The Last Age » Places

         Sleep was restless for her that night. Worries plagued her young mind and more than once she startled awake from nightmares- no, not nightmares... shadows of nightmares, and was glad there was no one nearby to hear her cry out. It wasn't unusual for her to have troubled sleep, no far from it... So many things she had seen and had been told over the years had made her dreams less than pleasant. At least she was alive to dream- she thought.

The fourth time she awoke it was nearly dawn and she found herself sweating harder than she had in a while, getting up and actually pacing around the mattress. The cold didn't bother her in this state, she was glad for it and her arm ached like hell. She was still exhausted, then again she didn't intend on getting proper rest any time soon. This time around she had work to do. Pulling on her jacket once she cooled down enough, she found herself quietly wandering around. Her hair was matted to her face with sweat, and she was pale from her exhaustion and injuries. Anyone who hadn't met her before would have thought she was merely a ghost wandering down the gantry. She needed to do something, her hands needed to be occupied. Out of the corners of her eyes she saw shadows, heard whispers, but they were not real whispers. No one was currently awake on the platform she found herself on when she finally had to sit down and close her eyes to rest.

Darkness.

She was surrounded by it. The silence was deafening. She couldn't hear herself breathe,she didn't know if she was alone or if the men that had been with her when the ceiling collapsed were still there. The expedition had gone terribly so far. The ruins were in very bad condition.

Letitia searched for something, anything... her pack had been tossed quite a ways away from her, but in it there were matches, a flashlight, her water canteen among other things. She needed to find that pack... but she had no idea where it had fallen. For what seemed like hours she moved a few inches at a time, searching thoroughly for a strap or SOMETHING to help her. The 15-year-old was terrified for the first time in her life. Never before had she felt anything so strongly; not love nor hatred nor fear... She didn't know why, but she just didn't feel things the way others did.

Nor did she care to.

Her hand brushed against something, it felt like the strap of her pack. Attached to it was the canteen which she drank from.

"Someone get Valentine."

Letitia drank just enough to quench her thirst before digging for her flashlight or her matches.

I wouldn't do that.

The voice echoed in her head, causing her to jump. "Who's there?" she rasped out of her still-dry throat. There was no moisture in the desert and little oxygen to be had in here. There was no reply.

"She's burning up."

"Man did you see what she did? She jumped into that Reaper with another thought? Was she even trained to use that thing?"

"Just fucking get Valentine."

Letitia tried to stand, but her legs were weak from the shock of adrenaline she could feel leaving her body now.It was so hot and dry. Even her sweat felt like it was evaporating faster than she was producing it. She fumbled with a match, just hoping to get a view of what was down here.

You'll die.

The teenager squeaked as the voice pulsed through her body. It felt like a shock to her system and she was on her knees again.

I can help you live.

She was confused.

"She's blacked out. I can't wake her."

The source of the voice had to be in the chamber with her. She stumbled forward reaching out to stabilize herself on a wall. She walked forward with her hand in front o her until she hit something.

If you help me find peace, I can help you live.

She dropped her pack, grabbing the flashlight and turning it on. It flickered, the battery extremely low, but what she saw before her was unlike anything she had ever seen before. The machine, if that's what it was, was huge. It sat against the wall as if it were taking a nap.

I'll protect you if you protect me.

What are you?

The One With Half of a Soul. Do you want to live?

Yes.

Then help me find peace. That is your due to me.

I don't know how.

Then let us find it together.

She had woken up with sun in her eyes and the entire cavern exposed to the sky, cradled in the arm of the Reaper. The guys claimed there had been an explosion and they found the Reaper still sitting there, shielding her.

Wake up Letitia.

Letitia's eyes shot open and she sat up with a cry, a pounding headache and a shudder. She looked around, dazed and confused as to where she was, but feeling better rested than when she had sat down... wait, where was she? Why was she here? What had happened to the steps? She had only sat down to catch her breath...

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"Reaper surge; she ought to be fine," Valentine said, with barely a look at the woman lying on the ground; he'd just checked behind her eyelids, and then walked away, knowing full well the situation already. He'd been here often enough himself - it was why he had so many coolant pipes running into Abyss Walker all the time. He'd hoped that Letitia's Reaper was going to be a little quieter.

Apparently not.

"Is she dreaming?" Ghost said, looming next to Valentine, the blonde-haired soldier easily a head taller. His thick arms were folded; it was odd for Valentine to see his comrade unarmoured, in a way. The man had always seemed somehow more than human - a walking lump of steel with a full-auto battle rifle in hand, ready to follow out every order to the death. Always unflinching, no matter what the world threw at him; his eyes, always somewhere else.

In a way, he and Valentine got along for that reason - they both understood what it was to outlive one's use-by date. They were both temporally anomalic soldiers. Ghost old before time, Valentine young long after his.

"Hallucinations?" Ghost asked, looking down at her; he'd carried her here, what with Valentine's arm quite thoroughly out of commission. She now lay upon the table that they used for planning operations, the maps hastily swept away - all the stretchers were occupied by wounded.

"Far more than that," Valentine said, turning around on the gantry, staring out at Abyss Walker. He swore that in the dull line of sensors, he saw a singular flare of light; he glanced down and away, towards where Eden had been brought in on the back of a group of trucks, occupying the remaining floor space in front of the rows of coolant pumps.

What are you two up to?

"It's taken her soul out of time itself," he explained. "Back to a moment in her past, I'd suspect, although the future isn't unheard-of either. The Entities bend time and space to their will. Once linked, they can touch you, wherever you are. When the energies of Reapers surge, it can tear one's soul from their body. They always bring you back, though."

Ghost's eyes fogged over. Valentine knew why well enough - he'd seen enough things himself, fought things that should never have been fought. No Sentinels nor Reapers to protect him - just heavy combat armour and a brace of shotgun shells on hand. The two of them didn't talk about their pasts much; a mutual understanding. But he knew that whatever Ghost had seen, it had imbued him with an eternal hatred of the preternatural.

He heard a cry behind him, and spun, stepping towards Letitia swiftly. The momentary temptation to place a comforting hand on her shoulder grasped him, but he forced it aside, and looked her up and down; she appeared to have managed to avoid injuring herself in any way, thankfully, nor did she have any mysterious cuts (the mark of such surges). She was fine enough, for the minute.

"When were you?" he asked, his tone soft and understanding.

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Letitia took deep breaths, calming herself down the best way she knew how.

"When were you?" her eyes snapped to Valentine. Her suddenly bright blue eyes slowly faded back to their natural black color as her breathing evened out and she seemed to come to her senses.

"A promise," she breathed, sitting fully up and swinging her legs off the table. Carefully, she stood, trying to catch her balance. She had experienced this once before, but it had been a long time. "When we met, I was dying. Trapped in ruins that collapsed. I was stupid and young at the time and lit a match underground, eating up a good portion of my oxygen. Eden warned me not too, but I was hot, terrified and wounded."

Her voice was still distant, but as she seemed to finally settle back into her body. Her eyes deglazed and she was suddenly very focused. "We made a deal back then, if I help her find solitude and peace, she'd protect me. Without a pilot she blasted us out of the ruins. I don't remember much, I passed out due to lack of air just before it happened. They found me sheltered in her arms when they managed to get down the crater she created to investigate," She turned to Valentine, her voice strong and her posture full of purpose. "She protected me. In return I took her back with me and protected her. After that she never spoke to me again, until recently when she started to occasionally whisper her name or strings of code that I was struggling with. I think she used a lot of her power saving me back then, and has only just recovered recently... I forgot about all that..."

Back then she swore it was a dream; she hadn't told anyone about the large machine that spoke to her. They would have thought she was insane. Instead she kept their agreement to herself and eventually it faded into her subconscious. "I think she's trying to tell me it's time to keep my end of the bargain."

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Solitude... peace...

Lies. Valentine felt it. Reapers only existed insofar as they were in motion - when there were no souls to claim, then they did not, could not, exist. Human suffering was the very air they breathed. War was their existence - and, perhaps,

What form of Reaper could want peace?

Still, at least it was a reasonably harmless memory. Abyss Walker appeared to have taken up the hobby of bringing Valentine back to things that he decidedly did not wish to recall. Not born of hatred, though - Abyss Walker was a creature of pure hatred, as were all Entities, but they did not hate those whom they fed off. Valentine was too much a part of it now for it to ever consider hate.

No, rather, it all seemed to be birthed of curiosity more than anything.

"Ignore what it demands," he said, nodding over at where Letitia's pet abomination lay, skeletal limbs haphazard upon the floor. "You owe it nothing. It'll collect its dues from you in time."

A sombre statement, but one that needed to be made. That was the reality of their position. The more you used a Reaper, the more it took from you.

Until it had nothing left to take. Valentine almost loosed a bitter laugh at the thought.

How profoundly human of them.

"If I were you, I'd try to get as much done before that happens as possible."

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Letitia was listening yet not listening. Her head was still very far away, though what part of her soul that was still in her body was in tact. She turned to him, understanding him completely. "She's not demanding it, that's the problem. Something's coming, even if she doesn't know what it is... I know as long as I'm a part of this the chances are I'm going to die an early age," she told him, finally able to stabalize herself in the here and now.

For a moment she blinked and then sighed. "Sorry about that... according to my notes it's a side effect of only having half of my soul in my body. A soul's natural state is being whole, so when she takes me out- and no this isn't the first time, the half that she takes tries to find its way back to its other half," she explained. "It takes a few minutes for me to gain back my ground. I've slept long enough. It's time to get to work. Show me where the Sentinels are, I'll start with those. Later we'll talk about the rest of what I've promised you in resources. As soon as I can get to those, the better chance I have of being to help you repair whatever else needs fixing."

The airiness was gone from her voice. She was ready to continue on. She had a war to fight after all.

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Valentine found himself impressed by Letitia's request to begin work. He frankly hadn't expected her to be so driven, especially so swiftly after what she'd been through.

"With me," he stated, beginning the walk towards the stairwell. Within a few moments, they'd reached ground level, standing among the forest of coolant pumps and half-scrapped Sentinels.

"Start with whichever you please. Anything you require, you only need ask."

As she set to work, he thought back over what she'd said. Something's coming... an ominous statement, if there ever was one. Valentine wasn't the type to believe in the premonitions of abominations, but on the other hand, he knew better than to ignore what could be a dire warning. He turned to Ghost, who was still dutifully following him.

"Arm your men," he ordered. "Put your team on guard, concealed out in the tunnels. I think something's coming for us."

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Letitia looked at what she was given with to work with and a sudden grin crossed her face. "You sure know how to get a girl excited," she said before nearly diving into the half scrapped Sentinels and the parts that were just lying around them as if no one could figure out where to start. A minute later she popped up besides Valentine, looking as if someone had just given her the greatest gift ever. "Three questions: how many are there supposed to be? What are the minimal number you need? And do you have any WHOLE Sentinels to begin with?"

She loved mechanics. It was something she had spent years studying, always up to date on the latest technology but just as effective with older technology as well. She was thrilled to be given a project she could easily accelerate at. If it hadn't been for the circumstances surrounding her upbringing, she might have been a mechanic or even followed in her mother's footsteps. She was happier around machines and computers than she was around people; people were volatile and very few people were the same as one another. Even the fake spoiled kids had held some things deeper than others. She was a prime example of that. So much of her life had been spent in a room full of computers putting together ancient robots and retrofitting new technology into things. For her, recreating a few Sentinels was child's play, yet she knew it was essential.

Knowing what she had to work with was the first step to succeeding. She had been genuine when saying her alliances lay with them; she had no where else to go, and even if she did she wasn't sure she could get there on her own. Not only had she no knowledge of a Reaper's capabilities, but despite her years of combat training, even she couldn't face a whole army alone. She needed to work with Childhood's End if she were to get even close to her end goals.

"I can scrap a couple of the really bad ones and rebuild at least two of them based off of what I see. This is a cakewalk," there was no ego in her words, just an innate understanding. It was like there was a computer in her head calculating how much time it would take to scrap and rebuild and which of the parts that lie at her feet were still usable. For the first time in years she felt even the slightest at ease and felt like she could make a place for herself here.

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"To be honest, I'm not quite sure myself," Valentine half-grinned, with a small chuckle at how excited Letitia seemed to be working on the Sentinels. It was endearing, in a way; watching her run around, digging through piles of scrap for anything that looked useful.

"I think we've got four and a half - I loosely remember one of them getting bisected and dragged back here. There's one that's sort of whole," he nodded at one which was only missing a single arm (he mused that 'only a single arm' was an odd thought indeed), "but other than that, we're more or less left with a pile of scrap. If you can get even two of them back into combative condition, you'll have the thanks of every man here."

He was certainly appreciative of her will to work. He gestured around, calling the various mechanics over - he'd selected them for their talent in operating a Reaper, not in repairing Sentinels. Given that the technology in Abyss Walker was a few centuries older than these Sentinels, they'd been struggling for a good while. He was thankful for Letitia's aid.

"Help Letitia with whatever she needs," he said. "She appears to know what she's doing, but her arm is injured. She will require assistance, I should think."

He turned to Letitia, nodding. "My arm is still injured, but I will do what I can to aid you. However, I fear I will be of little use in physical tasks." After that, a slight grin crossed his face.

"Tea or coffee?"

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Letitia was already directing the mechanics before Valentine offered her tea or coffee. She was focused, determined. "You three start deconstructing the half Sentinel. We can repurpose the arm to fit the other one that' only missing an arm," She ordered, clearly knowing what she was doing.

Still, there's always a naysayer in every group. "Um... miss, that one is missing its left arm, and this other one only has a right arm and they're not even the same mode-"

"Then I guess I'll just have to reprogram it and adjust to make it function as a left arm. Models make no difference, if you know what you're doing. In the end wiring is all the same and all manageable. Let me handle that, you just work on pulling it apart," she said with a roll of her eyes. She had done it before, and had watched her mother do it a few times. As Sentinels got older it was hard to find replacement parts and Letitia had quickly learned that retrofitting parts was quite easy if you had to.

She turned to Valentine. "Tea would be nice. Don't worry about the physical aspect. There's enough people to help me with this. I should have the Sentinel up and running by tomorrow," she gave a rough estimate, but as long as the team worked with her it was an accurate estimate. "I need Bot. He's very efficient as an assistant. I think he's still where I left him by my mattress... He'll be able to test parts to see what's still functioning and what's unusuable.

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Valentine watched her issue orders swiftly and pragmatically; beautiful in her brutal efficiency. He began to wonder if there was more to this girl - she was, after all, Human-PLUS. Perhaps she was not merely a living being, but a weapon - bred not just to live, but to fight and lead and kill.

Yet... something just didn't add up. XK-CULTIVATOR, Shape Memory Effect, the Ulysses Report - it had all proved that any attempt to control a Knight was impossible. Not mechanically, but conceptually - fate itself conspired, by some unknown mechanism. Whoever had created her, whatever connection they'd had - the timing meant that they had to know what had happened to the original Human-PLUS program. Had to know the state Kyoto had been in leading up to the accident. Had to know the probabilities, the explanations for the Incident.

It didn't add up. Why was she built? Did they hope to, in stripping something of its soul, create a being that they could control? Nobody capable of creating Human-PLUS was a fool.

Unless, of course, they hadn't intended to control her...

He mused over this as he put the tea and coffee together in the small kitchenette they'd set up on one side of the gantry; a skill he'd practiced back at Golgotha Base, many years ago. A different time; more peaceful, in a way, living in a delusion, deciding to pick his vision of the future, instead of the inevitability. Knowing it would all come down on him, and ignoring it.

Eventually, he was settled; a half-dozen espressos for the team and himself, and a rather strong Japanese tea for Letitia. He handed out the drinks comfortably, leaning against a wall and taking a sip from his espresso - one of the old habits.

"I trust I'm not too rusty with the tea?" he asked, before deeming to move onto more serious matters. "You have my thanks for getting it operational. Once you're feeling a little more experienced, I might enlist your help in repairing Abyss Walker - assuming that it lets you near itself, of course."

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While Valentine made tea and coffee, Letitia found herself walking amongst the wreckage after someone located Bot and brought it to her.

"Well mistress we actually have a fair haul of workable parts. They're in shambles, but we have at least three functioning Sentinels here... If we count in that thing at the warehouse there's four..." Bot made about testing parts to make sure they worked. Despite it being a drone the personality chip she had discovered made it talk and seem like a human, and it even had a certain degree of free will.

"Good. We'll retrieve what's at the warehouse soon enough. We really need these working though," she replied, a wrench in her hand as she loosened parts up enough to pull the apart so they could be reassembled later. Already she had an organization system going and there seemed to be dedication piles of parts, weapons, and miscellaneous nuts and bolts. And it hadn't even been a half hour. The half Sentinel was being pulled apart, its arm being relocated over by the armless Sentinel and the rest of the parts all going to the respective piles.

"The good news; we have the parts for three functioning Sentinels here with plenty of spare parts for repairs," Letitia approached Valentine and took the proffered tea. She sips at the hot substance and nodded her approval. "Not too bad. Its drinkable."

She didn't mean to sound like it was disappointing. It was actually quite good, but she had spent so much of her life drinking tea the way her grandfather, and she, had made it that anything else was hard to swallow. However she enjoyed the taste and warmth. "I have another whole Sentinel in my warehouse. Its missing some things, but it just lucks out that those components we have extras of here that I can put in it. We'll have four whole functioning Sentinels at that point. Its a bit on the older side, but its pilot keeps it in good shape."

She turned to look at him, a wistful smile on her face. "Though I might have to fight her to relinquish control of it. Its my mother's..."

Officially her mother was dead. There had been news reports of her suicide all over the city a few years ago, an unfortunate casualty of war. No one had ever found her body, then again it was assumed that throwing your body off of one of the tallest buildings in the sky district to the world below didn't leave much to find.

In truth Letitia had kept her far away from the city as possible. Her mothers insanity and obsessive need to fight had driven the family to attempt to get rid of her, and the young girl wasn't anywhere near ready to be a true orphan. So she had hidden the woman away and the Sentinel she was dedicated to even more than she had ever been to her daughter and made sure they couldn't go anywhere. "Your people are efficient. I like this. Its the first time I haven't had to do EVERYTHING by myself just to get results," she commented as everyone took a few minutes to drink their coffee. Bot came floating around to her.

"All scraps have been separated from functionary parts Mistress! Plenty of scrap metal to play with if needed!" It chirped before scooting off to go help with reprogramming of the arm.

Letitia knew this feeling of calm wouldn't stay. She could feel the already familiar hum of Eden in the back of her mind, prodding curiously to see what was going on.

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An extra Sentinel... and her mother's, at that. Further conspiracy? Perhaps. Still didn't add up. He'd done the research - knew who her mother was. A battlefield legend, more or less; born outside the city, having slain thousands of enemies over a career as illustrious as it was bloody. Married into the wealthy de Argentum family, finally safe - a fairytale ending.

Hardly the truth. Valentine knew that well enough. You didn't just go home. Once you stepped foot in those wastelands, you were stuck there forever - under a searing sun, the ash-tasting wind in your lungs, the ground crumbling beneath your feet, looking up at a stained sky. Always asking - why?

No, she hadn't come home, any more than he had. Gone mad and ended her own life. Just another tragic casualty of a war that had already claimed so much from this world.

But it never quite added up. Why Letitia, of all people? It was almost too good. Daughter of a battlefield legend - a concept not dissimilar to a Cultivator. It fitted too neatly. Had it been arranged - her birth itself? Was she created to be a weapon, or was it coincidence?

He knew now that he needed to get to the bottom of it. He needed answers as to who she was, if he was going to trust her. It was all just a little too convenient. Something was off, even if she herself hadn't realised it.

And he was going to find out what it was.

"We should go and see your mother," he said, sipping the last of his coffee; his statement was matter-of-fact, absolute, more an order than a suggestion. "I'd like to speak with her. After that, we can obtain her Sentinel. Will you be capable of issuing instructions to the engineers here? We can leave your 'Bot' behind to guide them."

His decision to go to find her mother was more than just curiosity, and a desire for a new Sentinel. If anyone knew how to get to Old King, it would be her - from his research, she'd've arrived at around the same time as him. Given the weight of Old King's arrival, and how high-ranked she'd been in the family tree, she had to have some idea.

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Letitia watched him for a moment as he seemed to mull something over. She figured he was wondering how and why she had a Sentinel stored away. Honestly, at the time she couldn't explain her decision to remove it from existence; no one really noticed a missing Sentinel. Some whispers on the street put her mother's missing body together with the missing Sentinel and swore that Mora de Argentum had simply managed to fool the idiot doctors at the hospital into thinking she jumped and had taken her Sentinel back out to the battlefield she loved so much.

The young woman had very few fond memories of her mother. The woman was always trying to force her into combat classes she didn't want, or dragging her out by her hair from her books and her computers. Her mother had been strict, when she was around which was very rare. Neither of her parents were around a lot, but when Mora had been around she bordered on abusive to her own child.

She looked up at him as he suggest- no, it was in the tone of an order- that they go pay a visit to her mother and the Sentinel. "Well we don't really have a choice if we want to have another Sentinel on our side... Though like I said, my mother won't give it up easily. The only reason she isn't out running around with it is because I made sure it can't run without me there to supervise. My mother is a bit... destructive," she said softly, looking at her feet with a bit of sorrow. "I'm going to need a few more weapons. My mother has a tendency towards trying to kill me, especially when it's been a while since she's seen me and she doesn't recognize me. Not fond of strangers in her deranged state. She seems terrified of someone taking the Sentinel away from her. I think it's because she's been piloting for so much of her life she feels unprotected without it."

It wasn't easy to admit. No one liked having a homicidal mother. "Giving these guys instructions should be fairly easy, and I have a headset at the warehouse that lets me communicate through Bot, if need be," she said before quickly sketching out some plans in the dirt and explaining to one of the engineers what she needed the team to do. "If you can at least get this far, once I get back the rest will be easy. I'll have the rest of what I need then to retrofit what I have to and make the rest of it work for us."

"That sounds easy enough. We can have it done in a day or two, ma'am," The man nodded and started issuing directions to everyone else. Letitia was impressed by how efficient everyone was around here.

"We can head out now if you want. The sooner we get there, the sooner we get back... though if you don't mind I'd prefer we travel lightly and only take a small number with us if you're comfortable with that... Less noticeable, and less likely to aggravate my monster of a mother."

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Valentine contemplated Letitia's request. On one hand, he was heavily disinclined to leave without a fully-armed guard; on the other, the young woman had a very good point about her mother. Letitia talked of the woman as one might a distant, faintly-disliked acquaintance; dispassionately, with the faintest tone of disdain. She was far less dangerous without a Sentinel to pilot, but could well be a threat - the mad were always unpredictable, especially one so well-trained as Letitia's mother. It would be a mistake to underestimate her.

"Then we go," he said, nodding firmly. He began assessing their proceedings of the situation - he'd need to get Abyss Walker repaired before offensive action was a possibility. Letitia's Reaper was powerful, but as-yet unproven in large-scale open battle against a foe that was prepared for its strength. And there remained the possibility of the city's guns having a wider range of turning than anticipated - even a craft so well-armoured as Abyss Walker would fall if slammed by enough high-powered rounds from those cannons. They'd need to disable them discreetly if they wanted to seize the Sky District.

Behind him, he heard Ghost move to fall in behind him, the heavy ceramic plates of the man's armour shifting as he walked. He raised a staying hand, turning to the man and shaking his head.

"Just her and I, this time," he commanded. He saw conflicting loyalties tear within Ghost; the man's desire for battle and his belief in his commanding officer colliding. Perhaps there was also a hint of protectiveness in there, although Valentine found himself doubting it. The man was a warrior - born and bred. He knew better than to form personal attachments that might put him at risk - or had he become so weak, so quickly?

The armoured veteran paused, considered his position, and then drew his handgun - a high-powered military-issued type, chambered for 8mm armour-piercing rounds capable of punching through a solid half-inch of ceramic plate. Valentine started a second, before the taller man flipped it around and offered the grip to him.

Valentine accepted it graciously; it slid inside his coat neatly enough, leaving only a small bulge in the loose garment. He'd already put on his bulletproof vest when he'd gotten dressed - a cautionary measure, in case Cocytus was compromised. It wouldn't do to die of a mere shrapnel wound to the chest, now would it?

"You need to start carrying around a proper gun, commander," Ghost nodded; beneath the grim visor of his helm, Valentine could almost feel the man's taunting smile. "That little five-millimetre is an embarrassment to our entire group."

"I'm not even going to bother making the 'compensating for something' joke here," Valentine smiled to the soldier; but in truth, he was grateful. Without a team at his back, it was best to be prepared, and Ghost's weapon was of a decent bit of sentimental value to boot. Where Ghost was from, the surrendering of one's weapon was a gesture of absolute trust.

The two men were not quite friends, even now, but Valentine knew that Ghost counted them as such, as so, returned every smile he could. He turned to Letitia, his voice returning to seriousness in contemplation of the task ahead.

"Do you require anything?" he asked, now feeling a little safer with the heavy weight of a loaded weapon inside his coat. "We should endeavour to leave as soon as possible."

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Letitia was still weaponless, her weapons laying where she had left them when she had passed out. Bot came floating over. "Mistress I have your sword, ma'am!" it said, pulling the sword out of a compartment in its abdomen before returning back to its job.

"Well apparently not," she said, looking a bit surprised yet not surprised at all. Bot was fully equipped to be able to 'think', per se. While he wasn't capable of human thought, he was programs to notice things like Letitia's weapons not being on her. That was a rare occurrence in itself. It could even activate its own 'Protocols' if she was absent. With her sword reattached to her hip she found herself a bit more at ease. "The sooner we leave the better. After yesterday I have little trust in my own security measures, though anyone trying to enter the warehouse through any of the normal entrances are in for a few nasty surprises. That place is very well sealed, for safety reasons."

The last time her mother had managed to escape had ended very badly for a few unfortunates that were a bit too close and curious. "My mother is highly trained in hand-to-hand combat as well. Last time she went 'adventuring' there were some incidents that took a lot of cleaning up on my part. Do you realize how easily blood cleans up and is hidden in a sandstorm? It's quite terrifying, really," she said, a tone of detachment in her voice. "Let's go. The sooner we go the sooner we get back."

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"I'll say this," Valentine said, leading them out of Cocytus; the side entrance to the chamber felt tiny compared to the gigantic double doors that encompassed on entire wall, "I've never much liked robots, but I'm starting to see the advantages."

He'd had enough bad experiences with machines; insofar as he was concerned, they removed a distinctly human element from war. An unusual prospect, given the extent to which he wished war itself to end, but he felt that any death should have a human touch - after all, a living, thinking human being could take responsibility for their actions, would have to live with the weight, even a little.

The only robots he'd ever met, aside from the most basic maintenance drones, were designed for combat. Still, it was nice to see one that had some modicum of capability, yet wasn't designed explicitly for killing things. He had to admit, Bot's design was rather endearing.

"Cleaning up blood's never been my responsibility," he said, a little unnerved by how detached she was - how was she maintaining this detachment? She sounded more like Ghost than anyone, saying things like that - and Ghost was a former child soldier, for crying out loud.

"But of course, I've never stayed in one place long enough for that sort of thing to matter anyway."

They emerged into the tunnels, and jumped a little as the armoured personnel entrance of Cocytus slammed closed behind him. The sound was bizarrely close to that of a gunshot, always had been; he didn't leave much, nor did anyone. Indeed, yesterday's foray to find Letitia had been his first in a few weeks; before that, he'd spent his time trying to repair Abyss Walker.

Eventually, they made their way to the surface; they emerged through a manhole onto a deserted street. It was still the low hours of the morning, and the night shift at the factories had not yet ended; the only sound that filled the streets was the booming of heavy machinery, like the sound of a vast monster thudding in the distance.

"Where to?" he asked, looking around warily - yet another soldier's habit. God, I'm getting jumpy in my old age...

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Letitia smiled. "Most Robots aren't as useful as Bot is. A lot of the 'lab assistants' are so... over programmed to do one job they can't do anything else. That and humans hate putting personality chips into anything that doesn't need it. I however, had a bit too much time on my hands and a spare personality chip and ended up with a very reliable assistant. He's also programmed for more than just one task. Multiple tools help him weld, scan and studying, plan out, and he's got a very advanced engineering program that I created when I was 12 and bored that helps him be able to assist me in retrofitting parts."

She looked around the empty street, trying to get her bearings for a moment. They were quite a ways away from where her warehouse was, but that was okay. She had quick ways to get there unnoticed. "Come on," she whispered, heading towards the north end of the city. "There's a relic of an underground exit to the outside of the north end of the city. I found it when I was younger. The warehouse is a bit of a drive outside of the city, but I was always prepared for the event of having to relocate everything there in case of emergency."

The walk didn't take half as long as she anticipated, but the uncovering the exit was much more difficult. She was still one-armed though she was happy that her arm had ceased hurting. "Stupid broken arm," she ground out as she shifted some junk, just enough that she could get the door open and they could slip through. Underground they went again. It was very dark until she flicked a switch and a trail of ancient lighting flickered to light. Half of the lights along the tunnel were broken or burnt out after so much time. "I hardly ever come down here. I left the city once a year in the last few years to check the warehouse and make sure my mother lay undisturbed... it's been a bit longer than a year this time around though."

After another 20 minutes of walking they popped out into another wider series of tunnels, though it was a fairly linear path and soon they were popping up pretty far outside the city. "This is an advantage point by the way. Not many people know about it, but not many people have access to the city's security plans," she pointed to the wall. "The guns aren't functioning on this side and they haven't bothered to fix them in the last two years. There's about a 5 kilometer span of wall that's protected only by a few armed guards who are too damn lazy to give a shit. The dumbasses we have for a 'city council' didn't see a need to pour money into it and instead upgraded the more frequently hit places with better guns and more troops. If we had a way to say... place some heavy weaponry or a Reaper here, it'd be a very weak spot to hit and we could gain the upper hand."

Letitia knew a lot about the security of the outer wall. For a short time she had been on the council, which had given her access to a lot of things that most people didn't have access to. "I have a lot of information about things like that... Rich people have too much time and not enough cares in the world. When a prodigy child comes along that awes them they tend to get too lax about it. No one ever noticed my paying attention to their conversations, or my stealing of security codes and cards. I honestly don't think anyone cared," she admitted, heading away from the city. "I have transportation hidden out here that's been here for two or three years and has never been touched. It took them 25 years to discover those underground labs.... they were there in my grandfather's time. Everyone believes my mother is dead or that she somehow escaped and took her Sentinel with her. No one ever suspected me of taking it. It's sort of pathetic really."

The day's heat was already quickly building and she found herself slipping her red coat off. She couldn't wait to get a change of clothes when she got to the warehouse; she was still covered in sweat and blood from the battle the day before. As they approached a sand dune it was quite obvious that something was hidden there; small turret guns turned on them until she pulled her dataslate out and typed in a code. This far outside the city it should have been inactive; most things didn't work unless they were connected to the city's network, yet the turrets stood down and they were safely passed them before they activated again, this time protecting them. "Thank you. Despite the complete fiasco most of this has been, you got me out of that city and gave me something to hope for. I'll make it worth your while as best as I can," she looked at him as she uncovered a truck hidden by a sand-colored tarp. No, it wasn't sand colored- it flickered as it moved reflecting the sky for a moment before it returned to looking like sand... she set it aside, pinning it down with rope and metal pins that seemed to be deeply embedded in the earth. The technology was rare but not unheard of: it used light sensors to reflect its background into the eye of the viewer, almost like glass. It was typically used in armor back in the older days, but after someone realized it could be used in a thin tarp-like sheet it had been used to hide troops or weapons in coups for years until it faded out of style.

"It's about half a day's drive from here. It should be midday by the time we get there, and hopefully if things go smoothly we can be back with the Sentinel by the middle of the night, when it's dark," she told him.

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In a word, the wasteland could only be described as 'desolate'.

This edge of it was sandy, like a vast beach that stretched thousands of miles inland. In the distance, he thought he could see the ocean, although he couldn't tell if the far-off shining was just desert haze. The wind that blowed should have been warm, but was just cold, and not fresh, either. It tasted ever-so-faintly of ash; there was no life, no cool sea breeze, because the ocean itself was so stained with blood and radiation as to no longer support life.

Not natural life, at least.

The optical camouflage flickered as she shifted it, the matrix eventually collapsing in on its own complexity as she folded it, revealing its nature. It had once been used for combat armour, and he'd been meaning to procure some cloaks of the material for Ghost's unit - unfortunately, these days, it was generally deemed too expensive to be worth issuing to soldiers. Weight of numbers tended to prevail over survivability, these days; the longer this war continued, the less human life meant.

Inside was a light truck, sand-camouflaged and frankly, about a thousand years old, by the looks of it. It wasn't badly-outfitted, and looked neatly enough preserved, but he had no goddamned clue where she'd found that sort of relic - its aesthetics were archaic and utilitarian, its panels solid metal instead of boron carbide plate or hard polymer.

Still, it looked like it would still run, and he walked over to this, tapping it on the hood a few times; the mere fact that the metal didn't crumble away into rust astounded him in and of itself. He nodded to her to get in, walking over to one of the sentry guns she'd set up.

A quick poke around it revealed it to be a standard-issue type, favoured by militaries worldwide; a pattern that had been used since the mid-21st century, little more than a servo, a simple fire control system, a laser sight and a belt-fed machine gun. After some investigation, he pulled his weapon from his coat, detached the slide and retrieved the firing pin from its mechanism. He used the edge of the slide to pry open the casing on the side of the servo, and a few solid taps of the pin caused a shuddering click and the whining of the unit powering down.

He grabbed the gun then; it wasn't hefty, an infantry-issue support weapon no different to the billions like it used around the globe. He quickly checked the action while reassembling his own substantial sidearm; it'd need some sand cleaned out of it, but otherwise, it looked perfectly functional. A surprise, after all these years of disuse.

"Old soldier's trick," he said, sliding his pistol back inside his coat and hefting the large machine gun. "Mechanism's terribly-built. Falls apart after just a few taps to the right places. Figured we could do with some backup firepower."

He was in the habit of grabbing weapons wherever he went; a little irrelevant, now that they had one of the wealthiest and best-prepared individuals in Aegis backing him, but it was still a comfort. If, for some reason, they ran into some bandits - or, god forbid, an actual military force - in these godforsaken wastes, a decent 7.62mm machine gun would go a long way towards keeping the both of them alive. Besides, tinkering with it would give him something to do in the long car trip.

He set himself inside the passenger seat; ordinarily, he'd prefer to drive, but he hadn't the first clue where they were going, so that much was best left to Letitia. He found himself looking around the car's interior when it struck him - why he'd recognised this thing so quickly.

"Hey, I think I used to have one of these!" he said to Letitia as she climbed in, a grin crossing his features. "Must have been ages ago. Watch the clutch, it's a little on the heavy side."

Wait, what? How? He realised that it was just a fragment - he just remembered the interior layout, nothing more. Yet it felt so familiar - from an older life? He'd lived a damned long time, but his memory span was only human. The early days were just fragments. He must've had an entire life that was lost to history by now.

         Letitia thought for a moment, slipping out her dataslate and running numbers. "I have massive stocks of ammo saved up in the storage at the labs. As for repairing Sentinels that'll take a day or two do procure parts for you, but I'd say 48 hours if I can get through my chains without being detected," she looked through some of her private logs of supplies she kept hidden in her labs. "As for high tech ammunition I believe that we have some stashed away somewhere I just have to figure out where that might be. My grandfather had a lot of things that I never was able to figure out what they were..."

"Theoretically you could have everything within less than three days, but the ammo I can easily get to you within the hour," she looked at him, tilting her head. "Would that be acceptable to you?"

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Valentine nodded an affirmative to her statement, thankful for her offers. Childhood's End had spent years on the run, grabbing whatever scraps were left over in abandoned military bases and conducting improvised repairs in the field. It was good to finally have someone on their side who could get them some proper supplies - hell, by the time they left the city, they might finally be back in the condition they'd started in, or better.

About time we heard some goddamned good news.

"Can you lead me to your labs from here?" Valentine asked, leading her towards the street, dropping a fistful of coins into a waiter's hand as he left.

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Letitia grinned, finally feeling as if she actually had some importance in this. The closest way down to the lower depths of the city was nearby. She stood up and lead him out to the city, looking slightly more her confident self. She felt much better now with her arm patched up and she held it close to her body. "Follow me. It's not too far to get down there and then it's a pretty straight shot down there."

She stopped for a moment and gave a serious look, her face growing cold. "If you so much as tell a soul about what you see down there," she ended her threat short by pulling her blade out just an inch. Then she promptly turned around and heading to a back alley. She had all of these pathways memorised, and when she was young she used to stow away down these streets for an adventure. "I've known these tunnels since I was a child. My grandfather had his secrets and kept them well, and he taught me pretty well."

She was just making small conversation at this time, not really sure what else to say or do. Her social interactions were usually forced by her family and her circumstances, and she was rarely adept at casual conversation.

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"So, what was your family like?" Valentine said, both to make small talk and to gather intelligence. It was always easiest to learn things about someone when they'd tell you them those things freely; he never made small talk for its own sake, but could fake the appearance of small talk while working towards a favourable conclusion.

Still, he was lacking in how to deal with people. He'd never learned them in the first place - it wasn't in his nature. He was just designed to fight and kill. Learning to deal with people - it had been a long process, and given how long it had been since he'd had need of someone outside his unit, he had little concept of how to work with them.

Dark enveloped them as they ventured into the tunnel, burnished orange-yellow lighting the only sight in the shadows; far enough apart that in the meridian of the gaps, he could not see Letitia standing beside him. On habit, he drew his handgun - there was no way of knowing who or what was down here, and he had no intention of meeting them unarmed.

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"My father died when I was young, my mom stooped into a deep depression and now spends her days securely locked up in the hospital, and my uncles are all devious political assholes that want to control the world," sure the information was something everyone in the city knew who knew of the de Argentum family, but they were facts none the less. She and her mother had never particularly gotten along while she was growing up... her mother wanted a military life for her, as her family had dedicated generations to the military, but her father wanted her to have a life full of education and whatever real happiness she could manage to get. "I don't really know my parents that well to tell the truth. Neither of them were ever around growing up. My father was the one who always brought me back books and technology that he discovered in ruins and such. He felt it was an important part to being able to change the world and understand the world we came from."

She found it easy to talk about little things like that without passion. Despite the fact that it revolved around something she loved... she knew she needed to seem as distant as possible for her own peace of mind. She still had no idea what they were really up to or how much she could trust him with. She navigated the tunnels with ease; she had been through these pathways hundreds of times since her teen years and her eyes were quite adapted to the darkness surrounding her. "This way," she slipped next to a grate that was barely lit up. She opened the grate with a bit of a struggle only having her one arm to use, and slid into the gap, easily big enough to fit a full grown human. "Let your guys know not to be alarmed when the doors open up."

She jumped down off a short ledge and they appeared next to a small door that looked no different than one of the many brick wall with the exception of a small panel with numbers and letters on it and a pad for finger printing. She placed her hand on it, waiting for it to process everything before entering her code in. "And we're here."

The wall slid open to reveal a short hallway which opened up into a very large room filled with rows and rows of ancient servers and technology. In the center sat a console with five large screens all flickering with different images, all in a semi-circle. In between the doors and along the walls sat book cases that easily reached half way up the ceilings crammed with books that looked older than any of them were. Past that were many normal sized doors which lead to other rooms, and the two large doors that were now being carefully guarded by Valentine's men were also very obvious. Everything seemed calm and in place. Still the young woman took out her gun as she approached the console.

A small drone, about 2 feet in height came buzzing around to greet her. "Mistress! Welcome back! Those were some explosions in the sky district! That wasn't you was it?" It sounded overly cheerful and happy. Letitia shook her head.

"My associate was prepared for circumstances that arose. Has Berkley been down here?" she hit buttons on the console as she spoke, obviously aware of how to run her computers. They were obviously old and bulky, unlike the mainframes of today which barely took up any room at all. Titi had an affection for these computers; despite centuries of disuse they still operated efficiently, and with the many upgrades she had made over they years they were only just slightly slower than modern technology. That slowness benefited her; most computers were fast but with little encryption available, whereas these were so heavily guarded and encrypted they were nearly impenetrable. This place was a fortress, built to withstand age and time and a heavy beating.

The drone beeped for a minute. "Berkley was last down here 5 days ago at 11:05pm in the presence of Mistress," the drone confirmed. "Currently, Berkley is being detained as a suspect in your murder."

Letitia blinked and smiled. Her uncles were looking for someone to pin her "murder" on. "They... surely can't be that stupid to think I'm actually dead..." she shook her head and opened the two doors looking at Valentine. "The drone is safe. His technology is as old as the rest of this place, only with a few personal modifications."

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Valentine listened to Letitia speak so dispassionately of her family, and found himself caught off-guard by her. It seemed that the impression he had of her - a naive, idealistic young woman out to save the world - might be a little off. It reminded him a little more than he liked of himself, or the way some of his men, spoke of their pasts - as though it belonged to someone else, someone of little interest.

Still, a few more things made sense now - including her combat training, likely ordered by her mother. And her interest in the old world, sparked by her father. He knew that human beings were nothing more than products of their pasts, an inevitable conclusion marching through history.

Of course, by that explanation, what did that make him - he, who did not know his own history? Just a collection of medical reports and battlefield legends - the Abyss Walker, stalking across the landscape, bound to no army or ideology. Destroying for, That was what he was, to the world - nothing more than a Reaper, and a series of horror stories. To mankind, they were one and the same.

And when you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you...

Shaking his head to clear it, Valentine continued forth into the dark, before ducking through the door behind Letitia. At her request, he clicked on his radio, and issued a quick stand-down order to his men. An instant later, and his eyes were flooded by harsh, blue light; doors lined the walls, and at the opposite end, two massive doors loomed, his men right behind them.

Valentine whirled suddenly, swearing that he saw something move behind him, gun snapping up to eye level; but all that were there was shadows, a little longer than what should be cast by the lighting. He exhaled heavily, slowly lowering his weapon. Atlas hadn't been kidding - there was definitely something in here. Letitia seemed unconcerned; either she was used to it, or she hadn't noticed. Neither was a good sign.

He turned back to Letitia, eyes scanning the room. He overheard her short conversation with the little drone; he checked it up and down. A compact type from a very, very long time ago - he remembered flashes of them, darting through cold steel hallways, bleeping incessantly. Still, he'd never heard one talk before - she must've modernised some of its software at some stage.

Wait a second. If she knew the coding languages of the Old World... maybe, just maybe, he could get her to try to fix up Abyss Walker's missile targeting system. It'd certainly beat having to wait months and months for Atlas to figure the whole thing out. He made a mental note to ask her about that.

Still, he wasn't comfortable here. At least with Abyss Walker, he knew what he was doing with - knew how it thought, knew how it acted, knew what it would do. It was subservient to him, in its own strange way; it knew him, and wouldn't act against him. But with a strange Reaper here... he had no control over it, no command, no rights. He had no way of knowing what it was capable of, and what it would do.

"I think it's about time you came clean with whatever's here, Letitia," Valentine said, voice heavy and serious, hand clenching a little tighter around his gun.

         "We need to treat you quickly," Valentine said matter-of-factly, appearance no less detached than a few moments ago; but inside, his mind was racing. Underground laboratory? What could have her this nervous? Surely, just business interests wouldn't quite manage it - she was smarter than that.

No, this was something bigger. She was working on something; he saw it in her eyes, in her movements, in the way she darted around and the way she remained so self-assured. She had a trump card, just as he did. And it looked like she wasn't going to show her hand until he showed his.

"What's the location of the underground lab?" he asked, as he quickly ran down the rickety fire escape, boots clanging against steel. As usual for the Understreets, all the windows were barred - preventing people from getting in was a far greater concern than being able to escape in this place. "I can have a squad of Tracers guarding there in fifteen minutes. Possibly along with a Sentinel or two, depending on how busy Atlas has been."

He had to admit, having spoken the last part, he didn't feel so confident.

"We'll settle down somewhere for fifteen minutes. Treat you, get some food into us both - it appears that our lunch was rather interrupted, after all," he said, as he swung off the bottom platform and rolled across a pile of dull-grey garbage bags on the alley roadway. They cushioned his impact, and he quickly pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the screaming in his shoulder blades from their earlier punishment during the drop. Realising that Titi was injured, he turned to face her where she stood on the platform, itself a good few metres above the ground. He held out his arms.

"Jump; I'll catch you. Try to keep your broken arm in close to you."

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She knew he was right; she needed treatment and that was a fact. Her thoughts were racing and she hoped everything was okay down below. If she most her lab then everything was for naught. She had spent too many years on this for it to fall through now. Paranoia was doing her body little good.

She cringed as she stepped down a bit too hard before realizing there was a much larger jump ahead of her. The young woman looked down at him with slight distrust in her eyes before doing as she was told. Outside of getting her arm broken he hasn't done anything to harm her and that was completely unintentional. She jumped down hoping he would actually catch her but waiting to hit the ground at the same time.

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Valentine saw that he'd misjudged the distance between them, and lunged at the last second, every synapse snapping into action. Small an action as this was, he needed her alive and functional - a compound fracture in her arm would be rather unconducive to such a goal.

She impacted in his arms harder than he'd anticipated, and overextended as they were, he struggled to support her weight. She plunged another few feet towards the ground, but he used his body to absorb the blow, moving into a crouch; eventually, he brought her to a halt a mere inch above the ground. After exhaling heavily, he helped her to her feet, glancing at her arm - it had moved a little, and looked painful, but wasn't much worse off than it had been.

He stood beside her and began moving towards the alleyway's exit; the street beyond was bustling, and he managed to slip into the stream. Thousands of people bustling, consuming, all with their own problems, all living their own lives. A woman with an abusive husband, a boy whose puppy had died; he looked into their eyes, knew not the tragedies, only their presence. The overbearing presence of tragedy, and acceptance of that tragedy.

Oddly enough, he felt kinship, and dirtiness through that kinship.

"Alright," he whispered, leaning over to Titi, "where is the lab located? We can have the site secured in fifteen, if you think it's under threat."

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The fall was a bit jarring on her arm and she cringed as she was suddenly in his arms. "Fuck this hurts," she stood on her feet and shook the pain off as best as she could. Slowly but surely she could feel her nausea growing from the massive amounts of pain in her arm. Still, she found herself stumbling after him, too stubborn to let her pain take the best of her. She slipped into the crowd, only drawing a few small glances from the people around her. She was quite used to being stared at though... even among the nobles her natural beauty was highly revered. She merely ignored the looks and paid attention to what was around her. There were people everywhere, looking like they needed more hope in their lives... Once as a young girl she wanted to be that hope. Now she knew that being the source of hope for anyone was a much larger task than she had ever warranted.

She looked at her companion, making the decision a leader needed to make; the split second decision on whether or not to trust him, and she chose to trust him. After all, this was all part of her bigger plan. "The lab is underneath the city... I'm talking the deepest pits of the ruins of what the city was in the Old World... There's an old warehouse..." She murmured, following him along the way. "There's only two ways in and only two people with access codes to get in there..."

Giving him the coordinates, she hoped that his team would be able to secure it before anything bad happened to it. "I have something in there that must stay protected at all cost," was her only other explanation.

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Valentine nodded as she gave him the coordinates, and within moments, had clicked on his earpiece. As usual, Atlas' eternally-chipper voice answered.

"So, how's your date going?"

Valentine groaned inwardly, eternally infuriated by Atlas. It was always a problem when one of the smartest individuals in the world - and one of the few with a solid handle on RELICS technology - was also a complete smartass. Still, it did brighten up his day from time to time, he granted the man that.

"Allow me to inform you," he said, voice assuming a brisk and mildly irritated tone, "that I will disembowel you with a rusty spoon if you refer to my military operations as 'dates'."

"Love you too, boss," Atlas said, and Valentine could practically see the broad grin on the young man's face. "What can I do for you?"

"Get me eight Tracers into the tunnels," Valentine said. "Send them to coordinates 3-4-6-8, 1-2-5. Level B12. Armed for heavy-duty combat. They'll find a pair of tunnels; split up. At the end of each, there's a locked door. Do not let anyone through those doors."

"Or we return to the disembowelling?"

This time, Valentine couldn't help but let a tiny smile crack his features. He confirmed Atlas' suspicions and killed the channel, wordlessly ducking into a pharmacy. He emerged with a wooden splint and a pile of bandages, and a few painkillers - rudimentary supplies to be sure, but the best that were available down here.

He took her another few streets, with the odd concerned glance in her direction. She was suffering, that was for certain; the sooner he got the painkillers into her, the better. Not to mention, it might loosen up her tongue a little, give him some explanation as to just what she was so desperate to hide from the world.

After what felt like hours, the pair arrived at a small, dingy restaurant. The lighting was dull, and he moved them through to an obscure alcove; he quickly ordered two bowls of noodles for them. As he sat in a chair in the alcove, facing her across a table, he let himself breathe properly at last.

"We're clear," he sighed, more to himself than to her. He gestured for her to hold out her arm as he pulled the bandages and splint from his pockets.

"Now, I suppose you're wondering who I am, aren't you?" he said, with a little trepidation. He had little indication that she was going to give him any secrets without him providing her with a few. As it was, she didn't even know his name.

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"Allow me to inform you, that I will disembowel you with a rusty spoon if you refer to my military operations as 'dates'."

She couldn't help but giggle a bit at his words. In what world was this even close to a date? She half wanted to meet the person on the other end of his line and ask them that. Explosions, death and a broken arm? Well it was most certainly the more interesting than any date she had ever been on. While she hadn't been particularly fond of pursuing romantic interests, her family had insisted on her at least attempting to find a man that would be useful to them.

Letitia listened to him give coordinates through his earpiece, wondering just how big of an operation this really was. The longer she was with him the more she realized she had no clue who she was really dealing with. It bothered her, yet at the same time she realized she had her own secrets to keep, secrets even her grandfather had held for years. That lab mattered more to her than even her own life. She glanced at him when he smiled and couldn't help but be a bit stunned. She really hadn't seen him smile now that she thought about it, and he was even more handsome even with the small smile on his face.

She had never been through this part of the city before and she stuck quite close to him, a bit nervous in large crowds. She even followed him into the pharmacy, though she didn't go much farther than the doorway. Her exhaustion was catching up to her and she was more than happy to sit down across from him in the chair. "Clear is good," she sighed to herself and let him fix up her arm.

"Well the question hasn't really crossed my mind with the explosions and arm breakage and everything else, but now that I have a few moments to actually think... yes I am a bit curious as to who you are... and where we are... and what's going on... I'm assuming a good portion of that wasn't a part of whatever plan you originally had," she spoke quickly and quietly, pulling her jacket off all the way so that he had easier access to her arm. Moving it hurt like hell. "And this was definitely not a part of any of my plans."

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Valentine laid the splint against her arm - watching her wince as he straightened the limb out - and began tightly wrapping the bandages against it, with the intention of wrapping it just loosely enough to permit bloodflow. He glanced up at her as he worked, watching her slim, delicate features contort with pain at his actions - for a second, almost the tiniest bit of sympathy struck through him.

She was beautiful, he realised; he'd seen the glances she'd gotten walking in here, but paid them little attention. He didn't think about beauty this much - insofar as he was concerned, there was little of it that remained in this world. Her shoulder-length hair dusted over dark eyes that shimmered in the dull light, her cheekbones high and refined. Her body was in surprisingly good condition for someone of her station - she'd taken good care of herself, the faintest traces of musculature betraying her strength and speed.

"I'll be honest," he said cautiously, not meeting her gaze, staring down at her arm as he wrapped it intently - why was he so nervous? - "things went a little more to plan than you might enjoy hearing. Admittedly, our landing was intended to be somewhat more dignified, but the explosions were entirely my doing." He reached the end of the roll of bandages, and began tying it up, to hold the splint in place - ideally, they'd put a solid cast on it at a later date.

"I do apologise for the rather... intense means of extracting you. However, insofar as the people of the Sky District are concerned, you just took an anti-tank missile to the face, and are quite thoroughly dead. Naturally, they'll discover the ruse eventually, but this gives us a few days up our sleeve to work out arrangements in peace."

He pulled his hands away, nodding at his handiwork. He'd tied thousands of bandages like it, on himself and on others; battlefield injuries, day after day, the sound of grunts and screams just melting into a cacophony of history. This one seemed no different, yet its wearer was very much so; she had neither the naïve indifference of a civilian, nor the terrified pragmatism of a soldier, nor the internalised emotional suicidality of a Cultivator. She was something different, and if nothing else, he couldn't help but be at least slightly interested in who she was.

"Now, to answer your questions," he said, and took a deep breath, knowing that he was about to plunge off the deep end of this arrangement between them. "My name - insofar as it exists - is Adam Valentine. I am twenty-nine years old-" - just been that way for rather a long while - "-and a Knight."

He let that sit, with all the implications it carried. Even in this city, the stories persisted; great warriors, nestled deep within terrible Reapers, upholding the abstract principles above all. Even he knew only the barest origins of its beginning - so it was said, the first Reaper subject, who went only by that name. A man of strength and nobility and skill, who fought to bring peace and order to the world, and was eventually betrayed and slain by that whom he held most dear. Yet his legacy lived on, the principles he upheld - honour, freedom, truth, justice and peace - carried in the hearts of every Knight, allowing them to brave the darkness within a Reaper.

So the stories said.

He'd met Knights. More than enough of them. Some of them still upheld the dream - younger ones, more idealistic ones. But the ones who lived? The ones who survived, as long as anyone survived piloting a Reaper - and for a given value of 'survival' - either broke those promises, or never made them at all.

Honour, freedom, truth and justice were all weaknesses; if you wanted to live, to win, you had to be willing to do anything. The Age of Knights - if it had ever existed - was long past. This war was no longer for glory - it was just hell,[i] an irrevocable hell on Earth, one that mankind had buried itself in and could not physically emerge from. Perhaps the Age of Knights had ended when humanity finally collectively realised that the world could never again know peace; that war was an irrevocable part of its existence.

Or perhaps, Valentine mused, the Age of Knights was nothing but an absurd myth, as was the First Knight, and the Dark Knight who slew him. Maybe they were all just stories, propaganda, made up to help bring a public more into line with the deployment of things that mankind [i]knew, in their hearts, they should never have tried to touch.

A pause later, and he continued. "I am leader of Childhood's End, a combative group who seek an end to the endless conflicts that ravage the Earth. I have, at my disposal, a fully-functional Reaper - the Ninth, if that means anything to you." He doubted it would; almost everything about the original XK-REAPER program had been obliterated when Japan was wiped clean. Even then, though, it was worth testing the waters.

"I have contacted you, 'Titi', because I believe that we can assist each other in our mutual goals. You have technology, supplies and information - and I possess sufficient power to take this city in a day, with sufficient preparation."

An exaggeration, for certain - the meticulous planning required to disable the guns on the walls, and thus allow a Reaper to operate freely, would be extraordinarily difficult. Nevertheless, it remained apparent as a feasible statement under perfect circumstances.

Suddenly, a voice crackled over his earpiece; Valentine recognised it instantly as Atlas', and even more sharply, registered the rare tone of seriousness in his voice - and, rarer, fear.

"Commander, this is Atlas. We're in position. Tracers have split off and are setting up guard positions near the doors, but... Christ, we're getting readings."

"What kind of readings?" Valentine muttered under his breath, feeling rather irritated that his work here was being interrupted. Still, Atlas knew not to bother him over unimportant things.

"We're not sure," Atlas crackled. "But I'm down there with them, and... well, something's not right. I can't quite put my finger on it, and, well, y'know..."

Valentine nodded and swiftly killed the line. They both knew what those symptoms meant. Perhaps it was just Atlas getting paranoid in the dark; perhaps it was just Abyss Walker taking its toll on them.

Or perhaps the young woman before him held some very dark secrets in her hands.

"To answer your remaining questions," Valentine said briskly, "we are in a rather nice restaurant in the Understreets of Aegis. It doesn't look like much, but I assure you that their food is extraordinary. And as for what we are doing," The hint of a confident smirk returned to his features as he spoke next.

"Letitia Gazelle de Argentum, you and I are going to bring peace to this world."

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Letitia watched as he wrapped her arm, trying very hard not to show signs of pain. She knew it didn't really matter if she kept hiding it or not... everyone knew broken bones hurt very much, but she was stronger than that. Training had done her good; she knew the bone would heal fast and strong again. It was just the most inconvenient time for her to break it.

She listened to him explain his and his team's actions and found herself slightly incensed at the thought of them MEANING to hurt people. Then again she had been a part of the killing and there were still specks of blood on her red coat. Thankfully they blended in and no one took extra notice of her. Her stomach rumbled ever so lightly, reminding her she had been denied her lunch. She ignored it.

"An anti-tank missile most certainly would be an apt cause of death," she couldn't help but smile at how extreme that sounded. Admittedly though, that would buy them some time to lay out plans. Hell that would actually benefit her greatly in the scheme of things. Getting away to check on her lab was getting harder and harder the more responsibility she ended up with... This would make it much easier if only for a small amount of time. "You're doing me a bit of a favor here. If you hadn't killed me within the next few weeks I would have killed myself once my company was set up. You're just the first to get a hold of me for my... wares, so to speak."

It'd be a lie to say she was a normal girl. Her grandfather had trained her well in the art of combat and solitude. Her body was built to take a beating. It also helped that her mother had been highly trained in the military running Sentinels for the government, another main reason the de Argentum had kept military support for a while; the men had a habit of marrying women that would be of a benefit to them. Her mother was a General's daughter.

"-and a Knight."

That sparked her interest and she studied him for a moment. She had only heard stories of the Knights before but she knew the legends well. Within her labs were a plethora of Old World books and knowledge, her pride and joy. She had never met anyone strong or brave enough to be able to fight a Reaper, then again her contact with live Reapers was in the single digits.

She listened to his proposal, weighing her options. So far she was already pretty deep in trouble. Her family most likely thought she was dead, she herself wanted to be "dead" for the sake of her own projects, and they had a live Reaper in their clutches. Not only would that make her goals much easier to achieve... but perhaps just MAYBE they would be able to help her figure out what was wrong with her Reaper.

His final statement said in full confidence, smirk and all, surprised her and excited her greatly. Someone who might actually be able to help her dreams come to light, more than that someone who might be able to make her grandfather's dreams come to life? This was the chance of a lifetime.

"You chose very smartly when coming to me. I have a lot of resources at my fingertips that have been squirreled away over the years. My grandfather was a man that believed in causes such as these and also squirreled away years worth of fail research and money," she leaned forward a bit, her arm in less pain now that it was bound properly. It was true; she had money that was off the grid, a personal network that was nearly city wide and completely unable to be hacked into because of the ancient technology she had spent most of her teen years gathering, and even weapons and ammo stored in case of a revolution. "I'm going to assume that was your men confirming their position? I'm also going to assume they're getting strange readings and outputs from the labs... I think it's best we meet and I take you down there myself."

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Valentine was, once again, impressed by how perceptive she was of the nature of his operation. He was beginning to suspect that she'd been involved in more than a few military operations herself. He picked up a cunning, almost animal vibe from her - an eagerness for change, and a canniness to accomplish it.

The only remaining question was how much she'd be willing to sacrifice for the sake of that 'greater good' she believed in.

"Correct," Valentine said, as a waitress came to their table with two bowls of noodles. He picked up a pair of chopsticks, but struggled with the noodles for a few minutes - his skills were rather lacking. Nevertheless, pride barred him from asking for a fork, however great the embarrassment he suffered from being unable to effectively wield his chopsticks.

"Nevertheless, we should eat first. My men will be more than capable of securing the area. And perhaps unlike yours," he challenged, "we know how to deal with what you've got wrapped up in there."

A risky gamble, but if he was right - and if he'd caught her out - he'd be able to wring far more information out of her than she would have otherwise wanted to give him. Still, a part of him hoped he wasn't - because if he and Atlas were right, she was in much deeper than she knew.

He wondered if she'd conducted a contact experiment yet. Looking at her, he doubted it - he didn't see the telltale nubs of neural interfaces along her spine, and she still had some level of life, of naïveté in her. For a moment, he felt it his responsibility to care for her - to protect her from that abomination.

Nobody deserved what came with being a Knight.

Not even him.

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Letitia struggled to use her chopsticks with the hand she wasn't used to working with. It looked hilarious to an outsider as she fought with her chopsticks in order to eat. She relaxed against the booth letting herself chill out for a few seconds. "I know how to deal with everything I have wrapped up in there. A lot of REALLY old technology," she growled in frustration at her own inability to use her good hand and eat her food. "I found an entire mainframe system in the ruins of a compound when I was 15. It's the basis for my entire personal network. Too old for even new technology to hack into. You know, you'd figure with them growing technology over the years they would have figured out some of the basis of the older technology."

She knew that he was testing her. She could hear the challenge in his tone and she merely gave him a vague smile. She wasn't about to give her secret up yet though... She hadn't tried to contact with the Reaper yet. It had been firmly sleeping since she had found it 7 years ago. She found herself finishing her food quickly, her concern for her labs growing. "I need to get down there..." she murmured finally, ready to leave already. Her impatience was growing to know the status of her Reaper and her labs.

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Hm. A guarded response, followed by attempting to redirect his concern to other matters. Whatever her relative level of prowess in battlefield leadership, she was certainly a crafty politician. In a way, it was gratifying to finally meet a politician who worked for the greater good, instead of for personal power.

Finishing his food - albeit somewhat ungracefully - Valentine let the chopsticks clatter into the bowl, gratified at having vanquished his meal without dropping anything on himself (although an errant noodle hanging off the edge of the table presented an alarming threat). As usual, it had been filling and savoury; simplistic in nature, but with enough different spices crammed in to make it an interesting meal.

"We're just walking through the scraps of the world now, grabbing whatever little we can and praying that we someday understand it," Valentine exhaled contemplatively. "Although speaking from experience, some of the things the Old World left behind are better left unknown."

He'd no doubt that she had something in there, something terrible - almost certainly a Reaper, but possibly something else. A naked Entity would certainly be a sight to see, albeit one only seen for the matter of instants before it awoke and annihilated every soul within thousands of miles. At any rate, he determined that it were better left unknown.

"First things first, my group needs supplies," Valentine said, pushing himself to his feet as Letitia finished. "We're running low on ammunition and need heavy repairs for our unit of Sentinels. Additionally, our Reaper is in need of some specialist equipment - mostly high-tech ammunition, although some more esoteric parts are also in order."

He contemplated the idea of cannibalising her Reaper, if it truly existed. On one hand, if it were unconscious for such a length of time, it might well have starved itself to death. On the other hand, cannibalising the RELICS system off a living Reaper... well, nobody was quite that stupid. He would have to inspect it himself to determine its nature. Regardless, however, he doubted that Letitia would allow her weapon to go quite so easily, whatever its status.

"As I was saying, we require your assistance. Assuming our aid in your cause, how quickly could we be provided with supplies? Theoretically, of course."

         "Less 'flying', more 'falling in a controlled fashion'," Valentine quipped, as he wrapped his arms around Titi; he had little intention of dropping her from this height. Having his sole route to Old King splattered across the Understreets pavement was hardly a desirable outcome.

Gunfire rang out from the snipers as he stepping up on the edge; his strength meant that he had little trouble carrying her, given her small frame. He slid his gun inside his coat and tightened his arms around her; very faintly, he could feel her warmth through her elegant kimono. Her skin was warmer than he'd expected - fast metabolism, swift healing. Strong will.

"Hold on tight," he muttered to her, and with a deep breath, stepped forward, nudging himself off the edge and into oblivion.

Weightlessness gripped him as he suddenly entered free-fall, coat fluttering out behind him. There was this odd moment of serenity, even as the air rushed past his ears; gunfire in the distant sounded like snapping twigs in a windy forest, and for a brief few seconds, there was only him, the sense of weightlessness and the faint warmth of the young woman against him.

But he had little time. He reached his head down to his shoulder, gripping the pull ring of the parachute in his teeth and tearing it with all his might, ignoring the pain and strain on his teeth.

It was like being punched by the fist of a god. He was suddenly wrenched to a near-halt, Titi almost slipping out of his grasp; he was violently winded at the impact, the pull ring flying off into the abyss. Thankfully, he managed to keep hold of her, and found himself falling away.

After a few seconds, he finally got his bearings, and found the two of them swiftly approaching a low rooftop, maybe ten stories above-ground; they must've already fallen hundreds of metres. He realised that he was almost crushing Titi, and loosened his grip a little on her, bracing himself for impact.

A few peaceful moments passed, and then they hit the ground. Valentine realised a moment too late that they were off-balance, and before he could correct, the pair tumbled; he managed to hit the chute release a second before it enveloped them, and freed of its burden, it soared away in an updraft. The world spun as he rolled violently, loosing grip of Titi in the process, pain jabbing at him as he tumbled along the stone rooftop.

Eventually, he came to a stop on one corner of the flat roof, feeling quite thoroughly beaten and bruised; he lay perhaps a few feet from Titi, and looked over at her, squinting with pain.

"Are you-" he coughed violently "-you okay?"

         

Cocytus, 11.22 AM

The innermost circle of Hell felt colder than usual.

To Valentine, the cold hadn't bothered him much in a while. He'd gotten used to it - the unfortunate reality of their predicament. But today, of all days, it was starting to get to him. It had been a while since he'd seen the light of day - in the harsh white-blue light of an electric lantern, he saw his hands covered in dust and rust from the machinery.

Ironic, from a given perspective; all the power in the world stood before him, at his disposal. And yet he spent his days toiling away with his men moving cooling pipes and repairing autoloaders.

He checked his watch in the low light; it was still morning. He'd lost track of it - he worked, and slept when he could not work. Eating happened when he felt he could be bothered, which was not often. Nobody here much complained about such things - they all knew what lay outside, had all experienced the hellscape beyond.

They'd all gone days without food, hiding in the mud as abominations with a dozen eyes and arms stalked past, hunting for any trace of life life. They'd all watched friends have their souls ripped out of them by monstrous Reapers, convulsing and screaming for hours on end until someone put them out of their misery. They'd all known countless people they'd cared about to die.

No, they didn't care, and that was the way he preferred things.

"Atlas!" Valentine shouted, waving over a slim man wearing glasses from his position overseeing repairs to one of the cooling tanks. The man turned; he was young, probably about thirty, but looked twice that, years of struggle having taken its toll on him. Having taken its toll on all of them.

It was another of life's cruel ironies, Valentine supposed, that the oldest of them looked the youngest.

"How is Abyss Walker faring?" Valentine asked, catching himself too late that he'd referred to the machine as a living organism. Not 'what's the unit's status' - 'how is it'. As though it were alive.

No, the less alive it was, the safer everyone here was.

"The coolant stream is holding steady; internal temperature is about point-two above Absolute, which is well within our acceptable range," Atlas nodded, taking his glasses off and idly polishing them - a common gesture while talking to people. "The RELICS system is finally functional; we'll need to cannibalise a Reaper to get it back in proper order, but the core won't go causing any extinction events for the minute."

Valentine felt a tiny weight lift off his chest at that. The RELICS - Resonant Energy Locked Isolation and Containment System - was the heart of the unit, designed to keep the monstrosity that gave it life contained and asleep. Without it... well, Kyoto had proved what happened when RELICS failed. Knowing that it was still working gave Valentine a little hope, as Atlas continued.

"Conventional weaponry mechanisms are optimal, but we're running low on depleted uranium for the rifles; we'll need to procure some more before we're ready to go. Missile targeting hardware is solid, but software is still shot; whatever the hell coding language your people built that thing with, but it's practically Ancient Egyptian to me. Give me three, four weeks and I might have enough of a basic understanding to get them to track a bit. No promises."

The last few sentences came out a barrage of language, and Valentine's eyes narrowed a little at Atlas' anger. He hadn't expected it, but on the other hand, it was hardly unexpected - they'd all worked long hours to get Abyss Walker back in order, and the more they worked, the further it seemed they had to go.

"Will it fight?" Valentine asked, crisp voice cutting through the air, causing Atlas' eyes to spark up a little and remember to whom he spoke. He turned to attention a little.

"It'll walk," Atlas shrugged. "But trying to activate the Abyss Field for an extended period is probably going to wreak havoc with RELICS until we get a proper fix on it. Plus, you're out of ammo and have zero missile targeting. I mean, you could just try punching things really hard... you've done stupider things."

A tiny smile crossed Valentine's face at the mental image, and he nodded. At the very least, the thing wasn't dead - and it wasn't awake, either, so they were still in that narrow band where they could use it and it wouldn't try to wipe out half the planet when they started booting its systems.

"So, how's your little pet project going down there?" Atlas said, with a nod down to the twenty or so various Sentinels and Tracers locked into scaffolding, half of them in various states of disassembly.

Valentine nodded crisply, to pre-empt his statement and convey his satisfaction with the goings-on. "We've successfully cannibalised a Tracer for parts, and thus, the remainder are within mere days of being functional. The Sentinels a far greater problem; it stands a miracle that as many of them so much as walked here. We're looking into replacements now, but given how little COAM we have..."

Adam polished his glasses intently, as though thinking over the quandary; Valentine contemplated lighting up, but Atlas would complain to no end. So he just waited, feeling faintly impatient at the inconvenience; nevertheless, he trusted Atlas' counsel on such matters. The man had more guile than it first appeared, and often caught things that slipped Valentine had overlooked on his first pass.

"On one of my forays out from our little coven here," Atlas said cautiously, knowing full well that Valentine frowned upon anyone leaving unless on strictly necessary business, "I met the leader of a rebel group in the understreets; I was searching for some targeting components for the missiles. No dice on that trip, but I did learn that there's a contact up above who may be of use to us."

"The de Argentum girl?" Valentine raised an eyebrow, impressed. He frankly hadn't considered her an option - rumour had it that she was more sympathetic than her parents, even helping finance rebels, but he'd focused on her for other reasons. If the whispers between conspiracy theorists and gang leaders were true, the CEO of Argentum Armaments - her uncle - knew the actual identity of Old King, some even saying that the two were friends. As the de Argentum girl was the most likely to be able to be met, both due to her sympathies and her independence, he'd been considering her as a potential means of access.

"She's starting up her own corporation, or so they say," Atlas nodded. "She might just have access to some of the parts you need. Plus, if you can use her to get access to the CEO-"

"We could be out of here in a week," Valentine nodded. All things considered, he preferred outside to here - the air was a little less choked, at least in some places, and there were less people to bother him. Besides, leaving here meant another step along the route to their goal. "My thanks, Atlas. Your innovation truly knows no bounds."

"Hardly," Atlas cracked a grin. "It's just your innovation that's lacking."

Valentine made it obvious as his eyes flickered to the handgun on the table beside him, and Atlas laughed. "Well, I'll leave the rest of the complex plotting to you," the smaller of the two men nodded. "Good luck, and if you ask me, try to meet her in person. I hear she's a bit of a looker, mm?"

Valentine just shook his head, managing to hide the ghost of a bemused smile, and watched as Atlas waltzed away, swiftly bellowing orders to a couple of engineers below about the correct means of handling a coolant pipe. For his part, Valentine slumped back down in a chair at the table, heavier than he'd intended. He knew that biologically, he was still in his late twenties, but god, it didn't feel that way some days.

He pulled up a laptop - a rather outdated piece of equipment compared to the more modern dataslates, most of which were as thin as paper (paper itself having become something of a luxury in the past century or so with the extinction of trees), but rugged and reliable.

He accessed the city's Extranet network, and quickly ran a program (kindly provided by predecessor of the ever-helpful Atlas) to bypass the city's security monitoring (it would hardly do to be watched, now would it?). From there, he began writing a message, to be sent to the private email address of a certain CEO's niece - acquired for a hefty sum from a black market information dealer.

Lady Letitia Gazelle de Argentum,

I've no intentions of wasting your time, so I shall cut to the chase. I wish to meet with you at Nubes Café, Sky District Block 3-12, at 1PM today. Look for the man in Old World clothing; you'll find it rather difficult to miss me, I assure you.

I know of your sympathies, and your actions. I do not wish to blackmail you with this information. Rather, I wish for your assistance in a cause we can both believe in - that is, so to speak, the salvation and equality of all mankind. A noble goal, no? Such is why I choose to trust you.

It is my hope that you accept, if only out of your own curiosity. We both stand with a great deal to benefit, for rather a minimum of work if all goes as planned. Together, I've no doubt that we can achieve great things - indeed, perhaps, peace for all mankind.

Sincerest regards,
Valravn

He signed it with his familiar pseudonym, and smiled a little self-satisfactorily. Not a single lie told - countless half-truths, naturally, but no lies. There was a dignity in that, he deemed; and thus, hitting send, he stood, flexing his shoulders before pocketing the pistol on the table, and a pair of loaded magazines. An elegant weapon - internally recoil-compensated, with a capacity of thirty .21-calibre high-velocity bullets. Curious, in a way, that even in a world of walking iron monstrosities and dying hell-gods, the common pistol had changed little from a few centuries ago.

Comforting, in a way.

"Atlas, if you'd kindly!" he called, as he made his way over to the factory's restroom (which, thankfully, he'd persuaded a soldier to clean. Again, his long-suffering assistant was at his side.

"Next time, just throw a squeaky toy. It'll be easier," Atlas groaned, clearly feeling rather put-upon by circumstances.

Valentine ignored the jab and looked out over the various crews working down there. "Get me a dozen of our best shots; issue them with heavy coats over body armour, anti-materiel rifles and high explosives in some crates. We'll take that abandoned elevator that Ghost scouted up to the Sky District. I'll draw up positions and fields of fire and send them ASAP."

"You're going to talk to the de Argentum girl?" Atlas said, surprised. "That was quick. Did she reply?" Valentine shook his head, and Atlas sighed.

"That's not how dates work, dammit," Atlas said, exasperated.

"I've no doubt that she'll be there," Valentine said. "If not today, then tomorrow. No-one of her age can resist such a mysterious call. Her curiosity will get the better of her; I only need wait."

"You know she'll be under surveillance, right?" Atlas asked.

"Hence the explosives," Valentine smirked.

Atlas just sighed. "It's not my neck on the block. You die, I call dibs on your spare blankets, y'hear?"

Just before the man turned to leave, Valentine caught him on the shoulder. "I should prepare myself for meeting a noble of her calibre. Did you jury-rig the hot water system yet?"

A smug smile crossed Atlas' face. "Nope."

The grimace that only the prospect of a sub-zero shower can bring crossed Valentine's face as he continued heading for the restrooms, leaving Atlas to his own devices and beginning to map out the details of the combat zone in his head.

He wasn't about to lose now, after all.