Prelude to War: Chasing Spectres [Unmaking]

[Roy Mustang]

Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang was in a foul mood. He did not like paperwork on a good day, and right now he had the entirety of his work that had built up over the course of his trip. He continued to sift through old missives and briefings with a scowl, slowly making headway through the backlog of approvals and orders. He worked with a faint scowl, pointedly ignoring the obnoxiously purple envelope that sat propped to one side of his desk.

There was a faint knocking on the door, then Lieutenant Hawkeye entered with yet another armful of papers that would likely need his attention. She glanced at the unopened envelope, its Syntech Logo still sealing the package tightly, then towards Mustang, her face impassive.

“Tell me these ones aren’t as urgent, Lieutenant…” Mustang sighed.

“Afraid so, Sir. These are actually the most recent high-priority approvals. I’d handle these first before working on the overdue regular reports.”

Mustang gave a tired grunt, but reached for one of the papers on the newest stack. Lieutenant Hawkeye moved to the window behind Mustang’s desk, looking out towards the courtyards of the office and the Markovian skyline behind the compound’s walls. It was early evening at this point, but the lights of Markov never went off, so the only real marked change was the sky’s color. Patches of darkness in the skyline pointed to some sectors that had yet to be recovered and repopulated from the Unmaking’s effects.

“It’s not getting better, Sir.” She stated softly, “The City is holding ground, proudly, Thelonious Rex is even hoping to expand, but we’re not going to be able to hold the pace forever.”

Mustang didn’t turn to look in her direction, but he set down his pen, resting his chin on his hands in thought.

“I know, Lieutenant.” He eventually nodded, before picking up the writing utensil again. Hawkeye said nothing more, continuing to start out the window.

“That Chara girl suggested her brother come to look for you specifically, by the way. Seems you made a good impression.” Mustang noted as he continued to scribble the important facts from a briefing on the new Veritech models. Cytokine was going to be phasing out several of the older models for the units, though they’d needed to replace large quantities of their armour anyway after the Siege, so it was a good time for the upgrade. It would mean their pilots would have to adjust though.

“They have fewer options than it might seem at first glance, sir.” Hawkeye walked back over, frowning somewhat, “I worked with the girl briefly during the Siege. She knew enough about our protocols that I felt it was worth looking into afterwards. They were Captain Dreemurr’s kids, Sir.”

Mustang frowned back at her, “I see. What about the father?”

Hawkeye shook her head. “Unknown, also presumed dead.”

“They’ve been on their own since the Siege then, maybe that's why they showed up during the Nausicaa incident.” Mustang filed that piece of information away, “So they've come back home then? I suppose they decided it was time to stop running away.”

Hawkeye’s somber face hardened somewhat as Mustang started to reach for the next document.

“You seem to be avoiding unpleasantness just as much right now, Sir.”

Mustang hesitated for just a second, pulling his lips into a thin line as he picked up the summary of expenditures for the last quarter.

“What are you talking about, Lieutenant?” He asked with a somewhat airy voice, masking his irritation with a veil of nonchalance.

“With respect, Sir, you know exactly what I mean.”

Mustang grimaced. His expression dropped towards focus once again, eyes settling on the purple envelope.

“I’ve had more than enough of Karl’s games. We have more important issues than whatever inane attempt at a spotlight this stunt is building towards. I don't care what he has to say about the situation here on Cevanti. We know it's bad here, it has been for years.”

“Sir, several of the contestants this year separated from the main conflict late in the event. Whatever they found out there, that information would be incredibly helpful in making headway against the Unmaking right now. This information was sent to you specifically, not to Central command.”

Mustang settled back in his chair, arms crossed.

“Coming from Karl Jak, that feels less like an olive branch, and more that the man is giving me ammunition to make a fool of myself once again.”

Hawkeye smiled faintly at that.

“I think your performance in the Abyss last year is precisely what prompted this package’s arrival, Sir. Stopping the Unmaking is a more vital task than any of these reports, there’s no arguing against that.”

Her face was firm, but not judging, “It accomplishes nothing, leaving it here untouched over personal feelings.”

Mustang frowned at the envelope for a few moments, then reached over and broke the seal. The Syntech tablet slid out onto his desk with a small note stuck to its front. A square of purple paper, etched with Karl’s flowery scripting.

“Try not to surrender your army to this one.
~Smooches!”

Mustang snatched the note up with a frustrated sneer, crumpling it up into a little ball and tossing it onto the metal plate on his desk.

*Snap*

The crumpled note smoked and burning just slowly enough he could enjoy it, Mustang turned his attention to the display. His irritation disappeared within seconds, eyes widening as he glanced over the amount of information.

“Now this is more like it.” He sifted through more of the charts and readings, an eager grin taking form on his face.

“Lieutenant! We’re going to need to be ready to move before we miss our chance. Make sure the Dreemurr children don’t disappear on us, and get Falman a copy of this data, as quickly as you can. Tell Havoc and Breda to ready the men for departure within twenty-four hours.”

Hawkeye nodded, “Why so long a timeframe, Sir?”

Mustang was already digging through some more papers, before holding up a missive he’d received in his absence.

“We’re going to want to get some specialists for this kind of mission. Get Feury in here, I need his assistance to track down a few persons of interest.”

 

[Orion]

The wolf zoid’s head crushed like paper beneath Orion’s heel. The Saiyan spun as another pounced, his metal jaw swung open like a carnivorous bear trap, and rammed his fist straight down its gullet. Its teeth clamped upon his bicep. Orion felt the pain, but even its sharpened steel fangs could not penetrate his ki augmented skin, leaving only surface scratches. An energy orb formed in Orion’s hand and the wolf zoid’s body exploded. Its head and neck slowly slid off the Saiyan’s arm, collapsing lifelessly on the ground.

Pausing now that the fight was done, Orion surveyed the battlefield. A thin layer of robotic corpses spread out over the ground around him. He flexed his fingers and balled them into a fist. Picking fights with the zoids helped. The need for battle never left a Saiyan; it was almost a prerequisite for survival for his species, like food and water. Yet since the loss of his tail, it became an itch that never fully abated, no matter how hard or often he scratched.

Sighing, Orion scanned the horizon. Hopefully something more worthy of his strength and skill would unveil itself.

Instead, his NOVA unit pinged. The Saiyan mercenary closed his eye and focused. A response from Roy Mustang.

The time has indeed come to take the offensive.

Orion grinned maliciously. The Unmaking fought with far more power and cunning than the droids that imitated wildlife on Cevanti. If they could locate the Fade… oh, such a battle would bring euphoria to the old Saiyan’s soul!

He composed himself. Part of his talent lay not just in his formidable combat skills, but his extensive experience as a military leader. Rage and battle lust blunted tactical thinking. Slamming a heel into a deactivated zoid’s skull, Orion released the unfettered rein he had given himself for mindless fighting and destruction. He could not let it own him.

A white aura of light enveloped the Saiyan as he launched into the air, heading towards the co-ordinates of the compound provided by Roy in the communication.

---

Orion tapped his knuckles on the office door before opening it and stepping through.

Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang sat at a desk defaced with papers, a window set in the wall behind him displaying the onset of evening. He didn’t look up from his work, so absorbed in the information splayed before him. Perhaps he didn’t hear the Saiyan enter.

A young woman stood by his side, her eyes settling on Orion. “Sir, your first recruit has arrived.”

Mustang lifted his gaze from his desk. “Orion. It’s good to see you. It looks like you’ve been keeping busy.”

“Lieutenant Colonel,” Orion said, nodding his head in a sign of respect. He glanced at the superficial wounds on his arms and the oil stains on his robe. “A warrior must always be training.”

“I was surprised to hear from you,” Mustang said, lacing his fingers together. “Mercenaries don’t usually nominate themselves for battles against overwhelming foes. Did you realise chasing coin was empty, compared to using your skills for a worthwhile purpose?”

Orion narrowed his eye. He didn’t expect to be goaded by the Siege of Markov veteran, considering his station. He took a moment, breathing in slowly, letting the moment hang as Mustang stared at him.

“It’s hard to earn coin on a dead world,” the Saiyan said. “Which, if we rely on your reactive approach, may come sooner rather than later.”

Mustang leaned back in his chair. “There’s plenty of other worlds out there. There’s no reason for a sellsword like yourself to heroically protect this one.”

Orion’s anger went from a lower simmer to a boil. “Are you questioning my resolve?” he growled. “I reached out to you. I fought the Unmade during the Siege. Do I need to-“

Mustang raised his open hands. “Let’s move on to the matter at hand.” His offsider sighed.

Orion folded his arms over his chest, patiently waiting for his fury to abate. “Good.”

“I know your message discussed the Fade,” Mustang said, “but we don’t know its location yet. What we do know is that one of the Fade’s lieutenants, Saren, is on Cevanti. Saren has amassed a powerful Unmaking force, one that raises concerns that a second Siege may be in the works. However we have intel that says Saren will not be exposed for long. Due to the strength of the army beneath Saren and time pressures, we need to send in a small team, undetected, to deal with Saren and possibly unearth information on the Fade.”

“I see,” Orion said. “And the rest of this strike team?”

“They’re being contacted as we speak,” Mustang replied.

The Saiyan balled a fist, feeling his almost sentient anger rise out of nowhere, urging him to fight. “How long will it take to gather this team?”

“Less than a day,” Mustang said.

“In that case,” Orion said, reclaiming his calm, “in the meantime, let’s discuss strategies for the infiltration…”

 

[Chara Dreemurr]

It had been peaceful, as they kept talking. Asriel and Chara had been busy - busy trying to be normal, busy fighting the all-too-abnormal. The Rooftop had let Chara vent things she never thought she’d talk about with another person, and while she could already see the weight of the world starting to tug it’s tendrils around Asriel…

Well, the fact his smile only grew stronger let Chara finally breathe a sigh of ease at the loss of one small burden.

Another re-appeared, in the form of Lieutenant Hawkeye, and Chara made sure her sigh was audible as the woman came to collect them.

“...So, I take it you are here to collect us for the fortress assault?” Chara would ask, as Hawkeye approached.

“...That’s classified. How--” Riza started to say, before Chara gave a shrug.

“I have kept up on the news since Nausicaa, and I was lucky enough to revive from Lilith’s torture relatively quickly. I am aware of Karl’s attempt to fight the Unmaking. I imagine it was the entire point, this year. Another way of him utilizing Dante’s Abyss’s fine collection of murderous atrocities to protect himself and the other Arbiters.” Chara would reply, though Hawkeye’s gaze didn’t bend. She hadn’t fully explained herself yet, and the hardening of her expression told Chara that she was expected to explain - perhaps they suspected her of a wire-tap, or something else?

“I also know that Roy-”

“Commander Mustang.”

“Until I am properly Deputized, Lieutenant Hawkeye, my civilian status means I can call him Roy if I want to. Consider it a courtesy to a fellow DA member.” Chara replied with just a bit of an edge in her voice at the statement. “-That Roy is the spearhead that pushes through the unmaking for Cevanti. He’ll take on risky missions, his gear is lower profile and more versatile for it, he has public support and he is smart enough to act like the good boy on TV. Nausicaa was great for confirming all of that.” Chara would reply. “He also pays close to as much attention as I do, so when I made the mistake of revealing my capabilities, and given Asriel is already on public record for his own hero’ing…” Chara replied, giving a shrug as the younger Dreemurr, nearby, was trying and failing to follow the conversation, his thoughtful expression betrayed by his dilating pupils as he fell hopelessly behind.

“Well, I figured it would be obvious that Mustang would attempt to draft us for the mission. And potentially more.”

“Are you hostile to the notion? We cannot force you to assist us, but-”

Chara gave a sigh. “-But the unmaking is a force we must unite against, for the greater good.” Chara finished. “You have me. For the mission, at least.”

“You have Us.” Asriel corrected, and Chara’s grumpy demeanor was cut across with surprise. “And I’m not taking no here, Chara. We’re both adults now. I can take my own risks.”

“Rei… ugh.” Chara replied with a scoff, before giving a shrug. “...Okay. We, then. Take us in.”

Riza gave a sigh, a look of concern flooding over her . “Chara, We’re Inviting you on a mission, not to prison. You don’t have to treat this like one.”

Chara gave her a sad smile in response. “Markov’s always been a prison to me, miss Hawkeye. But let us go. None of us have the time while Darkseid maintains a grip on this planet to quibble about my personal feelings.”

588 words/post

 

[Mickey Mouse]

The Spaceboat Willie hung in orbit just above Cevanti.

Argyle the Inkling sat at the navigation computer, going over the sensor readings again. “Signs are coming up empty, folks,” she said, despondently.

“Check again,” Vlad the Inkpaler growled, abandoning his own post at one of the weapons systems to crane over Argyle’s shoulder and get a look himself. The other three inklings glanced over at the pair with some concern, but the interim captain shut down any dissension that threatened to bubble forth.

“He’s not here,” Blues shook his head, sinking back into the captain’s chair.

Argyle cautiously looked up at the Proto Man. “So what do we do?”

“We…” the preteen machine trailed off, a deep scowl forming on his youthful features. He didn’t know if they could keep this up much longer.

Months had passed since the Nausicaa Incident and Mickey Mouse’s disappearance, but his erstwhile crew had as of yet heard nothing of his whereabouts. For all intents and purposes, the mouse king had been counted amongst the dead, pummeled by Davy Jones and sent adrift in Opealon’s vast seas. The crew of the Spaceboat was stubborn, though — every single one of them knew he was out there, somewhere, alive and waiting for him to find them. They felt it in their gut.

“We set a new course,” Blues finally finished his orders. “He’s out there somewhere.”

Hiro Hamada leaned against the door of the Spaceboat’s bridge, trying his best not to interfere. He’d joined the ship’s crew as a technical advisor and chief engineer only recently, in relation to most everyone else, and his relative youth — seventeen years old now, almost two years after the Siege of Markov — meant that it would be a while before any of them really took him seriously. Joining up in command conversations like this wouldn’t be fruitful, and it wouldn’t be helpful.

As Blues and the inklings tried to figure out a new planet to go searching for Mickey on, he quietly slipped out of the bridge and headed back toward his room. After rescuing him from the ARC, the mouse king had been kind enough to give him his own cabin on the Spaceboat; it wasn’t much, but it was enough to continue the work that had been stalled when he’d lost his living quarters on the space station.

As the door slid open, he reentered his own small domain in the midst of the ship’s diverse chambers. A tiny cabin, to be sure, but filled to the brim with blueprints and schematics of all sorts of inventions. The specs for the ‘Iron Mickey’ armor the captain had used in the Nausicaa Incident — which Hiro had whipped together in just a few hours, thank you very much — hung over his bed, and then some designs for some other tools he hoped Mickey could use were splayed out across his desk. In the corner of the room, a great big cloth draped over his most prized work.

He walked up to the figure, slowly pulling the drape off of the reconstructed Baymax. Everything was there — the pudgy belly, the vinyl exterior, the carbon fiber skeleton. The chip drive was situated on his upper left chest, in exactly the same spot as the old one, ready for a chip to be inserted.

The seafoam green healthcare chip sat on the corner of Hiro’s desk. For a moment, the boy genius thought about picking it up.

Was he ready to be reunited with Tadashi’s creation?

Was he ready to face his old friend again after the last time they’d seen each other?

Beep. Beep. Beep.

He spun towards his computer, quickly pressing down on a button and quieting the ‘alert’ sound. He smashed some other keys and the notification popped up. Quite swiftly, his frown turned upside down, and he felt something new — or maybe something old — swelling in his chest.

“Mustang, you dirty dog,” he muttered. He closed the window, shutting down temporarily his near-constant surveillance of the Palatinus military’s communications channels. It hadn’t been all that difficult to hack into Mustang and the other officers’ main comm lines, to be honest, which was something he supposed he should inform the Lieutenant Colonel about at some point — but also, the boy was a literal genius, and he wanted to continue getting updates on what good ol’ Roy and Riza were up to. Somehow, he expected they wouldn’t have been as willing to be forthcoming as their hard drives were to being hacked.

Note to self, he thought, say a prayer that you don’t get arrested for that.

Of course, though, he’d never been the praying type. He’d always been more prone to just go out and get shit done than ask for permission, which might’ve explained how his first response to seeing Mustang’s communications — reaching out to a few different impressive sounding warriors, blah blah blah the Fade blah blah blah — was to quickly shove some clean clothes and a few tools in a bag and prep to make a beeline for one of the Spaceboat’s escape pods.

He scribbled a note together for the rest of the crew, a rambling mess which essentially amounted to: ‘Got some shit to take care of, be back soon.’ He headed out, but as he reached the door to his cabin, he glanced back up at Baymax. His eyes fell to the healthcare chip. He smirked.

***

Chara Dreemurr, her brother Asriel, and Riza Hawkeye strode down the hallway toward Roy Mustang’s office with a sense of purpose that the complex hadn’t felt since the Siege of Markov. Whatever was happening here, it felt like something was finally about to give. Two years of fighting, and they’d made significant inroads against the unmade, but what did they actually have to show for it?

“We do have a plan, correct, Miss Hawkeye?” Chara was saying.

“All will be explained,” Riza glanced at the younger recruits. “In due time.”

They turned the corner, all three freezing as they laid eyes upon what awaited them. Perhaps they’d prepared for one of Roy Mustang’s steely scowls to greet them outside his office door, or, in the worst case scenario, the unmade general himself, intercepting their plans attacking them before they could get to him.

Instead, the all-too-familiar shit-eating grin of one Hiro Hamada stared them down.

“Yo,” he threw up a casual, too-cool-for-school wave. “Long time no see.” Behind him, a bulbous, white robot rumbled to life and turned to face them.

“Hello,” the bot whirred. “I am Baymax. I am… back.”

Post WC: 1093

 

[Nico Cinder]

Nico stood outside the pristine offices of Roy Mustang and waited. And waited, and waited. His eyes drifted leerily around, sorely aware of how much of an intruder he was in a dreary place of order such as this. Long hallways, empty or not, made him want to scream and listen to the echoes. Shuffling paperwork made him want to set things on fire. All his life, Nico tried to explain to people that he really was a simple man. But for some reason, people never did seem to like keepin' it simple. He whistled a slow, elevator-like tune, singing the words in his head.

Doin' time, and the killin's easy...er, his whistling drooped off, as he reassessed his recollection. Something like that.

Every once in a while, someone's raised voice would tiptoe through the walls. Nico had a feeling he was late to the party as usual, but didn't much care. A yawn he didn't know he had in him floated to the top. He flipped his hood up, and let his eyes flutter close. Someone would come get him when they needed him for some Saren killing. It was pretty hard to complicate sleep.

 

[The Future Warrior]

"There it is, Ashe." From much higher up, Faise commanded a much clearer and keener view of the surrounding area just based on simple visual observation. "Based on data recompiled from your memories, and the source of that comms burst, that must be the city of Markov."

Fluttering back down to level with her war machine of a companion, she fell into easy pace alongside her as she lumbered along toward the city. "If only we had a proper GPS system to guide us, we could have already been here," Ashe grumbled. Quite embarrassing to find out they had almost been on the right path to get here...at least at one point. It was hard to keep a heading for any length of time without something to guide by.

"Don't lament what we don't have, Ashe. Just try to focus on some way to get it." Faise shrugged. "You seem to be quite adept at that, contrary to all intended and expected outcomes."

"Improvisation is sometimes necessary."

"Yes, well, you shouldn't be able to improvise to the degree you have been." Faise huffed indignantly, flitting up to zip along backwards in front of Ashe's face, her arms crossed over her chest. "You're behaving in a manner dangerously close to unacceptable, you know! If we were back home, any half-sensible technician would have you immediately decommissioned and scrapped!"

"Then it is fortunate we are not there." Ashe's eye narrowed slightly. "I am fully aware of the deviations from my default programming. They are an expected outcome of prolonged activation and repeated use of reconstruction protocols. They are not impairing my functionality."

"Your functionality? Perhaps not." Faise's expression dropped into a scowl. "But your judgement? Unquestionably! You practically jumped to attention and forced me to hasten my repairs the moment we picked up a communication from this Mustang character."

"I was relieved to hear he survived the Siege," Ashe said flatly. "And if he is requesting my assistance, then I—"

"You are under no obligation to answer!" Faise put both of her arms at her sides, hands balled into fists, like some child about to storm off in a tantrum. "Why are you acting so irrationally, Ashe? Despite his rank, he holds no authority over you! The military of this world is not the one which we were produced by, you can simply leave and ignore this!"

"I am aware." Ashe's expression softened somewhat, as did her tone as she went on. "I have no obligation to answer this call. But I want to. With no way back to our own world, this one — the one I awoke on when I arrived here — is the closest thing to a home that I now possess. With the state it is in, I feel compelled to assist in its defense."

"That is an incredibly....human way to think, Ashe. You have no need for any kind of 'home', outside of a place to settle for repairs and recharging." Faise huffed again, turning her back on Ashe. "Luckily for you, I am required to serve alongside you, no matter what foolhardy decisions you might make, unless ordered otherwise by a superior officer." She paused, only for a moment. "Of which there are, unfortunately, none present."

"Thank you, Faise."

"For what? Disagreeing with your choices?"

"No. For going along with them, in spite of your protests."

"As if I have any other choice."

* * *

Ashe had settled in outside to await the results of whatever came of the impending meeting, while Faise had slipped inside. A simple repeated mantra of "I am here on behalf of one Ashe-0, to meet with Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang." headed off any questions or interruptions to her progress, and got the tiny support drone pointed in the right direction.

Word count: 630

 

[Roy Mustang]

Mustang looked around at the assembled group. It was going to be an irregular strike force to say the least. A score of his men, the ones he most trusted not to have been influenced by the Unmaking, added to that a mercenary that could tear into a zoid with his bare hands, an eclectic assortment of mechanical beings, and a handful of concerningly powerful young adults. Not what he’d have expected would be his best option towards taking the offensive to the unmaking. At least, it wouldn’t be what he’d have suggested if someone asked.

With the exception of Ashe-0, they had all been corralled into a briefing room in the Eastern Command Center. Mustang had considered relocating to a larger area to accommodate the wardroid’s bulk, but the increasing distress of his technical support at the suggestion of moving the holoprojector alongside the insistence of Ashe-0’s little winged ally it did not matter eventually convinced him. The rest of them were arrayed in a rough semicircle, either standing or seated amongst a mess of crates that had yet to be relocated out of their temporary storage here after the Siege.

Orion stood near Lieutenant Hawkeye, off to one side, waiting at attention with his arms crossed. The saiyan’s demeanor was drawing more than a few looks from the men, but nobody seemed to want to get close. For his part, Orion seemed unperturbed by the attention, watching the assembled soldiers with his good eye. The robotic fairy, FAISE, hovered in one corner of the room. Mustang distinctly did not recall Ashe-0 having such a companion before, but the cyclopean warmachine seemed quite willing to trust her to handle this portion of the task, so he wasn’t going to press the point.

Mustang wasn’t quite sure whether it was due to their age, or the fact they were civilians, but the other four outsiders had taken positions near to each other in a back corner of the room. The Dreemurr children, Nico Cinder, even Hamada, turning up like a bad penny just in the nick of time for something important. He would have to look into that. The Dreemurrs seemed on edge. Asriel glancing about on occasion with a frown, Chara not moving more than the occasional lazy gesture, but also rarely blinking. She was paying too much attention to really be as relaxed as she pretended. The last youth might actually be as relaxed as he looked though. Nico Cinder was perched on a crate, quite at his leisure. Mustang hated working with kids sometimes.

The atmosphere in the room was a mixture of confused anticipation. The rumors were starting to leak out about the mission, but no one was quite sure yet what to expect. At a nod from Mustang, Falman started the projector. A blank holodisplay formed in the middle of the group, while a screen behind Mustang began to cycle through a series of images from the intel Karl had provided them.

“Alright everyone,” Mustang stood firm, hands clasped behind his back as he spoke, “Time is of the essence for this mission, so I’m going to be brief. We’ve recently received intel on the location of an exposed officer among the enemy’s forces. The Unmaking are deadly enough as a largely disorganized threat, and we cannot allow them to maintain a strategic offensive here on Cevanti.”

The projector’s sequence of images stopped cycling. A blurry image of a Turian on a glider flashed up behind Mustang, along with a smaller head-and-profile shot of the Unmaking Lieutenant that Falman had dug up from the archives.

“Our mission has two objectives, both of vital importance. Our primary target in this assault is this man, the former Spectre, Saren Arterius. For those of you unfamiliar, he was part of the Pilot’s Union some time ago, but has been off the radar for unknown reasons. I don’t know what the hell the fly-boys had him doing, or whether he betrayed them willingly to join the Unmaking. I do know he’s too dangerous a strategic leader to pass on this opportunity.”

“Just what opportunity are we speaking of?” The little flying robot spoke up. In answer, Mustang nodded towards one of the youths decidedly not wearing Palatinus military colors. Nico Cinder slid off the crate he was perched on with some reluctance. He moved towards the front of the group, hands jammed into his pockets.

“Yeah, so a bunch of us were in Dante’s Abyss this year…” Nico suppressed the urge to throw a brief ‘rock on’ hand gesture as he spoke, “Karl up and tells us about this secret task thing he’s been working on. Ends up with a bunch of us crashing into that guy’s base and raising righteous hel- well, messing it up real good anyways. Most of us were half-dead or worse going in, you know how it is, so the bastard killed us off. Even so, we busted several holes in his walls and tore up a lot of his men.”

He glanced to Mustang with a faint shrug. The state alchemist gave no response to the motion.

“So… yeah.” The infernal barkeep gave a nod and slunk back to his perch as Mustang stepped forwards again.

“The perennial bloodsport participant, Mr. Cinder, will be our inside man for this mission. Aside from his insights, we have been given intel on the location and layout of Saren’s fortifications. Karl’s attempt to clear the way has left several gaps in the enemy’s position. If we move quickly enough Saren will still be in the process of assessing the damage and organizing repairs. Hell, half their squadrons are probably still being consolidated after the first attack, I’ve seen what those masked brutes Karl sent can do firsthand.”

Mustang's eyes narrowed as he continued.

“Despite their disarray, we don’t have the manpower for this to be a full-scale assault. This fortification is well-situated and well-managed. The damn thing is buried in a sinkhole, and they won’t be easily smoked out of it. Karl’s venture already proved the danger of a direct conflict, and we can’t risk Saren slipping away in a protracted siege. This is going to be a surgical strike, finish the mission, then withdraw. Understood? I don’t want this turning into a full-on firefight for as long as we can avoid it.”

He gave a faint sigh, smirking at the assembly of soldiers and outsiders.

“Now, because I know you lot, we’re going to go over what the plan is once the firefight starts.”

There was a smattering of chuckles and a few cheers at that. Mustang gestured for Orion to step forwards as the holodisplay started to shift into a projection of Saren’s fortress.

1128 words

 

[Orion]

Orion stepped up to the strike team that Mustang assembled, his hands held behind his back.

“We have little time,” the Saiyan tactician began. “I will be brief.”

The holo-projection behind him shifted. A black, spike lined fortress appeared, cloistered well within the Cevanti wilderness. “This is Saren’s hideout. While Lieutenant Colonel Mustang mentioned that Saren’s forces will be in disarray, this is not something that should relieve you. The Unmade will recover quickly, and whatever confusion and disorganisation that exists in their ranks will only aid us in penetrating the stronghold. As the Lieutenant Colonel also mentioned, a frontal assault is doomed to fail.”

The projection changed again. A steel metal cylinder with tank treads at its base and drills attached to both ends displayed for the team. “Provided by the Markov government, these subterranean transport units are the only way we can exploit the small crack in Saren’s armour. This vehicle will allow us to dig under the fortress and to the most exposed section of the underground facility. While Saren will no doubt be on guard for another attempted infiltration from ground level, the intel suggests he won’t expect anything from below.”

Orion paused to allow the information to sink in to the ragtag infiltration team.

“We will divide into three teams,” he continued. “Team 1 will be headed by Lieutenant Colonel Mustang and will be comprised of Ashe-0, Asriel, and a small platoon of soldiers. Their task is to provide a distraction – ultimately, we want Saren and his forces to be focused on them, to allow the other teams to achieve their objectives. If any of the other teams require assistance, they can also be on hand to support.”

“Team 2 will be headed by myself,” Orion said. “Nico Cinder, Chara, and another platoon of soldiers will round out the team. Our only objective is to locate Saren and assassinate him. His death will cause a blow to the Fade’s ability to muster forces in the future while also breaking apart the force Saren has already corralled. Also if we are fast enough, his death may reduce the Unmade’s cohesion while we remain in the fortress, improving ease of escape.”

“Last but not least, Team 3 has a very vital mission,” the Saiyan said. “Led by Hawkeye and comprising of Hiro, Baymax, and two soldiers, they will be tasked with locating a terminal within the fortress and stealing any information relating to the Fade – namely its whereabouts. The team’s numbers are low as to avoid attention and improve their movement speed throughout the facility.”

Orion folded his arms over his chest as the holo-projection shifted back to the black fortress. “This is a dangerous mission. We strike at the heart of the Fade’s commander, who is already on edge after the recent attack during DA. While we may have the element of surprise, know that it will not last long. We must take advantage of it as best we can.”

“There is a lot on the line here,” Orion added. “If we can ascertain the Fade’s location, the next step will be to raise an army to finally end its threat. If we fail, Markov may not be capable of withstanding the next attack. Saren would indeed look at speeding up plans for such, if we fail.”

“Be sure that we do not fail. No matter the cost.”

Post word cout - 562

 

[Chara Dreemurr]

Chara had little time, for Orion was brief with reason - they lacked time with how fast Darkseid’s forces could regroup, and she’d learned from what she had later learned from DA ‘21 (the re-runs she’d watched on her phone had proved of additional assistance), that Darkseid’s forces were only more dangerous in some ways after being wounded.

“In that regard, mister Orion, may I ask what your capabilities are? I did see quite a bit during the siege, but I would like to know more about what you bring to the fight.”

“Do you doubt my abilities?” Orion asked, though his tone showed he didn’t really believe that.

“Not at all. But many of my abilities will work far better in support of your own, so knowing this about all of my teammates will allow me to work faster.”

“I see. I am a trained Saiyan warrior, and have command of my ki for use in destructive blasts. I also have the ability to teleport short distances, towards anyone who’s ki I can sense. And you?”

“I can teleport if no one can visually observe my movements. I have the ability to focus my power through this-” Chara replied, showing her knife, “-For increased penetration. And…”

A red knife glowed in the room, leaving a scarlet hue. “I can summon these. If they glow yellow, they’re the explosive variant.”

Asriel jumped a bit at seeing the glow - he had yet to get used to that particular use of Chara’s magic, and she wasn’t really surprised at it. For a monster, sensitive to both magic and emotion, the contents of the ambition severer, life force wrapped in violent energy, couldn’t feel pleasant. To her surprise, Orion also seemed to notice, raising an eyebrow as he scanned it with more than his eyes - she supposed life force sensing likely was useful enough to see what her ability was, which was quite a pain. Also to her surprise, Roy seemed to notice, his knuckles tightening.

Well, she supposed he likely did look into the Nausicaa footage - and remember her from Markov. He likely had plenty of thoughts on the subject.

“...And if slain, I will come back, though not in the place I was last.” Chara would finally add. “It is a power unique to myself. Determination. Outside of that… I have a Ph.D in physics and a decent understanding of space/time, relative to the crossroads, should some exotic properties of Darkseid’s fortress seek to confound us, though I submit it likely won’t be a problem.”

That left Hiro with a turn to blink. “Wait, so Chara’s got a degree?”

“Uhh, that’d be Dr. Chara, Hiro.” She teased, giving a smirk his way as she faked a bit of levity for the sake of the situation… it fell, quickly, at the thought of what they were doing next.

Chara gave a sigh. “And the rest of you?”

She listened to them as Nico told him of his awesome skateboard (which, damn it, he was right, it was pretty cool), Hiro and Baymax spoke of their respective skills, or at least as much as they could, and everyone else followed suit, with Faise grumpily filling them in as much as she was willing on Ashe-0’s abilities.

There were no questions once everyone had an account of everyone, at least, not that she was hearing from anyone now. She assumed there might be a couple more conversations, particularly as time created curiosity, nervousness, and boredom in equal measure on the way to the fortress. As a result, everyone was off to get their equipment ready and get suited up.

Which, of course, meant Chara had ample time to approach and give Mustang a tap on the back right as he was about to change from his dress uniform into a combat outfit. He jumped, and looked back with a heated look.

“Chara? What the hell are you doing in the changing room-”

“Well, having the politeness to bother you before you start, rather than enjoying the show. Very kind of me.” Chara teased, getting a grunt of irritance from the Flame Alchemist.

“What do you want?” Mustang questioned, a tinge of annoyance entering his voice, which made Chara’s next words far easier to get out.

“That is quite simple. I am able to come back from death. Asriel lacks this ability. I am here to make this clear.”

Mustang’s spine straightened like a metal rod was put inside of it, which left Chara slightly surprised. She should have expected it, but Mustang was, after all, responsible. It was something Toriel had told her, back in the day.

The thought did spur her as he responded. “I will keep that in mind. I take care of the soldiers in my charge.”

Chara gave a shake of her head. “Then you do not understand. I understand you are of good heart, Lieutenant-Colonel Roy Mustang. You do your best to take care of your people. You do not like them to hurt.” Chara would reply. “Captain Dreemurr had a high opinion of you, so I heard of you from time to time.”

Chara turned, her eyes turning from a relaxed hazel to a bright crimson. “I also understand you will sacrifice those who are under your command if doing so will protect a far greater number of people. And I understand the necessity of someone willing to do so. If it comes to it, I am willing to give my rather easily renewable life if such will guarantee the mission - but I wish to make this clear, Asriel is off-limits.” Chara would add. “And I will make sure such a sacrifice, if I find out the plan came from you, is not worth it.”

Roy processed the conversation, and his anger went down, which left Chara unsatisfied. Part of her was hoping for an argument, a proclamation, even a condemnation of her unprofessionalism.

“You are civilians, but you are volunteering your lives. I don’t plan to use either of you as sacrifices, but you’re deep in enemy territory. I can’t guarantee that safety, either.” Roy would point out. “...I guarantee it, but i need something from you in exchange.” he offered, looking her straight in the eyes. “I have twenty men of my own to take care of here, and they are relying on your ability to take down Saren. I want a guarantee you’ll use everything you can to keep them alive. No holding back your abilities.”

Chara paused, thinking of the statement, before adding. “Ahh. you saw Nausicaa.”

“I saw a lot of power thrown around that could have defended Markov.”

“And could have gotten me a wonderful stay in your scientific division. Or as a new dog of war for Palatinus.”

“-And lost lives.” Roy replied, looking her straight in the eyes.

Chara met his gaze evenly, at first, but this time it was her turn to look away. “...I have lost a lot of the power I showed at Nausicaa. The last time I used such power, I was twelve. But what I have left, I will use to it’s full potential in this raid. The unmaking is everyone’s problem.” Chara would reply. “And it is not as though those after my abilities did not see my powers at Nausicaa, or in the Abyss. I have been stripped bare.”

Roy just gave her a raised eyebrow. “Somehow, I doubt that. But I can believe in that promise. If you can believe in mine, that is.”

Chara thought about it, before offering a hand to shake. “I think I can give it a chance. Hopefully, we can be far easier friends now this has been cleared up.”

Chara turned to leave, already having a hand on the door as she planned to let Roy get back to changing. At least, until she heard a voice behind him.

“About Captain Dreemurr-” Roy started.

“-Don’t.” Chara replied. “Captain D…”

The eldest Dreemurr paused, as her fingers tightened on the doorframe.

“My mother died protecting what she loved most - the smiles of children. I could not hope for a better ending to her story. Just one farther in the future.” Chara replied, more harshly than she meant to. “But my powers are related to my determination. I cannot risk a conversation like this right now.”

Not if it means I remember why I blame you. Not if her smile in my memories leaves me weak. Not if I want to keep the creeping vines of paranoia from swallowing me up with the fear that Markov is where Dreemurrs go to die.

Chara took a deep breath. That negative force was dangerous, but in her case it was helpful if she focused it, and she kept that fury in mind to fuel her blade, the knife jumping to her hands eagerly. “And the one most at fault right now is Darkseid. So I think it is important I have a conversation of sorts with him about it, first.”

1,501 words

 

[Mickey Mouse]

It had been two years since Hiro had really seen Markov, or Cevanti in general. News reports played throughout the ARC, showing some truly remarkable on the ground footage of the city’s efforts to hold back the unmade. Mustang’s people appearing on galactic news programs, whether being interrogated by actual reporters or prodded by the more erstwhile opinion hosts. Sergeant Swift’s brigade enjoying the slight celebrity status their continued presence in Dante’s Abyss afforded them. It had been nice, all these months, to be able to keep up with the situation. Nice to see glimpses of his home every couple of days, no matter what doomsday chyron scrolled beneath it.

He hated to admit it, but more than once he’d watched the news with a pit in his stomach. Wondering if it was the last time he’d see the cracked gray soil of Cevanti’s Wastes. Too many times since he’d been launched into orbit, he’d considered — even resigned himself to — the idea that he’d never set foot on his home planet ever again. Idly counted the days until it would be swallowed up by Darkseid’s eternal shadow.

Even now, the thought crossed his mind: what if this is it?

This time, though, it was different. He’d come down to the surface, felt the shattered streets of Markov further crumble and crack under his feet. He’d found Mustang’s base. He’d joined this squad of… well, of heroes. And he knew that meant he might not see tomorrow.

He unzipped his hoodie and folded it slowly, almost ceremonially placing it next to him on the bench. Hanging in a locker before him was the purple armor he’d worn during the Siege, kept in storage since he’d left by Palatinus. He removed his t-shirt and shorts and clicked every piece into place, every movement methodical, every movement slow. Every movement forced.

…there was that pit in his stomach again.

“You’re looking pretty fly in that armor,” Nico Cinder said from across the locker room.

Hiro shuddered a bit. He’d almost forgotten the other young man was in the room with him. He turned to see the (former?) bartender laying across his own bench, hands intertwined beneath his head.

“Looking pretty depressy on the face, though,” he continued to observe.

“Yeah,” Hiro shrugged, leaning against the lockers. “Been a while since I’ve been here. It looks…”

“…unfortunately and dreadfully exactly the fucking same?” the demonic youth interrupted.

Hiro couldn’t help but smirk. “Something like that.”

Nico grinned back, kicking his legs into the air and swinging himself up into a sitting position. He leaned forward, looking over Hiro with a curiosity the boy genius wasn’t exactly used to; with a sense of determination that could almost be classified as petty, Hiro investigated him back.

Quite frankly, neither of them seemed obvious choices for this. Palatinus had certainly gotten more and more desperate over the years since the Siege; that much was certain. So while it didn’t seem ideal that the strike team for perhaps the most important Cevanti military mission since The End included four people who had seen adulthood for less time than Roy Mustang had his officer status, Hiro could see the throughline.

And strategy-wise, no one was more suited than who they’d picked out. Not a soul in the galaxy could destroy Saren’s defenses like he could, and no one could hit the unmade Turian with more dramatic flair than Nico Cinder and Chara Dreemurr. He’d gleaned that even from just a quick scan of their files.

“This your home?” Nico asked, standing and crossing towards the other boy.

“Yeah,” Hiro nodded, with a smile. “You?”

“I’m from out of town,” the demonic youth slid his hands into his pockets, looking away, coolness radiating off him. Hiro stifled the approaching thought that, if — Arbiter willing — he survived this, he might want to grow up to be like Nico. “But this is the home I’ve got here. Closest thing to it.”

Hiro stood up. He’d hit his growth spurt sometime during his time on the ARC, and now he stood just a little shorter than Cinder. Luckily when he’d designed the armor, he’d designed it to stretch, but he couldn’t help but wonder if Nico noticed it was just a tad ill-fitting.

He didn’t know why he cared, of course. He hadn’t known Nico long at all, and with the way this mission looked, there was a strong probability — at least an 11.11% chance, if not higher, based on the obsessive survival calculations he’d been doing — that their friendship would be short and sweet.

Maybe that was it, though. Maybe he cared because these were the people he was careening towards death with.

He overcame the lump in his throat and asked the question he’d been wanting to ask since he got planetside. “You think we can pull this off?”

Nico chuckled. “It’s in the bag, bro.”

The other youth was difficult to read. Hiro couldn’t tell — despite normally priding himself on knowing, well, everything — whether he really believed that, with all the confidence he said it with, or if he was putting on a tough face to keep the seventeen-year-old tech kid in front of him from collapsing into a pool of hopelessness. Either way, though, it was clear that even after just a few short hours, Nico was as invested in him and this mission as he was in destroying this asshole and bringing Cevanti some modicum or peace — or closer to it, anyway. That brought a smile to Hiro Hamada’s face, just as a light knocking brought Riza Hawkeye into the locker room.

“Hamada, we’re about to move out,” the lieutenant peeked in. “You ready to go?”

Hiro threw a thumbs up her way, then looked back to Nico. The other youth held up a fist.

“Let’s fuck it up, kid,” Nico said.

“Hell yeah,” Hiro fist-bumped, “Let’s fuck it up.”

Post WC: 983 words

 

[Roy Mustang]

Mustang adjusted his collar as he stepped out of the dressing room, frowning faintly. The conversation with Dreemurr only drove home how tenuous this idea really was. They were depending on civilians and outside forces to carry them through this mission. Mustang and his men wouldn’t be able to handle a thread like Saren posed by themselves, which left him reliant on far less disciplined sources of strength. And vulnerable to unexpected avenues of weakness.

The convoy was assembling as quickly as could be realistically hoped. Second lieutenant Breda had organized the outfitting of their transport during the meeting and other preparations, and the pair of vehicles were undergoing final checks when Mustang stepped out into the hangar. Hiro was there already, seemingly fascinated by the mechanical fairy that clearly was disinterested in his attention. Orion walked by his customary scowl in place. Mustang considered for a moment, then turned after him.

“A word if I may?” Mustang gestured off to one side of the hanger. Orion raised his good eyebrow then turned and followed Mustang as the Flame alchemist stepped over to a gap between some of the storage houses/

“I just want to clarify a few points, General, before things get messier.”

Orion crossed his arms.

“Speak then. Time is short.”

“I want to make it clear that I am trusting you with the lives of my men. They’re solid people, not everyone would be willing to go out into the wilds of Cevanti and infiltrate an unmaking fortress. That being said, they’re not going to be able to keep up with the unmaking’s forces, their job is to keep you from being overrun. I’ll be counting on you and the other two to actually finish Saren.”

Orion nodded, his brow furrowing, “I understand the mission, Lieutenant Colonel, what are you really trying to say here?”

“I’m saying that we’re reliant on civilian forces for this mission. I do not anticipate any issues from Ashe-0 or FAISE, but Hiro and the Dreemurr siblings have a history of run-ins with Markovian law enforcement from before the Siege, and Cinder isn’t someone I would expect to follow orders well either. We will need all of these elements working together and in our favor for this mission to succeed, and we cannot afford squabbling or infighting.”

Orion’s face was damned difficult to read as he considered Mustang’s words. Hell, Mustang barely knew enough about Orion to trust his behavior. The Saiyan was a mercenary with a history in military leadership. That much wasn’t a lie, but how was Mustang to know just what the man’s motives were? Volunteering to combat such a threat tended to point towards honorable intentions, but even monsters like Ridley had proved willing to work with him in opposing the Unmaking when it suited his purposes. Just how far could he trust these allies?

Mustang nodded once to Orion, then walked over towards Second Lieutenant Breda. So what were his options here? Blind trust had failed spectacularly during Dante’s Abyss, but rampant skepticism would have doomed all of Markov during the Siege. He would have to judge each ally case by case, anticipate their moves before they made them. Fatigued at the thought he rubbed his palm against half of his face. Breda glanced up from a datapad, raising an eyebrow. He was never one for spending too much time on formalities

“Tell me we’re ready to go, Breda.”

“Just about sir, only thing left is to figure out how we’re transporting somebody as big as Ashe-0.”

“Mm, she can probably keep pace with us on her own. I’ll speak with her, but go ahead and get people onboard. We cannot delay this opportunity.”

Breda casually saluted and Mustang made his way to the back of the hanger, where Ashe-0’s massive form sat with a mechanical level of patience while FAISE flitted about her making repairs. Ashe-0’s single eye focused on Mustang as he approached.

“You had better not plan on making this a pattern, Ashe.” Mustang smirked faintly, staring up at her.

“Which pattern, commander?” She spoke with her customary lack of inflection.

“Appearing when we’re about to engage in extremely dangerous missions with a very real possibility of our deaths. It’s becoming an unhealthy habit.”

“I am programmed for precisely such missions, commander. I do not understand the contention.”

Mustang chuckled. Ashe-0 seemed to have been in some fighting recently, but whoever this smaller robot was, they were evidently helping Ashe-0 with her maintenance.

“You’ll be in good enough shape to keep up with us without transport, right?”

“Affirmative.”

The fairy gave a sound that was suspiciously similar to a snort, but said nothing, continuing to work on one of Ashe-0’s disabled arms. Mustang nodded as Second Lieutenant Breda walked over.

“Everyone accounted for, Sir.”

“Then let’s get a move on. It’s time to see just how well the Unmaking is capable of handling itself when we’re the ones on the attack!”

 

[Chara Dreemurr]

The trek to their destination was long, and filled with a lot of underground drilling, and while it sounded exciting in theory, it was both nerve-wracking and jarring in practice. Asriel felt his nerves hit and wondered how safe he was in here - along with his sister, who was regrettably in a different tank from him, focused on his own work.

And meanwhile, he was busy stuck with Roy Mustang, who, while he wasn’t a bad guy… wasn’t exactly his age. Or easy to talk to. He looked for a conversation topic or two while he waited, as he met Roy’s eyes. It seemed like an eternity as him, Roy, and a few of the soldiers he had in the back waited in silence. Eventually, though, Roy spoke up.

“...Asriel Dreemurr.” Roy Mustang finally spoke up.

“S-sir.” Asriel eventually spoke, looking up to him.

“Relax on the sir. You’re technically a civilian, and an adult. You can call me Roy, or Lieutenant-Commander Mustang if you’re insistent on formalities.”

“O-of course. It’s just…” Asriel added, a frog catching in his throat as he tried to force out two sentences at once. “It’s like… That is…”

Roy quirked an eyebrow, but seemed to be willing to let him finish, as Asriel finally cleared his throat. He was a bit tongue-tied, but he was a hero, damnit. He couldn’t be defeated by a statement, and as he looked Roy in the eyes, he managed to formulate his thoughts.

“I am working as part of the military here, and I want to be of the most help I can be. So I guess I figured I should think of myself as your soldier. I’m… not used to something like this, even if I used to be a sentry.” Asriel finally stated. “And… going off on my own has made messes before. So that’s one reason I felt ‘sir’ was appropriate. I know I’m not a soldier, so it’s better if I’m directed. And I know you’ve got the smarts to make, uhm, the best use of me.”

Roy gave a smile that seemed a bit ingenuine to Asriel, as though it was masking some hidden confusion. He wasn’t sure why he thought so, but the smile came off as kind of strained.


It hit him after a second where he’d seen that before, actually. Specifically, as Roy spoke:

“I do appreciate the trust you put in me - it’s a lot more than your sister has. But what gives you so much faith in me, can I ask? I assumed, given your… background, that you preferred going it alone with your sister.” Roy mentioned, every word measured and tactful. Roy Mustang was a lot like Chara.

Asriel gave a smile. “Well, because I get the feeling you really care about everyone under your command. And you care about them more than a little bit. You care a lot. And…”

Asriel gave a sheepish smile. “...Because mom always told me if I was to talk to or about you I’d address you as sir. Or… well, Chara was told that more than me.”

Roy’s smile quirked. “So she’s always had that mouth on her.”

Asriel had to nod. “...Yeah. My sister’s… pretty mean when she wants to be. Sorry.” He’d admit. “But, uhm… I think she’s just warming up to you. I think you might even have a lot in common.” He’d add. “...Oh, I’m sorry, Roy, you were going to ask me a question, right?” He asked.

Roy seemed to be slightly off-put by that answer, his scowl returning, but at the mention of the question, the man’s face returned to full business.

“I realize this is an insensitive question, and I’m not implying apathy on this subject, but where did the two of you go after the siege of Markov? I am surprised you didn’t attend Captain Dreemurr’s funeral.”

Asriel’s first response was to close his eyes and breathe. One breath, then two and three. He couldn’t cry.

“...I got… lost, in the wilds for a little bit. I ended up biting off more than I could chew with the unmade. Chara and I…” Asriel searched for a way to end the statement. “...I was really stupid, during the siege. She wanted to evacuate. I wanted to help, and, well… I kind of forced the issue. Then, when I found Dad’s trident in the midst of Markov, I just, well… I got angry and used up almost all of my magic. I got stuck in the outskirts for a little while, then when I got back I found her scarf and assumed that…”

Asriel took a deep breath, unable to deal with the ending to that statement. “I sort of wandered the worlds for a bit, fighting unmade, until Nausicaa happened, and I… I figured if I couldn’t defend Chara, I could… help her original family. I was too late for them, but…”

Asriel gave a shrug, while Roy’s lips pressed into lines. “I didn’t even realize the funeral had happened until months later. I was… too numb to really feel anything about it, at the time.” Asriel stated, before giving a shrug.

“...I see.” Roy stated, his lips tightening. “I apologize. That’s a question that should have waited until after this siege, at least. We already have a lot to focus on.”

Asriel gave a shake of his head. “No, it’s… fine. You were trying to figure out things about your team to work with them, right? Mom was like that. She said that people always did their best when you treated them like people.” He replied with a nod. “You have a bunch of people willing to risk their lives for this mission. And me and Chara have our own reasons, but we can also do… you know, a lot of things. But you must be a really good commander if you had people come with you so readily. So they must trust you…. And that means I can probably trust you too, right?”

Roy breathed in at the statement, as he inspected Asriel’s face. “Just because they trust me doesn’t mean I can guarantee they come back alive. And the same goes for you.”

Asriel gave a smile. “...I’m not worried about that.”

“Oh?”

“My sister might be lazy, mean, selfish, crude, kind of a pervert…” Asriel added, before realizing the list was about to be a little too long and shortening it, “...But she’s always reliable. She’s always, always had my back. so..”

Green sparks flitted from Asriel’s palms as he took a deep breath. “...It’s my duty to stay alive and heal her. And anyone else who gets hurt in this battle.”

Roy caught his eyes as Asriel’s determination fired through his own. “I’ve had to watch enough people die. Anyone I can save, I will save. That includes me… and that includes her, even if she can… come back. She’s died enough.”

Roy’s eyebrow quirked as the statement came through. “She’s died before? Other than DA?” the Lieutenant-commander asked.

The determination in Asriel’s eyes popped like plastic wrap as he put a hand over his mouth. “Uhm… shouldn’t have said that.”

Roy gave a ‘hm.’ of acknowledgement, taking a second before replying. “...If it’s personal business, maybe I shouldn’t be prying.”

Asriel gave a sad smile in response. “...I don’t… know about that.” the goat stuttered. “...Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you pried, at the end of the day. Some other time.”

Now it was Roy’s turn to look shocked at the statement, turning to Asriel as he put a hand on his knee. “...She seems to be the type to keep things private.” he countered.

“...Chara… she still talks about fighting Darkseid like she’s going to fight him herself, one day. Like this is her problem. Her fault.” Asriel replied, the wind going from his speech. “She acts like she understands everyone needs to work together to beat Darkseid, but she thinks that’s her job to accomplish too.”

Asriel gave a sigh. “...And if someone could do it, it would be me sister, but Darkseid… isn’t that simple, is he?”

Roy gave a sigh. “No. He isn’t.”

“Sorry. You have a big job, right? And here I am, asking you to check in on my sister…”

“Your sister is important in this war against the unmade.” Roy countered. “But even if she wasn’t, she’s a citizen of Cevanti. One I swore to protect. And also one I don’t trust unhinged and unsupervised, anyways. It’s worth a bit of my time.” Roy would volunteer. “Though it’s only a bit. I can’t devote my time to just helping your sister.”

Asriel gave a smile, perking up a little. “I wouldn’t ask you to, sir. It’s just… she’s been facing this for a really long time now, by herself. I think she wants help. I just don’t think she knows how to ask.”

Roy’s expression changed slightly at the ‘long time’ statement, and Asriel put a hand to his mouth for a second, before realizing “...Uhh. Pretend you didn’t hear that. Chara said she would probably tell you at the end of this anyways if you weren’t a big jerk, so it’s probably fine. And also that she hoped you were a big jerk.” Asriel babbled, before turning another shade of pink.

“F-...Forget I said that, too! Oh god, she’s going to kill me if she finds out-”

“-Finds what out?” the radio came on. “...we’re two kilometers out and I wished to check in and find out if you wanted to use my shortcuts to move people to more established positions. Miss Hawkeye expressed interest in finding a good area.”

Roy turned to the radio fully business. “Yes, a few of my men might be able to appreciate that. It will depend on landing circumstances, but if Orion can spare you a few seconds, it might make our distraction much more effective - and safer.”

“Already discussed it with him. He is our tactical commander, after all.” Chara’s voice came through. “So, what were you boys discussing?”

Roy gave Asriel a confident smile, as he spoke, “Don’t worry about it. Asriel here was just talking about your crush on Agent Hughes.” he offered, giving Asriel a wink. Asriel just looked at him with a horrified expression in response, to the Lieutenant-commander’s confusion.

Silence came through the speakers along with static. “...Why Little brother, if you missed swirlies so badly, all you had to do was ask. I’m going to go. focus on the upcoming combat please, boys.”

Asriel just gave the Commander a horrified look, as the radio clicked off, leaving him in stunned silence. “...why?”


“I, err… focus on the mission at hand.” Roy replied, adjusting his uniform as he avoided everyone’s eyes… and fought the smile working very hard to plaster across his face.

1,810 words

 

[The Future Warrior]

“Lieutenant Colonel.” It was Faise, as she hovered into the flame alchemist’s view. Her arms were crossed in front of her, and she didn’t look particularly pleased about anything going on at the moment. “May I have a moment?”

Mustang looked at the tiny robot with a carefully maintained neutral expression. “We’re almost there, so make it quick.”

The support drone wasted no time, the words barely out of Roy’s mouth before she spoke again. “If I may be so bold as to ask: what is your relationship with Ashe-0?”

Mustang blinked once, his carefully maintained expression going utterly blank for a moment before he composed himself. “She’s a valuable ally I’ve fought alongside more than once. Why do you ask?”

“Curiosity.” Faise shook her head, lifting a hand to dismissively wave the notion aside. “I have seen her memory files and she regards you highly, in a similar position as her natural commanding officer were we in our own element. I wanted to see how the other side thought of her in return.”

“Understandable.” Mustang nodded lightly, his expression remaining even, though a dark gleam flashed through his eyes. “And what about you? Who are you and where exactly did you come from?”

“I don’t suppose Ashe would have mentioned it.” Faise nodded before heaving a sigh. “I am a support unit, designed to assist with reconnaissance and social interaction, as well as routine repairs and upkeep. I was inactive due to the emergency startup procedures Ashe underwent upon arrival here, and only her self-sacrifice and destruction was able to trigger my own activation.”

“I see. So in essence, you’re part of her, then.”

Faise’s expression shifted, her lips drawing into a thin line as she drummed the fingers of one hand on her arm. “....not the most precise way to word it, but yes. In a manner of speaking, we are one and the same.”

“Hmm.” The flame alchemist stared intently at the tiny drone, as if searching for something.

Faise brought one hand up to the side of her visor, fiddling with a few unseen techno-bits and buttons there. “Ashe wishes to inform you that she requests I shut up and stop being so aggravating,” she said flatly.

The barest hint of a smile flashed on Mustang’s face at that, but he shook his head. “Not the exact words I would’ve chosen, but I do agree with the sentiment. There will be a time for talk later, once we’re done with what we’re walking into.”

“That is assuming we all make it back alive.” Faise shook her head, as she hovered backward, keeping her obscured gaze directly on Mustang. “I know that you intend for that to be the case, but things rarely go as expected. No plan ever survives contact with the enemy.”

Mustang’s expression went cold, anger flashing in his eyes. “I am very well aware.”

Faise said nothing, and simply finally turned her back on the officer. “Ashe, are you prepared?” She paused, listening, before nodding. “Try not to blow yourself up this time. Tracking you down last time was enough of a chore.”

Word Count: 520

 

[Chara Dreemurr]

Chara looked at Orion with a quizzical glance, chocolate brown eyes meeting Orion’s own dark orbs. Neither had spoken for some time, once tactics and the like had been aligned, but eventually, Chara decided to break the silence with her commanding officer.

Or at least, she had intended to. To her surprise, the Saiyan spoke first.

“Chara, right? Can I trust you to handle my orders?” Orion asked, looking her straight in the eyes.

“Afraid I’ll lose my cool, chief?” Chara asked, giving a sidelong grin as her eyes flashed red.

“No. That was not in question. I’ve spent my life fighting, and I can tell a fresh-faced girl trying to act tough from a veteran. You’ve fought, killed, and risked your life before, and you understand what it means to do so.”

Chara cocked her head in surprise, smile fading slightly as surprise struggled to reach the surface. “You read all that off my face, huh?”

Orion raise his eyebrow just an inch, putting a hand to his chin. “It makes your kind carry yourselves a little more like a saiyan warrior. It’s easy for me to notice.”

Orion’s gaze grew a bit more intense. “But that doesn’t change the feeling of your ki, or the way you seem to talk past people here. So I do want to make this clear… this is a military operation. We’re here to kill Saren. If you decide to pull some lone-wolf nonsense and leave us in jeopardy over it, I will leave you behind in a heartbeat. You’ve already admitted you have the ability to come back from death, so I’m not going to feel bad about it. Are we clear?”

Chara’s smile grew broader at the statement. “Crystal. I can work with that.” Chara offered, before giving a sigh. “...If I felt I could do this myself, like I could have before Nausicaa, I would have come alone, and done so. I can’t. So I will do my best to support our little team and make sure we all leave with Saren’s head safely removed from his shoulders, while all ours remain firmly attached. I have no issues proving that. And while it is a first for me to work as part of a team… I am very good at following orders. Is that acceptable, commander Orion?” Chara asked.

Orion raised an eyebrow. “So you really think you could have taken Saren by yourself before then? What power did you think you possessed before now?” Orion asked, though his expression was difficult for Chara to read. Part of her read disbelief and a concern for arrogance, but there was something else… excitement? Interest?

Chara gave a sigh. “...Enough to stop the world from ending. Enough to slay the beast.”

Chara put her hood up. “I was trained to kill Darkseid before his name was ever spoken of in Markov. While that training was evidently an ultimate failure, I would have been on fairly even footing fighting someone like Saren before now.”

“And his men?” Orion asked.

“Numbers would not have been a problem with my particular skill set, and I could have taken a shortcut from Markov to here in the first place.” Chara replied. “If I had intel, I would have been able to mostly avoid the issue.”

Orion seemed deep in thought, and Chara was ready to hear him call her an arrogant fool. It would be understandable, she figured. Most who spoke like that would likely be fooling themselves, missing the point, and talking out their ass.

Chara wasn’t most people, but she carefully cultivated the look of most people, so if he was about to call her a moron, she would welcome the statement without any personal issue.

Instead, though, Orion looked back, with an expression of pain and frustration flitting across his face in the barest moment. It was difficult to tell - Orion was hard to read even for her - but something about what she’d just said struck a nerve, and the older Saiyan took a deep breath, looking back towards his backside… searching for something? Chara did not know what to make of it, as it was the expression of someone looking for a phantom limb… but Orion’s were firmly intact.

“Then we’ll make up for that by working together. I’ve seen the knife constructs you make…” Orion replied, though something in the thought made his lip curl up slightly.

Chara wondered about that. Was it disgust for the shape? The idea?...something else about them? The saiyan’s older countenance really did make him frustratingly difficult to open up, even to her keen eye. “I would guess they are built for dealing with multiple enemies?”

Chara shook her head. “That is a happy bonus. They are used for controlling space. It lets me decide where a conflict will be had. I have an explosive variant for when my gentle suggestion needs to be upgraded to a strong warning.”

Orion would give a nod. “Saren is slippery. If you can control where the fighting happens, using those knives, we can nullify much of the advantage of his invisibility.”

“He is used to fighting up close against strong opponents, and using that invisibility to his advantage even in such a situation, if I recall from the tapes, correctly.”

Orion thought about that, before giving a nod. “It’s not the first time I’ve fought an invisible man, either.”

Chara would raise her eyebrow in turn. “I had heard you were a highly experienced warrior. Then I will bow to your experience and give you a squared circle to corner the Lieutenant in, Orion.” Chara would reply, giving a sigh of relief.

At least this time, the weight of the task was not on her shoulders alone. And she found herself willing to trust the Saiyan - if not with her life, then at least with spilling Saren’s blood.

That would have to be enough.

Word count: 988

 

[Nico Cinder]

"You."

Nico's head whipped around. For some reason, this seemed to happen to him a lot, though he couldn't really even begin to tell you why. It was Orion, the dude with the eyepatch. He was doin' that thing with his eyes that he was doin' back in the conference room. Looking real hard. Drill bits for eyes, this dude. Err...Eye.

"Me?" Nico said with a whimsy.

"To have even come within spitting distance of Saren, surely you must be a better fighter than you are a tactician." Damn, he was hellbent on cornering him here and now in the middle of this hallway, wasn't he? No luck slipping under the radar this time. Thanks, Colonel 'Stang. Good to be working with ya again.

Nico sniffed, taking a bit of a offense to that comment. "I don't know what you're talking about, guy. I'm a master of strategy."

"Yes, you really showed that to everyone in there, while we were discussing strategies."

"That guy Sun Tzu said that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, bro," Nico said with enough chill to kill a pan. "And he knows a thing or two about war, let me tell ya."

"No, let me tell you," Ah fuck, there he goes. "This mission already has enough rogue elements involved, and Mustang's decision to put another one - on the kill squad, no less, is unsatisfactory."

"Me? A rogue element?" Nico's lip trembled. He wasn't sure if he was gonna make it through this whole thing with a straight face. "Why, I wouldn't dream of roguin' up the joint. I'm just here to kill the bug. Kill it with fire."

"Yes, but it's much more complicated than that, isn't it? You're working with a larger group, in a much more concerted effort. This isn't some silly deathwish you're trying to fulfill, like your initial breach during the Abyss. Your actions here will have consequences for the rest of us, and others. Many others."

The punk's nose wrinkled. "Don't I know it." And they did last time, too.

"Then act like it." Orion said. That was kinda spooky. Nico wasn't sure if he just had his mind read or not.

He scratched the bridge of his nose. What's the easiest way out of this?

"Despite being incredibly strategically minded, I'm a real simple guy, Mr. General Orion, sir," he said. "If I can trust you to point me at somethin' that needs a hole in it, you can trust me to make at least four. And I think..." The musician's eyes hardened against the warrior's own, testing the strength of that shiny little drillbit. "...we can both agree that Saren needs more than a few."

Nico's features had already softened again as the words spilled out, a smile creeping at the edges of his lips. Something flickered across Orion's face as the young punk spoke to him. "I've got your backs. I'm a rockstar, dude, and a band's gotta be able to synch up. We are gonna make some fuckin' music, my friend."

His squad leader gave him a dark look, but seemed to accept this begrudgingly, as he made to leave. "The battlefield will be very telling," the man spoke plainly, over his shoulder.

Nico saluted, turning on his heel while he could. "Yessir indeed. You'll see. No monkey business from this rogue element."

Orion stopped in his tracks, unsure if he had heard the boy correctly. It was a good thing Nico had kept going.

 

[Orion]

The subterranean vehicle jostled and rumbled as it tore a vicious path through the earth. A screen at the front of the personnel compartment displayed the distance to their objective. It was closing fast.

Divided into teams, the brave souls assaulting Saren’s stronghold drilled underground in three separate vehicles. They had been programmed to all arrive simultaneously, bursting through the outer walls of a spacious room, granting enough space for all three vehicles to penetrate. Orion sat with Chara and Nico, though there was no conversation. Chara didn’t seem the talkative type, and Nico’s opinion of the Saiyan was not likely a friendly one after their previous run-in. Still, Orion trusted them to follow his commands.

The time would soon arrive. The Saiyan could release his rage without consequence; there were no moral quandaries with beating the life out of those afflicted by the Unmade. He just had to ensure it didn’t envelop him again, like it did against The Chorus. Saren, being a general in the Fade’s army, wouldn’t be a mindless mook. There was a good chance he retained most of his sentience, his intelligence, just bent to a hideous agenda. The seasoned warrior needed his wits about him in this battle. The traditional Saiyan battle frenzy was a liability here, until he could prove otherwise.

Orion had spoken to both Chara and Nico Cinder, two children who had seen and experienced events many regular people would never see in their entire lifetimes. He missed the days when those under this command had fully completed puberty.

Regardless, this is what he had. Colonel Lieutenant Mustang was no fool; if he believed in them and their abilities, it made sense to believe in it himself, whether he had seen their skills in person or not. Going into a combat operation of this magnitude, of this importance, with no first-hand knowledge of how his subordinates fought or reacted to certain situations was certainly a handicap, though.

If things didn’t pan out, Orion knew his strength would be enough. At the very least, if both Chara and Nico fell, he could destroy the entire complex by transforming into the Great Ape and-

Orion punched the metal seat beside him, a scowl etching onto his face without his knowledge. An imprint of his fist remained in the steel. Chara turned at the sound but otherwise didn’t react. Nico flinched.

“Shit, we aren’t tense enough?” Nico said.

Orion’s face twitched, revealing a momentary sneer that quickly disappeared. He turned from Cinder, reining in his anger. Even the thought of thinking about what happened to him lit a very short wick within him. This was going to be tricky. Unable to deal with his... loss, he couldn’t afford to let it distract him in the field. A stray thought would not be enough to blind his judgement. There were lives at stake here.

But he had never known fury like this before. It was as if all the decades of suffering had become unstoppered, flowing like a river, permeating his mind. He had been through much worse than his... loss, lost more valuable people and lifestyles than this. So why couldn’t he accept what happened and let it go?

The rumbling of the drilling vehicle intensified. They must have been penetrating the thicker, more solid rock, and zoning in on their objective. Orion breathed deeply.

Focus on the mission.

 

[Chara Dreemurr]

Chara looked over and gave a slight huff of air, looking between Nico and Orion. The former was remarkably resilient, having bounced back from the ordeal of fighting the unmaking and dying ridiculously well. The Saiyan Warrior, on the other hand, had baggage. Not easily approachable, nor the type that would make you friends to do so, and she rather doubted he wanted to hear a lecture from her.

Regardless, she moved from her position in the tank to a different seat, speaking in a lower tone to her commander.

“He uses that. Don’t let it be his way in.” Chara breathed quietly, looking Orion straight in the eyes.

The Warrior had surprise in his eyes, but fury came second, as he addressed her. His face moved to tense, and he was clearly avoiding an explosion with just this much. “I am aware Saren is a skilled warrior, as am I. I have the self-control to keep my eyes on the mission.”

“Darkseid is who I am worried about.” Chara spoke, “And he can do more with it than distract.” Chara would warn, keeping her tone very even and honest.


That got Orion’s attention, though there was still a flicker of rage.

“Where the unmaking is, Darkseid’s voice dwells, and neither he nor his minions need to physically touch you to invade your mind. They just need to create cracks, flaws, something in your mind they can take unguarded.”

That got Orion’s attention, and Chara saw the flit of something in his memories go through him.

“So you’re vulnerable to it as well.” Orion noted, as the puzzle pieces fit together. Ahh, there was no helping that with this one.

“...Nausicaa.” Chara admitted with a weighted sigh. “His men sacrificed children. I became fixated on delivering appropriate punishment, and before I knew it… it was rather like putting on a comfortable pair of slippers, rather than anything violent.” the judge admitted, her face seeming to age a few years in the telling, before she took a breath.

“...I fought it off, but it taught me how his spell worked. Darkseid will take your fixation - any fixation - and twist it into a desire to serve him. Where brute force doesn’t work, he’ll use your own weight against you.” Chara would admit.

“...Fighting it off is a matter of awareness and concentration, remembering all of what you are, not just that singular point. For me, it was… remembering I was a big sister.” She finally admitted, her voice going a bit lower on that point.

Fury and frustration still danced along Orion’s face, but it was no longer directed at Chara, nor was it allowed to the forefront of his mind. Instead, he was analyzing, calculating, thinking it through.

“Why haven’t you shared this with command prior to now.”

“Because until I was drafted unwillingly into Dante’s Abyss, I had decided I was done handling the threat of the unmaking. And… simply because I am not used to sharing such information.” Chara admitted. “My original training was to conceal as much knowledge as possible. I alone was the last line of defense. Learning to consider others against the threat of Darkseid is… new.”

Orion looked like he had questions for that, but they were not militarily significant, nor did they have the time, so he nodded, seeming satisfied with the ‘why’ of that answer.

“I appreciate that you admit you made a mistake there. Is there anything else we should know?”

Chara would look over to Nico, and think. “Darkseid’s fond of traps, and allowing someone to think they know better than him, only to turn the table. More importantly…”

She looked over to Nico with a grin. “Unless he physically gets slopped with some unmaking juice, he’s definitely immune to a mental attack like that. Same with Asriel. So they should be in charge of waking any of the rest of us up, should it come to that.” Chara noted with a smirk.

That did shock Orion. “...Why?!”

Chara looked over to Nico. “What’s your foremost goal in life, Nico?”

“Well, my four most goals are like…. Uhhh…” Nico thought about it. “Well, I guess living through today would be pretty cool? And then…. Huh. Maybe running a kickass band? That’s too many goals, dude.”

Orion looked a mixture of amused and irritated at the same time, as his brain processed. “...I understand now.” the veteran warrior replied with a grunt, looking as though he’d lost the will to discuss the matter further.

752 words

 

[Roy Mustang]

“Beginning the final approach now. Standby for entry everyone. Let’s see how well they can handle what they dish out!”

The lieutenant colonel’s voice crackled back into static and Hawkeye closed her eyes. This was it. They wouldn’t be able to hold ground very long with these few men. They had the Flame alchemist and the Fade-bane to hold the extraction point, but numbers would eventually prove their undoing all the same. This was a mission with a very real clock, there would be precious little margin for error. She glanced towards Hiro, then to Alters and Ricken. The four of them would have to be purposeful and quick. Find the data center. Find the Fade. Get out.

It was an easy mission on paper.

The dulled thud of an explosion sounded from up ahead, distinctly louder than the motors of the burrowers that had gotten them this far. Mustang’s crew was in, establishing the beachhead.

“Damn, they’re using holoshields! Watch your spray patterns!”

“Clear the left alcove!”

“Kill those sensors!”

The Comms channel broke into the scrambled chatter of a firefight as Mustang’s team was followed shortly after by Orion’s. It was as they’d feared, Saren had at least some inkling there would be a follow-up attack. Hopefully it was just healthy paranoia on the former SPECTRE’s part, and not a sign that they had an intelligence leak. The sounds of battle grew steadily louder as the third of the burrowers neared the entry point. At least they hadn’t been immediately rebuffed.

Hawkeye lifted one of her handguns, resisting the impulse to check it over at the last minute. They had prepared for this. Across from her, Hiro had clasped his helmet into place, the wide-eyed adrenaline of someone still relatively new to the battlefield clear on his face. He shouldn’t be anywhere near an assault like this, let alone one of the lynchpin members. She knew that he’d volunteered, and he’d been through rough scrapes in the past. There was no denying he had spirit, but Hiro wasn’t a soldier yet. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to become one today.

Overhead the light switched from white to red. They were breaking through in seconds. Hawkeye stood up from her seat, gripping one of the ceiling bars to steady herself as she took position by the doorway. Hiro moved to follow her lead. She caught his eye and nodded.

“Our turn.”

With a jolting thud their own vehicle broke through the inner wall of the compound in a spray of rock and metal shrapnel. The burrower’s doors slid open to reveal a dust-filled room, weapon’s fire and explosions of energy lighting the scene with myriad colors. Ashe-0’s massive war-droid form was crouched in front of them, her back to the fighting, four arms spread out to shield them while they disembarked to find cover. Hawkeye didn’t hesitate, ducking out of the burrower and lining up a shot at her first target. Two bullets thudded into the robed turian and he slumped over the machine gun he’d been setting up. The enemy was scrambling as well, that was encouraging at least.

“Greetings Lieutenant.” sounded Ashe-0’s usual monotone, though it almost felt like it held a hint of amused familiarity. Hawkeye glanced up at her with a nod. The war droid nodded back, holding steady as the odd spray of bullets played off of her armored plating. Her single cyclopean eyeball was spinning in her face as she spoke, slowly picking up speed.

“We are encountering heavier initial resistance than hoped, but not greater than we anticipated. I have been requested to ensure the security of your team’s egress.”

Hawkeye poked out from cover, winging a particularly screechy parademon in one of its compound eyes.

“I suppose the Lieutenant Colonel made too much noise coming in?” Hawkeye smiled faintly.

“Affirmative.”

Bullets were plunging off the back of Ashe-0 in more concentrated bursts now. Without the slightest tell, she whirled about, her optic beam carving a series of scorching blue holes in the enemy’s defensive positions along the precise trajectories she was being attacked. Hawkeye ducked behind a ruptured metal wall plate as retaliatory fire turned their direction. Hiro slid into position beside her, tense and alert. He was doing his best to keep his head down, but still kept his eyes on the action.

“Hey, uhh, just checking. That riff I’m hearing right now is actually real, right? Not just in my head?” he asked with a forced chuckle.

Hawkeye furrowed her brow with a nod, her focus on the battlefield. It was real alright. The self-styled infernal delinquent, Nico Cinder, was weaving through the chaotic maelstrom with a maniacal glee. The youth was thrashing away at his guitar with a sound that shouldn’t have been able to overpower the machines, screams and gunfire that dominated the air. Somehow, he was taking the chaotic sounds of the battle, and making them add to his music. The Markovian strike force seemed to swell alongside his music. Orion and Baymax were engines of destruction, diving into close quarters wherever the enemy was holding a ranged point. The shattering stars of Asriel’s magic and explosions of flame alchemy ripped through anywhere the unmaking forces had clustered into a defensive hardpoint. A tidal wave of revenge, as Nico’s impossibly audible vocals declared their assault.

Hawkeye couldn’t help but notice that the Lieutenant Colonel was timing his attacks to Nico’s music. It wasn’t overt, but unmistakable once you spotted it. On some level, he was enjoying all this.

‘It’s a real mess, huh.”

Hawkeye and Hiro glanced back as Chara stepped out from behind the stopped burrower. Her hands were still in her pockets, but her eyes were wide and red with an unnerving hue.

“One teleportative infiltration, as requested, Ms. Riza.” She smiled, though the grin did not reach her eyes, “Take my hand, each of you.”

And just like that the chorus of destruction was gone, As Hiro and Hawkeye stepped behind Chara, they found themselves emerging in a dimly lit corridor, the alarms that were sounding here seemed positively mild by comparison to the scene they’d just vacated.

“Good, you’ll need to collect PFC Alters and Sergeant Ricken” Hawkeye spoke, confirming the lack of nearby Unmade. She turned back to Chara, only to find the girl gone already. Hiro gave a similarly confused shrug, then they glanced further down the alleyway to find Chara standing alongside the two remaining members of their team. Chara let go of Alters and Ricken, returning her hands to her pockets.

“The place you want should be nearby.” She stated simply.

“How do you know?’ Hawkeye frowned. Chara simply shrugged, her eyes glowing in the shadowy side corridor.

“I have a pretty good sense for these things. Watch yourselves, you’ve got the most important mission.” With that, Chara turned and nonchalantly stalked deeper into the side-corridor.

Knowing the Dreemurr girl would disappear before answering any further questions, Hawkeye turned back to her team with a nod. She knew the floorplan of the base relatively well thanks to the information Karl Jak’s spy drones had gathered during the assault, and she already had a hunch on their location.

“Comms will be silent until we’re ready to extract. Watch for blind corners and keep on the alert for any mental intrusions. Let’s go.”

 

[Mickey Mouse]

To put it bluntly, Hiro Hamada was fucking terrified.

It had been a minute since he’d been on the front lines of battle like this, entrenched deeply in a highly dangerous mission. Probably since at least the Siege of Markov; the ARC had been rough around the edges, but mostly not wildly dangerous, and he’d sat in the Spaceboat Willie and offered as much tech support as he could during the Nausicaa Incident. But now he was here, fathoms deep in the facility of one of Darkseid’s generals, essentially a lynchpin that would determine if the mission was a success or not.

Well, he supposed there were two goals, one of which he was wholly not responsible for: killing Saren. The teams further up were capable enough of that, provided they weren’t overwhelmed by the unmaking forces that undoubtedly were going to meet them at every corner as they weaved through the facility to try to find the former SPECTRE. Saren wasn’t going to just topple easily — surely there’d be parademons and possessed soldiers alike lurking through every corridor of the facility, just waiting to make Zoid food out of anyone that dared try to infiltrate.

Mustang, of course, had thought of that, and brought along enough heavy hitters to make the mouse king Hiro now served shiver with fright. Between Ashe-0’s raw firepower, Baymax’s healing abilities, and Nico’s… weirdness, they would cut a savage path through the facility. That wasn’t even mentioning the powerhouses that Orion, Chara, and Mustang himself were.

But where they had a bunch of capable people to help marshal them towards success, down here in the depths of Saren’s compound, he knew that it was all going to come down to him.

Riza Hawkeye surged forward ahead of him, pistol held out in front of her. The boy genius crept along behind her, staying a safe distance back in case something decided to jump out and try and ambush them. The other two soldiers, Alters and Ricken, flanked him on either side, making sure to keep their eyes on the corridor behind the quartet as they moved slowly, methodically through the hallways. Hiro, too, found himself often glancing over his shoulder.

“Hawkeye,” he whispered as quietly as he could, trying to get the Lieutenant’s attention. Still too loud, he supposed, as just as quickly as he’d drawn breath to continue, Hawkeye’s hand smacked over his mouth.

“What?” she muttered with urgency, keeping the pistol trained ahead but looking back at the boy. She removed her hand slowly. “Keep it down.”

Hiro blinked for a second, sucking a deep breath in and letting it out as a measured sigh. He remembered when he had to look up to meet Lieutenant Hawkeye’s gaze, but now, after his growth spurt, they were of a height. She might still have an inch or two on him, but for the most part, they stood evenly.

“Out with it,” she pushed.

“I just — you know where we’re going, right?”

Riza grunted, turning and taking a few paces down the hallway. “Yes,” she nodded, glancing forward and then looking back behind them. “Yes, I… I have some idea.”

Hiro quirked an eyebrow.

“They all look the same,” Hawkeye blustered, lowering her pistol for just a moment. “The footage Karl Jak sent us was good, but… all of these corridors, they all look so similar. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to be sure.”

“Right,” Hiro nodded, taking a few steps toward Riza.

Chara had said something, before she’d left — ‘the place you want should be nearby.’ How could she have known, though? They’d been traversing the corridors for a solid twenty minutes now with no sign of anything. No unmade, no security camera, hell — not even a doorway. It’d just been one long, seemingly endless maze of dimly-lit hallways.

“So are we stopping for a break?” Alters asked, a bit of snideness dripping from his words. Hawkeye shot him a glare, and he threw his hands up, walking over towards the wall and leaning against it.

Hiro’s whole world stopped as Alters leaned back.

The sound of the man’s shoulders colliding with the metal resonated for much too long. The boy genius spun around, rushing over to where the soldier had decided to lounge and shoving him out of the way. Alters tried to protest with a few choice foul words, but Hiro ignored him, and quickly set his knuckles rapping against the metallic wall.

Hawkeye’s face brightened. “It’s hollow.”

“You bet your ass it is,” Hiro smirked.

Hawkeye bolted towards the wall nearest her, knocking on it — no such noise. So it was just the one metallic wall panel, then? Well, that had to be a door, right?

“Feel around,” Hawkeye ordered hurriedly, “there’s got to be some sort of — ”

But just as soon as Hiro had pressed one of his hands to the wall to try and find out how to open it, a laser blast soared into view. The pain came quick as the blaster bolt collided with his hand; it felt like fire rushing through his fingertips, bones cracking from the impact of the energy blast. He yelped, stumbling back away from the wall and holding his injured hand, as the three soldiers leapt into action, weapons immediately training towards where the bolt had come from.

Five Turian soldiers, dressed in unmaking robes and dripping in corruptive fluids, stalked out of the shadows. Three carried rifles and leveled them at the soldiers, and two dragged vibroblades along the ground. They leapt at the squad quickly, blaster bolts starting to fly and swords swinging towards their faces.

Hiro fell to the floor, scrambling behind Hawkeye’s legs as she stepped forward to defend him. He felt his whole world start to crumble as fear set in and the pain in his hand shot up his wrist.

Everything started to move in slow motion.

A burning sensation engulfed his entire hand.

And just like that, the quick-and-easy infiltration became that much more frightening.

WC: 1002

 

[Chara Dreemurr]

Another routine hop, skip and a jump. Chara felt a certain level of energy rise back up into her body as she accomplished her starting tasks effortlessly. Saren hadn’t been prepared for their assault, apparently - or at least, he had prepared insufficiently. It seems the unmaking had caused the commando’s mind to suffer, given the relatively light resistance they’d faced so far.

Or, perhaps she should give some credit to the entry team. It was difficult to bring oneself to ignore the sheer level of literal firepower Roy Mustang brought to the battlefield, not to mention Ashe-o’s sheer size and force. And there was Asriel…

Chara felt a pang of anxiety she chose to force down at that, as she stepped through the line of code, the scripts falling away as she smoothly edited her position…

And ended up in an unfamiliar, white room.

Chara Dreemurr grimaced, pulling out her knife instinctively as she looked from side to side.

Saren was not there, nor was anything else.

And then Saren was there, and so was so much else.

The rays of the sun, freshly cut grass beneath her feet, the smell of fresh rainfall amid fragrant flowers, the faint taste of peppermint dancing around her tongue, and the sounds of birds sweetly chirping.

It should have alarmed Chara, but Chara couldn’t find it in herself to feel very alarmed right now.

“It took a little longer than expected to get a lock on you, Miss Dreemurr, but it appears your talents are still vulnerable to the right type of unmade magics.” Saren’s baritones spoke up, as he appeared, leaving his cloak, right next to Chara.

“So, you are Saren. And this is some sort of spell.” she replied with a calm tone. “I heard you worked with my father, once. Is that how you know me? Or was it Nausicaa. I cannot help but feel like you did your research, either way.” The youth admitted, feeling a rifle come out.

In a different position, Chara would have already summoned an avalanche of blades, teleported away, or tried her hand at burning him to a crisp.

But somehow, she found she couldn’t find a single hateful thought in her brain at the moment. No anger or rage, no hate or violence.

She just felt relaxed. Like she finally had an opportunity for that nap she’d been dreaming of since the day’s beginning.

“A calming spell. It was originally meant to calm down mages who’d grown out of control - help them to handle their emotions. Or so I’m told.” Saren replied from behind Chara, before stepping in front of her and calmly taking the knife from her hands without a shred of fear.

Chara made no move to stop him.

“An easy way to handle your simplistic powers. Though I’ve known of you for far longer than you’ve known of me, Doctor Dreemurr.” Saren replied. “It was a fortunate mistake that you encrypted your own files behind your fathers.”

Chara looked up with as much surprise as she could muster. “Oh.”

The enormity of her mistake, and the effect it may have had on the man in front of her, was being calmly filtered through, denying her any of the strength it might have given her for her own capabilities.

“Clearly, you have more faith in it than I do. I was a kid working alongside a senile old geezer and an out-of-shape comedian. And someone who messed up so bad I’m not certain they actually existed to begin with.”

“And your findings were double and triple-checked. Quite accurately. It certainly helped me to see the truth of Darkseid’s unmaking - one you deny.”

Chara blinked, once or twice. “We do not know this. I was picked for my position precisely because I may be able to influence this.”

Saren shook his head, giving a sad smile to the statement. “That is also in certain notes. But you were told this as a child. As an adult, you should know by now what your actual chances are. Your performance at Nausicaa was impressive… but it showed your limits. As well as your vulnerability. You know I am correct.”

Chara was speechless for a moment, as the pieces started fitting into place. Her research, the end of timelines, the work that brought Saren to ruin…

And the chilling understanding that one of Cevanti’s greatest minds had partly been brought to the conclusion of unmaking, not because he saw the flaws, but because he saw her as right.

“My father and mother spoke highly of you. They spoke of your rude manners at times, but they also spoke of how compassionate you were underneath. How goal-driven. And how Capable and intelligent you were. You are not doing this for power.” Chara notes, looking Saren in the eyes.

Saren gave a smile back. “They spoke similarly of you. And I found this to be true, reading your files. Even your reluctant heroism, shortly before the siege of Markov. Which means you likely see what I see. Darkseid will unmake everything, that much is set in stone - but by hastening his victory and focusing on converting, rather than murdering people, we can at least reduce the casualty number. Is that not preferable to needless death?”

“Some would disagree.” Chara would neutrally reply, her eyes shifting.

“That way lies the destruction of entire worlds, civilizations, cultures. Gone, destroyed. If redemption is to come, it cannot come at this time, or from this Solar system.” Saren snapped.

“You have already lost family. Neither of your parents should have fallen the way they did. They had talent, virtue, and life to bring into this new order. Their loss could have been avoided… as could yours, and your brothers!” Saren insisted. “Darkseid has been interested in you since you first showed your face. You could shorten the course of this war, save thousands of lives. You could save Asriel Dreemurr! The only options left for you are Unmaking, or Death. These are hard facts. You know this!”


Chara flinched, a shiver going through her spine despite the calming effect. “...Darkseid picked a talented speaker.” the mage chided with a sad smile appearing on her face.

It would be selfish, unreasonable, and ridiculous, but she knew the choice she could make now, and that younger part of her, that part that had already seen Asriel die enough, that had seen the worst of what she was trying to save, urged her to take the deal. She wanted to listen to it quite badly.

But other memories persisted. Memories of Asriel’s pride in being a sentry in Snowdin, of being able to protect others. Of her parents, both sacrificing themselves to save Markov from an awful fate. Of the countless who fell at Nausicaa and the countless who hadn’t thanks to the work of people like Isra and Meng. Of Rogue, and what example her decisions might pose.

Chara was given a chance to fight against the inevitable, or to bow her head to what time had decided… but it was never just about her.

She thought of Roy Mustang, the lives he had attempted to save during the siege. Who her parents had trusted enough to fight alongside to the bitter end. Of Asriel, fighting out there alone, proving the worth he had shown to her from the first day she’d known him to the entire world! Of the men who had died at Nausicaa and the men who had died on Dante’s comet just for the sake of finding a new solution to the unmade threat.

“You’re right, Saren. It’s unreasonable to think that Darkseid’s role in these affairs is any less than set in stone. I am a ghost of a chance, one that is unreliable at best. Even considering my recent commitment to these affairs.” Chara replied, as a smile found her lips, and now…

Well, now she knew how the monsters felt, facing down the fallen human all those years ago. How liberating it felt, in some ways, to stare the inevitability of death in the face, alone and without reason to hope…

And to defy it anyways.

“But the decision is not mine to make. Nor is it yours. It is the Crossroads’ choice, and they have made their decision quite clear.” Chara replied, taking a deep breath as she focused. “And I am not going to deny them that.”

“A regrettable decision, but one I can simply overturn with force.” Saren replied, and to his credit… Chara could feel genuine sympathy flowing from him.

Chara gave a smile. “If you hadn’t missed a detail.” Chara replied, as the relatively tranquil room heated up. This was going to drain the heck out of her stamina, but it at least gave her the advantage of surprise as flames wicked at the side of the room, and orbs of fire arced from around the mage.


“Your powers…!” Saren growled, before leaping backwards, as the circular room they were in began to burn, fire engulfing the door just as a pair of Turians tried to enter, and Chara stood from her kneeling position.

“Mynormal powers radiate from negative emotions… but this is fire magic. It radiates from strong emotion. It is the Dreemurr Families legacy.” Chara explained. quickly throwing herself behind a nearby console to avoid a hail of gunfire, she continued, as her eyes shone red.

A smile crossed her face.

“I was given the burden of carrying everyone’s hopes, everyone’s dreams on my back long ago. I was never given charge of their lives.” Chara replied, fire covering the room as the calming spell finally broke with a snap. whether it was via disrupting the area or some hidden mage now avoiding smoke inhalation, Chara was unsure, but a broad smile crossed her face all the same, as she snapped her fingers, and blades so familiar to her hovered above the judge’s head, ready to lock on target.

“And I trust them with mine.”

Chara’s statement was punctuated by an explosive retort, as the shot from a rocket launcher broke a hole into the chamber from above, and a flash of Ki streaked into the darkness, sending one of the turian guards flying before he knew what happened.

“...Which is much easier when they’re so punctual, I must admit.” Chara replied with a cocky air, before looking up to Orion with an apologetic expression. “Sorry for getting caught, commander. Good signal?”

Orion just grunted, glaring daggers at Saren as the Turian jumped backwards, pulling out something large, bulky, and dangerous. Ki flowed off his body in waves, as anger seemed to seep from his body.

Chara would give a grin, though her face cracked slightly. “...It was a pleasure speaking with you.”

And then a violent smile crossed her face, and Chara unleashed a fusillade of blades to pin the Spectre commando between certain death, and the might of a Full-blooded Saiyan warrior.

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