aren’t you.

UI: Oh, Luci dear… you have no idea how long I’ve been craving this day.

L: He must be important to you, then.

UI: Not for the reasons you’d imagine. Keep him safe for me, will you? And I don’t mean safe in the combat sense; he can handle himself in a fight. I mean safe in the incarceration sense. We can’t afford having him captured and taken away from us.

L: Yeah yeah… if he’s stupid enough to get caught again, I’ll break him out.

UI: That’s a good kitty. Keep it up and I’ll have something special for you when we get some downtime.

L: You’re such a tease… ah shit. He’s calling in, I’ve gotta go.

UI: Have fun, dear.

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

Valcorria Capitol: Humanities District: CODE:Halo Comics (Literature Store)

10:26am SGT

I trace my fingers along the blued shelves as I wander down the aisles, staring at the digital download covers of the comics displayed in each holo-housing. The titles and images quite literally jump out at you — that’s usually the score with digital comics. Cover page is a holo shot, then the story inside is usually told in the traditional 2D format.

Curling the rest of my fingers away from the shelf, I let my forefinger slide along the shelf’s edge, tracing over the preview button and download contact beneath each comic housing. Preview would let you read the first few pages of the comic; the download contact would only work if you had a media device. Once you downloaded the comic, it was billed to whatever financial account you had loaded on your device, and if you didn’t have one, then it simply wouldn’t download.

Taking my finger off the shelf, I tuck my hands in my pockets, running a thumb over the corner of my phone. It could download comics; it counted as a media device, but it’d be a crime to try and read comics on a phone screen. Tiny screens did the art a disservice; I’d need to be able to access it on a proper screen to really enjoy it.

“Finding everything you’re looking for?”

I jump in place, twisting a glance to the side. The store’s sole employee is standing a few feet from me, moving from holo-housing to holo-housing, downloading all the newest releases and resetting each housing to display the cover from the most recent comic. He’s a portly, middle-aged fellow with a scruffbeard that isn’t thick enough to be considered a proper beard. “Noticed you’d been in this aisle for a while. Just wanted to check and make sure you weren’t scrubbing comics while I had my back turned.”

“If I could steal something, it wouldn’t be these.” I say, taking a step back from the shelves as I size up the comics.

“Could’ve fooled me with that coat you’re wearing. In the middle of the summer, no less.” he says, moving around his cart. “You know what they say; you dress the part, people are going to make assumptions.”

I look down. Granted, the hooded black longcoat I’ve got on today probably isn’t the most practical weather-wise, but it does wonders for being able to conceal combat gear in a civilian getup. “Planet’s 85% water. I heard it rains a lot here and it was showing in the forecast at the starport today…”

“Well, they’re not wrong. About it raining a lot.” the clerk says, starting to work on another holo-housing. “I noticed you spent a long time staring at those Challenger comics. They catch your eye?”

“You could say that.” I say, my gaze drawn back down to the housings holding the Challenger comic lines and their spinoffs. “Do people buy them?”

“Are you kidding? I sell more of the Challenger series than any other series in the store. Kids adore ‘em and some of the lines have tie-ins with the TV shows.” the clerk says, nodding to the Challenger section. “They might be dead and gone fifteen years, but people still love them. Well, kids do, at least. Probably helps that most of the stories come from the era before the Challengers went bad.”

“So not a lot of comics about the last fifteen, twenty years of the Challenger program, then.” I say, scanning the titles and the covers in the Challenger section. Most of the characters on the covers are younger versions of Challengers I knew, had seen, or had heard about when I was in training.

“Yeah, you don’t see a lot of the last-gen Challenger comics. Most of the ones I can think of are one-offs.” the clerk says, putting another comic cubby through an upload cycle. “There’s an anime about the last-gen Challengers, though. Mostly kid-friendly. I’ve actually got it on one of the screens around the corner; the orphans like to come around on the weekend and catch the latest episodes, since they don’t get them at the orphanage.”

“Is that so.” I say, raising an eyebrow. “There were a lot of last-gen Challengers. Which ones does the show follow?”

“All the famous ones, really. Nova, Jackrabbit, Ratchet, Echo… Songbird too, if we’re counting the infamous ones.” the clerk says. “You got a favorite?”

“Used to be a fan of Nova.” I say quietly. “Think I’m more of a Ratchet person nowadays, though.”

“A little odd, never seen a Nova fan switch preference. But I can respect it. Ratchet’s pretty cool too, she’s got guts.” The clerk puffs a little bit of a sigh. “Not that it matters, since both of them are dead now, but… y’know. Take it for what it’s worth.”

“Yeah.” I say, taking a hand out of my pocket and hooking my thumb over my shoulder. “You mind if I go take a look? Kinda curious now.”

“Oh yeah, go ahead. Just mind the kids, they can get a little feisty when they’re talking about the show.” the clerk says, waving me off.

“I’ll keep it in mind.” I say, backing away and heading down the aisle with a last look at the Challenger section. Coming out at the end, I take a right into an open area in the store, passing by a group of adults that are running a tabletop. As I near the corner of the store, I can see there’s a screen mounted in front of a scattering of beanbags and foam seats; three or four kids are there, ranging from eight years old all the way up to sixteen. I come to a stop a good fifteen feet away from them, watching the screen they’re so avidly fixed on; the end of the episode has come up, the credits are rolling over shots of the team celebrating and giving each other pats on the back.

“Tolja Nova would fix everything. She always does.” the tween girl says, kicking her feet smugly.

“She fixes too much.” says the oldest of the group. Kid in a blue hoodie, sandy-blonde hair, folding his arms and rolling his eyes now. “The other Challengers never get to do anything.”

“Jackrabbit fixed things in the last episode.” the male tween points out. “And Ratchet saved all of them like, in the middle of this one.”

“Yeah, but Ratchet pilots a mech, so that doesn’t count. That’s not, like, her own powers.”

“Ratchet doesn’t have powers, dipshit. That’s why she has the mech.”

“Language!” the clerk shouts from across the store.

All of the kids look around, Blue Hoodie glaring at the aisles. “I swear he’s got implants or something, there’s no way he can be human and still hear us from all the way over there.” Then he notices me watching the screen, as do the other kids. I look at them, and they look back at me; I lift my attention back to the screen, where the credits are still playing, and I see that one of the characters is standing separate from the rest of the team. Dark look, sulky demeanor, generally anemic and ill-favored fellow.

“Who’s that?” I ask, pointing to the character.

The kids look back at the screen. “The guy off to the side?” Blue Hoodie asks.

“That’s Songbird.” the tween girl says. “Dunno why they gave such a pretty name to a bad guy.”

“Is it now.” I say, tilting my head at the screen. “I don’t remember him looking like that.”

The male tween looks back at me. “What show did you see him in?”

“I didn’t.” I say, my eyes still fixed on the portrayal of Songbird. A loner, and what appears to be a malicious and resentful one at that. “I knew him once.”

“You met Songbird?” the youngest of the group pipes up now, her eyes going wide.

“Yeah.” I say, tilting my head to one side as I watch other animations in the closing credits. How they portray the other Challengers. “I knew a lot of Challengers.”

“Don’t listen to him, he’s full of it.” Blue Hoodie mutters, turning back to the screen. “Dude doesn’t even look old enough to have been in primary school when the Challengers were around.”

“You know there are species that mature slowly or don’t age at all, right?” I ask, looking at the back of Blue Hoodie’s head now. “Also, Nova wasn’t Starstruck. She was a Dark Star by the time she got into the Challenger program.”

I can see the exact moment the switch flips in the tween girl, and she goes from prissy to nuclear in an instant. “You’re a liar! Dark Stars are bad guys!” she shouts, kneeling in her chair and perching her hands on the back of it as she glares at me.

“Shouldn’t have said that.” Blue Hoodie drawls without looking back at me.

Pulling my gaze from Blue Hoodie, I look to the other three kids. The tween girl glaring at me, daring me to tell her she’s wrong; the male tween and the youngest looking at me, waiting to see what I’ll say. For a moment I’m tempted, very tempted to set the record straight.

“Many Dark Stars are bad guys.” I say after a moment. “And a rare few are just Starstruck that have lost their way. Nova was one of those.”

“You’re a liar! Nova’s a good guy!” the tween girl shouts, with more force this time. Enough that I can hear some of the chatter over at the tabletop group die down as they look towards our corner.

“Pipe down, the next episode’s coming on.” Blue Hoodie grumbles at her. “Just ignore him, he’s full of shit. Even if he’s old enough to have been around when the Challengers were, it’s not like he met any of them. Anybody can walk into the store and lie about that; he’s probably just trying to look cool.”

“You’re a liar.” the tween girl hisses at me one more time, before turning back around in her chair and going back to watching the next episode. I raise my eyes back to the screen; the opening credits are playing through with a V-pop song laid over the animation. It’s catchy and fits well with the opening sequence, even if I barely recognize the portrayals of the Challengers I used to know so well.

Since most of the kids have gone quiet, and their attention is back on the screen now, I turn to take my leave. The youngest one is still looking at me, though; I offer a her a faint smile and a quick wink followed by a Challenger salute, the sort that’s so precise it can only be given by someone… well, someone that was a Challenger.

She gives a gasp, her eyes going wide again, and gives the salute in return, a little sloppier but definitely enthusiastic.

Nodding my approval, I put my fingers to my lips in a shushing motion, then turn and move to take my leave, tucking my hands back in my pockets as I go.

Intercepted Transmission

Surveillance and Central Intelligence Operations Network to CURSE Operatives (Identified)

10:53am SGT

>Movement detected from Unit 629.

>Retrieving case file…

>Reviewing contents…

>Status: Active

>Operatives assigned to file?

>>Statement returned false.

>>Active file, no assigned operatives. File is in potential breach of CURSE protocols. Initiating second review of case file…

>>Possible reasons for Active Unassigned status:

>>>Unit 629 categorized as extremely dangerous.

>>>All prior operatives assigned to this case file have been killed in action.

>Recommended course of action: unclear.

>Sending case file to CURSE Administrator for guidance.

…

…

…

>Response received.

>CURSE Administrator has created the new grouping designated ‘Renegade’.

>Case files for Units 629, 5377, and 4803 to be grouped within the Renegade caseload. All cases with the ‘Renegade’ designation are to be considered part of a joint operation. Operatives assigned to specific ‘Renegade’ case files may work on other case files with the ‘Renegade’ designation when circumstance and supervising authority permits. All major updates for case files with the ‘Renegade’ designation will automatically be forwarded to the CURSE Administrator.

>Generating notification message for CURSE Supervisors…

>Notifications sent.

>Identifying nearest operatives to dispatch to Valcorria…

>>Blockchain identified onsite.

>>Axiom identified onsite.

>>Onslaught identified onsite.

>Generating briefing…

>Briefing sent.

>Dispatching operatives to apprehend.

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

Valcorria Capitol: Humanities District: the Challenger Museum

11:19am SGT

“The flight’s landed, then?” I say as I step off the train, my phone still held to my ear.

“More than that, she’s already disembarked, and lemme tell you, this girl of yours is clever. Schrödingers are usually pretty good at tracking, but she’s given me the slip. I’m going to have to reach out to intelligence to get a lock on her again. Cities like this are a nightmare for finding people.” Luci replies from the other end of the line.

“I don’t think I need to remind you, but I can’t do my part of the job if you don’t do yours first.” I say, pausing before crossing the street.

“Don’t get tetchy with me, 5377. You’d still be sitting in a jail cell on Shinobe Kibe if I hadn’t come to get you out. We all make mistakes; you just happened to make yours before I made mine. We fixed your mistake, I’ll fix mine. Just give it time.”

“Alright, that’s fair.” I exhale, looking around. “Hey, do you watch TV much?”

“Do I… watch TV? Yeah, whenever I get an itch for it, why do you ask?”

“You wouldn’t happen to watch that show you mentioned earlier, would you?” I ask. “The… the one, what was it called — Courageous, Tales from the Challenger… something something something or another?”

There’s silence on the other end of the line for a bit. “That’s a kid’s show.”

“Actually more for teenagers and young adults, but yes, I suppose we would technically call it a kid’s show.” I say, arriving to the stone foundation of a statue and stopping, looking around the center of the plaza it’s in. “You’re going to tell me you don’t watch kid’s shows, right.”

More silence. Then, after a moment: “Look, you tell anybody I watch a kid’s show, I’m going to take all the fur my tail sheds and sprinkle it in your laundry while it’s on the dry cycle.”

I grin to myself. “Luci, there’s no shame in enjoying a good anime.”

“I’m not sure what the Boss would think of it and I don’t intend on finding out what her opinion on my TV habits is, but I would like to present myself as an adult, thank you very much.”

“Luci, my boy.” I say, turning in place as my grin grows wider. “We have got to have a talk about what it means to be an adult! What do you think adults do, watch police procedurals and drama series? Because that’s what responsible adults do?”

“I’m a Schrödinger, my idea of what ‘normal’ adults do is a little skewed. You know we’re all kinda haywire, right?”

“You stunned entire precinct of cops and broke a Challenger out of jail.” I answer, rolling my eyes as I walk around the statue in the middle of the plaza, looking for a bit of shadow to stand in. “So yeah, I kinda figured you were a little haywire. Besides, that little stunt earned you enough adult points to watch the anime you want.”

“Adult points? I don’t think that’s the way adulting works, 5377.”

“Well, take it from someone that’s been an adult for almost two decades, it’s the only way it makes it bearable.” I sigh, hitching a hand on my hip and looking around.

“What, the adult points or the anime?”

“Yes.” I answer. “Anyway, the whole reason I brought that up: have they portrayed Songbird as a villain from the start of the series? I caught a glimpse of it today and I was curious.”

“Oh yeah, he’s been that way since the first season.”

“Well, I object to that characterization.” I say, folding my free arm across my chest as I settle into the one spot of shadow still cast by the sun as it heads towards its zenith. “The animation’s good from what I saw, though. I can respect the studio that’s churning it out.”

“It is, you should see the way they animate the hand-to-hand fight scenes.” There’s a pause. “But uh, yeah. We’re getting distracted. I need to get back to touching base with intel. Will you be okay while I do that?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” I say, looking up at the statue that’s casting the shadow. “Just revisiting a few old memories.”

“Well, stay on your toes. I’ll be sending you the intercept info once I’ve got a lock on the Maskling again.” Luci say, closing the call.

Lowering my phone, I slide it back into my pocket as I turn fully to stare up at the statue of Jarion Westing. Broadshouldered, dressed in a battleworn combat jacket flaring in the unseen wind, with a large, two-bladed battleaxe resting on one shoulder. The head atop those broad shoulders has a jaw so square you could use it to draw a straight line, and stone eyes staring nobly off to the horizon.

This man, the one towering in front of me, was said to have brought the Challenger program into its golden age, an age that apparently ended before I ever became a Challenger.

“Been a while since I saw you, Battleaxe.” I mutter to myself, then lower my gaze to stare past his stone ankles to the museum that lies on the far side of the plaza. “Hope you don’t mind me taking a stroll down memory lane.”

Starting around the base of the statue, I cross the plaza and start up the stairs, heading for the glass doors.

Dialogue for Intro Cinematic to the Challenger Museum

Challengers.

For a century, they were the defenders of the galaxy. Standing above loyalty to nation, race, or creed, they brought freedom to worlds that lacked it, and defended liberty in places where it was threatened. In places where light faltered and where darkness threatened, they served as beacons in gloom, spreading hope to all who saw their brilliance.

But they were more than mere soldiers and warriors. Generation upon generation of Challengers, even after retiring from active duty, continued to blaze paths across the galaxy and build bridges, becoming philosophers, scientists, leaders, and peacemakers. The legacy of the Challenger program lives in the changes and progress they brought to the galaxy through the last century, and though the program ended fifteen years ago, their fight lives on in each of us as we reach to the sky in search of a better tomorrow.

This museum serves as a testament to their achievements and their failures, and a record of their long and storied history. It is a monument to what we can achieve when we fall down, and choose to get back up again. It is a demonstration of what is possible, so long as we never give up.

There is no entry fee. This museum is open to the public, and all that we ask of you is that when set foot outside these doors again, you carry the mission of the Challengers with you:

Make the galaxy a better place.

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

Valcorria Capitol: Humanities District: the Challenger Museum

12:09pm SGT

It’s quiet in here.

Granted, museums usually are quiet. But here, the quiet is mostly due to the lack of people wandering around; my shoes echo on the white floor as I walk through the central display room, the noise traveling the vast expanse and bouncing back to me at a delay. 

Clasping my hands behind my back, I look around. White is what defines this place; everything is clean and white and smooth and bright, from the floors to the walls to the gentle, organic curves of the interior displays. Here, in the central display room, all the displays are spaced at least a hundred feet or more away from each other, so none of them can ever distract or overwhelm each other other. There are only a few of them as well, the limited selection allowing you to give each one a larger portion of your focus. Everything is bright and well-lit, not by artificial light, but by the sunlight streaming in through the wide skylights that make up much of the great, curving roof. Tilting my head back, I take in the blue sky beyond the glass, streaked with the occasional brushstroke of a pale cirrus cloud.

I don’t know what it is, but something about the stillness here, the clean silence and the blue sky overhead, puts me at ease as I walk through the relics of the program. Normally, being alone in a museum would freak me out, but here, as I walk among the shadows of my past, it feels like home. It feels like I belong.

And that’s something I haven’t felt in fifteen years.

I take my time walking in and around the displays, letting each one bring back memories of my years in the program. There’s a scaled-down replica of Ratchet’s mech that still towers over me; a couple of side-by-side interlock swords with multiple configurations that were once used by Echo. There’s a circle of displays with evolving iterations of Challenger combat armor and light power armor that many of the unnamed Challengers used; a holoplayer with a selection of Challenger battles caught on camera. A display case holding the long red scarf that Jackrabbit used to wear; and along one wall, a wide-angle holoshot of the last generation of Challengers, all of us gathered in front of the central ops tower in one of the program’s planetary fortresses.

It’s that last one that brings me to halt, standing there in front of the crisp and yet semi-translucent image. My eyes wander over each face — Jackrabbit and Valkyrie each with an arm around each other, Nympho standing shameless and bold and grinning as ever, Ratchet cradling her newborn daughter, Echo and Gossamer pushing each other around with smiles on their faces, Trickshot off to the side with his arms folded and a toothpick between his lips as usual, and Kaiser standing in the back, austere and cold with the sunlight gleaming off his spectacles, hiding his eyes.

And yet those are only a few of the many in this holopicture. I would be here for at least another minute or two more if I recited all their names to myself. Instead I let my eyes trace across the faces, each one bringing back a memory, like a whisper from a past that I’d been scared that I would forget.

And for a moment, all alone beneath the light of a blue sky, that grand room is filled with those whispers.

Something squirms to life inside me, a feeling that has laid dormant for a decade. It’s not quite sadness, but mourning, not just for what I’d had, but for what all of us had lost. It had hurt to be dishonorably discharged from the program, and at the time, I thought it couldn’t get worse than that, but when the program was later shuttered altogether, that hurt more. And if it had been a choice between one or the other, I gladly would’ve let them kick me out if it meant that the Challengers could continue on.

Raising a hand, I rub a knuckle against one of my eyes, trying to quash some of the water welling up there. I hadn’t come here expecting this to hit me so hard, and though it hurt, I didn’t mind it. I hadn’t felt anything this intense in a long time, and being able to feel anything, even if it hurt, felt good.

Taking a deep breath to brace myself, I walk to the center of the picture, to the two faces I’d known were there, but wanted to avoid up until now. As a rule, usually the newest named Challengers got to stand in the center of the yearly holoshot, to commemorate their induction into the elite ranks. The holoshot tradition stopped in the last years of the Challenger program, as we were finding out more and more about what some of the other Challengers were hiding or had gotten up to, and this was the last one I could remember the organization taking, right before things started to go downhill. That year, Nova and Songbird had earned their names, and so they were in the center of this holoshot, along with a few of the other newly-named Challengers.

Stopping in front of the pair, I take a long moment to size them up. Both of them in their Challenger uniforms, Nova proud and confident, assured and smiling, scarlet hair blowing in the artificial wind we’d conjured up for the shot. Songbird more demure and bashful, his hair shorter, a darker crimson hue and sticking up in a bad case of bedhead, smiling more uneasily with one arm crossed over his chest to hold the other. Nova in the process of rolling her eyes, Songbird with his gaze to the side a little, watching Nova out of the corner of his eye.

I take a deep breath, folding my arms. They looked so young. We all looked younger, not as burdened by the fall of the program or the fifteen years that followed. For a moment, I scan the length of the holoshot, counting up the Challengers I knew were dead, but it becomes too much after a point, and I have to stop, returning my gaze to Songbird and Nova.

“If only you knew…” I murmur to myself. And to them, really; to all the ghosts that I wish I could’ve warned.

“Hey creepo, you want to get out of the way? You’re blocking the view!”

The shout jerks me out of my reverie, and I turn on spot to look around. Filtering across the grand room is a scattering of children, herded by two escorts and one of the museum’s lanky teenage tour guides. Among the group is Blue Hoodie, who’s got his hands jammed in his hoodie pockets as he glares at me.

“It’s a museum. Everyone’s got a right to examine the displays at their own speed.” I reply — gently, because I don’t feel particularly aggressive while I’m in my melancholy mood.

“Well you’ve been standing there for the last ten minutes in front of Nova, and the rest of us want to get pictures, okay?” he says, motioning to the prissy tween girl that was at the comic store with him. She’s giving me a dirty look as well.

“Please sir, they’re from the orphanage.” one of the escorts says with a kindly smile. She’s got her hair in a bun, and has a modest dress on. Camera in one hand, ready to take pictures, with the other hand resting on the shoulder of another kid that brought along his stuffed toy.

“Of course.” I say, stepping out of the way of Nova’s place in the picture. I look back to Blue Hoodie to see if he’s going to give me grief, just to find he’s staring hard at me now. Not a glare, just a scrutinizing look. As the tween girl runs up to the panoramic holoshot to stand beside Nova’s likeness and pose, I realize that that Blue Hoodie’s eyes are flicking rapidly back and forth, as if comparing me to something.

Then I realize that I'm standing right next to Songbird’s likeness.

And that’s about the time that Blue Hoodie realizes exactly who he’s staring at.

I can see the blood drain out of his face as the epiphany hits him. For a moment, it looks like he’s struggling with the words, before they come exploding out all at once. “Holy shit, you’re the guy that killed Nova!”

Those words echo across the museum, a jarring accusation that brings attention of the adults to Blue Hoodie. The escort with the camera turns to Blue Hoodie, with a severe expression on her face. “Ridge! Language! If you don’t behave, I’m sending you back to the bus!”

“No! Seriously! Look at him!” Ridge exclaims, raising a hand and pointing at me. Or the image of Songbird behind me; it’s hard to tell. “Look!”

If I had a pulse, it’d probably rise as more of the kids start staring at me and connecting the dots. I turn in place to look at Songbird’s image; to me, he seems like a distant memory. Someone that I used to know, and had forgotten.

But to everyone else, I haven’t aged a day, and the only thing they see is that I changed my hair from red to blue, and I’m no longer in a Challenger uniform.

A tight little gasp draws my gaze down to find the prissy tween girl backing away from me. All the uptight snobbiness is gone, replaced by a very definite expression of terror as she realizes the person that killed her favorite Challenger is standing right beside her. When I look at her, she tries to backpedal a little faster, but gets tangled up on her own feet and falls back on her bum, scooting away from me.

I pull my gaze away from her. “Everyone thinks they know what happened.” I say softly, reaching out to Nova, touching my fingers to the holographic shimmer where her hand hangs by her side. Watching the image fuzz and glitch. “It’s funny how many people have opinions on something that they know nothing about. And it’s funny how much they think they know about something they weren’t there for.”

“Hey asshole!”

I turn around just in time to see Blue Hoodie, aka Ridge, barrel towards me and sucker-punch me in the stomach.

The wind goes out of me, doubling me over; not that I need to breathe, but I still need air to talk. As I brace myself on my knees, Ridge follows up with a right hook to the side of the face — badly placed, he clearly doesn’t know how to throw a punch, but it’s still enough to knock me onto my side on the tile floor. Rolling over on my back, I open my eyes to see Ridge going for a knee drop straight into my chest.

I wheeze as the breath goes out of me again, and throw my arms up to shield my face as the teenager starts taking swings at my face. “He killed Nova! Take him down!” he shouts.

It’s enough to make me roll my eyes, until I hear the slap of shoes across tile, and look to the side to see most of the older kids pelting towards me with murder in their eyes.

“Oh you’ve got to me kidding me—” I grunt as I’m dogpiled by a bunch of mid-teen orphans.

“Children! Get back here right this instant! Get away from that man, he’s extremely dangerous!” the female escort shouts, her voice pitchy with worry.

“What?! Me? Dangerous?!” I shout back as I can feel fingers tangling in my hair and yanking, teeth biting into my shins, all while I keep my arms up to try and block the punches Ridge is throwing at my face and torso. “Look at this little pack of gremlins you’re raising, I’m going to be the first man beaten to death by a swarm of orphans!”

“Call the police! That’s the Challenger that bombed the Shinobe Kibe Starport and knocked out the entire Shinobe Kibe police force when he escaped from jail!” the male escort shouts, probably to the tour guide.

“I what?!” I demand, shoving back against Ridge a bit so I can look around for the male escort. “Where the hell do you get your news from? I’m being physically harassed by a street gang of hormonal underage orphans, does it look like I’m the type of person that can knock out an entire police force?!”

“Kick him between the legs!” Even though I can’t see her, I can hear the tween girl screeching from somewhere behind Ridge.

“Whoa! No! Why would you do that!” I shout, snapping my legs shut, just before getting a knuckle sandwich right to the face. That punch was well-landed, and jerks my head back. After a second to process that, I tilt it back forward, reaching up to catch the next punch Ridge throws at me. “Alright. Now I’m pissed off.”

Ridge tries to yank his hand out of my grip, only to find that he can’t. He looks at his caught hand, then looks at me, and I can see the realization cross his face: he knows he’s picked a fight he’s suddenly starting to regret.

At least until my pocket starts buzzing.

“Hold that thought, I’ve got to take this.” I say, using my free hand to dig into my pocket and pull my phone out, answering it in a single smooth motion. “Is that you, Luci?”

“No, it’s the pizza delivery boy. Of course it’s me, you idiot. Who else would be calling you?”

“Look, I’m a little busy at the moment.” I grunt as Ridge slugs me in the head again and another orphan sinks her teeth into the sleeve of my longcoat. “Can this wait till later?”

“What are you doing? I hear a lot of screeching and snarling in the background.”

“I’m punching orphans.” I grunt, yanking Ridge’s arm to the side to throw him off me, and kicking another orphan in the shin to knock them down so I can start to get back up.

“…you’re punching orphans.”

“Yeah, someone’s gotta do it. Have to meet my yearly orphan-punching quota, and these orphans won’t punch themselves, you know.” I say, shoving to my feet and throwing another anklebiter off my back. “Did you need something?”

“Yeah, intel got a lock on the Maskling. You know that Challenger museum I told you was here on Valcorria?”

“Yes, vaguely.” I say, kicking off another orphan that’s clinging to my leg, then staggering and bracing myself as a tremor shivers through the museum. Something that felt almost like an earthquake, and everybody, orphans included, pauses and looks around.

“Do you happen to be anywhere near it right now?”

“I might be in the area. Why do you ask?” I say as the tremor turns into a rattle that has the windows shaking in their frames. This time it’s definitely coming from one of the far walls of the grand room that forms the center of the museum; the orphans have stopped attacking me and are looking around, unsure of what’s happening.

“We need you to get there right now. Intel thinks it may be where the Challenger program’s backup archive is hidden.”

Without warning, the far wall of the grand room shatters, chunks of stone flying across the floor as something comes hurtling through it. It hits the ground and goes sliding across the room, the last flickers of a green shield fading around it as dust billows through the hole in the wall. “What makes you think that? Aside from the fact that it makes sense and all.” I ask as most of the orphans start backing up, and their escorts start collecting as many of them as they can get their arms around.

“Intel’s last lock on the Maskling had her making a beeline straight for the museum.”

“You don’t say.” I reply, starting to run forward when the thing that came through the wall doesn’t move. Jogging around chunks of stone, I slide to a halt beside what’s resolved into familiar form: green hair, lean build, highcollared jacket and dark jeans. I kneel down as Kiwi slowly rolls over, trying to push back onto her hands and knees. “Well, I’ll try to get there as quickly as possible.”

“5377, there’s something else.”

“Well, don’t keep me waiting, then.” I ask, reaching inside my longcoat to check my arsenal while Kiwi shakes her head as if she was trying to clear it. She doesn’t seem to have realized I’m here yet. “How bad is my day about to get?”

“CURSE assets have been sighted in the area. They’re hot on her tail, so if you get to the museum before her, she’s going to be bringing to party to you.”

A faint tremor jerks my attention up; another, and then another, forming a regular stride for something that sounds like it’s got wrecking balls for feet. Standing up, I watch the hole in the wall as twin points of red light glow through the swirling dust, growing larger and larger. “Hey Luci, out of curiosity… did they say what kind of assets CURSE had deployed?”

“Peacekeepers. Three of them, all codenamed.” Luci pauses. “Are you near a construction site? It sounds like—”

“Hey look, I’ve gotta go, I’ll call you back later.” I say, ending the call and tucking my phone away as the dust billows and parts. Stone crumbles from the edges of the hole as a twelve-foot behemoth marches through it, a giant, rusty, metal… thing that looks like someone took a scrapyard Cyber and repurposed it to be a demolition machine, with legs so thick it could crush a car just by stepping on it, and arms equally punishing. A thick anchor chain is clutched in one of its four-fingered hands, attached to a five-by-five cube of solid metal that it’s dragging along behind it like some sort polygonal flail. The torso is built like a tank, plated with shaped armor, and the domed head is recessed between the shoulders. The head’s got a slit with a digital screen, which is being used to display two angry, downtilted eyes.

“Alright.” I say, rolling my shoulders. “Time to see if we can make a new friend.”

Event Log: Kiwi

Valcorria Capitol: Humanities District: the Challenger Museum

12:28pm SGT

My head’s spinning.

From the moment I stepped off the cruiser, I could sense that I was being tailed. Didn’t know by who or what, but I could feel it; knew that I was being watched. When I’d reached the museum and found a big angry robot waiting for me, I hadn’t been too surprised.

What had surprised me was how hard the robot hit.

Now I’m trying to get my balance back after the jackhammer punch that sent me flying through the wall. I’d managed to throw a barrier up around myself just before I'd gotten hit, so nothing’s broken, but it jarred me pretty badly. On top of that, I can feel the ground quivering beneath my hands as the robot lumbers towards me.

“Hey! Stop right there!”

The voice helps anchor me; it sounds familiar, and shaking my head again, I brace myself on one knee. The robot’s closed the distance, and it’s almost right on top of me — but standing between me and it is someone guy in a hooded longcoat and tropical-blue hair…

It’s Blueberry.

“Yeah you, I’m talking to you.” Blueberry says, folding his arms as he stares up at the rusty behemoth. “Now, this is just my instincts talking, but I have a feeling you don’t actually want to be a bad guy. You look big and scary — not going to deny that — but you don’t have to be big and scary.” He pauses for a moment, then holds out a hand. “Would you like to be my friend?”

The behemoth stares at the hand for a moment, then turns its gaze to me. Then back to Blueberry, as if not sure what to make of the gesture.

“Oh, her?” Blueberry says, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. “She’s not my friend. Not yet, at least. We had a bit of a rough patch where she stabbed me in the chest, but everybody makes mistakes, you know. It’s so much easier to forgive than it is to carry that weight around with you.” He lowers the hand he was using to point back at me. “You carry a lot of weight, don’t you?”

As I slowly push myself back to my feet, the behemoth’s arms lower slightly as it keeps looking between me and Blueberry. It actually seems to be hesitating, and as insane as it sounds, Blueberry’s words seem to be sinking in. And for a very, very brief moment, I start to believe that hulking machine is going to reach out and take the offered hand.

“That’s it, big guy.” Blueberry says, lifting his outstretched hand a little higher. The behemoth starts to lift one of its massive arms, as if to reach out and take that hand. “Trust me, carrying all that anger with yo—”

Then the fingers curl into a massive metal fist, and the behemoth catches Blueberry with a punch that sends him flying across the museum’s main room, smashing through at least two display cases before hitting the ground and rolling to a halt amid a spray of broken glass.

My breath catches in my throat as I watch Blueberry slide to a stop, and he doesn’t move again. The tremor of the behemoth taking a step brings my attention back around, and I look up to see the rusty titan towering over me.

“I’m not going to go easy on you like he did.” I say, taking a step back and jerking my hands down, feeling a surge of power run down my arms as rune circles flare to life around my wrists. “Rustbucket like you doesn’t need friends, anyway.”

The chain it has in its other hand clinks as it tightens its grip, yanking it tight. The giant metal cube on the end comes flying around, and I kick myself backwards as it slams down on the spot where I was standing, cratering the marble floor. Before I can move to take advantage of the opening, the behemoth’s buddies come through the hole in the wall, taking up positions on either side of the rusty titan. On the left is the guy in a slim-fit power armor suit with flight capability and a bigass battleaxe, and on the left is Crazy Gun Bitch, although I think the other two call her Onslaught.

“Nice work, Blockchain. You caught up to her.” the guy with the bigass axe says, the helm on his power armor folding back as he glides around towards me, the sun gleaming off the white gloss on his suit. “Slow and steady wins the race, I guess.”

“Pretty sure we would’ve stayed on her if you’d paid attention to your surroundings and didn’t get sideswiped by a freight hauler, Axiom.” Onslaught says, running a hand through her hair, which is blonde but tinted red at the tips. “Aww, looka that. She’s still trying to put up a fight.”

I bring my left arm around, green light expanding from the runes on my wrist and forming a hexpanel shield, while a sword forms in my other hand. “Seems a lot of people are interested in this data core.” I say, backing up to keep them from flanking me. “So, who funded you guys?”

“CURSE did, and they have jurisdiction in all things Challenger-related.” Axiom says, letting his axe drop off his shoulder. “Withholding that data core from us puts you in violation of galactic law. But, if you’d be kind enough to hand it over, we’d be happy to let you off the hook without any trouble.”

“Mmyeah, no can do.” I say, picking up the backwards pace as Blockchain starts lumbering forward again, each step quaking the ground.

“Pity.” Onslaught says, pulling a rifle off her back and loading it with a plasma magazine. “Guess we’ll just have to teach you a lesson about bringing a sword to a gunfight.”

I glance down at my sword. “Fair. Here, you can have it.” With that, I chuck it at her, then take off running across the room.

“Oi! You nearly took my head off!” Onslaught shouts after ducking under the sword.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got her.” Axiom calls. I can hear a hiss behind me as his suit’s flight thrusters kick on. Ducking low, I lunge hard to the left, barely getting out of the way as he goes hurtling past me, his axe missing my shoulder by inches. Taking cover behind the giant mech replica, I send another surge of energy down my sword arm to form a rune circle around my wrist, then tug at the necklace around my neck.

“C’mon, where is it…” I mutter, watching as Axiom starts to circle around for another pass. In my hand, the pendant on the necklace tugs towards one of the display cases that has an old power suit helm in it. “Gotcha.”

The hiss of plasma bolts hammering into the leg of the mech replica has me recoiling, and after a couple more shots, I look around to see Onslaught’s marching across the room, rifle leveled at me. “That’s right, stick your head out where I can see it!” she shouts, strafing the mech’s legs again.

I bring my hexpanel shield up, wincing as the bolts rebound off with a ripple and a wooloop sound. They go flying all across the museum, some hitting walls, others shattering glass skylights, or damaging the displays; more than a few hit Blockchain, though they only leave behind scorch marks on the rusted armor, and the behemoth just keeps marching forward.

“Behind you!” someone shouts. I look around and see one of the kids with a dark blue hoodie has leaned out from behind one of the display cases, pointing out Axiom as he comes barreling towards me. Twisting down, I use my rune circle to fire a displacement ripple into the ground, and since the ground doesn’t shift, the backlash flings me into the air. Axiom goes tearing past, and twisting midair, I angle myself to land on the mech’s shoulder, crouching there as I catch my breath. Standing up, I size up my surroundings and where to go from here.

“Holy shit, that was awesome!” the kid in the blue hoodie shouts up at me.

I grin at him, edging around the back of the mech’s head to get behind cover as Onslaught starts strafing my new position. “Hey kid, you wanna help me out with something?” I call, trying to keep it quiet, but loud enough that he can hear.

He doesn’t say anything, but I can tell by how his eyes go wide that he’s down for it. Reaching up, I pull the necklace off and throw it down to him, pointing to the display case with the old helm in it. “Get that over there. Break the glass and let the necklace do the rest. I’ll meet you there.”

He reaches up, fumbling with the necklace and getting his fingers tangled in it as it drops to him. “Got it!” he calls back, turning and taking off towards the display case.

I only get a second to grin; there’s the clank of metal boots landing, and a second later, Axiom comes around the mech’s head, his axe slamming into metal where my skull was. I back away as he yanks the axe out of the back of the mech’s head, its bladed edges glowing orange as he winds up for another swing at me. This time, I skip back as it misses my midsection by inches, then lunge forward before he can wind up for another swing, ramming the edge of my hexpanel shield into his helm.

“Alright, now you’re testing my patience.” he says, his voice filtering through the speakers on his suit. “Hand over the data co—”

Whatever he was about to say gets cut off as I slam the edge of my shield against his sealed helm again, sending a crack across his visor. “You’ll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands.” I say right as I hear the glass breaking from a distance. Sounds like the kid’s gotten the display case open.

“If you keep this up, I will.” Axiom says, ratcheting an armored leg up and kicking me with it. It knocks the breath out of me and throws me flat on my back against the mech’s other shoulder; as I struggle to catch my breath, Axiom marches towards me, getting a two-handed grip on his battleaxe. Generating another rune circle around my wrist, I get ready to do something stupid.

At least until there’s a massive, jarring crash that jerks the mech, throwing Axiom off his feet and sending me staggering. The mech replica starts to tilt backwards, and I look to the side to see that Blockchain’s thrown his cubic flail at the mech, caving in its chest. As it starts to topple over, I scramble to get to a place where I can jump to safety, but it’s falling too fast. When it hits the ground, I’m thrown clear, rolling across the floor as the marble cracks and fractures beneath the fallen replica.

Coughing out some of the impact, I start to push myself to my hands and knees again. A shout gets my attention; I look up to see the kid in the blue hoodie running towards me, with the necklace in hand. He skids to a halt, though, just barely avoiding the cubic flail as it slams down in front of him, shattering the marble floor and sending the teenager flying.

“No!” I shout as he hits the floor hard. I start to struggle to my feet, only to go flying another several feet as something explodes near me. As I shake the ringing out of my head and push myself up again, I can see Onslaught putting away a grenade launcher as she walks atop the fallen mech, pulling out her plasma rifle again.

“Getting children to do your dirty work? Now that’s just weak.” she says, raising her rifle and sighting down it towards the kid as he tries to roll over and get up. “Guess someone’s about to learn a lesson about aiding and abetting criminals.”

I can hear the click as she pulls the trigger, see the muzzle flash a pale green as the bolt leaves the barrel. And there’s nothing I can do about it, but I do feel a burst of wind as something hurtles past me. The bolt never reaches the kid — it hits something and ricochets down into the ground, burning a scorch mark into the marble tile.

A stunned hush falls over the room as Blueberry straightens up from where he’s crouched in front of the kid, smoke drifting off his starglass ninjato where it deflected the plasma bolt. For a brief second, I see a flicker of brilliant incandescence in his eyes — his pupils aren’t black, they’re a luminous lightning-blue. 

“You don’t shoot children on my watch.” he says quietly, his attention fixed on Onslaught. “Point that thing at another kid and you’re going to regret it.”

“Where the hell did you come from?!” Onslaught demands, still looking stunned.

“That’s impossible.” Axiom’s voice filters through the rubble as he vaults over one of the fallen mech’s limbs. “Who are you?”

“That’s Songbird!” The shout comes from across the grand room, and we all turn to see a pair of tween kids peeking out from behind one of the display cases, avidly watching the battle. It looks like one of them’s streaming everything on their phone.

“So you’re a Challenger.” Axiom says, looking back to Blueberry and taking his battleaxe in hand. “And a rather notorious one, at that. I should’ve know you would’ve been working with the Maskling.”

“No one has natural reflexes fast enough to deflect a plasma bolt with a close-quarters weapon. There’s no way he did that on purpose.” Onslaught says, raising her rifle again and aiming it at him.

“Why don’t we test that theory?” Axiom agrees. “He may be able to block single bolts, but what about semi-automatic fire?”

Blueberry blinks, and his pupils goes dark, losing their luminous glow. The dangerous intensity disappears as he offers up an uneasy smile. “Mmm, how about we not and say we did?” Then, out of the corner of his mouth, he hisses down to the kid. “Ridge, run.”

“Oh no you don’t.” Onslaught says, squeezing the trigger of her rifle again.

I scramble to my feet as Blueberry throws up his arms to shield his face, the bolts coming hard and fast. One hits his arm, then his shoulder, and another hitting his shin and knocking him down on his hands and knees. Taking my shield, I sling it through the air, rewarded with a crack when it strikes Onslaught’s wrist, prompting a yell from her as she staggers. The rifle clatters to the ground and she clutches her wrist, shrieking at me as I take off, vaulting towards Ridge. “Go kid, go, I’ll cover you!”

He gets to his feet unsteadily, and turns to run, only for a massive metal leg to slam down in front of him. I catch him as he staggers backwards, pushing him towards the gap in Blockchain’s legs. “Forward, kid, if you go backwards they’ll catch you!”

At that, he lurches forward, diving between Blockchain’s legs and scrambling through on the other side. I look up in time to see the robot’s fist swinging right for me, but in the instant before it reaches me, my world tilts sideways as Blueberry shoves me out of the way. The punch sends him flying through the air, slamming into the fallen mech hard enough to leave a dent in the metal and collapsing to the fractured floor.

“Going two for two for getting slapped around by a giant robot, Blueberry.” I mutter. I eat those words two seconds later as Blockchain kicks one of those massive legs towards me; I only have time to throw both my arms up, my rune circles forming a barrier that blunts some of the impact. Even with that, I still go flying through the air, slamming against the mech beside Blueberry.

“I’ll get the kid.” I hear Axiom say as I claw at the ground, trying to fight the impact pain rushing through me. Tremors shudder through the fractured floor as Blockchain closes the distance, and there’s a tap of boots as Onslaught jumps off the mech and walks over to stand beside the behemoth, cradling her wrist.

“You’re lucky you broke my dominant wrist, otherwise I'd put a bolt in both your skulls at this point.” she hisses as I prop myself up on one elbow. “Looks like Blockchain gets the pleasure of adding you two to his kill card. Finish it up, big guy.”

The towering rustbucket grips the chain of its industrial flail, giving it a yank as it swings it up and over. I cover my head, expecting to be crushed, but that never happens; instead, the crash sounds somewhere just behind me. Looking up, I can see Blockchain’s swung the cube of metal down on the fallen mech, missing us entirely.

Onslaught snorts. “Once more with feeling, big guy. Try to hit the targets this time.”

Blockchain doesn’t move, though. A faint cracking sound runs through the ground beneath us, and turns into loud groaning as overburdened girders and supports start giving way; a fissure races through the broken marble around the fallen mech. Though I try to scramble back to my feet, it’s too late; the ground is already tilting and caving into the storage floor below, taking us and the battered replica with it.

And just like that we’re gone, disappeared in a landslide of shattered marble and debris.

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

Valcorria Capitol: Humanities District: the Challenger Museum

12:35pm SGT

It’s a large chunk of stone, falling on my leg, that wakes me up.

The first thing I do is grasp and thrash, reaching out and pushing it off my leg. It’s not large enough to crush it, and it’s movable, though heavy. It’s definitely something that’ll leave a bruise, though.

With the chunk of stone off my leg, I cough out some of the dust I inhaled while I was out, and look around, trying to get my bearings. It’s dark, wherever I am; the surface I’m sitting on is cold and hard. Debris surrounds me on all sides, and as my vision clears up, I can see bent and broken girders up ahead. Thin rays of light lance through a clog of marble and concrete that looks like it’s plugged up a hole in the ceiling of whatever space I fell into; I can see the outline of the mech replica making up part of that blockage.

A raw scream pierces the dusty gloom, and brings my attention to where Kiwi’s standing on some of the fallen rubble, slinging displacement ripples at the clog of debris overhead. Every distortion shakes the underground, and jars the mass of debris, sending rivers of dust shivering down. Chunks of stone drop to the ground with each ripple that loosens the clog, but for the most part, it remains stuck, blocking the hole we’ve fallen into.

Gritting my teeth, I fight past the pain of the recent hits I’ve taken, and struggle to my feet. I can feel blood flowing to the parts of my body where the damage is, slowly mending fractured ribs and cracked bones; it’d probably heal faster if I took the time to focus on it, but that’s not time I have right now. Clutching a hand to my side, I limp my way across the pit we’ve fallen into. “Stop it. You can’t do this on your own.”

She pauses, shoulders hunched as she pants, hands curled into fists. I can see how the green runes around her wrists are flickering, though, and I know she’s running out of energy. “Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Blueberry.” she rasps over her shoulder.

“I can tell you’re getting tired.” I say, stopping short of the pile of rubble that she’s standing on. “If you keep going like this, you’ll just wear yourself out. You need to stop.”

“And what? Give up like you?” she demands over her shoulder, turning her head slightly enough that she can eye me up over the collar of her ripped jacket. There’s blood dripping down her face from a head wound she’s taken somewhere around her hairline. “You may be ready to throw in the towel, but I’m not.” With that, she clenches her fist, the runes glowing bright as she turns and slings another displacement ripple up at clog. The rubble shifts, some chunks falling through, and more seems to fall in, clogging it up tighter than before.

“Stop it!” I shout at her, stumbling onto the slope of rubble she’s standing on. “I know how your kind of magic works, and I know you’re hitting the bottom of the barrel. If you keep going, you’re going to start burning through your own life force. And even if you do break through, what then? You get up there, and you still have to face off against three CURSE operatives. You’d be exhausted, outnumbered, and outgunned. You are going to die if you go back up there.”

“Would you do it, though?” she asks as she lets her arm drop limply back to her side. She doesn’t turn around to face me. “Songbird.”

That word catches the breath out of me. My codename; a name that people hadn’t called me in years. Hearing it again after so long — and the way it was spoken; not shouted, or accusatory, or spoken in disgust or disdain, but spoken softly, as a challenge — brought back emotions I thought had evaporated long ago.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m not afraid of dying.” she goes on. Her voice is quiet, but there’s a certain unyielding conviction to it. “You probably saw that on the roof of the starport when I killed myself to escape and continue my mission. I knew you were a Challenger, but I had my doubts about you. I saw you hesitate so many times in that battle, as if you were unsure about yourself, unsure of what you were fighting for. So. Are you scared of dying, Songbird?”

For a moment, nothing but silence fills the pit. Little pebbles and stone fragments trickle through the gaps in the larger rocks; distantly, two floors above, I can hear the echoes of shouting as the Peacekeepers chase Ridge through the museum’s main room. I think back to the panoramic holoshot of all the Challengers, and what I’d felt, seeing all the people I’d lost. Remembering what it was we used to fight for.

“No.” I answer quietly. “I’m not scared of dying.”

I can see it, just barely — the corner of her mouth curling up in a faint smile. “…I saw something in your eyes up there. A flicker of something I’d never seen before, when you stood in front of that kid. It set my heart racing.” She turns around halfway, rubble shifting beneath her feet as she takes a step down the debris slope, then braces an arm against one of the bent and twisted girders. Bending a little at the waist, she leans in so she can gaze down at me, those vivant, wildfire eyes searching mine. They’re more captivating than I care to admit, a bright red slowly gradating to an equally rich orange around the pupils — crisp and clear, like liquid flame. “You don’t think I can do this alone, and you’re not scared to die… come along, then.” She holds a hand out to me, runes flaring around the wrist once more. “Tangle with me.”

“Tangle?” I ask, my brows coming together. Still, I take another step up the rubble pile, coming within range of her.

Her only answer is smile at me, offering her bloodstreaked hand again. After a moment, I reach up, pausing only for a second before taking her hand.

The runes floating around her wrist brighten, then race down our linked hands to my wrist, where they flicker blue. Without warning, they snap down and stamp themselves into my wrist, burning their shapes into my skin; I let out a gasp, but instead of letting go, I just clasp Kiwi’s hand tighter. Her smile widens into a grin, and the runes pull back from my skin, resuming their normal orbit as a fresh set of runes flicker to life around Kiwi’s wrist, exactly the same as the ones now orbiting mine. There’s a feeling like something clicking into place as both sets align, glowing bright and then shattering apart.

And with that, I can hear her voice in my head as she pulls me the rest of the way up the rubble pile, wrapping her arms around me as her bloodstained mouth catches mine.

Let me have a taste of you.

Event Log: Lucanthiline

Valcorria Capitol: Humanities District: the Challenger Museum

12:38pm SGT

“This isn’t looking good, Boss.” I say into my phone as I run along the second-floor balcony that wraps around the interior of the Challenger Museum’s grand room. “I think we might’ve lost 5377 and the data core.”

“Give me a read of the situation.”

I glance down to the main floor, describing what I’m seeing. “Place is wrecked halfway to hell and back again. Onslaught’s here, and so is Axiom, along with a bigass Cyber that looks like it should’ve been decommissioned two decades ago. Lots of structural damage. A few kids still stuck in the building. There’s a hole in the floor; the CURSE operatives toppled the replica of Ratchet’s mech, then caved it into the storage floors beneath the grand room. Looks like it punched through another floor beneath that, and took 5377 and the Maskling with it. The operatives are now chasing some teenager around the room; I think the Maskling roped him into helping her find the Challenger backup database.” I glance ahead, searching for the nearest set of stairs down to the ground floor. “Hope you’re bringing reinforcements, Boss. It’s looking pretty bad.”

“Luci, please. I am the reinforcements.”

“Well in that case, I hope you get here fast. We’ve got maybe another sixty seconds before this kid tires out and CURSE gets what they— wait, hold up one second.” I skid to a halt as rays of green light start to lance up from the hole in the middle of the room. “Something’s happening. I don’t think 5377’s down and out yet.”

“Bet you a six-pack he’ll have it cleaned up by the time I get there.”

“You have an awful lot of faith in him and I still don’t really get why.” I say, starting to move again as the light pouring out of the hole becomes brighter. It’s followed by a massive boom that throws everyone in the room to the ground, and slams me back again the wall. Chunks of marble, debris, and pieces of the mech that were blocking the hole shower down across the room; shoving off the wall, I grip the railing as something comes shooting through the geyser of dust hanging over the hole.

It’s 5377, skidding to a halt as he lands on both feet, and whips out both of his starglass blades.

Seconds later, the Maskling hurtles out of the dust, landing beside him, and standing with brilliant green rings around both her wrists.

I raise the phone back to my ear. “Hey Boss, think I’m buying you a six-pack tonight.”

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

Valcorria Capitol: Humanities District: the Challenger Museum

12:39pm SGT

How does it feel to be alive, Songbird?

The words echo in my head as I’m flipping over Axiom, feeling the air friction tug at my hair and the hem of my longcoat. They linger in my mind as the impact of landing travels through my shoes and up my legs, and I lean back on my forearms, swinging a leg up as Axiom twists around. Hooking the tip of that foot under the haft of his axe, I kick it out of his hands and behind me, before shoving myself back upright, grabbing the hilts of my ninjato off my belt again.

It feels like there’s light flowing through my veins. My own thoughts echo within the walls of my mind as I lash my starglass blades outwards, catching Axiom square in the chest. You see the axe?

Yeah. Behind you. comes Kiwi’s mental reply as Axiom staggers back, sparks flying from the two slashes in his armor that now form an X across his chest. Mind giving me a shoulder to stand on?

Without warning, I’m treated to a brief view of the world from her perspective, seeing myself from behind as she scoops up the axe while on a full-tilt run towards me. As the view reverts back to my perspective, I shake my head to clear it. That’s going to take some getting used to.

Make it count. I answer, and rather than pressing the attack, I take a knee, bracing myself against the ground. A second later, I feel Kiwi’s boot slam into my shoulder as she vaults off it, soaring over me and bringing Axiom’s own weapon down on him. He blocks the hit with the forearms of his suit, but based on how he shouts out in pain and goes to one knee, the axe’s edge has cut right through his suit’s plating.

“Onslaught!” he shouts as the thrusters on the back of his suit kick on, lifting himself into the air. “Do something, this isn’t a spectator sport!”

“You ever tried to reload a pistol with a broken wrist, glory hog?” Onslaught’s shout comes from where she’s taken cover behind a fallen slab of marble. “I’d like to see you stuff a fresh mag in a pistol with only one hand and your teeth!”

“You know what you can also do with your teeth and one hand?” Axiom shouts back as he gets some altitude and gets away from us, yanking his battleaxe out of his suit’s forearm plates with a splatter of blood. “Pull a pin and throw a grenade!”

I’d turned off one of my ninjato and pulled my stunner pistol out, firing shots at Axiom to chase him off, but the mention of a grenade has me turning all my focus towards Onslaught’s hiding place. “We’d better get to cover—” I begin.

No. You’ve got this, kjære. Even though she’s standing just a few feet from me, she doesn’t bother to use her voice as she rests one hand against my back, the other grabbing my gun hand and lifting it up. You can borrow my eyes.

My field of vision suddenly fractures and gains more depth as I realize that I’m now staring through both my eyes and Kiwi’s. I’m seeing things from two angles, which are mostly similar, but different enough that it gives me a better understanding of the dimension and the depth within the room. In the time it takes me to adapt to this, Onslaught’s pulled a pin and chucked a plasma grenade over her marble slab.

“Now!” Kiwi shouts, and I jerk my pistol up and squeeze off a shot. The pulse hits the grenade dead on, sending it spinning back over to Onslaught’s side of the room, and prompting a panicked screech from her. We catch a glimpse of her diving away before it explodes, scorching that area of the room with an incandescent plasma cloud that quickly cools and leaves behind a thin yellow haze.

“Onslaught!” Axiom yells. Rather than coming after us, he rockets over to the fading haze, giving Kiwi and myself some breathing room.

Kiwi lets go of my gun hand, taking her other hand off my back. “Not bad, Blueberry.” Reaching up, she runs a hand through her hair, smearing blood through the green locks as she grins. “But this only feels like a fraction of what you could let me do.”

Those words jar me out of my stunned reverie. “Say that again?”

Her eyes flick to me, wild and hungry. “You feel that restless energy flowing through your veins, supercharging you? That’s me. And I feel the same way because I’ve got you flowing through me. You’re giving me the shivers.”

I stare at her, then look to my wrist, where the runes burned into my skin are still glowing a hot blue. “…what exactly did you do to me, again?”

She looks like she’s about to answer, only for the exhilarated look to disappear off her face as she shoves me away. A giant metal cube slams into her half a second later, hurling her through the air until she slams into the far wall, falling to the ground. I know it’s every bit as painful as it looks, because I can feel a faint echo of that pain echoing through our link, drawing my muscles tight; taking a sharp breath, I twist around to see Blockchain lumbering towards me. The winch on his back is slowly retracting the massive chain, dragging the cube back towards him.

I holster my stunner, since it’s not going to do me much good here. “Look, big guy, I really don’t want to fight you.” I say, lifting my starglass blade and pointing it at him. “Give it a rest. I’m sure we can come to an amicable compromise here.”

His answer is to get a grip on the chain, whipping the block up and around to crush me. I jump backwards as it craters the floor where I was standing; skidding across the ground, I set my foot against a fallen slab of marble, leaping forward. Vaulting over the cubic flail itself, I land on the giant chain and start running along it. “Alright, if that’s how we’re playin’ it…”

Don’t. You can’t take him on your own.

The words come with the flicker of an image, of what Kiwi’s seeing as she tries to push herself back up. Of how crazy I look, charging this rusty titan with nothing but a sword and grit. I feel a tug in my chest, as she was trying to pull me back towards her; but then the view sharply reverts to back to my own eyes as Blockchain’s free hand swings across, his massive metal fingers snatching me off the chain once I’m within grabbing range.

“Ah shit—!” I gasp as the metal digits tighten mercilessly. I can tell from the pressure that there’s industrial-grade pistons at work beneath the armor; Blockchain can and probably will squeeze me until I become a red blotch. Gritting my teeth, I glare back at him as he holds me close to his recessed head, those crimson eyes glowering at me. “Go on, do it then. I’ve had worse deaths. If you think dying will stop me, I’ve got news for you.”

That wild fierce spirit of yours is too big for your fragile body, Blueberry. I wince as I get another glimpse through Kiwi’s eyes, her trying to stand up and falling back to one knee. I can feel her chest heave as she coughs, little specks of red flecking the marble floor. Stop trying to outcrazy me.

You’re one to talk. I shoot back at her.

“Hey!” The image evaporates again at the sound of something clanking off Blockchain’s shoulder, and the rusty titan looks around at the same time that I do. Ridge is standing a little ways back, next to a pile of debris, picking up another chunk of broken marble. “Pick on someone your own size!”

There’s a moment of silence. “Ridge, have you seen how big this guy is—” I start to call back to him.

“Shut up!” he says, color rising to his face. “I couldn’t think of anything else to say!”

Blockchain’s head swivels back to me, evidently uninterested in Ridge’s challenge. His grip starts to tighten around me again, and I feel my bones starting to creak uncomfortably under the pressure.

“Hey! Don’t ignore me!” Ridge shouts, and a moment later, that chunk of marble comes flying through the air. I don’t expect it to do much, but it sails right over my shoulder and into the recessed slit where Blockchain’s visual display is. The glass cracks as the marble slams into it, and the crimson eyes flicker and go out at the behemoth reels, staggering backward. When the visual display flickers back on, the crimson eyes are back and angrier than ever as he winds up and throws me at Ridge.

I got you, Blueberry. Her words flash through my mind as I sail through the air, and a displacement ripple passes through me, slowing my momentum so I don’t hit the ground quite so hard. It still knocks the breath out of me, and Ridge is down beside me in an instant, trying to pull me back up by my longcoat.

“C’mon dude, get back up! We gotta get out of here!” he gasps, looking over me.

I glance back over my shoulder to see that Blockchain is stomping towards us, and he’s moving faster than he has during the entire time he’s been here. The visual display flickers with each stomp, and I can see his industrial graspers are clenched into fists. Though he doesn’t seem to have any vocal capability, I can tell he’s pissed.

“Gotta deal with him.” I grunt, using Ridge to get back to my feet, my entire body aching. “Challengers don’t run from a fight.”

“What?! Are you crazy?!” Ridge demands. “Challengers don’t exist anymore! What are you fighting for?!”

“The program might be dead, but the things we stood for live on.” I cough, picking up my ninjato and pressing the flat of the blade against his chest. “Get behind me.”

I’ve never see anyone this determined to fight for things that nobody cares about. Kiwi’s voice echoes in my head, and in the back of my mind, I can see through her eyes as she finally manages to get to her feet, and starts running towards us. I would’ve run from this, but if you want to give this kid something to believe in, I think we can make it happen if you let me borrow you.

“I don’t know what that means, but if that’s what it takes, then I’m all yours.” I growl, hunching my shoulders as Blockchain stomps right over one of the broken pieces of the replica mech. I know she can hear me, even if the words are spoken and not thought.

Ah gods, that sent shivers up my spine! There’s a disorienting rush of exhilaration that surges through me, and it takes me a moment to realize that it’s what Kiwi’s feeling. Yes! Yes, we’re gonna do this. Give me a shoulder like you did with Axiom!

“I can do you one better.” Turning off my ninjato, I hook it on my belt and put my hands together, keeping an eye on Blockchain through my eyes while measuring how far away Kiwi is by watching through her eyes. 

“What are you doing?!” Ridge demands, starting to back away as Blockchain closes in on us. “Are you going to try to fight that thing with your bare hands?!”

“Doing what Challengers do best.” I reply. “Defying the odds.”

With that, I twist around in the other direction, taking a knee as I hold out my hands, Kiwi’s boot landing right on them. With a grunt, I shove upwards with all of my strength, launching her into the air; her fingers graze my cheek as she goes, and it feels like she’s tugging my soul out of my body as she goes. The world through my eyes disappears, and I can only see things from her perspective as she starts to fall towards Blockchain.

Give me all you’ve got, kjæreste.

She pulls back her arm, and I curl her fingers into fist as a massive surge of energy builds up in that arm. Blockchain, noticing Kiwi coming down at him, looks up and starts to lift an arm to grab, but it’s too late. We sail past his fingers, rocketing her arm down to slam into the rusty titan’s chest. The moment of contact releases a massive displacement ripple, the shockwave blasting Blockchain clear across the museum, smashing a hole through two walls, and ripping a long trench through the plaza in front of the museum as he slides to a halt.

And as Kiwi lands on the ground, my consciousness snaps back to my body where it collapsed on the ground after launching Kiwi into the air.

Gasping, I roll over, trying to push myself up, only to find that I’m a little too dizzy for that at the moment. I’m not exhausted, just incredibly lightheaded and light, feeling like I just expended a lot of something, even if I’m not sure what that something was. The sound of boots over marble echoes near me, and a hand slides around my cheek, turning my head so that I can see Kiwi as she takes a knee beside me.

“Gonna be a disappointment, tangling with someone else after a showing like that. I’m surprised you’re still conscious.” she says, grinning quietly. “Keep my runemarks. You’ve earned them. I hope we can do this again sometime, if we meet on the same side.”

Standing, she walks over to Ridge, holding out a hand. He looks befuddled for a moment, then seems to realize what she’s asking for, digging a necklace out of his hoodie and handing it to her. She puts it on, and I catch a gleam of a crystal core within the pendant on it.

The backup archive.

“Wait, no!” I grunt, rolling over and struggling to get to my feet, falling on my side when my dizziness gets the better of me. “Don’t leave! We can work together!”

She looks back at me, smiling. “Come get me, then.”

And with that, she takes off running across the ruined museum with Ridge following her.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.” I wheeze, taking a moment to lie there and let my head stop spinning. Rolling back onto my front, I push myself up as the sound of sirens start echoing from the streets outside the museum.

Someone touches my shoulder, and I whip around, reaching for my stunner until I see that it’s Luci standing behind me. He looks towards the plaza outside, where police cars are starting to pull up, then towards the fire exit on the other side of the room.

“Yeah yeah, I get it.” I say, starting to stagger towards the fire exit.

“Was it a good second date?” Luci asks, clasping his hands behind his back as he smiles impishly, following along behind me.

“Not a word, Luci. Not a word.”