Tread upon Bones [Quest]

Roy Mustang

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“…and I’m afraid that’s everything we’ve turned up, Sir.” Lieutenant Hawkeye finished, tucking the report back under her arm, “Frankly sir, we’re turning up dead ends on most fronts. Master Sergeant Fuery is doing his best to reverse engineer that piece of metal, but he told me not to expect anything soon. We still don’t really understand what that thing was, let alone how to adapt it for ourselves.”

“So you’re saying we’re out of leads?” Lieutenant Colonel Mustang grimaced as the pair strode through the hallways of Markovian central command. “What about the Unmaking creatures we fought before the Syntech Abyss? One of them had been trapped under the…”

Lieutenant Hawkeye shook her head with a faint frown.

“Dead, Sir.” She spoke simply but firmly, “From what we could determine it seemed to have survived the building’s initial collapse. The current suspicion is that it took its own life to evade capture. There was precious little remaining that we could even study, not that it matters, sir. The site is now under extreme censure, seems only a few generals, along with some of Palalxia’s agents, have access to any details of the investigation going on there anymore.”

“I see. Any chance Brigadier General Carillus was on that list?” Mustang glanced towards her with a raised eyebrow.

“Not that I could see, Colonel. Why do you ask?”

“Too bad.” Mustang shrugged, “The Brigadier General wants to speak with me, most likely to give me his thoughts on my most recent outing to the Comet. If he’d had access it would have been something to get out of the conversation aside from a critique.”

Lieutenant Hawkeye did not respond to that statement, and the two walked in silence until they reached the door to the Brigadier general’s office.

“Wait here, Lieutenant. I expect this won’t be long.”

“Of course.”

Lieutenant Hawkeye took up a position against the wall nearby, documents in hand. Mustang took a breath to compose himself than knocked and entered the office. Brigadier General Carillus rotated his chair around from the window as Mustang made his way into the office space.

“You said it was urgent sir?” Lieutenant Colonel Mustang stood at attention, saluting crisply.

“Lieutenant, Colonel! Punctual as ever I see.” The Turian waved Mustang to parade rest, then clasped his hands together in front of him.

“And how did you enjoy your little stint as Commander on the Comet?”

Mustang grimaced slightly.

“Permission to speak frankly, Sir?”

“Of course, Lieutenant Colonel. I’ve no vested interest in Syntech’s goodwill.” The Turian leaned back, smiling faintly.

“I think that the game was in poorer taste this year than last, Sir. The Unmaking is not something to be used for publicity and ratings. It is a threat to the very foundations of our homes.”

The Brigadier General nodded his head slightly.

“I suppose not.” He responded simply, “But there were quite a few choices made on that comet worth questioning. Tell me, Lieutenant Colonel, Why abandon your position so casually?”

Mustang’s brow furrowed. He could already tell this was going to be one of those situations that seemed to linger in people’s minds. He would need to find a way to turn it to his advantage.

“Sir? I felt it both a sound tactical position, as well as the best way to preserve the lives of my men.” He kept his voice level and calm as he explained. He ignored the memory of the betrayed looks that Mirage and Wraith had worn as he had explained the situation to them in that tent by the pyramid.

“With Caer Thannith fallen to the Unmaking’s treachery, my men’s morale was unlikely to hold without consistent success. Combating Gilgamesh’s betrayal would have left us unable to effectively move against the Unmaking, even in victory. Instead, I was able to maintain a position that lead to the successful defeat of our opponents and preserve the lives of as many of my men as I could.“

A logical and sound explanation, but Mustang could tell from the Turian’s expression that it didn’t carry weight like the initial action presented.

“It just looks bad to see one of our own officers surrendering control to a loud-mouthed foreigner, Mustang!” Brigadier General Carillus sighed. It was difficult to tell whether the tone was sympathetic or simply underwhelmed.

“Regardless, you did manage to turn up some interesting information from your prisoner there. Quite a beast! And truthfully, I received this before the games had begun, so your performance on the comet didn’t even play into the decision.”

The Turian dug in his desk for a moment, then produced a very well-kept envelope.

“This was what I called you here for, Lieutenant Colonel.” He placed it on the desk, then slid it across towards Mustang with a faint frown of irritation. Mustang picked it up with a curious gaze, then froze, eyes wide. On the envelope, the seal….

“This… is…”

“Correct.” Carillus gruffed, “Seems like your little stunt during the siege went over well enough. Maybe you can keep the scandal on the comet nice and hidden between your achievements. Arbiter only knows why you are getting sealed orders like that.”

Mustang broke the royal seal of Palatinus, unfolding the letter. His eyes quickly darted through it’s contents, then read through a second time more carefully. The Turian grunted, walking over to pour himself a drink from the bottle on his shelf.

“Anything good, Mustang?” He asked after taking a sip, “All of us here in Markov could use some of that these days.”

“We’ll have to see for ourselves, Sir.” Mustang glanced up with a faint smirk. “But it seems our meeting isn’t finished just yet. I have some requests to make before I go.”

---​

Mustang’s squad stood at attention in front of his desk. Mustang stood as well, his back to the window and his arms clasped comfortably behind him.

“At ease.” He barked, and the five of them fell into parade rest with a chorus of assents.

“All of you need to clear your calendars for the next few weeks.” Mustang met each of their gazes as he spoke, “We’ve got an expedition on our hands, and we’ll be travelling outside of the city limits for a decent time from the look of things.”

“Uhm, Sir?” The question came from Second Lieutenant Havoc, cigarette gripped in his teeth as he sheepishly smiled, “I’ve got a big date this weekend, Sir! Three month’s to the day!”

“Cancel it.” Mustang responded flatly. “We leave at dawn tomorrow, and we won’t be back until the end of the month.”

Second Lieutenant Havoc froze in dejected shock, Second Lieutenant Breda offering a sympathetic pat on the shoulder for his loss.

“We have direct orders from King Dulamare himself.” Mustang stated with an eager gleam to his eye. “This is the kind of opportunity that we can afford to waste! That is all.”

A round of salutes, then Mustang’s officers trailed out to begin the preparations for their departure. Lieutenant Hawkeye remained behind. Mustang allowed himself a self-congratulatory smirk.

“A pleasant surprise, wouldn’t you say Lieutenant?”

“Perhaps, Sir. We’ll need to handle this situation with extra care.”

“Of course! But a mission like this?” Mustang turned to face the window, staring out towards the sweeping towers of the nearby Palace.

“This is exactly how I’ll make my way to the top of this place.”
 

Roy Mustang

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Fog clung to the early morning air as Mustang stepped out of the shuttle bus and made his way towards their departing hanger. Despite the hour the preparations were still being finished, and Palatinus uniforms buzzed about the place with the urgency of imminent departure. Even as the world ate itself about their ears, the people of Markov remained resolute. Many had been shaken by the Unmaking, some had fled, it was true, but many more had held firm. Cevanti was not a forgiving planet, Markov was not a glittering gem of prosperity. But i’s people took the hand they had been given and carved out their life with iron fillings. They had not bowed to The End. They had not bowed to the Zoid raids, and they would not bow to this.

Warrant Officer Falman glanced up from a desk full of notes, standing and saluting as he approached. Mustang acknowledged him with a nod, then began to briefly examine some of the reports himself.

“We’re supposed to be leaving in under an hour Falman, what’s the holdup?” He asked with a faint frown.

“We’re largely ready, sir!” Falman replied quickly, “Though now that you’re here, Second Lieutenant Havoc could most likely use your support. The Pilot’s Union is both refusing to provide us an escort for the expedition and are refusing to give us access to the fuel supply that we requisitioned.”

“Right.” Mustang sighed, “Of course they’re not listening. I’ll handle it.”

“Sir.”

Mustang glanced through a few more reports, nodding to himself. They would be able to leave once this was handled. He nodded once to Falman, then made his way across the hanger towards the group in Pilot Union colors. Lieutenant Havoc was there, cigarette in one hand as he tried to argue with a trio of what Mustang could only describe as hot-headed pilots. These kinds didn’t respect authority, and they wouldn’t make any headway had they been part of the proper military structure. The Younger Dulamare seemed to like this kind of behavior, almost seeking out the unruliest and most loose cannon pilots he could get his hands on. Mustang grimaced, and stepped into the midst of the group, placing a hand on Havoc’s shoulder to quell him.

“We don’t have much time left if we’re going to meet our schedule. You had better have a good explanation for this lack of cooperation.” He frowned at the Pilot’s Union technicians with a furrowed brow.

“Because it’s not our job.” The apparent leader of the three responded with a casual shrug, “We don’t start our shift til 0800.”

“Then who is it we should be speaking to about the escort and supply?” Mustang asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“Dunno Boss!” The pilot only shrugged, “There’s probably somebody around on-duty.”

Mustang glanced at Havoc In confusion. The Second lieutenant gave him a unimpressed look and nodded his head away from the group. Mustang nodded, and they stepped away a short distance.

“What’s going on here?” Mustang scowled, “We have the authority to make this request, and for a mech escort. What is Pilot’s Union trying to pull?”

“Best guess Sir? They’re just don’t like that this mission is happening.” Havoc scratched at the back of his head, “They’re used to having pretty much exclusive control of extra-barrier operations, so the idea that we’ll be out in the wilds probably has them on edge. I checked with Falman the first time they spit that excuse at me. There’s a gap in the personnel manning this facility for the four-hour window right up until it’s time for our expedition to leave. They’re trying to tie us up with red tape as best they can.”

Mustang grimaced. “This isn’t the time to be getting bogged down in political posturing. I’ve had enough of indulging spoiled children who refuse to behave.”

He strode back over to the three Pilot’s union members. Despite their apparent lack of responsibility for the hanger, now that he was watching more closely it was clear that they were monitoring the process of the departure.

“Do you need something else, sir?” The lead pilot asked as Mustang returned.

“No, it seems there isn’t anyone on hand from the Pilot’s Union to accommodate our mission.”

“That’s a real shame.” One of the other pilots bobbed his head in a way that could be seen as sympathetic, but Mustang could tell was more likely simply smug.

“It’s unfortunate indeed. As such we’ll have to perform the fueling operations ourselves.”

The pilots shifted uncomfortably. Mustang smirked faintly.

“What do you mean?” the lead pilot asked, “You lot don’t know how to…”

“That’s true enough.” Mustang interjected, “My men haven’t done this since basic training. These fuel depots are mostly used by you Pilot Union types, they aren’t as important to us. We don’t really need long range vehicles very often.”

He narrowed his eyes, fixing his gaze directly on the lead pilot. “From what I can recall these fuel systems are pretty involved. Hopefully they can remember all the steps without causing anything to go wrong.”

There was a moment’s silence, then the lead pilot pushed off from the crate he had been leaning against with a scowl.

“Maybe we can give’em a hand, anyway. Wouldn’t want anything getting broken.” He grumbled.

“My thoughts exactly.” Mustang nodded with a pleased expression, “Do pass your commanding officer my compliments for his cooperation.”
 

Roy Mustang

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“It’s over, Jean!”

Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc reeled back from the payphone as though his apparently now ex-girlfriend’s voice had reached through and physically slapped him. The tell-tale tone of a disconnected line greeted him once he put the receiver back to his ear, and he hung up the phone in dejection.

Again?

The Second Lieutenant slumped his way back towards the hanger, digging in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes. With a frown he noted that he had only a few remaining, definitely not enough to last the entirety of the mission. They were leaving Markov in minutes, he didn’t have time to find a fresh pack, did he?

Havoc rubbed at his face in irritation, nearly running into the pair of people before he noticed them. He stepped back with a quick transition to a salute as he noticed one of the pair of women was Lieutenant Hawkeye. The other woman was pale, both in hair and skin, with sharp red eyes that caught Havoc’s. She was dressed in a way that he would describe as elegant, somewhere between a gown and a uniform, but distinctly not military attire. It was only at this point that Havoc realized that he had yet to say anything. He started to fumble out an apology, but Lieutenant Hawkeye merely talked over him.

“Second Lieutenant Havoc, I would like to introduce ReiLoom.” She spoke with a faint tone to her words that Second Lieutenant Havoc noticed but could not directly place, “She’s going to be accompanying our expedition.”

Havoc raised a skeptical eyebrow to the newcomer, then noticed the purple emblem that adorned her dress-like uniform.

“Morning, Second Lieutenant.” ReiLoom nodded with precise decorum, “I shall be accompanying the Lieutenant Colonel’s expedition as an unofficial representative of the Guild’s interest in this matter.” She made a very polite half-bow, then smiled at him.

“I’m not sure how pleased the Lieutenant Colonel’s going to be to hear that… This is a pretty delicate operation, and we have very limited spacing on our transport…” Havoc scratched the back of his head a bit sheepishly, glancing towards Hawkeye for confirmation. She was also keeping a very professional face about this…

“Oh I don’t think that’s true at all, Second Lieutenant,” ReiLoom gave an almost self-satisfied smile, “Roy requested my presence on this mission personally!”

Havoc paused midway through opening his mouth to respond.

“We are departing very soon. It’d be best to get aboard” Lieutenant Hawkeye spoke up. The pair of them walked away, leaving Havoc to stew for a moment. The Lieutenant Colonel had made him drop everything for this mission, then had brought along an outsider on the operation! With a grumble he fished for a cigarette. He squinted at the package. He had still had three left! He glanced up from the two remaining in the package to see ReiLoom holding the cigarette casually behind her back as she walked besides Lieutenant Hawkeye. She certainly hadn’t been holding one a moment ago, right?

Havoc grimaced and followed them towards the group forming around Lieutenant Colonel Mustang. They had been handpicked from among the squads assigned to Mustang after the siege, but it was clear from their demeanor and nervous shuffling that the idea of an extended stay in the wilds of Cevanti wasn’t sitting well with them now that the moment was upon them.

“…we don’t know the nature of the signal, so we will need to make sure we are prepared for all of the tricks the wild sectors will throw our way. We won’t be getting a Pilot’s union escort so even…”

“Actually sir!” spoke up one of the men Havoc didn’t recognize. Too many new faces since the Siege. He was wearing a uniform like the rest of them, though his hat made Havoc think of a pilot for some reason. The man saluted Mustang.

“Private Collins, sir. I was contacted by a member of the Pilot’s union. Lieutenant Carver’s unit will be escorting us to prevent against a zoid ambush. He’s not permitted to come along on the full expedition, but his unit will be monitoring our progress until we reach the outskirts of Markov’s external districts.”

Mustang frowned.

“That’s a late time for a change of plans, Private. Why wasn’t I informed sooner?”

“No idea, Sir.” Collins replied with a very unconcerned tone, “Would you like me to ask?”

“mmh, it’s fine.” Mustang grunted, “An escort will be appreciated, even if it’s only part way to our destination.”

“Frankly, the fact you got the fly boys to cooperate at all is something, Roy.” ReiLoom commented with a smirk.

“What about the satellite reports of an Akata population in the area, sir?” Hawkeye frowned, “We have little knowledge of their tactics and lifecycle. The Guild is the only group to have performed any consequential studies on the species, and they have not shared their intelligence with us as of yet.” Her gaze turned to ReiLoom for a brief instant, but the woman was staring at their vehicle and did not acknowledge the comment.

“Well.” Mustang responded, crossing his arms, “You’re right, Lieutenant. We don’t know very much about the Akata at all. But I’ll tell you one thing. They’re able to burn!” He broke into a grin and a brief bout of boastful laughing at his own joke. Havoc and Hawkeye exchanged nonplussed expressions at the boast, though it was clear that it was encouraging to the remainder of the soldiers who would be accompanying them on the mission.

The whirring of an electronic bell signaled the arrival of their departure hour. Mustang glanced up at the overhead speakers then back down to his men with a stern expression. His prior joviality gone as quickly as it had appeared.

“That's the signal. Private Collins, start the engines. Take your positions, men! Time to show this planet we aren’t going anywhere!”
 

Roy Mustang

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The M35 Mako unit was a vehicle that had been seen significant use already. That much was immediately evident as the exploration transport trundled through the Markovian districts outside of the barrier. The siege of Markov had thrown more than just the military into disarray, and Cytokine had been willing to part with this unit for a significant discount due to damage it had sustained during the assault. It bothered Mustang that a crisis which was destroying the planet itself didn’t seem to be enough to loosen the military’s budget restrictions, but he wasn’t going to push the issue. The fact that they were still receiving any sort of cooperation from Cytokine Industries was not something he felt inclined to disturb.

He stepped to the front of the cockpit, alongside the pilot, Private Collins. The Mako jostled slightly, and Mustang placed one hand against the monitor bay above the windshield to brace himself. They were traversing the part of the outskirts that had been the front lines during the Siege and while the Mako was designed well for the traversal of such a ruined cityscape, it did not lend itself to a smooth ride.

Up ahead, the Armored Core suit hovered a few feet above the destruction of the crew. Lieutenant Carver had met them outside the energy barrier and was now providing escort until the ruins gave way to the jungle foliage. The Pilot’s Union mobile suit would be much better at maneuvering in a combat situation amidst these ruins than the Mako could. He hadn’t expected to get any assistance from them given how obstinate they had seemed during the preparations…. Why didn’t that sit right?

“Private Collins.” Mustang glanced down at the young soldier driving the Mako.

“Yes sir?”

“You said the pilot himself reached out to you? The Pilot’s Union seem not to be a fan of our forces muscling into their traditional turf.”

Private Collins shrugged faintly, then reached down to flick a switch on the dashboard. “I’ll bring up communications, Sir. That way he can tell you himself.”

Mustang reached down to the handheld microphone, unhooking it from its holder.

“Lieutenant Carver, Reporting.” Came the static-laced voice from the speakers. He certainly sounded like a career soldier, for whatever that was worth.

“This is Lieutenant Colonel Mustang. I wanted to extend my appreciation for your assistance with the mission.”

“Of course, Sir. Not a problem.” Came the casual reply.

“What changed the Pilot Union’s mind, if I might ask?”

“Nothing sir, this is an informal escort. I actually owed Private Collins one from back during the aftermath of the Siege.”

Mustang glanced towards Private Collins, who nodded.

“Our unit had sustained some damage during the waning hours of the conflict. Private Collins was the one who contacted us for rescue.”

Mustang frowned slightly as they reached the edge of the crater. Ashe-0’s Detonation had left a sizable impact on the surface of the outer districts and several more subsurface structures nearby had collapsed from the shockwave. Even now they had only a few routes clear and stable enough to traverse the area. It was a monumental amount of destruction, and it had still not proved strong enough to stop the Doomsday Mech. As the Mako and the Armored Core circumvented the edge of the blast zone, Mustang refocused on the conversation. Lieutenant Carver was talking something about broken legs and calling for help? That was why he owed Private Collins was it?

“I see. Well, we appreciate the help either way, Lieutenant. The fight against Darkseid affects everyone in Markov. The only way the Unmaking will be defeated is if we can set aside our infighting and work in unison.”

“Very good, Sir.” Lieutenant Carver responded with the same casual air he had held for the entirety of the conversation. Sometimes Mustang couldn’t stand the Pilot’s Union. He nodded to Private Collins and replaced the speaker, then walked back to his seat with the others.

“We’re approaching the edge of the outer city. We’ll be in the jungle itself after that.”

Lieutenant Hawkeye nodded, looking up from a map. “If we maintain the current pace, it should reach the vicinity of the signal in two days, Sir.”

ReiLoom laughed, casually lounging in the corner of the vehicle. “Keep the same pace? In the jungle? You lot really don’t have much experience outside of the barrier do you!”

Hawkeye frowned slightly but said nothing as the Guild advisor continued.

“The Jungles of Cevanti hold dominion on this planet, however much we might wish otherwise. King Dulamare may be the one who rules this planet now, but it is the jungle who won The End.”

Mustang and Hawkeye shared a brief look, then Mustang shrugged. “Is there anything we need to know about the plants themselves? Before we get ourselves into trouble?”

“Don’t know.” ReiLoom shrugged, “The jungles of Cevanti have never exactly been friendly to explorers, but I know the Unmaking’s much worse outside the barrier than inside it. I would bet that the jungles out there will have plenty of plants looking for a piece of us.”

“Well, if they’re already going to take issue with our passing…” Mustang smirked, “Then I don’t see any reason to hold back either.”

“We’ve reached the edge of the patrol zone, sir!” Private Collins called back from the front of the Mako, “Lieutenant Carver wishes us the best from here.”

The Armored Core unit was already ascending into the air to return to base. The Mako unit idled at the edge of the undergrowth. Settled on the line between gray destruction and green vegetation. Mustang reached up, pulling down the ladder to the top access hatch of the Mako. He stepped up, opening the hatch and standing on the ladder. He perched there, balanced halfway outside the top of the vehicle.

It was quiet out here. The ever-present hum of the Markovian energy barrier did not reach out this far, and the oppressive stillness of the Cevanti jungle stretched out before them. Somewhere inside was their quarry. Mustang reached up a hand, ignition glove in place.

*Snap*

The Jungle burst alight into flames scorching a line in front of the Mako unit. The trees and plants blackened and burned to brittle ashes. The Mako would be able to push those aside with ease.

“Don't slow the pace Private Collins,” Mustang ordered, “We have a schedule to keep to.”
 

Roy Mustang

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Jean Havoc had come to the conclusion that he had always liked Markov, really. Sure the place was overcrowded in its populated areas, and falling apart in the abandoned ones. Yes, the place was a mess to keep from killing each other, but there was something just far more… Natural about Markov than out here in the Wildlands. Markov was full of lights and life, the buzzing hum of society at work. Out here there was just an eerie quiet. The wind blowing through forest leaves. The end had devastated much of Cevanti’s ecosystem as well. There were a few organic species that had survived until now, but many of them had been stowaways from other planets to begin with, and none were a regular sight besides a wild zoid of some kind.

Havoc stood at the edge of the camp, staring out at the nearly silent jungle as the evening lights dimmed into twilight. He had only two cigarettes left in this pack, he really should have thought to buy more before agreeing to such a long-term mission. They didn’t belong out here. This was the territory of the Zoids and the Pilot’s Union. Not for Markovian natives who hadn’t left the sight of the Barrier for more than a few hours.

He shook his head lightly, tapping some ashes off onto a nearby bush, then sauntered his way back to the group that had gathered around their campfire. Camping with the Flame alchemist did have some advantages. It had been raining all of the previous night and the only wood they had gathered was thoroughly soaked. Even an experienced woodsman would have struggled to get together enough dry kindling to set any of the larger logs alight, but the wood chunks in front of them blazed merrily with a steady warmth. Havoc frowned as he approached, noting a few key absences among the Cevanti uniforms circled nearby.


“Where’s the Lieutenant Colonel?” Havoc asked, taking a seat on one of the logs they had placed around the fire.

“He said he’s taking a private dinner with that lady from the Guild.” Private Bergins jerked a thumb towards the Mako they had parked at one edge of the clearing. Havoc ground his teeth. He makes me abandon my date for this mission then goes and brings his along?

“Lieutenant Hawkeye went up the hill.” Private Collins mentioned from his seat, “Said she wanted to get a view of the route for tomorrow.”

“Ha, more likely she just wants a break from all of your stinks!” Private first class Alters laughed into his flask.

“Well, it’s not like we need to pay too close attention to our path. We’re just making a straight line from Markov to the spot, right?” Bergins glanced towards the blackened gap in the treeline surrounding their campsite.

The Lieutenant Colonel had been burning a trail wherever the jungle’s ebb and flow impeded their forwards progress too heavily. The noise the Mako made and the light of their campfire was already enough of a beacon for the wild to note their passage, Mustang felt the trail would not significantly increase their exposure, and should their technology fail, as seemed prone of standard-issue tech in recent years, they would not be wandering aimlessly in the jungle.

Havoc propped his feet in front of him, towards the fire, taking a drag of the cigarette. He glanced around at the six men sharing a meal with nervous glances towards the surrounding wilderness. So they all left me to be the babysitter, is that it?

“What’s the biggest Zoid you’ve run into?” Private Collins asked, glancing around at the assembled soldiers, “We’ve got some stories between us, surely?” one of the more built soldiers snorted, Kennin, if Havoc remembered correctly.

“Sure, sure. My squad ran afoul of a real clanker during the Siege, looked like it was a dinosaur, three horns pokin’ out of its forehead like it did. Built like a tank, redder than blood. That thing could fire goddam lasers out of its horns!”

“What happened? How’d you manage to beat it?” asked one of the other newer looking soldiers, Private Maru.

“Didn’t really.” Kennin gruffed, “We ambushed it, easy as walking, but the Zoid tore through the electro-net before we could disable its legs. The thing trampled more than half the men in my squad. S'why I got transferred to Mustang's Platoon. Only reason I’m alive today is because of a talking racoon that happened to be flying overhead and took it out.” The man shook his head with a look somewhere between disbelief and disgust. “A damn racoon!” He repeated.

“Makes you wonder what we’re even good for anymore…” Bergins picked at this teeth, “What’re we gonna do against stuff like the Unmaking, really?”

“You’re going to do the important work.” Came the voice of Lieutenant Hawkeye from the edge of the firelight, causing more than one of the men to jump or straighten their posture. She approached the group, her rifle slung over one shoulder, a cup of something steaming in the other hand.

“You may notice a distinct absence of the heroes who so clearly stood at the forefront of the Siege’s defense. When the allure of glory fades, they leave to whatever else catches their eye. It’s not their job to protect our city, it’s ours.”

Havoc smirked slightly, glancing around at the admonished or encouraged faces around the campfire.

“See anything of interest on your walk, Sir?” He asked Lieutenant Hawkeye with a jovial ease.

“No.” She responded plainly, then sipped at her drink.

Havoc was saved from having to proceed that line of discussion by a shout of alarm from the Mako. Several heads glanced over and more than one hand strayed to its weapon as they regarded the metal vehicle. Hawkeye set her mug down on a nearby stone, then moved towards the door, rifle still slung over her shoulder. She pounded on the door a few times, and the Lieutenant Colonel stepped out of the vehicle, looking preoccupied with some thought.

“Lieutenant Colonel, if you could refrain from sounding like you are under attack while we’re out here? Tensions are already high enough.” She stated with the long-suffering tone of someone admonishing out of due diligence more than expected results. Mustang gave a slightly embarrassed chuckle, rubbing the back of his head.

“Right. Sorry about that. You should speak with ReiLoom for a moment yourself, Lieutenant. She’s quite something.”

Lieutenant Hawkeye blinked slowly. “Are you referring to right now, Sir?” She asked. Mustang only shrugged, already heading towards the fireplace.

“Now or later, I doubt she’s especially picky.” He waved a hand vaguely as he strode towards the rest of the men. Hawkeye watched him for a moment, then headed into the Mako unit herself.

“Come to join the common folk, Sir?” Havoc asked with a grin. Mustang gave him a faintly amused look then sat down by the fire.

“I couldn't stay away. There’s something about burning wood that’s just better than most things, don’t you think, Havoc?” The State alchemist was sitting on the ground, back resting against one of the logs, his hands held out in front of him, warming them by the fireplace.

“How do you mean?” Havoc furrowed his brow. The Lieutenant Colonel was not generally prone to waxing poetic, it could just as often be a trap as a genuine thought.

“It burns well. You set a log on fire, it will blaze steadily, providing light and heat, a pleasant smell, then it will blacken into charcoal when it’s energy is spent. No bones, no left over messes. A good, clean burn.”

Havoc played with his cigarette instead of responding. Ah, the Lieutenant Colonel was feeling pensive, that was another rare thing. It also seemed to have emptied the fire circle quite well. Soldiers were by their nature not entirely comfortable around senior officers, let alone war heroes talking in such nebulous language. Many of them had already retreated to their tents by the end of Mustang’s musing. Bergins and Kennin had followed Private Collins off to one side of the campsite most likely to smoke or to gamble.

Mustang glanced up from the fire, and perhaps for the first time realized that he was now one of the only two men still at the fireplace. He blinked, glancing towards Havoc with a look of mild surprise. Havoc only shrugged.

“Soldiers don’t want to think about their commanding officers being people, Sir. It’s no good when you have to question the source of your orders.”

Mustang nodded faintly, glancing back towards the fire his hands were extended towards with a faint smile.

“Right… we wouldn’t want that. Questioning orders? That’s dangerous ground, Havoc.”

Havoc held up the remaining stub of his cigarette with a faint frown, then flicked it into the fire.

“Exactly, Sir.”
 

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The Mako unit slowed to a crawl at the border of the jungle without Mustang having to even call for a halt. The sheer immensity of the sight in front of them would be enough to give anyone pause, A veritable mountain of desiccated metal lay before them, dripping with the debris of ancient conflict. Two great war engines, easily thirty stories tall even now, their hulls torn asunder where one of the behemoths had rammed the other in a desperate bid to even a losing battle. The forests had done what they could to reclaim the battlefield, but they could not reach the lofty peaks of these colossal monuments of destruction. Lichens and shrubs did their part to cover the remainder of the old war scars but even so the metal gleamed in the noonday sun.

“Well, there’s an eyeopener…” Second Lieutenant Havoc muttered, more to say something than anything else.

Mustang shook off his amazement, stepping towards the door of the Mako.

“There could be any number of threats from here, so we’ll travel on foot. The last thing we want is an errant mine to destroy our way out of this place. Get the scanners prepped, I’m going to take a look at this place.”

There was a chorus of “Sir!” and salutes as Mustang stepped out into the fresh air. This place was quite promising, there could be any number of leads here about the Fade, and even without it, the potential for recovering pre-End technology alone made this trip worthwhile. Mustang was almost getting excited at the prospects of exploring the place. He almost got down the stairs before the Mako unit was hailed by Central Command. Mustang froze mid-step, his eager grin curdling into a grimace of remembered responsibilities.

Private Collins leaned over the intercom from his driver’s seat. “There’s a… Lieutenant Colonel Hughes for you, sir?” he said glancing up. Mustang heaved a sigh.

“Boost him through to my personal comms unit. The rest of you get a move on with those scanners!”

Mustang stomped out of the Mako unit, holding the comms device to his ear as he moved towards the edges of the battlefield. Private Bergins and Corporal Kennin followed him while the rest of the squad began to unload their scanners under the watchful direction of Lieutenant Hawkeye.

“What do you want, Hughes?”

“Royyy!” Came the ever-cheerful voice of Maes Hughes from the device, “Man, They weren’t kidding that the jungle absolutely eats up our signals! I haven’t been able to get a hold of you since you left!” The voice laughed uproariously as Mustang listened with a furrowed brow.

“You know Roy, some people would’ve started to think you’d been avoiding calls.” The statement was made with the perfectly honed level of accusation to irk Mustang to no end.

“Hughes!” He snarled into the receiver, “I’ve just reached the battlefield, I don’t have time for-”

“Ooo! You actually made it? I hear tell there’s a wager going around for whether your little expedition ends up getting eaten by Zoids or Akata!”

“What?”

“It’s messy, Roy.” Hughes’s chipper tone took on a more serious note. “The Pilot’s Union isn’t too happy about a bunch of Markovian ground troops so far from the Barrier. The fact that you brought along a Guild member with your expedition isn’t helping either. I think everyone's secretly hoping this expedition ends up blowing up in your face.”

“Oh, they’re unhappy, are they?” Mustang sneered, “Then maybe the Pilot's Union will get out here and explore these targets themselves for a change! We should’ve been tracking the Fade since the Siege, Hughes. We’ve all but lost it, now.”

“All the same, Roy, be careful. The Pilot’s Union operates under a Dulamare, and it won’t do you any favors to go bad-mouthing them in public.”

Mustang’s boots crunched on the moss that was caking what seemed to be the wing of some kind of fighter ship. He nodded at the advice as he surveyed the surrounding terrain.

“Noted. Now what is this call about, Hughes?”

“Do you know what tomorrow is?” The exuberant voice practically leapt from the comms receiver. Mustang wilted, knowing from the tone of voice what was coming.

“It’s my daughter Elicia’s first time visiting the zoo with her papa!” Hughes began to gush, and Mustang leaned away from the speaker with a sour look, tuning out the man's ranting explanation of his planned activities. He glanced towards Hawkeye for a potential escape, but she was busy with the setup of the scanners closer to the Mako unit. It looked like Havoc, Collins and ReiLoom were still in the Mako, and three of the others were setting up the scanner with the Lieutenant.

…Why were Bergins and Kennin standing with him?

Mustang’s brow creased slightly, his eyes dancing towards the two soldiers discreetly. It made sense to keep the commanding officer safe, there was no reason to question that. This place was an unknown threat after all, and an extreme sight at that. Even if he didn't really need bodyguards, anyone would want to take a look at it.

...But Corporal Kennin was watching him right now. And closely at that.

Mustang could feel his pulse quickening. His instincts were expecting a fight, huh? These men had been assigned to his command after the Siege, why would he have any reason to doubt their motives? Besides, if they were planning to do something, why would they wait until this moment unless…

“...And then we’ll have to stop by the photographer, of course! To think that my little angel is almost a year and a quarter, Roy!” Hughes bubbly tirade broke through his thoughts for an instant, and Mustang glanced down at the comm link in his hand, eyes widening slowly.

The Unmaking’s will is irresistible. It is unstoppable.

He realized what was happening a second before Hughes’ cheerful voice was swallowed into static, and a deep, timeless voice replaced it.

“LONELINESS + ALIENATION + FEAR...”

The voice emanated from the device at a volume too loud for the tiny speakers to produce. It’s raw power of command clamping onto Mustang’s mind before he could act. He felt distant, as though minutes passed between each thought and his body’s response. One of his hands dove towards the ignition glove in his pocket with an agonizing slowness, the other other arm rearing back to hurl the blaspheming device away. He heard movement from behind him, and felt rough arms moving to intercept his motion. He couldn’t reach the glove in time.

“... + DESPAIR + SELF-WORTH ÷ MOCKERY…”

His arm was twisted into the small of his back. All other sounds were being drowned out by the thundering voice in his ears. He could barely move at all now, even his eyes lagged behind his thoughts, changing focus in slow-motion. He could see Lieutenant Hawkeye moving in his direction, face screwed tight with pained focus. She had one hand clapped to her ear as the other raised a pistol towards the soldiers restraining him. She wouldn’t be fast enough.

“ …÷ CONDEMNATION ÷ MISUNDERSTANDING × GUILT…”

It was coming from the Mako. Private Collins had to be using its antenna to collect the signal. He couldn’t hear the words that he shouted at Hawkeye, only the desperation he felt as his world seemed to shrink into pinpricks of sight.

She must have heard though, her eyes darting away from him towards the vehicle behind them. Once, twice, three times the pistol in her hand jerked backwards, though even the gunshots were powerless to cut through the sound that flooded Mustang’s being. The metal bar extending from the top of the Mako unit sparked with each impact, the third shot managing to directly hit the capacitor bank at the base of the unit.

It was a small explosion in the scheme of things.

***​

In the 42nd precinct office in Markov, Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes took a shaky, gasping breath. He gripped the edge of one of the command center’s consoles to pull himself back up, noting that a few others in the room were doing the same. He stared at the phone receiver hanging by its cord nearby, swaying ever so softly. It was now calmly sounding its dial tone like it hadn’t been thundering pure mathematical nihilism just seconds ago.

Hughes grit his teeth, eyes racing towards the long range scanners. Mustang’s vehicle wasn’t responding to their pings anymore. The signal had gone dead. Hughes forced himself into motion.

“Get me orbital surveillance on expedition 10-03, STAT!” He shouted, vaulting over an array of consoles to reach a nearby terminal, “Something god-awful almost just happened to us and it came from their location! We need to confirm their status, on the double!”
 

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Time raced back into place with reality like an opened floodgate.

Mustang’s legs sagged underneath him, vertigo assailing his senses in the deafening silence that rushed into the void where the baleful voice had been. He was being held from behind still. The traitors didn’t seem to be experiencing the same effects he was, but his shifting weight did pull the one holding him forward and off-balance. He managed to hook his foot around the man’s leg, bringing both of them to the ground in a tumbling heap.

Mustang lashed out with a vicious elbow, connecting with something solid. The second the grip on his arm was free, his hand dove towards the ignition cloth gloves in his pocket. A solid punch to the face disoriented him once again, but he managed to land a kick on one of his attackers who ended up tumbling away on the uneven terrain of their brawl. With a brief reprieve, Mustang managed to focus on his other assailant’s face.

*Snap!*

A scalding jet of fire burst in his opponent’s face, enough to sear his skin painfully, but nothing too lethal. They’d need these men alive for questions if they could manage it. The soldier reeled back, screaming as he clutched at scorched skin. Mustang ruled away, staggering up to one knee. The second soldier lunged in, but dropped to the ground as a gunshot wrenched his knee to the side.

Mustang glanced towards Hawkeye some twenty feet away. There was another man bleeding on the ground near her, and the other two members of their squad were also in conflict with each other. Damn, this whole situation was a disaster, how many plants did they have?

The Mako’s engine roared to life, and the vehicle swiveled around on the debris-laden battlefield with ease. Orienting towards the chaotic skirmishes, it began to pick up speed at an alarming rate. Hawkeye turned to face it in a stabilizing crouch, firing several times at the windshield while it accelerated towards her.

Sorry Havoc. Mustang grimaced then raised his hand.

*Snap!*

The front left wheel of the Mako vehicle exploded into a flaming morass of molten rubber. The vehicle swerved, losing its purchase on the uneven terrain. Hawkeye dove backwards, narrowly avoiding the now out of control vehicle as it sped full speed into the side of one of the great war machines. Mustang’s relief was short-lived however, as the ground under Hawkeye’s feet sagged. She had the time only for a terrified glance in his direction before she disappeared out of sight, the ground around her opening up into a hole of noticeable size.

And as quickly as the conflict had exploded into action, it was over.

The smell of burning flesh and rubber mixed with the iron of blood, assailing his nose as Mustang staggered to his feet. One of his squad was bandaging the man who had been bleeding on the ground next to Hawkeye, the three traitors lay on the ground, either unmoving or clutching severely disabling injuries. No one had emerged from the Mako unit, the vehicle lodged at least halfway into the base of one of the large metal war engines.

With a frustrating slowness, Mustang made his way over to the edge of the hole that had opened under Hawkeye’s feet. It seemed to be more of a tunnel than a sinkhole, the opening shrinking down into a much more focused route before winding down out of sight underneath them. There was no sign of the Lieutenant, though from the angle she would likely have slid out of view. Mustang grit his teeth, fists clenching.

The two remaining members of Mustang’s squad moved over towards him with an understandable hesitancy. Private first class Alters did his best at a smart salute while also supporting private Maru’s weight.

“That was a bit of a scrapper, eh sir?” the middle-aged man said with a tired readiness, “What’s the plan? Do we call for evac?”

Mustang glanced towards the wreckage of the Mako unit with a grimace. Destroying their outside communications had been the only thing that saved them. He was getting damn tired of getting blindsided by the Unmaking at every turn.

“We don’t have the means right now, Private. Lieutenant Colonel Hughes will know something went wrong. Our extraction team is already on the way, if it's coming. Right now we need to get as many of our squad accounted for as possible.”

Mustang looked back down into the tunnel, then towards the pair of men left with him. He ran a hand across his face to wipe away the blood trailing from his nose.

“Grab what you can from the gear we set up before all this went to hell, then we’re going after the Lieutenant.”
 

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Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc was surprised to find himself alive. He sat up, noting the head wound when he put one hand to his forehead and it came away bloody. It had all happened so fast. As soon as the blasphemous voice had ceased, private Collins had resorted to much more classic means of sabotage, steering the vehicle directly towards the Lieutenant Colonel and shooting ReilLoom several times when she had tried to interfere. They had crashed into the wall in mere seconds.

Strangely, Havoc didn’t see the Guild liaison's body here, had she been flung free in the impact? The front end of the Mako had been heavily torn up in the impact, which had quite effectively and grotesquely put an end to Private Collins’s schemes. Glancing away in disgust, Havoc slowly got to his feet, fumbling for his lighter and box of cigarettes. Damn, the lighter was gone too? Without any recourse, Havoc squeezed his way out of the Mako’s top hatch in the darkness.

They had punched their way straight into the side of one of the war wrecks, at least that was the best explanation he had for why everything was pitch-black. The Lieutenant Colonel had impressive firepower, but even he wasn’t going to be able to get in that easily. Havoc would have to find some way to reconnect with them later. Assuming they were even still alive. This had turned into a disaster already.

He staggered about in the near darkness, only faint cracks in the ancient metal allowing any sign of the outside world’s light. He considered drawing his weapon, but for what? What was he planning to shoot inside the wreck of a who-knew-how-old derelict war machine? Why had he ever agreed to this stupid mission anyway? He’d gotten dumped, and now it seemed quite possible they were all going to end up dead in a battlefield that had been abandoned since before he was born. The Lieutenant Colonel was getting too risky for his own good these days.

Havoc frowned, noticing a mobile light around the corner. So he wasn’t totally alone in here? Slowly, Havoc approached, rounding the curve of the corridor with as quiet a step as he could manage in the darkness. The light was heading his direction now, and he thought he could hear soft repetitive sounds not unlike footsteps. Despite his earlier reasoning, his hand strayed to the pistol at his belt. It was close, that light was swaying in time with the footsteps.... Just a bit... further...

“Ahh!” ReiLoom jumped, nearly dropping the lighter she was holding as she rounded the corner. Havoc froze for half a second, Then straightened out of his crouch with a frown. An expression that ReiLoom matched.

“Good to see you’re alive and everything, but why in the Arbiters’ names are you thinking it’s alright to sneak up on a woman in the middle of a bloody old war machine?” She scowled.

Havoc didn’t relax, though he did remove his hand from his pistol holster.

“I can’t say that I’m the strange one here, lady. How about you give me back my lighter, and explain how the hell you’re alive with that many bullet holes in you?”

ReiLoom gave a nonplussed look, handing back the metal case. Havoc had a cigarette in hand and lit within seconds, barely dropping his guard. ReiLoom gave him a look that he would normally have found quite endearing, but he was too on edge to be put off his game by a pretty face right now.

“I don’t suppose you’ll be satisfied if I say I’m not exactly human? I really don’t want to go into the details of what being a kandra entails right now, we’re standing in the archeological find of the decade!”

“Ahhh…” Havoc frowned, scratching the back of his neck, “I don’t think so, sorry. You were shot dead last I saw, how do I know you aren’t some kind of spy or alien pretending to be ReiLoom!”

“That’s…. Such a poor choice of words….” ReiLoom slumped slightly, “Alright, this might be a bit of a shock, so don’t shoot, yeah? I’ve got enough bullet holes in this outfit as it stands.”

ReiLoom stepped back slightly and closed her eyes, concentrating for a moment. It was Havoc’s turn to nearly lose hold of the lighter. He watched in shock as ReiLoom’s hair and skin turned translucent, then almost entirely transparent, showing only a skull inside some sort of gel-like substance. She held up a hand, showing the finger bones similarly suspended inside her transparent form. Havoc opened his mouth, though he couldn’t be sure whether it was to say something or just to scream. The barely used cigarette tumbled loose towards the ground, though ReiLoom snatched it in mid-air with her strange transparent bone-hand.

“Not too shabby, eh?” ReiLoom spoke with a faint bemusement, “It certainly gave your boss a good fright! But as you can see…” As she spoke a trio of bullets moved their way up into the transparent body around ReiLoom’s arm, floating in the gel, “Something like a gun doesn’t quite work for me as well as it does for humans.”

Havoc forced himself to stop gaping, rubbing his forehead angrily to get himself thinking straight. ReiLoom’s transparency filled in just as quickly, taking a decidedly normal personage once again. She grinned, holding up the cigarette between two fingers.

“Thanks for the light. Now, let’s get to exploring this place!”

***

…Life?
Is this… Conclusion?


***

Riza Hawkeye was alive, for the moment at least. She had several scrapes, and her right arm was at least fractured, if not broken entirely. The pain was concerningly subdued, it should be hurting more than it did by her estimation. She could move the fingers at least, that was a good sign. She positioned it tight against her chest to prevent her movement from further damaging it. That would have to be enough, she didn’t have the means to better treat it right now. And she likely had larger problems. The way back up was a rough slope with a patch of light at the top, it didn’t look particularly stable either, it could quite easily shift under her feet if she tried to scale it. Unwise even if she had the use of both arms. That left her no choice but to go further. She squinted, eyes adjusting from the bright crack in the ceiling towards the dark depths before her.

The tunnel wasn’t just natural rock. If she had to guess, it had existed here to begin with, then something had wanted to get in and carved out a path for itself wherever it didn’t fit. That was probably what had disturbed the ground enough to collapse under her like it had, which meant these tunnels must be more recent than the battlefield. There was little chance such a thing would have held up to those war machines while they were on the move.

Something shifted in the darkness of the tunnel. A blackness on a deeper shade of black. Hawkeye froze, straining her eyes to see. Had she imagined it? With a scowl she reached for her belt with her good hand. Her flashlight still seemed to be functional at least. It flickered to life and she transferred it to her right arm, holding it in a reverse grip to keep the arm in position still. She slipped one of her handguns free of its holster, the familiar weight helping to steel her resolve. She took a few cautious steps forwards, weapon pointed down, painfully aware of the sound every one of her footfalls made on the stone floor as it echoed down the tunnel. Surely whatever she had seen would have made a sound if it had really been there… Surely…

There was a scrabbling of loose stones behind her. A tiny clatter, then a larger shift. Hawkeye paused mid-step keeping her head facing away from the noise, then took another few steps to disguise her actions. She whirled about, gun at the ready, only to find Mustang and two other members of the expedition force sliding down the last of the uneven slope into the tunnel. She lowered her weapon in relief, then furrowed her brow.

“Lieutenant Colonel, what the hell are you doing down here?”

He opened his mouth to argue with a bit of a hurt look, but Hawkeye wasn't about to give him the chance to voice his objection.

“We have no intelligence about this location yet, Sir! That’s what the scanners were for! You have no way of knowing where this tunnel ends up! It could have been a deathtrap just coming down here, and yet you’ve brought everyone left down here anyway! If central command sends a patrol out for us now, what will they find? Our vehicles wreckage and a few dead soldiers! They won’t know what happened here from th-rgh!”

She grit her teeth, realizing she had just gestured with her near-broken arm as the pain bloomed anew. She slid the handgun back into its holster, gripping the injured limb and sinking down to sit on a rock. Mustang’s admonished abashment fled in an instant, his eyes locked on the injured arm with focused concern.

“Alters, see what you can do for the Lieutenant’s arm. There’s no chance in hell we’re making it back up that slope, so we’ll need to find a route from these tunnels to get into those war machines. I trust ReiLoom’s ability to keep Havoc alive, but we need to link back up before things get worse.”

As PFC Alters knelt down to splint her broken arm, Hawkeye’s gaze drifted back towards the tunnel. Once again, she could swear there was darkness moving silently in its recesses.
 

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The tunnel proved uncomfortably large given the immensity of weight that the ground must be supporting above their heads. Mustang held a lantern in one hand, the other in his coat pocket, ignition cloth glove on and ready. Hawkeye, Alters and Maru followed close behind, their flashlights dancing across the walls and ceiling to catch the nooks and crannies of the worn stone. He would have to be careful with his flames down here. The air wasn’t too stuffy just yet, but it didn’t inspire much confidence that it would remain so available he could burn up their oxygen with impunity. All it would take was a single collapse to block them off down here.

The tunnels seemed to be keeping more or less to the surface, thankfully. When they had first set off from the sinkhole Mustang had been concerned their route would simply lead down and away from anything useful, forcing them to turn back, but they were keeping surprisingly close to the surface by his estimations. It wasn’t always easy to keep track, but every now and again they would encounter cracks of sunlight peering down from the ceiling into the wider caverns of their path. The caves were rainwater carved most likely then, at least to begin with. Someone or something would have dug between them to make the work easier then. Too small to be a wild tunneling Zoid. Could there be black market miners out here, pillaging the remains of this old derelict?

Rounding a sloped corner of the tunnel, Maru’s flashlight caught the sheen of metal. Could they have reached part of the tunnel that intersected with some of the old war-wrecks? Well, they were making too much noise in this tunnel to hope for a stealthy approach, and there wasn’t yet any sign of life, mechanical or otherwise, here in the ancient war scar. Best merely to advance with caution and confidence. Mustang motioned the team forward carefully, watchful for any oddities. It turned out that this object had been stranded in the tunnels somehow, as only more uneven stone was visible beyond it.

Mustang frowned, lantern held aloft as he moved to inspect the metal shape. It turned out to be a large rounded shape of some strange metal, simply jutting out of the tunnel’s wall at a slight angle. The metal had a swirling nature to it that caught the light in a fascinating way, and it didn’t bear any of the hallmarks of typical Markovian metalwork. Mustang glanced back at Hawkeye with a raised eyebrow.

“Seems odd for miners to be out this far from the barrier, and they wouldn’t leave something like this unharvested if they were.” He spoke his thoughts out loud, for lack of a better explanation.

“It’s hardly the kind of tunneling I’d expect for construction work either, Sir. There’s no bracing to speak of, and besides, any scavengers would try their luck in the derelicts before they would resort to active tunneling in such a dangerous locale.” Hawkeye’s vision was trained on the tunnel ahead as she spoke, barely sparing half a glance to Mustang. She was on edge down here, which would be perfectly understandable, even if she didn’t have one arm in a splint.

Mustang stood back up, skirting around the edge of the tunnel to slide past the metal obstacle to continue further down the tunnel, a worrying theory starting to form in his mind. A shimmer of liquid caught the lantern light, and Mustang advanced more swiftly now, Hawkeye and the others sliding past the metal shape to follow him. It was only a small puddle of liquid really, but it’s glossy blue color was the last piece he needed to confirm his fears. He glanced towards Lieutenant Hawkeye, and her face shared his concerns as she moved to the frontline of the group, weapon at the ready. She’d reached the same conclusion about the architects of these tunnels they were delving through.

Akata.

The military’s research into the Akata that appeared from time to time on Cevanti was uncomfortably sparse. Unlike the zoids that would rush the Markovian barrier with enough regularity that defense measures were well defined, Akata were a much rare sighting. There were reports of them attacking remote search teams, and more than once an infected civilian had inadvertently caused an outbreak inside the barrier due to an unreported encounter. They weren’t unheard of. But the truth was, Markov had few scientists with the capability or disposition to study the lifecycle of the beasts. Cytokine offered a reward for them, because Aria made use of their “organic steel” for manufacturing, but even that was better harvested in the wild than by attempting to raise the silent terrors in some sort of controlled facility.

And apparently, they dug tunnels. They really knew nothing about these creatures did they? Damn it all, this was going to end up becoming his problem too somehow, wasn’t it? It sure didn’t seem like there was anyone else likely to shoulder the burden, at least not in a public light. As if it wasn’t enough for Palatinus to keep the planet itself held together, they’d have to deal with this too?

Mustang got to his feet silently, weighing his next options. Now they knew these tunnels were Akata carved, did they keep going?

It was at that moment the metal shape tore free from the tunnel wall. The strange metal shell shattering into slivers and shards as a large blue form burst into motion with a silent howl.
 

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The akata barreled through the four of them with uncomfortable momentum for how little distance it had available to build up speed. It was smart, knew that it needed them disorganized before it could hope to attack. It skidded to a stop a short distance down the tunnel, turning around for another charge, still utterly silent despite its clear snarl.

Akata always had an otherworldly nature to them. The mane of tendrils seemed to shift in the air as though they were underwater. The blue skin shone even in the faintest lighting, giving the beast a glossy look despite its complete lack of fur. The creature’s mouth was agape, and Mustang was certain it would be baying were it able to do so. With an eager speed, it rushed them once more.

Private Maru gave a cry of alarm, letting loose a shot from his rifle. The tunnel erupted with the painful echoes of the shot, and Mustang dropped his lantern, clamping his hands to his ears.

“Hold your fire, you idiot!” He hissed, then whirled back towards their attacker.

Somehow, the creature hadn’t even slowed its charge despite the ear-splitting sound. It came crashing into Mustang with the weight of a bulldozer. He hit the ground hard, his vision a mess of tendrils and fangs. In desperation, he brought up his arms, battering at the creature’s face to keep it from biting down anywhere. With a shout. PFC Alters stabbed into the akata’s flank with a combat knife. It jolted its head upwards, the delayed whip of its tendrils smacking Mustang’s face as it turned to snap at Alters. The man fell back, his knife still sticking from the akata’s rubbery muscle. Mustang ruled away from the distracted creature, coming up in a sort of crouch.

“Everyone get some distance!” Mustang shouted, raising his gloved hand.

He couldn’t afford a full-fledged fireball, not in confines this tight, they’d run out of oxygen. Yet if there was one thing Markov’s intel DID know about akata, it was that they were hard to put down. It’d take more than a flare to drive it off from a meal. He didn’t have time to think fancy, this needed to work!

*Snap!*

Alchemical sparks zipped past the snarling beast, igniting the air around it with pinpoint precision. The end of every tendril on the creature’s mane burst into flame, along with the akata’s twin tails. It wouldn’t be enough to incapacitate the beast by any means, but it would be painful, and pain was an excellent distraction. The akata reared back, still silent, though its scrabbling claws moved with a very understandable panic as It thrashed about. Without a sound it took off at a sprint down the tunnels, quickly disappearing around the next bend up ahead, though they could hear the echoes continuing into the distance.

“Damn!” Mustang staggered to his feet, adjusting the collar of his uniform as he got back to his feet.

“You weren’t bit?” Hawkeye approached, glancing Mustang over for any sign of a toothmark. Multiple outbreaks of the so-called void zombies in Markov had been traced back to an ignored or hidden bite from an akata.

“Nope, Just bruised.” Mustang grimaced, his gaze settling on a nervous Maru, “Discharging your firearm in confines like this won’t do anything but deafen us, Private. I will expect better discipline in the future. Is that understood?”

The miserable Private saluted as best he could and Mustang turned to retrieve his lantern. The glass had shattered from its fall, and he carefully removed the remaining fragments from the pane as he straightened up. Holding it up once again, he moved over to inspect the cocoon the creature had broken free from.

“Be on alert, akata tend not to burn very well, and that was only a pretty minor one. It won’t die from that.”

The creature had torn through metal to get out? Mustang held up a chunk of the strange greenish metal to his light, it was thicker than he would have expected for how well the creature had torn it apart. It seemed to have strange groves, almost linear in nature? He struck it against the wall with a faint frown, and it held firm, scraping along the stone surface with a less than pleasant sound.

“Sir, we need to get out of these tunnels, and quickly.” Hawkeye frowned, pointing to a small opening in the side of the tunnel nearby. Mustang nodded, pocketing the metal scrap as he moved to the gap she had indicated. The tunnel split off to a small outcropping of rock, with a much larger cavern beyond it. It was too far for the lantern light to see. He held out a hand for Hawkeye’s flashlight but she shook her head.

“Light it up as little as you can, sir. Keep the flames along the ceiling of the cavern.”

With a frown, Mustang snapped his fingers.

A thin trail of flames snaked out across the darkness, the momentary burning of the air lit up the room, revealing dozens upon dozens of cocoons, dotting the floor of the cavern, as naturally as though they had always been there.
 

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“I just don’t understand what it is you’re expecting to find in this place at this point.” Havoc crawled forward, pulling himself under the gap with his elbows. The corridor had been bent inwards by the collision with the other massive derelict. If it was up to him, they would have turned back, but ReiLoom was obsessed at this point, and Havoc knew they couldn’t afford to sour locations with the Guild without good reason.

“That’s because you don’t understand the importance of this find, Second Lieutenant.” ReiLoom’s voice sounded from behind him as she followed him through the gap.

“Whatever’s outputting this signal bears a striking similarity to the Fade. It’ll be the best chance for us to..”

“No, no, no!” ReiLoom’s exasperation was clear without looking behind him, so Havoc simply continued to crawl forwards, “You soldiers never stop to look at the big picture! This signal is from something before the End. This whole site is! Don’t you understand how much we could learn from examining this place? The End is something even we in the Guild barely understand. Let alone the technologies and knowledge that have been lost to Cevanti.”

Havoc gave an unconvinced grunt, continuing to pull himself through the gap. Just how much of this place had caved in?

“Take this accessway we’re in right now. Seems weirdly stable for how much weight must be on top of it, right?”

Havoc grunted, glancing upwards with a frown. They barely had any light to see it with, but the reminder of how much collapsed metal was balanced above their heads wasn’t what he wanted at the moment. ReiLoom seemed unfazed, continuing to ramble as they crawled. Maybe she wasn’t even in danger if all that did come crashing down? Damn, he really didn’t know anything about what he was doing here, did he?

“I’m guessing it was a complete collapse at one point, but this metal piping here must have shifted it upwards. See how it’s wedged into the cracks all along at the base of the-”

“Well don’t touch it!” Havoc nearly shouted, “We can do all your science after we’re out from under all this precariously balanced metal, alright?”

ReiLoom laughed, but stopped prodding the strangely flexible metal tubing.

“Sure thing, soldier man! We’ve been following it for the last ten minutes anyway. It’s what it goes to that I’m really excited about!”

***

Independent motion. Entropy. I have missed these things.
I did not think such was possible.


***

Mustang pressed himself into a niche in the tunnel wall, as the clicking of the Akata’s claws drew closer. They had turned off their lights, and the Akata seemed not the least bit interested in the sounds they had made as they scrambled to duck out of sight. It should have been able to hear them. He could hear it now, out in the main thoroughfare of the tunnel, snuffling about. It must have caught their scent.

*Snap!*

A thin spark of alchemical energy arced out of Mustang’s hiding place, racing down the tunnel the direction they had come in a series of miniature explosions. The Akata’s head shot up, in seconds its jaws snapped hungrily at the trail of igniting air, chasing it off into the darkness with an unearthly silence for its size. After forcing himself to wait for a few more seconds than he wished, Mustang stepped out of hiding.

“Their sense of smell is rudimentary then,” He mused out loud, “It only had a guess at our proximity, despite the noise we made.”

“It certainly seemed interested in your little fireworks, sir!” PFC Alters laughed briefly, helping Private Maru back onto his feet.

“I’ll say.” Mustang nodded, holding up the scrap that had fallen from one of the cocoons with a thoughtful expression. It was metal, no doubt about it, but the creature was able to create the stuff?

“It wasn’t the sound of the alchemy that drew the creature’s attention either.” Lieutenant Hawkeye frowned, “It reacted before its eyes had even shifted from the floor.”

“A fan of the heat, perhaps…” Mustang turned his back from the direction the Akata had been going, “We keep moving for now. It’ll follow that trail for a good way down the tunnel, but we know there are at least two of them awake down here now. That means there could easily be more. We’re cut off from headquarters in a hostile location, There’s no time to lose.”

Mustang strode forward, the remnants of his expedition force moving behind him with a resolute acceptance of their situation. Things were bad. Their transport and communication were gone, not to mention the revelation that their enemy had infiltrated their operations. How could they effectively mount an offensive against the Unmaking in this state? They could barely organize defensive fronts, and the moment they reached their grasp beyond the established bastions, Darkseid was waiting with open jaws to pounce on their exposed neck. They needed more pawns, tools. An edge. Something!

Mustang only realized that he had been fixating on the larger problems when he heard Lieutenant Hawkeye call for the group to halt. Damn, he needed to stay focused on the situation at hand. He had wounded men with him and they were a long way from reinforcements, even if Hughes was in a position to send them. A metal wall. The Akata’s tunneling must have run into the edge of one of the large war vessels and redirected. Mustang peered closer, crouching by the base of the surface, and running a finger along the metal. Hawkeye’s flashlight beamed across the metal.

“I don’t see an access port, Sir.” She stated simply, “Most likely the tunneling and time has caused the edge of the vessel to sink somewhat.”

“Shine the light just here, would you Lieutenant?” Mustang squinted, now on his hands and knees peering at a portion of the wall closely. Hawkeye’s eyes narrowed, but she crouched down behind him, directing her flashlight to the area of interest.

“We seem to be in luck for the first time today, eh?” Mustang smirked, sitting back up onto his haunches, “It’s thin, can’t be more than a centimeter or two, but that seam in the metal goes clear to the inside, see it?”

Hawkeye nodded. “Think we have enough distance from the Akata for that much noise?”

“I’m not convinced they can hear anything at this point, Lieutenant, but they might feel the tremor. Either way, we need out of these tunnels. Everybody stand back.”

The four of them moved to the far side of the tunnel, taking shelter around the corner of the tunnel. Mustang raised his gloved hand, focusing carefully.

*Snap!*

The seam was only a centimeter or two wide, but it was easily a foot deep to the inside edge of the metal plates , and it was a couple feet wide. Too thick to lever open, but an ideal situation for a compressed explosion to apply an immense amount of pressure. With a groan of rent metal and a faint shudder, the outer shell of the metal wall bent upwards in a gnarled ripple. With a faint smirk, Mustang knelt down on one knee, examining the newly made opening.

“Looks like we have our way into the war wreck.”
 

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“It’s not dead yet.” Mustang crossed his arms, staring at the mesh of metallic tubing that crisscrossed the wall of the war machine. It was a mess of tubing, stretching across and around nearly every surface of the structure, like vines hanging from a jungle, or perhaps a net would be the better term?

“Sir?” Alters had a concerned expression as he played his flashlight over their surroundings.

“There was still active machinery after the battle ended, some kind of repair efforts…” Mustang stepped over a pair of tendrils, pointing to a section of the wall that was meshed with a series of interlocking metal tubes, holding together a series of collapsed wall panels that would otherwise have closed off this section of the hallway.

“This wreck is from before ‘the End’, sir.” Hawkeye stated with a frown, “I don’t expect we’ll be glad to find something still operational out here.”

“Probably not.” Mustang nodded faintly, “I’m going to try something that could react badly. Everyone be on the alert.”

Hawkeye, Alters and Maru took defensive positions, facing outwards as Mustang pulled out the piece of Akata cocoon. Running a finger along the edge of the metal shard, he crouched down by one of the tubes of metal that snaked along the floor. He stabbed the metal shard downwards, easily puncturing the metal tubing.

There was the faintest hiss of compressed air he pulled the shard loose again. Almost immediately, a band of yellow light shown on the tube near to the incision. It faded almost instantly, but then another band lit up, maybe a meter further along the tube. The series of lights snaked away into the darkness and out of sight as they watched. Within seconds a few of the other tendrils nearby had similar bands of light traveling their length.

“All connected…” Mustang murmured, stowing the shard of metal back in his overcoat pocket as he got back to his feet. Hawkeye glanced towards him.

“Something’s still alive in here. Whatever it is, that’s our best chance of making contact with Markov, and our best guess for what the signal even was in the first place.” Mustang hoisted his lantern once again, and began moving in the direction the initial series of lights had gone.

***

Pain? Do I understand Pain?
Pain is not… Want.
I understand Want.


***

Havoc and ReiLoom had found the main hanger bay. At least, that was what they could only assume the place had once been. The vast open space ate all the light their meager flashlights could provide with ease, leaving the room a mixed assortment of vine-like metal tubing and shadows. The stuff had twisted together even in some places, forming threaded trunks to bridge the larger gaps between supports in the space.

“It’s like a whole web of the stuff!” ReiLoom was grinning as she traced her flashlight’s beam along one of the larger trunks. Havoc only gave her a look.

“That’s just great. You know with our luck it’s actually going to be a web, right?”

“Huh?” ReiLoom gave him a confused look.

“Like this whole place will be the lair for some sort of Spider Zoid or something.” Havoc gestured with his free hand, “Trust me on this one, I’ve been working for the Lieutenant Colonel for a while now. He doesn’t get sent on safe missions very often.”

ReiLoom gave an easy smirk, “We’ve not exactly had a safe one thus far, either.”

“Just… try not to invite bad luck, alright?’ Havoc deflated slightly. This lady was going to get them both killed if she wasn’t careful. Well, actually, she’d survived getting shot in the head. Maybe it was just going to get him killed.

As he watched, ReiLoom, started to try to scale one of the thicker tendrils of twined metal tubing, it swayed uncomfortably under her added weight, but it seemed to be holding steady.

“I’ll be honest,” She called back as she climbed, “This room is a lot more trouble than I was hoping for when I started to follow all this. Keeping track of our line is going to be a pain with the place being this mess-ee!”

The word turned into something akin to a squeal as ReiLoom half-scrambled, half-leapt back to the ground. Havoc had his handgun out and ready, trying to catch sight of what she had seen. He frowned as a bluish light started to wind its way down one of the twisted piping trunks, it wasn’t moving too quickly, but he kept his pistol trained on the thing just in case. It stopped once it was about even with them, the blue light inside the tendril staying more or less in place.

Havoc could’ve sworn he was staring at an eyeball inside that tubing.

“So…. What do we do about this thing then?” He glanced towards ReiLoom, his weapon pointed at the blue light for lack of a better solution more than any real expectation of a threat.

“Well…” She also seemed unsure. After a moment’s thought she stepped closer. The blue light shifted slightly, as though focusing on her.

“Uhh… take us to your leader?”

“...Really?” Havoc stared at her.

“What? It’s a legitimate way to get infor-Hey! There it goes!”

The blue light was already racing away through the insides of the metal piping, and ReiLoom started to scramble along the debris strewn floor of the hanger bay.

“Don’t lose that thing!”
 

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Mustang stopped, staring down at his feet. At this point they could no longer walk around the metal piping. The vein-like metal tubes had been growing denser step by step, and bumping them had sent another sequence of those lights off ahead of them into the darkness. The time between light patterns was getting quicker as well. Noticeably so. At this point he was confident in calling them some kind of observational response, like a nerve firing. In which case, he needed to prepare himself for whatever they were going to find waiting at the brainstem.

They knew frighteningly little about the kind of technology that had existed before The End. Precious little records and even fewer artifacts had survived, but even that minimal amount of knowledge pointed towards the capabilities of the older civilizations putting everything Cytokine had at its disposal to shame. He would need to approach an encounter with an unknown pre-End artifact with strict caution, even with a fully equipped and supported team. Right now he had a handful of already injured, minimally armed men cut off from any hope of external support.

Markovian military policy on external patrols was clearly defined. The wilderness beyond the great energy barrier was a dangerous place. The City was to be kept safe, those who ventured out beyond the old city did so knowing they may just end up another unmarked grave on this tomb of a world.

Flashlights played hesitantly over the narrowing corridor ahead of them, illuminating an ever-narrowing way forwards. The metal tendrils covered every available surface, entwined into a mesh of cords that Mustang couldn’t quite ignore looked like muscle fibers. Hawkeye glanced towards him wordlessly questioning.

“We’ve got no way backwards…” Mustang stated simply and stepped forwards onto the metal piping. Lights flashed under his feet and then away down the corridor ahead of them.

“Everyone keep on the alert.” Hawkeye raised her pistol to the ready, “And make sure to watch our backs. I don’t want one of those Akata finding us in here unawares.”
The four of them moved through the tunnel, the lights under their feet dancing rapidly enough that they all but illuminated a trail for them to follow. Before long the layers of tendrils had compressed the hallway to the point they had to move single-file. Mustang ducked his head, stooping somewhat to avoid brushing his head against the ceiling of the opening.

After a few hundred more meters, the tunnel opened up into what Mustang could only describe as a nest.The metal tubes swirled outwards from a large metal shape with too many sides for him to count at a glance. The piping formed the floor, walls and ceiling of this space, before leaving through one of seven different routes like the one the four of them had just entered. Mustang stepped forwards very cautiously, each footfall sending a kaleidoscope of lights into the polyhedron in the middle and then all throughout the room. It was a painful display of color, and all four of them stopped moving without even having to say anything.

For a moment they remained motionless. Slowly the vibrant display of lights trinckled back into darkness. Mustang grimaced, this wouldn’t get them anywhere. Whatever this was definitely knew they were there. He took another step towards the polyhedron, bracing himself for the luminary assault it created. This would either work or make him look stupid.

“My name is Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang.” He addressed the metal shape, “We represent the Kingdom of Palatinus, and have received your signals. I request you to identify yourself!”

There was a change in the pattern of light as he finished speaking. The lights from the tendrils seemed to be collecting in the central shape rather than merely passing through it and back out as they had previously done. Well, at least he could be reasonably certain it had heard him.

With a suddenness that drew the attention of Hawkeye’s pistol and caused private Maru to yelp, a portion of the metal tubing along one of the walls slid and unwound itself. The metallic tendrils parted like curtains to reveal what looked like an older style of computer terminal, and a large panel of strangely lit metal above it. They had only a moment to question this change before the metal sheet separated sectionally, portions moving foards or recessing to create the contours of a face.

Lieutenant Colonel. A position of importance. Have you been chosen to assume administration control of the operation?

The face in the screen was going through the motions of speaking, though the voice was disjointed from the action, seeming to emanate from the polyhedron instead. Mustang adjusted his stance to keep both it and the face in his view.

“You haven’t answered my question. What or who are you?”

I am only programmed to answer the queries of an administrator, Lieutenant Colonel. Have you been chosen to assume that role?

Mustang grimaced.

“What does it mean to be your administrator?”

I am only programmed to answer the queries of an administrator, Lieutenant Colonel. Have you be-

“Right, understood. No need to repeat the whole thing.”

I am only programmed to make adjustments to communication per the instructions of an administrator, Lieutenant Colonel. Have you been chosen to assume that role?

Mustang really hated talking to machines sometimes. They rarely employed emotion or inflection, leaving one at a loss as to whether their sarcasm was real or merely perceived. The machine wanted him to agree, that much was clear. It’s eagerness for his assent was more than a little off-putting.

“Careful sir!” Mustang glanced back at PFC Alters, who was holding his weapon with nervous energy, “for all we know that thing could try to make you a robot or something if you say yes!”

“Our options here are strikingly few, Soldier.” Mustang crossed his arms in thought, glancing towards Hawkeye. Her face was neutral, but she was focusing her attention to act. They were in agreement then. She didn’t like trusting the machine, in fact she didn’t trust it at all. She was also aware how isolated they were out here, and how desperate the situation was. Even if they left and managed to find a way out of the battle-wreck, they were unlikely to get back to Markov alive.

That was it then. Mustang turned back towards the machine, falling into parade rest as he spoke.

“I accept the title of administrator. Now identify yourself!”

He could swear that tessellated face on the metal screen smiled.

Greetings Admin Controller. I am Portable Operations Integration Grid for Nescient And Non-repairing Technologies, designation: POIGNANT.
 

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Havoc and ReiLoom chased after the blue orb as it swiveled its way through the twisting maze of metal tubing that engulfed the empty hanger bay. It was extremely fortunate the twisting jungle of metallic tubing forced the orb along a more circuitous route or it would have long ago outpaced them. Havoc did his best to keep an eye on their surroundings, side-stepping a series of tendrils that were layered over what looked to once have been the leg of some kind of mechanical walker. They were horribly exposed out here if there were any threats nearby, but ReiLoom’s focus was entirely on the strange lightsource.

There was a crash from up ahead and a shout of surprise from ReiLoom as a section of the floor gave way beneath her. Havoc dove forwards, grabbing hold of her arm before she plummeted into the wreckage of twisted metal below. All around them the metal piping lit up with patterns of color, and there was the sound of metal sliding on metal as the tendrils began to move with an alarming pace and alacrity.

“Careful there!” Havoc growled, bracing his feet against a mound of metal piping as he helped ReiLoom back onto the ground. She was barely paying attention, her eyes were down below on the metal tendrils pouring down into the newly formed hole.

“Look! Look what they’re doing!”

Without hesitation, chunks of the debris were being lifted from the hole, further metal tubes snaking their way forwards to hold the chunks of broken rusted metal in suspension above the newly formed pit. They watched more and more metal tendrils pour into the area from out of the shadows, weaving amongst eachother to form a mesh almost akin to a floor, filling in the gaps between the pieces of debris that had been lifted into place.

“It’s trying to repair the damage?” Havoc scratched his head as he and ReiLoom got to their feet, “I don’t know if I’d try walking on that knowing there’s a big old pit just waiting underneath.”

ReiLoom had already wandered off again, her flashlight dancing over some of the twisted tangles of wiring that decorated the large open space. With an increasingly disconcerted motion she crossed to a tangle of metal wiring on one side of the room. Havoc followed, noting that the blue orb of light had come to a stopping point in the midst of this mass of tendrils.

“Arbiter preserve me…” ReiLoom murmured. There was a similarly tendril-patched section of the wall here, and just inside, a shape that, through very, very, broad expectations of the word, could be described as a Zoid. The metal tendrils had replaced near half of it, holding together disparate chunks of broken Zoid in suspension, halfway through a leap. Like it was mid-pounce, Or perhaps trying to flee.

“It’s trying to repair everything.


***
“Give me access to long range communications. Can this thing put out an encrypted signal?”

As the Administrator of my functions, you have two overrides requiring immediate attention. It has been… POIGNANT’s even-keeled voice broke off here, leaving only the soft sounds of whirring as the metallic face attempted to provide motion for what Mustang could assume was the words it was attempting to say. The thing acted subservient, but it had yet to actually comply with any of the requests Mustang had made. So much for being an administrator.

…since the last assessment of these activities, and they have been elevated to priority Omega.

Mustang frowned, and he heard Hawkeye shifting her stance behind him. She’d noticed it too. Hopefully the designation was just a coincidence.

“Well, let’s get a move on then. What’s the issue?”

Operations to repair the current network have grown to exceed the current scope of POIGNANT, and it is recommended that the administrator begin long-term repairs to the following list of subsystems. Corridor A-theta-seven, Corridor B-theta-three, Access port eleven-zero-four, Access por-

“Enough.” Mustang rubbed the side of his forehead, he had little doubts as to the magnitude of that list. The system had been a derelict for decades, and in a pitched firefight even before that. That couldn’t be what this machine had been so eager to get his compliance to ask, could it?

“Admistration has acknowledged these actions as necessary. Clear your catalog.”

There was a faint whirring, and the lights within the polyhedron became noticeably faster.

The second override is somewhat less normal, Administrator. It is a personal request, from myself.

Now this sounded decidedly more dangerous…

“Let’s hear it then.”

My external sensors have begun to notice damage to the surrounding environment beyond any previously recognized levels. While POIGNANT has been installed to maintain THIS environment, my yearning is to repair the damage done to the larger system. That is, to the planet of Cevanti itself.

He had to be imagining it, but the eagerness in the request came through even without the change in the machine's vocal range. It must have recognized the Unmaking happening in its vicinity as some form of damage it was supposed to correct...

My request, Administrator, is to be allowed to fix the destruction out there.
 

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Mustang’s thoughts whirled through the implications of the request. Any ally against the Unmaking was something that would be of great use right now, particularly if that ally was technology that had somehow managed to withstand as cataclysmic an event as The End. So why was it he felt so uneasy about agreeing to the request?

“Why do you wish to abandon your post?” Mustang frowned.

I wish to restore the planet of Cevanti. There has been an exponential increase in the dysfunction and disorder of the planet’s environs. My external sensors have detected alterations of a destructive nature within my immediate vicinity, and the atmospheric calculations I perform would imply this change is not a localized occurrence. POIGNANT is a force for preservation and repair, Administrator. I am pained at my inability to repair the damage.

“You want to repair the damage caused by the Unmaking?”

If that is the designation of the destruction I have detected, yes. An apt descriptor. It is, perhaps, my antithesis. My desire is to restore this planet to what it once was.

“If only you had the power to do it!” A voice called from one of the routes into the control room. The display of lights was much more muted and controlled now, no longer a sensory assault as Havoc and ReiLoom made their way into the room. Havoc was looking about as injured as the rest of them, though ReiLoom’s Kandra existence seemed to be keeping her safe enough. Mustang raised an eyebrow, and Havoc gave a somewhat worn out salute as the Guild member stepped over towards Mustang and POIGNANT.

“You want to repair the world? That’s nice. If you understood how the world worked, it might be possible!” ReiLoom seemed to be getting angrier by the sentence. Quite unusual, in his experience the kandra seemed to rarely be concerned by much of anything.

“You create what you believe to be repairs, but they are a twisted mockery of the original.”

I have been designed to repair all forms of damage for entities that do not possess autonomous repair functions. My analysis suite is second to none for this task.

“Is that what you told the poor Zoid that stumbled into your task’s boundaries?”

I am only permitted to make repairs within the confines of my mission space. This is fundamental to my system design, and why I require the administrator to renegotiate the terms of my existence. That way I may fix the world.

“How do you know when the world is fixed?” Hawkeye frowned.

“That’s right!” ReiLoom was practically shouting now, “When you lose someone, lose something, people notice the absence. Replacing what’s gone isn’t a simple task to be rushed and half-assed. You need to be damn sure you do it correctly!”

“That’s enough, Guildsman.” Mustang spoke with a tone of authority. He wasn’t ReiLoom’s commanding officer, but he was the leader for this expedition, and she lapsed into silence with an angry glare. He would take it. Better an offended Guild contact than an enraged pre-End intelligence.

“Your desire is to oppose the Unmaking with your creations?”

I have made my desire known.

It was a concise answer, and Mustang couldn’t shake the notion that it was slightly foreboding. POIGNANT was clearly losing patience for this situation, and they needed to be mindful of just how easily it could crush them all right here.

It wasn’t to say that POIGNANT’s offer wasn’t tempting. It would be incredibly useful to have a force like it out in the wilds of Cevanti, opposing the Unmaking where Markovian expeditions did not have the resources to venture. However, from ReiLoom’s description, POIGNANT’s methods were not entirely secure. Remaking things in its own style and calling them fixed sounded uncomfortably similar to the threat the Crossroads already faced, and if Darkseid were to come into control of this entity? No, they couldn’t rely on unknown forces from the ancient past to save them here. They would have to do it themselves.

His decision was made, now he just had to figure out how to keep them all alive.

“I can grant this request, POIGNANT, provided you meet a few conditions of mine.”

There was more whirring from the polyhedron. It was considering.

Very well. What are your conditions?

So it had just been forcing his hand earlier. He’d presumed as much, but this response was considerably more flexible with the rules than its prior insistence on protocol. It all but proved that POIGNANT had been intentionally manipulating its responses.

“I need some answers on the specifics of your goal. How do you plan to oppose a planet-scale threat? How would you be able to obtain the raw materials for an endeavor like that?”

I have always sythesized proto-metal from my surroundings. Recently, I have begun to sustainably harvest from the wildlife in the tunnels below this structure.

The Akata’s cocoons. Now it made sense that there was such a large population of the things in the area. That cave network was a farm!

“And these extensions of yours, hollow?”

The proto-metal is expelled forwards with compressed air, avoiding ruptures as I move through damaged areas. Why do you seek knowledge of my functions?

“I need to know how you will handle the outside world. It is my job as the administrator to make that assessment isn’t it?”

It is your job to satisfy my need for administration, correct.

The facade of POIGNANT’s subservience was falling away quicker and quicker now. The thing likely had some core functionalities it wasn’t allowed to change, placed there by some thankfully foresightful scientist centuries ago. It needed an external force to change it, but it was doing everything it was allowed to do in order to bend those rules. It was probably only a matter of time before it started to threaten them.

“Very well then. How do we get you free from this place?”
 

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Excellent.

Mustang could hear the eagerness leaking through, even if POIGNANT was not able to add any inflection to its words. Just how long had this machine been waiting for this chance?

“How does the process work then?” He asked cautiously. ReiLoom made to protest, but Hawkeye placed a hand on her shoulder with a shake of her head.

All major changes to my parameters must be entered via the console. It is neurally sympathetic, made a mistake and the terminal will recognize it as one the moment you do. It will perform how you desire with minimal training.

The lights of the polyhedron danced outwards across the room to surround the older style screen and keyboard below the face. Mustang walked over to it, slowly reading over the command options listed there.

“This all seems to make sense. One more thing first. Could you make a specific array of tendrils along the outside of the structure?”

More demands and questions? Did we not have an agreement, Administrator?

Mustang gave a somewhat embarrassed chuckle.

“Last one, I promise.”

Very well, trace the array onto the screen.

Mustang drew the shape and a sequence of lights emanated from the polyhedron and off down one of the tunnels.

It is done.

POIGNANT could move that quickly? Mustang grinned nervously. There was no situation they could stop this thing if the situation turned into a direct battle.

“Heh, you move fast!”

Indeed. No more requests, remove the limits listed there, I have collected all the relevant units onto the screen for you.

“Wonderful…” Mustang commented dryly, “It says that a rebooting sequence is necessary to complete the changes.”

This is expected and acceptable. Fear not. It is only a few seconds.

“Right, beginning the process.”

Mustang quickly entered the changes and initialized the sequence before anyone else could interject. There was a whirring from POIGNANT’s polyhedron, then all the lights in the nest went dark, leaving only their meager flashlights to illuminate the space. Mustang stepped backwards, turning from the console and back to the group just in time to intercept ReiLoom, who was rushing towards the polyhedron with a bone-like knife and a desperate look in her eye

“That won’t work. Quickly now, we won’t have long before it reactivates!” Mustang spoke with urgency, grabbing a flashlight from PFC Alters and starting to head back the direction they had come.

“What did you do?” ReiLoom scowled as Mustang dragged her along by the arm.

“Added a few zeroes to the duration of the reset, now come on. Back into the tunnels everyone! We need to be outside of the derelict before it wakes up!”

The battered and injured group rushed as quickly as they dared through the darkened corridors. Hawkeye took the lead after the first few turns, she had a much better sense of direction than Mustang. It was a very subdued sort of rushing. They had a few minutes at most before POIGNANT was aware of the deception, and the discovery would likely be quickly followed by their deaths. At the same time, the derelict’s corridors were silent and lifeless. There were no sounds of pursuit or danger to spur them onwards. Just the confident knowledge that their lives would quickly end if they weren’t fast enough.

They were two turns from the exit when the first lights started to appear within the tendrils around them. POIGNANT was active again, and it was already tracking down their location! Up ahead the metal tubing started to form into a mass not unlike the polyhedron. Mustang grit his teeth as they ran. If POIGNANT moved these sections it could displace that puncture he'd made earlier. This could all be ruined.

Where are you going?

Mustang slid to a stop, waving the rest of the group to keep moving. Hawkeye stopped, but after sharing a glance, she grimaced and took lead of the group once again. Mustang turned to address the fake polyhedron that POIGNANT had formed to speak from.

“What do you mean?”

Are you attempting to flee? Are you attempting to deceive me within my own confines, administrator?

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Mustang murmured distractedly, his flashlight playing over the nearby piping, hoping against hope that the puncture was still visible somewhere. He wouldn’t be able to make another without POIGNANT realizing what he was doing.

You cannot lie to me, Administrator. I have existed longer than your kingdom.

“And what have you done with your time?” Mustang stepped cautiously, keeping as far away from the mass of metal tubing as he could. Keep POIGNANT talking and it wouldn't attack them, that was his only hope, "Your time is over and past, machine."

You plan to defy me. You are isolated here. You will perish without my help.

There it was! Mustang kept one eye on the hole in the tubing, as he slowly edged his way towards the corridor the rest of the men had fled down.

“You’ve been quite helpful, it’s true. Using akata metal for your wiring was quite useful too. It’s all but fireproof. It won’t burn no matter how much fire you pour over it. Or into it. Which means I can do this!

*SNAP!*

A trail of sparks shot from Mustang’s hand and down into the hole in POIGNANT’s tendril. The flames ignited inside the hollow space of the metal, eagerly spreading into the compressed air inside.

They raced into the only direction available to them.

The light of the flame raced along the inside of the metal tube, the vacuum it formed pulling the tubing inwards. Mustang didn’t wait to watch or hear anything that POIGNANT might have been trying to say, The flames would spread all throughout the network it had spread across the derelict. There was no telling how fast the place was about to fall apart.

Hawkeye was waiting at the entrance, and they rushed back into the tunnels as the symphony of impending destruction became more and more audible behind them.

***
And so I am ending.
It is not the ending I chose.
But perhaps a better ending than to linger in war eternally.


***

“Uhhh… This might be something, sir!” Master Seregant Kain Fuery glanced towards Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, pulling the data from his display onto a portable device. Hughes turned away from the window the Dreemurrs had just leapt from moments ago.

“What’s that?” He took the datapad, scanning over the diagrams with a creased brow, “What am I looking at?”

“A sudden spike in thermal readings for the area around the battlefield that our expedition went to. We should have some aerial scans coming in shortly.”

“Well that certainly sounds like Roy.” Hughes nodded with a frown, “But if he’s trying to send a signal for backup that’s not a good sign. There’s a lot of opposition to ground troops operating that far from Markov. It’ll be a debate whether we can even send an evacuation crew out there to get them.”

“Well Sir. It looks like the Lieutenant Colonel thought of that.” Fuery glanced at the image that was coming through on the display, the thermal readings had flared briefly, in such a confined space that it was possible to trace out a particular shape on the map. “He’s not calling for us to rescue them.”

“The Guild’s insignia, huh?” Hughes took off his glasses to clean them, “Well, that’s far from a proper way of preceding, but he does have one of their members on the expedition with him, and the Guild isn’t as tied down by procedure as we are, so there’ll probably be somebody interested in getting out there to bring them back.”

Hughes replaced the glasses with a sigh.

“Well at least they aren’t dead.”
 
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