Valiant

[Valiant #4: The Boss]

Log Date: 8/31/12763

Data Sources: Feroce Acceso

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

Valcorria: Viktier Private Residence: Living Room

9:22am SGT

SONGBIRD STRIKES AGAIN

First the Shinobe Starport, now the Challenger Museum on Valcorria

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ROGUE CHALLENGERS ON THE RISE?

Are we seeing the return of the Challengers?

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ROGUE CHALLENGER GOES ON BERSERK ORPHAN-PUNCHING SPREE

Does Songbird hate orphans? We go straight to the source to find out.

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I fold my arms as the newsfeed slowly scrolls along the window in front of me. Ever since the encounter at the museum, the media’s taken the story and ran with it like their lives depended on it. It’s been lighting up news hubs across the galaxy, and given local news stations endless filler material for update segments. From the few glimpses I’ve seen, pundits and commentators are having the time of their lives, dissecting every new morsel of information to emerge from the event.

I’m not sure how I want to feel about it, but I do know how I do feel about it. I’ve been down this track before, fifteen years ago, after the Songbird Incident. It’s hard to stare at this stuff without getting flashbacks to that time; I remember what it was like to watch people and organizations take an image of me and twist it, mold it, shape it into something I didn’t recognize. It was hard to watch this kind of reporting without warping your sense of self. Watching others define you, say what you were, even if they had never met you.

Deciding to ignore the news for a bit, I let my eyes unfocus so I can stare past the newsfeed and through the glass that it’s scrolling over. I’m standing in front of a curving, floor-to-ceiling window that runs along the back of this seaside residence; out behind the glass is a slope that runs down to the beach, with a meandering path wandering from picnic spot to picnic spot. I’m on the second floor, so I have a good view of the wilderness that covers the property to either side of the residence’s cultivated grounds. Dimly reflected in the glass is the room behind me, wide and spacious with a couch set and a number of chairs, an adjoined and open kitchen to the right, and an elevated section of flooring at the back.

I hadn’t ended up here until last night; Luci had dragged me from safehouse to safehouse in the aftermath of the museum encounter. When we’d finally arrived, it was after two days spent evading police; apparently his ‘Boss’ had to pull a few strings to get us here safely. I’d had my reservations at first, but after seeing the room I was staying in, which was bigger than my entire apartment on Shinobe Kibe, I could admit that it wasn’t all that bad.

“Dude, you gotta stop staring at that stuff.”

I turn around to see Luci coming down the spiral stairs that lead to the third floor. He’s still in his pajamas, yawning as he slinks his way towards the kitchen, his tail lazily flicking back and forth. “System: close out the newsfeed.” Rubbing his nose as he steps into the kitchen, the lights warming to life, he goes on. “Staring at that stuff isn’t good for you, man. That’s the thing that always bothered me about the news. People having opinions about stuff that they weren’t there to see.”

“That’s just the opinion hosts.” I say as the newsfeed beeps and closes out. “There are actual reporters and investigative journalists at most networks.”

“Yeah, and the crime is that opinion hosts get as much or more screen time than the actual newspeople do.” Luci says, opening the pantry. “Shit. I think the Boss forgot to stock the kitchen.”

“Does she not come here often?” I ask, staring out the window and watching the waves roll up on the beach.

“Well no, but she’s a vampire like you.” Luci says, moving to the fridge and opening it. Pulling out a thermos within, he opens it and sniffs, jerking his head away. “She always forgets to stock her kitchens with stuff that normal people eat. At least you won’t starve; she’s got six thermoses full of blood in here.”

I look around at him. “Wait, what? She’s a vampire too?”

“Don’t act so surprised. How do you think I got my hands on a Molossus card? When I bought that blood for you on Shinobe Kibe, I was using her credentials.” Luci says, closing the fridge. “She’s going to be meeting us here sometime today—”

“How about now?”

We both look around. Standing into the doorway that leads into the living room is a tall platinum blonde with an old Challenger dress jacket draped around her shoulders, and a dress cap on. She’s got an eyepatch on, but even then the recognition is instant; there was only one Challenger that could look like she was ripped from a swimsuit calendar and had this level of shameless, charismatic arrogance.

“Nympho.” I stutter after a moment. “What are you doing here?”

“Boss!” Luci says, his ears laying back as he looks down at his pajamas. “I didn’t think you were going to arrive for another couple hours!”

I look at Luci, then at Nympho. “Oh no.” I say slowly. “Oh no, no, no. You’re in charge?”

Nympho’s pale pink lips pull to one side, showing her pristine teeth and a single scintillating fang. “Long time, no see, Songbird.”

I turn my attention back to Luci. “When were you going to tell me about this?”

“Oh, don’t tear into him.” Nympho says, stalking down the stairs so she can descend into the living room proper. “I wanted it to be a surprise. And we can do away with the codenames, Feroce. As we all know, the program’s dead and gone. First name basis will do.”

“Okay, well, that’s great, but I only ever knew most of you by your codenames.” I say, rolling my eyes. “And despite the baggage that comes with it, I actually like my codename.”

Nympho smirks, licking a finger and dragging it across Luci’s cheek as she passes him on her way to me. “Well, you can keep calling me Nympho if you want. But now that we’re out of the program, you might as well know my name: Sierra Molossus, Lieutenant Commander of the Dussel Mercforce. I’ll also go by Boss or Lieutenant, if either of those suit you.”

I give her a look as she circles around me, sizing me up. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you went straight to merc work once the program folded.” I mutter.

She grabs the hood of my longcoat, throwing it over my head as she leans in from behind me, her long, silvery hair spilling over my shoulder. “Making a statement about my loyalties, Feroce?” she murmurs.

“We all know what your priorities were.” I say, grabbing the edges of the wide hood and pulling it back off my head as I glare at her. Forever frozen in her twenties, just like me. “You weren’t interested in the mission.”

“I had my fun. Didn’t mean I couldn’t also do my job.” Sierra says, circling back around in front of me. “My priorities are different now. The galaxy is…” She runs her tongue over her lips as she sizes me up, the grinning arrogance gone for a moment. “…it’s a bit of a dumpster fire at the moment. I think someone ought to be doing something about it, but the people that used to handle that have been scattered across the stars.”

“Which is where you come in.” Luci says, pacing out of the kitchen and into the living room. “You, and any other former Challengers that we can find, who are willing to take up the mission again.”

“Wait, I thought this was about protecting the surviving Challengers from CURSE.” I say, looking between the two of them. “Because CURSE is trying to fill the void that the Challenger program left behind. By killing or subverting the remaining Challengers and erasing the program’s legacy. This wasn’t about reviving the program; it was about protecting its survivors.”

“Protecting the survivors is the first step.” Sierra says, pointing one finger at me as she tilts her head the other way. “Once we’ve gathered a large enough group, the next step is to reclaim our place as the galaxy’s beacon. To start making a difference again.”

“So this is really about restarting the Challenger program?” I ask, reaching up to tuck some of my hair behind one ear.

“No.” Sierra responds immediately. “The Challenger program is dead and gone. It collapsed under the weight of the Admin's hubris. You and I both know that no matter how much we crave the good old days, that version of the program is gone. It doesn’t exist anymore except as a memory carried by those of us that actually believed in what we were doing.” She leans in a little, her crimson eye seeking mine. “But now it’s our turn to build something new with the remnants that survived the ashes. You. Me. And dozens of other surviving Challengers.”

“Which is why we need the Challenger backup archive.” Luci adds at this point. “That will help us track down the rest of the Challengers, so we can put together a group.”

“And what then?” I ask. “What happens after we get the gang back together?”

Sierra steps away, towards the kitchen. “Make a galaxy a better place.” she says over her shoulder as she opens the fridge and pulls out one of the thermoses. “Isn’t that always what you always dreamed of, Songbird?”

I give a bit of a shrug. “Not exactly, actually…”

“Is it still something worth fighting for?” she asks, closing the fridge and heading back towards the living room.

For a moment I have to think about that. Think about what I walked away from fifteen years ago, and what I’m probably about to walk back into. “Yeah.” I say eventually. “It’s still something worth fighting for.”

“Good.” Sierra says, tossing the thermos to me. “Then it’s time to get to work.”

The Myrrdicato Dispatch: Front Page

SONGBIRD STRIKES AGAIN

Galactic authorities have confirmed that the rogue Challenger codenamed Songbird was involved in an incident at the Challenger Museum on Valcorria, which resulted in considerable damage to the location. The event comes on the heels of an attack at the Shinobe Kibe Starport on the fifteenth anniversary of the Songbird Incident. The attack on the starport is also thought to be the handiwork of Songbird, though reports are still in conflict over what party is to blame for the attack there.

The timing of the attacks has not gone unnoticed, with many wondering if the anniversary of the Songbird Incident served as a triggering impetus. The Vaunted would not comment on the timing of the attacks, citing an ongoing investigation, stating only that they were considering the date, anniversary, and location as possible factors and were not ruling anything out.

Unsubstantiated reports from Valcorria claim that CURSE operatives were also onsite, and involved in the clash with Songbird, with some witnesses claiming that the CURSE operatives were responsible for the majority of the property damage that occurred during the clash. When reached for comment, CURSE Administrator Tenji provided the following statement:

“Yes, I can confirm that CURSE Peacekeepers were onsite at Valcorria. CURSE Peacekeepers have been on high alert since the attack on the Shinobe Kibe Starport, and as we have for the past decade, we actively monitor any incidents that involve rogue Challengers. The fact that Songbird appears to have breached the Challenger Activities Ban is something that we are very worried about, and we have moved to address it by dedicating Peacekeepers to his case file. I would like to remind everyone that this is the Challenger that killed Nova — he is extremely dangerous. If you have any information that might pertain to his whereabouts, call the CURSE hotline, or submit a tipoff through our galaxynet site. Do not attempt to engage him, speak with him, or get his autograph — he is very intelligent, very persuasive, and very manipulative.”

The CURSE Administrator did not address claims that CURSE operatives were responsible for most of the damage reported at the Challenger Museum, and did not take any more questions after giving her statement.

Songbird was a relatively unknown Challenger that rose to infamy fifteen years ago when footage of him killing Nova was released to the galactic public by an unknown source. Nova, who was a whistleblower that had recently leaked a vast array of Challenger documents exposing the organization’s growing corruption, was killed in what is widely assumed to be an internal conflict in the Challenger program. The footage, along with the media firestorm that followed it, prompted a number of high-profile investigations into the Challenger program that eventually resulted in the organization being shut down.

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

Valcorria: Viktier Private Residence: Back Porch

8:24pm SGT

Rolling my head, I take in a deep breath and let it out as I lean on the railing of the estate’s back porch.

Today’s been a busy day. Most of it involved Sierra bringing me up to speed, cuing me in on what she and Luci called the ‘project’ — a plan to track down the surviving Challengers and recruit them to form a new organization that could pick up where the Challengers left off. There were a number of former Challengers we’d be able to track down without help, but for the rest, we’d need the Challenger backup archive. Which, unfortunately, CURSE was also looking for.

And the encounter at the Challenger Museum made it clear they weren’t shy about flexing some muscle to get their hands on it.

Thankfully, we had some muscle of our own. The effort to build a new organization using the ashes of the Challenger program was being funded by a conveniently wealthy and suspiciously anonymous benefactor, and the Dussel Mercforce, of which Sierra was a part, had been hired on to help with that goal. While the Dussel mercenaries weren’t one of the big names in the merc industry — they usually worked expedition jobs on the far fringes of the galaxy — they weren’t the lowest bidder either. Having some fire support would go a long way if we got in another tight spot again.

So with the matter of financial and combat support settled, it came down to the matter of finding the missing piece of the puzzle: our elusive Maskling girl, who now had the archive in her possession and appeared to have her own plans for it.

It was something I’d largely avoided thinking about until now, because I couldn’t think about her without also thinking about what we’d done in the Museum.

Tangle with me.

Listening to the waves crash on the distant shore, I reach up to pull back the cuff of my coat, looking at my wrist. The runemarks are still there, black against my skin; they don’t smudge when I rub my fingers over them. Touching them doesn’t hurt, even though they were initially burned into my skin. The sigils and glyphs are unfamiliar, a language that I don’t think I’ve ever seen before.

Let me have a taste of you.

A shiver runs down my back, and I hunch forward, leaning heavily on the railing as I remember the taste of her blood, mingling with whatever chapstick or lip gloss she’d been wearing that day. I didn’t know what prompted her to do that when we were trapped down there; I don’t think it was part of the ‘tangling’ she talked about. It felt like something she did because she wanted to, not because she had to.

I don’t know why she did it.

And I also know I didn’t stop her.

I let it happen. I’d been startled and shocked at first, and my instinct had been to pull away, but I didn’t. Something about it felt reckless and wild and defiant, and something deep down inside me had come awake. It craved the wild untamed feeling; to do something without for regard for the consequences, to feel the excitement, the rush of being alive.

There was something in me that’d been starved for that feeling, and it’d been so long that I’d almost forgotten how it felt.

“It you’re starving for blood, you should drink some of that thermos I gave you.”

The words are accompanied by a thump as Sierra swings over the balcony from the floor above, landing in a crouch on the railing beside me. I recoil on instinct, clutching a hand to my chest. “Dear Dreamkeepers! Don’t startle me like that!”

Sierra grins, her long, silvery hair spilling over her shoulders in glossy cascade. “You always took yourself a little too seriously, Songbird.” She balances on her hands on the railing, swinging her legs out in front of her so she can sit on it instead. “Your eyes are a nice bright ruby, so you’re not hurtin’ for blood. Why are you hunched over the railing like you’re trying to huck up a hairball?”

“No reason.” I say, making a point to straighten up a little. “Did you need something?”

“Yeah.” she says, kicking her legs back and forth. “I wanted to talk to you.”

I look at her. “…you wanted to talk to me.”

“Yeah.” she says again, smiling. “I mean, you and me, we’re like… comrades or something. Fellow survivors. We belong to something that doesn’t exist anymore. We’re like… an endangered species. It’s kinda cool, isn’t it?”

I just stare at her and blink, trying to process that. “You think being an endangered species is cool.”

“Well yeah.” she says, shrugging. “And there are people out there trying to stamp us out, destroy the last of us. It’s us against the galaxy.” She looks at me. “Doesn’t that feel exciting to you?”

“I guess… exciting is one way to look at it.” I say, fumbling through the words.

Sierra smirks. “You don’t believe that.” Looking away from me, she stares into the living room, the lights turned down low. “What do you miss the most about it? About the old days, about being a Challenger?”

The question takes me off guard. I don’t know how to answer because I haven’t thought about those days in a long time; looking back out to the dark ocean, I rest my forearms on the railing and lean on them as I think about that. Sierra doesn’t push me to answer right away; she waits patiently, the sound of the waves on the beach filling up the silence.

“Knowing that we made a difference.” I say after a minute. “You could see it sometimes. Some places were different after we visited them and intervened. Things improved, even if it was just a little bit. And it wasn’t just because of us; the Challengers set the example, obviously, but then others would choose to build something on it.” After a moment to let that thought disappear into the frothing static of the distant waves, I go on. “I miss the others. Some of the other Challengers were jerks, but there were a lot of good people in the program. A lot of people that deserved better than what the program became towards the end.”

“Yeah, I worked with some of the jerks.” Sierra says, the heels of her boots thumping against the slats of the railing. “I missed how fun it could be. We kept it loose and easy in the teams I deployed with. They were usually teams made up of veteran Challengers, so they were usually pretty established and had a good dynamic. Not as high-strung and angsty as the rookie teams.”

“That feels vaguely like you’re casting aspersions at me by using my Challenger generation as a proxy.” I say, giving her a look. “Are you calling me angsty and high-strung?”

She grins aside at me. “I remember seeing you from time to time back then. You were a pent-up ball of sexual frustration and existential identity crisis that tried to bury your emotions by throwing yourself at every mission and training course the program could offer.”

“Please, don’t remind me.”

She shrugs. “It paid off.” she says, picking at her dress jacket. “Not that anyone ever noticed because you were always standing in Nova’s shadow, but you were one of the most versatile Challengers the program had. I remember noticing how varied your assignments were — mech piloting, strike fighter pilot, close combat expert, marksman, infiltration… but no one cared because you didn’t use your powers like she did.”

I don’t say anything to that right away. “Yeah.” I say after a moment. “That’s about how it went in the program.”

“If it makes you feel better, I know how you feel, always being in the background.” Sierra says. “I don’t even have any powers. All I’ve got is my skills and my looks, and people only care about the second one. And in your case, people only cared about what they could see, and since you never used your powers…” After a moment, she looks at me. “Why didn’t you ever get amped in public, by the way? Would’ve gone a long way to earning you a fan club of your own—”

“Let’s not talk about that.” I interrupt her, pushing off my forearms on the railing. “What’s the story with the eyepatch? You had two eyes last time I saw you. Did you pick a fight you shouldn’t have in the last fifteen years?”

“Oh this? I just wear it because it looks cool and makes me look tough.” Sierra says, tucking a finger under the eyepatch and flipping it up to reveal a perfectly functional eye underneath. “Even if my eye did get cut out, it’d just regenerate on its own anyway. C’mon, dude. You’re a vampire too, you should know that.”

I stare blankly at her. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably awesome.” she says, flipping the eyepatch back down again and tossing her head, throwing her hair back over her shoulder. “Besides, I don’t take shit from the guy that became a vampire because his crush vamped up first, and he didn’t want to get left behind.”

That cuts deep. I give her a cold look, only to find she’s giving me a smug smirk in return; she knows full well that the comment would draw blood. In that moment, in her proud posture and the cruel gleam in her eyes, I can see that Sierra’s more than her reputation as a dumb, bombastic blonde. There’s something tactical and calculated about her flippancy — like it’s meant to hide something ruthless underneath it.

“Think it’s time for me to go to bed.” I mutter, shoving off the railing and turning back towards the glass doors. “You have a good night, Sierr—”

The scrape of rock over rock, coming from the darkness near the base of the porch, cuts me off. I stop in place, staring at her; I can see in her expression she heard it too. Instead of reaching for the door, I reach inside my longcoat, curling a hand around my stunner as I nod to her. She nods back, raising a hand with three fingers up, and folds each one closed as she counts down.

Once all her fingers are down, she slams her hands down onto the railing, balancing on it as she pulls her legs up and kicks off the railing in a backflip that sends her flying out into the dark. I draw my stunner, turning on the underslung light as I race to the railing, swinging its beam along the base of the porch until it wanders over a flash of dark blue fabric. “There!” I shout as I hear Sierra land.

More rocks scratch over each other as the intruder bolts, and I keep my beam on them; Sierra’s boots pound over the grass as she races to intercept, quickly overtaking the person and getting them in a restraining hold with the sound of grunting and struggling. As she starts dragging them to the stairs leading up to the porch, I turn off the light on my stunner and holster it again once I see it’s a familiar face.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I mutter as Sierra pushes Ridge up onto the porch and folds her arms behind him. “What are you doing here?”

Ridge looks over his shoulder, as if worried Sierra would put him in another hold. She just raises an eyebrow at him, jerking her head towards me as if telling him to answer my question. Turning back around, he looks at me out of the corner of his eye, as if he was afraid to look directly at me.

“I want to become a Challenger.”

The Myrrdicato Dispatch: Crime Beat, Opinion Section

ROGUE CHALLENGERS ON THE RISE?

Are we seeing the return of the Challengers?

It sure seems like it. Every day seems to bring another report of a rogue Challenger, or a nameless vigilante that sure seems a lot like this or that Challenger. For many years, they were just rumors from the fringes of the galaxy, whispers from dark space. But every day, those whispers seem to get louder and louder.

Nowhere is that more apparent than in the return of Songbird. This wasn’t a whisper; it was yell. It was a shout in the middle of populated space, coming from the heart of the galaxy. It’s been a loud reminder that though the Challenger program is dead, there are still a lot of Challengers out there. They still exist, some retired, some imprisoned, some in hiding, nearly all of them out of view. But they’re still there.

The way we reacted to these reports of rogue Challengers is an old story: one would surface, CURSE would announce they were assigning Peacekeepers to look into it, and we’d all go back to sleeping soundly at night. We’d made an assumption that CURSE would handle it, and in most cases, we never heard anything else about it. We got used to a galaxy where we didn’t need Challengers.

But this feels different.

Perhaps because it took place in the heart of civilized space. Perhaps it’s because of the recent increase in Challenger sightings. Perhaps it’s because it’s Songbird, and he’s clearly not one-and-done, if Shinobe Kibe and Valcorria are anything to go by. But it doesn’t feel like this is one of those whispers that fades back into dark space. Something’s different this time around; something’s changed.

This isn’t the last we’re going to hear about this.

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

Valcorria: Viktier Private Residence: Living Room

8:44pm SGT

“Mmmmf. Man, this better be good.” Luci yawns, coming down the spiral staircase leading up to the third floor, one hand rubbing at his eye. “I was having this lovely dream about a Moksan seafood buffet, fresh catch of the day…”

“I get it, I’ll make sure to stock the kitchen next time.” Sierra says from where she and I are standing on either side of the chair that we’ve got Ridge in, staring down at him. “We had an unexpected guest.”

“Oh hey, that’s the kid from the museum!” Luci says, hitching a hand up and scratching the back of his head. “…how’d he get all the way out here?”

“That’s a good question.” I say, looking at Ridge. “I’m guessing you hid in the trunk of the car we were using?”

Ridge gives me a look. “What? No. I couldn’t get the trunk open.”

“Alright then.” Sierra says. “So how did you find your way to this residence?”

“There’s like… pipe-things on the bottom of most hovercars that you can hold onto.” Ridge says. Looking down, I can see the leftover smears of automotive grit on his fingers, and the black smudges on the thighs of his pants where he brushed his hands off.

“You hung onto the underside of that car for two days?” I demand.

“Uh, no. Just when you guys left the bar. I saw you coming out, so I ran under the car and hung on when you came back out and drove off.” he says, looking uncomfortable with the attention of three adults on him.

“That was still… what, forty miles?” Luci says, looking at me and Sierra. “Hell kid, it’s a miracle you didn’t get splattered across the freeway like a ketchup packet.”

“That is impressive for a kid.” Sierra murmurs thoughtfully.

“So what, did Kiwi send you back here to spy on us?” I ask, still trying to piece together what’s going on and why he’s here.

“Who?” Ridge asks, looking confused.

“Kiwi. The Maskling at the museum. Green hair, the girl you gave the backup archive to.” I explain, remembering that I never told anyone what I called her. “You ran off with her after we fought off the Peacekeepers.”

“Oh, she’s got a name?” Luci says, smirking at me. “So you did actually get something out of that second date.”

“Shut up, Luci.”

“Oh, her.” Ridge says, looking down. “She told me not to follow her.”

I raise an eyebrow. “She told you to get lost? So what, you came and found us instead?”

He nods silently, not looking any of us in the eye.

“Well, that’s impressive, considering the lengths we go to not to be found, but your parents are going to be wondering where you are, kid.” Sierra says, turning and heading for the kitchen.

“He’s an orphan.” I call after her.

That stops Sierra dead, turning to look back at me. “…he’s an orphan?”

“Well, yeah.” I shrug. “Did you pay attention to the news? They had an entire interview segment on it. ‘Rogue Challenger Goes On Berserk Orphan-Punching Spree’. It was a hell of a hit piece.”

“Shit.” Sierra hisses at me. “Feroce, orphans are chipped. Once the orphanage realizes he’s missing, they’re going to track him back here!”

“Oh shit, you’re right.” Luci says, the same realization dawning on him. “That’s standard practice for most foster and orphanage systems, so they can track and retrieve runaways. That’s going to bring the Valcorria police right to our door!”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Anaya above. Alright, we’ve gotta get him out of here and back into the city—”

“No!” Ridge interrupts. “I don’t want to go back! I want to be a Challenger. I wanna do the sort of stuff you guys did in the museum. I’m willing to train, I’m willing to work—”

“Kid, it is a lot more than training and working!” I say, dropping my hand. “It is pain and suffering. Did you not see me getting clobbered by that ten-ton rustbucket?”

“Hold on just a moment, Feroce.” Sierra says, coming over and leaning down near Ridge. “Challenger program is dead. It’s not comin’ back. But we’re going to be building something to replace it, and it’s going to be staffed with former Challengers and people we train up to the Challenger standard. You think you could be one of those people?”

Luci stares at Sierra. “Boss, he’s a teenager!”

“Perfect age to make stupid decisions.” Sierra replies without hesitation, her attention still fixed on Ridge. “Do you really want this, kid?”

Ridge nods. “Yeah. I want to do this. I want to be a Challenger, or… whatever you guys are calling it nowadays.”

Sierra smiles. “Alright then. You just need to pass one test.” She reaches into her dress jacket, pulling out a combat knife and holding it up. “We’re going to need to dig that chip out of your arm.”

“Sierra!” I snap, reaching out to snatch the knife away from her. “We are not going to perform living-room surgery on a teenager!”

She jerks the knife out of my reach. “He wants to be part of the next generation of galactic heroes, he’s gotta be willing to do the hard things. It’s not all glory and fame and recognition. It’s blood and pain and suffering, and a lot of times, people are never going to know the things you’ve done to keep them safe. You’ll get hurt, maimed, and potentially killed in the line of duty. We do it because it’s the right thing, and sometimes people thank us for it. Other times, they’ll try to hunt you down and kill you for it, because you’re a threat to their power monopoly. That’s what CURSE will be doing to you if you join us.” She holds up the combat knife again. “You sure you want this, kid?”

The blood’s drained out of his face as his eyes rove between that knife and Sierra’s face. Her speech has pulverized some of his naïveté, and I can see in his eyes that he’s suddenly second-guessing his ambition now that he’s realizing that the reality of being a Challenger is nothing like the Saturday-morning cartoons that they make about our escapades. For a long moment, it seems like he’s going to flake out and back down.

But then he takes a deep breath, reaching down and starting to pull back the sleeve of his hoodie.

Sierra grins. “I think we got ourselves our first new recruit in fifteen years.” Straightening up, she pulls her Challenger jacket off her shoulders and drapes it across the back of the couch. “Luci, get out the medkit in the closet. Going to need disinfectant and a liquid bandage. Feroce, go grab me a branch from one of the trees outside, preferably live, about a half inch in diameter. He’s going to need something to bite down on to keep from screaming.” She looks at us when neither of us move. “C’mon guys, this chip has to be outside this house and far away by the time the police come knocking on the door!”

“Cross my heart and button my eyes.” Luci mutters as he turns away and starts for the hall closet. “We’re actually doing this. We’re going to cut open a kid in the living room and dig out his chip.”

“I just want you to know you’re crazy.” I say to Sierra as I head for the porch door.

“Says the guy that literally only joined the Challenger program because he didn’t want to be separated from his high school crush, and then became one of its most versatile assets not because he wanted to be useful to the program, but he was trying desperately to prove that he was her equal.” Sierra says, rolling her eyes as she rolls up her sleeves. “Branch, Feroce. Don’t come back without one.”

I glare at her, but go anyway, unsettled by what she knows about me. Not that I’d ever confirm it in front of the others, but she wasn’t wrong. The real question was how she knew these things about me, things that I’d thought that only my original mentors would’ve known. Either she’d done her research — a lot of it — or she had a source, someone that once knew me.

When I return from snapping a couple branches off the trees outside, Luci’s unpacking the medkit on the coffee table while Sierra runs a scanner over Ridge’s arm so she can pin down exactly where his tracking chip is. “Well, the good news is that it looks like it’s a small one; I’ve seen bigger tracking chips, but Valcorria looks like they’re gentler with their orphans than a lot of other systems I’ve visited.” she says, checking the tip of the knife. “Luci, once this thing comes out, I’m going to need you to get it far away from here.”

“How far are we talking?” Luci asks, shaking up a can of liquid bandage.

“City. The police need to be able to chase it and it needs to be reasonably local. Sending it halfway across the continent would be funny, but they’ll suspect tampering. We need it to be somewhere the kid could reasonably go.” Sierra says as I come over, lowering the branch to Ridge’s mouth.

“It needs to go far back enough in your mouth that it’s between your molars.” I explain as he opens his mouth. “Biting down too hard when it’s further forward might displace some of your other teeth because of the way they’re shaped, but your molars are more stably rooted in your jaw and are unlikely to shift under pressure.”

“My advice? Don’t watch her.” Luci says as Ridge bites down on the branch. “It can be nauseating to watch someone cut you open, and we don’t want you throwing up on top of all the blood.”

“Yeah, stare at the ceiling.” Sierra says, holding the scanner out to Luci. “Hold that for me. I’m going to need one hand to hold his arm still and the other to hold the knife. Feroce, stand behind him and hold him steady. I don’t want him thrashing while I’m doing this.”

I move around behind the chair, resting my forearms on Ridge’s shoulders as he tilts his head back. “I’m sorry I punched you in the museum.” he says past the branch clutched in his teeth, staring up at me.

“Think we can call it even after this.” I reply. “Don’t look down.”

The branch creaks in his mouth Sierra carefully cuts into his arm, a muted, animal sound of pain drifting around where his teeth are digging into the bark. I can feel his entire body tense up beneath my forearms; I lean my weight on his shoulders in response as a high-pitched noise escapes him the further the knife slides into his arm. Tears start to gather in his muddy-green eyes, and his head starts to tilt down.

“Hey. Eyes up here.” I say, swinging a hand under his chin to tilt his head back up again. “Trust me, you don’t want to look. It makes it that much harder when you see what’s happening to you.”

“Alright, let’s see what we’re working with here.” Sierra murmurs. “I think I see it. Luci, I need to borrow one of your hands. Fingers just inside the cut on either side, keep it open so I can dig out the chip.”

“Oh what the hell, Boss, I didn’t think I’d—”

“Shut up and do it. Quick. The longer this takes, the more blood is spilled.”

Luci lets out a noise that’s something like a gurgle, but he does it. Sierra repositions the knife in one hand and the tweezers from the medkit in the hand, carefully working both into the cut; Ridge starts panting, letting out a panicked sound as he reaches up with his free hand, grabbing my wrist.

“Hang in there, kid. It’s almost done.” I say, gripping his hand in return, and pulling my attention off the cut so I can stare down at him. “Want to know something one of my trainers used to tell me?” I wait a moment, knowing that he couldn’t answer even if he wanted to, then answer the question. “Pain is just weakness leaving the body.”

“There we are.” Sierra says, almost inaudible. I look up to see she’s carefully pulling the tweezers from the cut, a small chip pinched between the tines. “Luci.”

“On it.” Luci says, spritzing a swab with a can of disinfectant as he lets the cut in Ridge’s arm fall shut. “Don’t spit out that branch yet, kid. This is going to sting.”

Ridge’s fingers tighten around my wrist, and he lets out a gasp and a high-pitched noise a second later when Luci starts swabbing the cut. “Remember to bite down.” I say as his panting continues hit that high-line pitch.

“Sierra, a liquid bandage isn’t going to cut it here.” Luci says as he sets aside the swab and shakes up the bandage can. “Kid’s going to need stitches for this cut. It’s too big.”

“Spray it for now. We can have Valkyrie take a look at it once we get back to the battlecruiser.” Sierra says as she wipes down the knife and tweezers, studying the chip. “Pain is just weakness leaving the body, neh?” She gives me a knowing look. “Sounds like Kaiser left an impression on you.”

I glare at her as Luci sprays the cut on Ridge’s arm, a fine beige mist obscuring the wound over the course of a few passes. Though it gleams wetly, it starts to set and bond the longer it’s exposed to the air, and within twenty seconds or so, it’s finished drying. Taking my arms off Ridge’s shoulders, I carefully remove the branch from his mouth. “Try not to move that arm too much. It might aggravate the wound.” Tossing the stick in the trash, I give him a pat on the shoulder. “You handled that pretty well for… how old are you?”

“Sixteen.” he gasps, still panting and gripping the arm of the chair now.

“Not bad for sixteen.” Sierra says, wiping off the chip and handing it to Luci. “Get that out of here.” As Luci takes it and heads towards the stairs, Sierra flips the combat knife around in her hand, holding it out to Ridge hilt-first. “This is a Challenger-issue combat knife. It’s yours now. Welcome to the fight, recruit.”

Ridge stares at the knife, then up at her. “You’re giving me the knife you used to cut me open?”

“It’s the knife that made you a free man. Seems appropriate you should keep it.” Sierra says, pulling the sheath off her beltline and pairing it with the knife. “Go on. You earned it.”

After a moment, he reaches up to take both. “Thanks. I guess.”

“Look at the bright side: it makes a good fireside story.” Sierra says, picking up her dress jacket and hooking it over one shoulder. “Years from now, you can tell other recruits that that’s the knife you used to dig your tracking chip out of your arm when you were sixteen. It’ll make you look real cool.”

“But… you did that, not me.” Ridge says, his breathing slowing as he sheathes the knife and lets it drop in his lap.

“Water and rain.” Sierra says, packing up the medkit. “You have the knife, it got the chip out of your arm, we can bend the truth a little about who was holding it at the time. In the merc business, embellishments are just taking artistic license with your life story to make it more exciting.”

“I don’t think the first thing we should be encouraging a new recruit to do is tell lies about how he proved himself.” I say, grabbing a towel out of the kitchen and starting to clean up some of the blood at ended up on the floor. “You said Valkyrie could take a look at him? So I guess she’s onboard with the project, then… I assume that means we’ve got Jackrabbit signed on as well?”

“Are you kidding me? Of course we’ve got both of them.” Sierra says, snapping the medkit closed. “Those two are joined at the hip; you couldn’t pry them apart if you took a crowbar to them.” As Luci comes back down the stairs, she tosses the medkit to him. “Where’d you drop the chip?”

“The museum. Dropped it in the hole in the main room down in the rubble.” Luci says, catching the medkit and heading to put it away in the closet in the hall. “Figure that’d be a good misdirect.”

“Wait!” Ridge says, watching Luci. “The museum’s all the way in the city, that’s miles away — you were only gone for a minute!”

“He’s a Schrödinger.” I say, carefully lifting Ridge’s arm so I can wipe up the blood that dripped onto the arm of the chair. “A cheshire cat. They get around.”

“Schrödingers occupy a state of quantum uncertainty.” Sierra says, turning towards the porch windows and darkening the tint on them until they’re blacked out. “When they go unobserved, they’re everywhere and nowhere at once, and they can manifest in any location that’s similarly unobserved.”

“I have to have been to the location before, though.” Luci’s voice comes from behind us. Ridge jerks in his chair to see Luci standing behind us, arms folded.

“But— you were just—” Ridge stutters, pointing across the living room to the hall.

“Quantum uncertainty.” Sierra repeats again as she crosses back over to us. “Take your eyes off him for a second and he can disappear just like that.” Reaching out, she takes the bloody towel from me as I stand, looking it over. “That said, I’m going to need to get my teeth into you, Luci. If the police do show up, they might be bringing a scent tracker with them, and we’ll need to mask the smell of the kid’s blood with yours.”

Luci’s nonchalance evaporates as the color rises to his face, his ears laying back. “Oh. Right. Sure. No problem.”

“Don’t give me that look, I do this to you all the time.” Sierra says, hooking her fingers in the collar of his jammies and yanking him forward. “It’s gonna be a bit messier this time, though, and a little more painful.”

“Whoa, whoa, okay, let’s put the brakes on just a mo.” I say, grabbing Ridge by his uninjured arm and pulling him up out of the chair. “Lemme get the kid upstairs first before you go to town on your boy toy there.”

Sierra pauses with one arm around Luci’s back, staring first at Ridge, who’s looking at her bug-eyed, then at me. “…do they not give orphans the talk by the time they hit this age?”

“No, no I’m pretty sure he’s gotten the talk.” I reply, tugging Ridge towards the spiral stairs at a quick clip. “But that doesn’t mean he needs to see you taking a live sacrament from Luci. C’mon, Ridge.”

“Feroce, shielding the kid from adult topics is not doing him any favors.” Sierra says, rolling her eyes. “Besides, I’m only going to be biting Luci slightly more roughly than usual. And he’s consenting! It’s an important lesson!”

“The kid does not need a demonstration!” I hiss at her as I stomp up the stairs with Ridge in tow.

“Fifteen years later and you’re still a ball of sexual frustration and repression!” Sierra shouts back at me. “When was the last time you had a live drink, Feroce?”

I stomp back down a few stairs just so I can point at her. “Shut up!” Then I stomp back up those stairs, pushing Ridge along in front of me. “Don’t mind her. Not all vampires are like that.”

“What the hell’s a sacrament?”

“Look, you don’t… I’ll tell you when you’re older, okay? Also, watch your language!”

Intercepted Internal Transmission

Surveillance and Central Intelligence Operations Network

9/1/12763 12:01am SGT

>Initiating daily case evaluation.

…

…

…

>92 active case files examined.

>>No change detected in 81 of 92 case files.

>>Minor changes to 6 of 92 case files.

>>Major changes to 3 of 92 case files.

>>Proximity threshold met for 2 of 92 case files.

>>Initiating proximity threshold evaluation…

>>>Pulling local media results…

>>>Requisitioning intelligence from local security organizations…

>>>Comparing against CURSE Surveillance database…

>>>Assessing…

>>>>Results ascertained.

>Suspected merge event detected. Location and operational data for Unit 629 and Unit 5377 generates a high probability result for coordinated action. Confidence is high; suspected event is actionable.

>>Forwarding alert to CURSE Headquarters.

>>Forwarding alert to CURSE Administrator.

>>Forwarding alert to onsite CURSE operatives.

>>Forwarding alert to local security organizations.

>Returning to daily case evaluation…

>Daily case evaluation completed.

>All updates logged and saved.

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

Valcorria: Viktier Private Residence: Third Guest Room

9/1/12763 12:34am SGT

“Are they here yet?”

Ridge’s voice drifts through the dark room. I don’t respond right away, still watching out the window of the guest room we’ve set him up in. From where I’m sitting, I can see across the upscale neighborhood not far from the estate; its wandering roads are lit by streetlamps.

“You should be asleep.” I say after a moment, keeping an eye on the skyline, searching for any signs of movement. Police usually send scout drones ahead of their arrival, so that would be the first tipoff that they were headed our way.

“My arm hurts.”

I look around to see that Ridge has sat up in the bed in the corner. “Did the painkillers I gave you wear off?”

“They weren’t really helping in the first place.” he answers. I notice how his arm lies across his lap, where it won’t move all that much.

“That’s all we had in the medkit. We’d have to go to the hospital to get anything stronger than that.” I say, checking the time on my phone. “It’s been almost four hours. I can give you another dose, if you want.”

He pauses for a moment, then nods.

Reaching over, I push the side of the bedside table, the slat clicking and drawer sliding out. Pulling the dispenser out, I depress the dosage button, a couple of pills falling out into my hand, and I hold them out to him, the tablets pale in the moonlight. “Need any water to go with that?”

“No, I’ve got some left over from the last glass.”

As he pops the pills in his mouth and takes a swig from the glass, I set the dispenser back in the drawer and push it closed again. Turning my gaze back to the window, I go back to watching the treeline, searching for any sign the police are coming.

“Who’s going to keep watch for the rest of the night?” Ridge asks.

“I am.”

“Aren’t you tired? You’ve been awake all day. I saw you wandering around the living room this morning.”

“My kind don’t need to sleep.” I answer, hitching a leg up into the chair so I can hang my arm on my knee. “The only reason most of us do sleep is because we like to dream.”

“Just figured you’d want to sleep because you seem kinda grumpy.”

I pause at that, thinking about how my terse responses sound. “I’m not grumpy, I’m just… thoughtful. Pensive. I do a lot of thinking at night when I’m not asleep.”

“I guess that makes sense. I do that sometimes.” There’s a rustle of fabric that sounds like Ridge lying back in the bed. “You’re not like how they show you in the cartoons at all.”

That gets my attention. “Oh?”

“Yeah, the cartoon Songbird is a loner, and he’s standoffish with everyone. And there’s hints that something happened in his childhood that made him mean.” There’s some more rustling as he seems to be trying to get comfortable. “In the show, he’s in love with Nova, but she doesn’t love him back, and that’s part of the reason he’s mean and takes it out on everybody else. Guess none of that’s true, though. You’re nothing like what Songbird is in the cartoons.”

I’m quiet for a bit while that sinks in. “There’s a seed of truth at the bottom of every myth.” I reply, reaching into my jacket and pulling out a small flask. “You should try to get some sleep. You’re human, and you need your rest.”

Ridge snorts. “You say that like you weren’t human once upon a time. I know that vampires are made from humans.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Was it true, what Sierra said? About you joining the Challengers because you didn’t want to get left behind by your crush? About doing everything you did just because you wanted to prove yourself to her?”

“I know what you’re asking.” I say, screwing the cap off my flask. “Yeah, I joined because I didn’t want her to leave me behind. But I stayed because it was the right thing to do, and because I believed in what we were fighting for. I joined for the wrong reasons, but I stayed for the right ones.”

“Guess that puts me ahead of you.” he says. “Since I’m joining for the right reasons.”

“It’s not a competition, kid.” I say, taking a sip from the flask. “Besides, I saw plenty of recruits that joined for the right reasons and then lost their way. Plenty of people that realized that doing the right thing was a lot harder than it looked.”

“Would you stop calling me that?” he says, sounding annoyed.

“Calling you what?” I ask, looking back at him.

“Calling me a kid.”

“You are a kid.”

“Yeah, but it sounds like you’re talking down to me. I hate it.”

For a moment something smarmy and sarcastic bubbles to my lips and I almost say it. Because he is a kid, because he thinks he knows everything, because he has these ideas about how the galaxy works even though he’s probably never been offworld. Because he seems to think changing the galaxy is going to be easy as just going out there and doing it.

But I remember being his age, and thinking that changing the galaxy was that easy, that you could just go out there and do something and it would make a difference. It’s why I stayed with the Challenger program, and even now, the embers of that old belief still simmer deep inside me. Buried by experience and time, but still there, struggling to catch fire and start burning again. To throw away the bitterness and cynicism, and believe that I could make a difference again.

“Sorry.” I say, rocking my flask back and forth. “You are a kid. But you’ve got the right stuff. I just don’t want you to trip over your own overconfidence. Or your ego.”

“So you guys really are going to train me?” he asks, resting his head on a folded arm on his pillow.

“That’s the plan, at least according to the Lieutenant Commander.” I say, taking another sip from my flask before noticing color on the horizon. Red and blue lights, moving through the neighborhood not far from here. Screwing the lid back on my flask, I tuck it back into my longcoat, then tap on the window and darken the tint so nobody on the outside can see into the room. “But for that, you need to be well-rested. So, eyes closed—”

“Yeah yeah, I get it. Go to sleep.” he says, pulling the blankets up over his shoulder. “The pills are kicking in anyway.”

I smile at the novice attempt to end the conversation on his own terms, and recline my head against the wall, closing my eyes. Waiting for the police arrive, and for Sierra and Luci to play the lovers’ fools and send them off after letting them have a cursory inspection of the estate. Knowing Sierra, she’d find a way to make it awkward if they got a little too nosy.

“Hey, what were you drinking?”

“I thought you were going to sleep.” I answer without opening my eyes.

“I was just curious.” he says, sounding muffled beneath the blankets.

“If I tell you, will you go to sleep?”

“Yeah.”

“Cherry lemon fizzwater.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “…liar.”

“Goodnight, Ridge.”

He grumbles, but doesn’t argue, and I smile to myself as the room goes quiet again.