Valiant: Tales From The Archive

[CURSEd #7: Make Me An Offer]

Log Date: 11/29/12763

Data Sources: Darrow Bennion

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

CURSE HQ: Proving Grounds

4:22pm SGT

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask, holding the punching bag still after the last hit.

On the other side of the punching bag, Kwyn paces back and forth, running the back of her wrapped hand across her forehead. She’s in cargos and a tank top, working up a sweat as she goes to town on the punching bag. Though most of her blizzard-white hair’s bunched up at the back of her head, some of it’s come loose, hanging over her face in little locks and touching her shoulders. It’s hard to miss the muscle definition in her lean arms, and I find myself alternating between staring at the back of the punching bag and at the other groups of people training in the Proving Grounds, trying not to look at Kwyn too much.

Because she looks damn fine when she’s worked up, and I would probably keep staring if I let myself do so.

“It’s just…” she exhales, bringing her hands up again. “…okay, so you know the guy I told you about? The one over in the Steinhjerte system?”

“Yeah, the one that keeps ghosting your messages?” I guess. I know we had this conversation a while ago, and I don’t remember much about this guy that she was emotionally attached to, aside from the fact that Kwyn was putting in most of the work that was going into the friendship.

“Yeah, that’s the one.” she mutters, jabbing out again. The punching bag jerks as her fist slams into it. “So, he’s got this group of friends on the ‘net, and he’s going to visit one of them over on Sybione next week. He’s gonna stay with her for a week while he visits the Praelion District, sees the sights and all that.” It’s followed up by another couple of thuds going into the punching bag.

“Ah.” I say simple, steadying the bag again. “So there’s maybe…”

“I just— it’s not my place, you know?” Kwyn says, pacing a little more, as if sizing up another angle on the punching bag. “It’s his life, it’s not my business if he goes to a popular world and does all the sightseeing he always wanted to do and sees the places he wanted to see. And if he decides to stay with some girl he met on the ‘net while he’s doing that, it’s not like…” She spins and catches the punching bag with a roundhouse kick, which swings hard to the side before I catch it. “…not like it’s any business of mine.”

“But it still matters to you.” I say carefully, looking around the punching bag. Her tawny eyes are locked onto the punching bag with a laser-like focus, and her brows are drawn together — much different than their usual relaxed cast.

“I’d prefer it didn’t.” she says, kicking the punching bag another couple of times. “I mean, they probably aren’t doing anything, but…”

“They might. And that bothers you.” I say, filling in the implied sentiments.

“Yes.” Kwyn growls, hammering the sandbag with a barrage of punches. “I’m just so tired of trying to invest in this friendship, Dare, I’m not sure if I should bother anymore. He rarely ever replies to me, always seems like he’s busy, he’s never impolite, but he’s always distant, and he’s got other friends now, and it feels like he left me behind.” The last punch slams into the bag hard, and her fist stays there a moment before she uses it to push off the bag, taking a step back. “I try to feel happy for him, but it’s hard to stay happy for someone when it feels like they don’t even remember I exist sometimes.”

It seems like she’s done for now, so I take my hands off the back of the punching bag and step around it. “I don’t want to overstep, but… have you thought about throwing in the towel on that friendship?”

She huffs out a sigh, planting her hands on her hips. “I feel like I should. It’s at the point where it doesn’t feel like it’s worth it anymore. But I’d feel bad if I threw in the towel, even though I know that I should…”

“There’s just enough left that it feels worth it to try and cling to the relationship, even though whatever is left isn’t a lot.” It’s just a guess, but it’s a guess derived from my own past experiences.

“Yeah. That.” she says, wiping her forehead. “I know I should let go. I just don’t want to. You spend years getting to know a person, learning who they are, hoping to become a part of their life and hoping they become a part of yours, and to just let that go…”

“Hey.” I say, stepping towards her and holding a fist out. “Go on.”

She looks at the fist, then up at me, and raises an arm to bump her fist against mine, letting it rest there.

“It’s okay to let it go.” I say, my knuckles resting in the gaps between hers. “You’re strong. You’re amazing. You deserve someone that cares enough to recognize that. You’re going to find someone that can see who you are, that appreciates what you’re capable of, that respects you, that can be there for you. It may take a while, and it might not happen right away, but it’ll happen. And when it does, the waiting will have been worth it.” I press my knuckles into hers a little more. “Let him go. Make room in your life for someone else. You owe yourself that much.”

She takes in a deep breath, sighing it out to the side. After a moment, she tilts her head, one of her locks of hair falling across her eye as she looks up at me. “…I might be young, but I’m not stupid, Dare. Is this you making your move?”

It takes a moment for that to process, and when it does, my heart jumps. “My move? What do you mean by that?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me. You’re not as sneaky as you think you are.”

I can feel the heat rise to my ears at that. But it would be useless to deny it. “…I’m interested, I can’t deny it. Have been ever since you stepped through the airlock on the arrivals platform. But you asked me to train you, and you seem to think of me as a friend. Besides, it’s bad form to try and pull the moves on someone you’re training. Even if Kent and Whisper keep telling me I should.” I bump my fist against hers again, giving her a smile. “So as your friend, when I say let him go and make room for someone else in your life, I’m not talking about myself.”

Her tawny eyes — or at least the one that’s visible — stays locked on me. “As your friend?” she asks. “Will you still be my friend if I fall for someone else?”

I can feel a little bittersweetness rise in my chest, touching my smile a little. “If it makes you happy, then yes.” I say a little more quietly, thinking back to Roya. “Until you decide you don’t want me to be your friend anymore.”

Her eyes go down to where our knuckles are still pressed together. “It’s not that I wouldn’t be interested in you. It’s just that there’s someone else I’ve met, and I…” She looks back up at me. “…be my rebound if it doesn’t work out?”

That’s unexpected. “I… yeah, I can do that.” It takes a moment, but I find the strength to firm up my smile again. “But hopefully things will work out for you, and you won’t need my help there.”

Her smile is a sympathetic one. “You’re a good person, Dare.” She bumps her fist back against mine before letting it drop. “Will it bother you if I come ask you for dating advice?”

I let my hand drop as well, tucking it back in my pocket. “If it means helping you be happy, I wouldn’t mind at all.” The words are killing me, but…

Being a good person isn’t always a walk in the park.

She nods. “Okay then. Probably not soon, but eventually, later on down the line… I just have to figure out what I’m doing first.” Looking at the punching bag, she hitches her hands on her hips. “Think I’m done for the day. Got it all out of my system.”

“Axiom! Is this the new recruit I’ve been hearing so much about?”

Both of us turn to see Ironfist striding across the Proving Grounds in his workout clothes, with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. I loft a hand, waving to him. “Hey, Ironfist. Yeah, this is Kwyn. Kwyn, this is Ironfist, one of our senior Peacekeepers. He’s been with CURSE since the Peacekeeper initiative started up, and he’s pretty solid.”

Kwyn holds out her hand as she arrives. “Nice to meet you, sir.” she says as he shakes her hand.

“It’s good to see Axiom’s finally training a recruit of his own.” Ironfist says, dropping his duffel bag as the shake ends. “I can remember when Whisper was kicking his ass across this very same room, but he turned out okay. Say, you’re the recruit that challenged him during the Challenges, aren’t you?”

Kwyn nods. “He agreed to train me. I’ve learned a lot from him, and I’m looking forward to running support for him on future assignments.”

“That’s good.” Ironfist says, walking over to the punching bag and bumping it with his knuckles. “One of you mind holding the bag while I pound sand for a couple rounds?”

“I got it.” Kwyn says before I can volunteer. Moving over, she plants her hands on the other side of the punching bag as Ironfist starts to limber up.

“So, has Axiom done any personal sparring sessions with you, or is he teaching from a distance?” Ironfist says as he jabs the bag a couple of times. The thuds are pretty solid, but they’re just warmup punches, from what I can tell.

“Uh… well, we haven’t sparred hand to hand since the Challenges?” Kwyn says, steadying the bag. “He’s really helped me out with my marksmanship cert, and he’s gotten me in on missions where I can get real field experience.”

“He’s slacking, then.” Ironfist says, hammering another couple of blows into the punching bag. “A little rough-and-tumble goes a long way to buffing out the rough patches. Whisper made a habit of putting him through the wringer at least once a week, and from what she tells me, he was never really able to beat her, but it definitely toughened him up.”

I narrow my eyes at that suggestion. “I don’t really feel the need to smack my trainee around…”

“Well then, you’re just coddling her.” Ironfist says, catching the bag with a right hook that sets it swinging. “Whisper knew she needed to toughen you up; that’s why she ended up pinning you down so often. Soft recruits don’t end up becoming Peacekeepers.” He pauses to look around the bag at Kwyn. “And you want to become a Peacekeeper, no?”

Kwyn looks at him, then at me with a question in her eyes. I give a helpless shrug, holding my hands up. “We can set a weekly sparring session if you want.”

“You really think it’ll help?” she asks, looking back to Ironfist.

“Definitely.” Ironfist says, retreating back behind the punching bag. Once he’s out of view from Kwyn, he turns his head and winks at me. I suddenly remember our conversation from over a month ago, where he told me that challenging your romantic interest to combat was the orc equivalent of first base.

Oh my god, he’s trying to be a wingman.

I fold my arms, sighing as I rest my forehead against a knuckle. And all this, after Kwyn had just told me there was someone else that had caught her attention. I’m starting to remember why I bowed out of the dating scene once I attained Peacekeeper rank. This was a mess and a half, and I hadn’t even been trying.

“Dare?” Kwyn says after hearing me sigh. “Something wro—”

I look up just in time to see that Kwyn’s paying attention to me instead of the punching bag. Her hands are just resting on it, not really bracing it, so when Ironfist lands a haymaker on it, the entire thing swings back and bodies her, throwing her flat on her back.

“Kwyn!” I say, starting forward.

“Oh goodness.” Ironfist says, leaning around the punching bag. “Was she not ready for that one?”

“That’s my fault.” Kwyn coughs, pushing herself up on her elbows as I kneel down beside her. “Was distracted. Should’ve been paying more ‘ttention.”

“Sorry about that. Sometimes I forget that I punch a little harder than a lot of smaller folks.” Ironfist says, stepping around the punching bag as I help Kwyn back up. “Still got all your brain cells? I didn’t knock any out of you?”

“Think I’m good. I’ve had worse.” Kwyn says, using my arm to steady herself as she shakes her head a little. “I’ll pay more attention this time.”

“Don’t worry about it, I got my fill.” Ironfist says, patting her on the shoulder. Lightly, given how large his hands are. “Why don’t you call it a day; you look pretty worn out. Axiom, don’t go easy on her, but don’t push her too hard either. There’s a fine line between coddling your trainee, and overworking them.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” I say, letting go of Kwyn once it seems like she can stand on her own.

Ironfist picks up his duffel, giving me a lazy salute. “Well, I’m going to roll now. I want to hit up the mess hall before it gets too crowded. Try not to get into too much trouble before Krysmis rolls around, you two.” With that, he turns and starts back across the Proving Grounds, weaving between other pairs and classes of recruits in training.

Kwyn puffs out a breath, then looks at me. “Sparring session tomorrow?”

“Are you sure you’re comfortable with that?” I ask doubtfully.

“I don’t want you to go easy on me. If that’s how Whisper trained you, that’s how you can train me.” she says, the determination in her tone clear.

I resist the urge to turn and glare at Ironfist’s retreating back. “Alright then. Tomorrow, let’s aim for eleven o’clock.”

“I’ll plan on it.” she says as she starts unwrapping the cloth around her hands, heading for the locker rooms as she goes. Tucking my hands in my pockets, I head in the other direction, trying to sort through all the noise in my head.

Silly me, thinking things would get simpler when I moved on from Roya.

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

CURSE HQ: Proving Grounds

11/30/12763 11:04am SGT

“Well, this isn’t what I was expecting.” I say, stopping short of the crowd of recruits that’s forming a wide half-circle near the middle of the Proving Grounds. I bounce up on my toes to see if I catch a glimpse of what’s going on over the many heads in here, but I still can’t see anything.

“Is something going on?” Kwyn asks, coming to a stop beside me. We’re both dressed for sparring, and she’s working on pulling her hair back into a messy ponytail again.

“Nothing that anyone told me about.” I say, starting to walk around the half-circle of recruits, seeking the edge of it. “Maybe there’s a couple Peacekeepers sparring? The recruits always like watching a couple of the elites square off.”

“Would it really draw a crowd this large, though?” Kwyn says as she finishes tying off her ponytail.

“Maybe if it was Nazka fighting.” I say as we make it to the edge of the half-circle, where the crowd is thinner. I can see now that people are here as a result of the floor forming an arena, the hexagonal columns sinking about fifteen feet, with a translucent barrier shield springing up around the edges. Most everyone in the massive room has crowded around the barrier’s edge, staring down into the arena below, where Gossamer is squaring off again a vulpine hybrid with a ton of silver tails.

“Isn’t that the exotic creature that the administration was trying to recruit?” Kwyn asks as we come to a halt in front of the barrier. “Where are her handlers?”

“Yeah, I think research had been running tests on her while they had her here.” I say, watching as the fox lady ducks and dodges away from Gossamer. “Supposedly she had a set of Preservers minding her; can’t quite remember, but I think one of them was named Jazelle or something.”

“Jazel. Rhymes with Hazel.” someone says behind us. We both turn to see a hay-yellow blonde coming up on Kwyn’s side, with a scruffy frontiersman walking along behind her. They come to a stop at the edge of the barrier, staring down into the arena. “Milor, where did you say Jazel was?”

“Over there with the eggheads.” the frontiersman says, tilting his widebrimmed hat towards one of the edges of the barrier. Not too far from us are a set of researchers in labcoats, and beside them, there’s a little guy with unruly brown hair, pacing nervously beside the barrier as Gossamer and the fox lady keep fighting. “You want me to go grab ‘im?”

“No, we better go over there. I want to know what this is all about.” the blonde says, starting to walk in that direction. The scruffy guy follows her, and Kwyn gives me a questioning look. I nod in return, and we start to follow the pair at a respectful distance.

When Jazel sees the blonde walking towards him, he turns and runs to her. “Lysanne! I’m glad you’re here.”

Lysanne stops, looking back down into the arena. “What’s going on, Jazel? Why is Kayenta fighting a Peacekeeper down there?”

“It’s the last test that the research department wanted to run.” Jazel says, turning to look back down into the arena again. “They wanted to see how she measures up to the current Peacekeepers, probably trying to get an idea of how powerful she is.”

Lysanne frowns. “And you let them do that?”

Jazel gives a helpless shrug. “I tried to tell them that we weren’t going to do that, but this is one of the only tests that Kaya wanted to do. You know how she is… she likes establishing dominance over others.”

“Is that so?” Lysanne asks, looking aside and raising an eyebrow at Jazel.

Jazel looks back at her, blankly so. “Well, yeah. She’s an apex predator, top of the food chain. She likes to prove to others that she can rearrange most social hierarchies with her presence alone.”

“I think he missed what she was implying there.” Kwyn murmurs to me.

“Totally went right over his head.” I agree.

“Hey, peanut gallery.” the frontiersman barks at us. “You got sommat to say, pipe up and say it loud enough for the rest of us to hear.”

“Sorry about that.” I reply as Lysanne and Jazel look at us. “We were just curious about what was going on.”

“Looks like Gossamer is having a bad day, is what’s going on.” Kwyn murmurs.

I follow her gaze down to the arena in time to see Gossamer lunge at the fox lady, who turns a luminous, translucent blue. Gossamer staggers right through the incorporeal woman, who turns around, solidifying as she does so, and slams an open palm into Gossamer’s back. A ripple of blue light echoes out from the impact, and Gossamer arches her back, staggering another few feet before going to one knee, bracing herself on the ground.

“Mmmph.” the frontiersman grunts. “I remember when she did that to me. Didn’t feel great.”

“You’re not the only one.” Lysanne agrees. “If that elf lady is smart, she’ll throw in the towel before Kaya gets a chance to hit her with that again.”

“Does this kind of stuff happen often?” Kwyn quietly asks from my other side. It sounds like she’s trying to keep her voice down so the trio can’t hear.

“No, it doesn’t.” I reply, equally quiet. “This is extremely unusual. Getting permission to throw Peacekeepers at a test subject is something I’ve never seen the research department do before. I wonder who signed off on it.”

“Perhaps Nazka did?” Kwyn says, looking across the arena. “He’s over there with the scientists.”

Looking up, I scan the group of scientists to see that she's right. Nazka’s signature black attire is easily visible among the white labcoats, and near him, I can see a couple other Peacekeepers: Headache and Surge. Unfortunately, any further musing on that topic is interrupted when something slams into the barrier right in front of me; I startle back from it, glancing in time to see Gossamer falling twenty feet to the floor of the arena. Murmuring goes through the crowd gathered around the arena as Gossamer struggles to get back up.

“That’s enough.” Nazka’s voice is amplified, so he must have a mic clipped to his shirt. “Gossamer, you may tap out; there’s clear disparity in capacity and skillset here. Surge, you’re up next.”

Gossamer braces herself against the wall as she gets up, and I quickly step back as the floor panel I was standing on starts sinking. It lowers to the arena floor so Gossamer can step on it, the column rising at the same time that another one is lowering into the arena, this one carrying Surge. Kwyn and I step aside, making room for Gossamer to limp past us as her column reaches floor height again; the dirty glare she shoots in my direction makes it clear she doesn’t want to hear anything out of me as she makes her way back around the barrier to where Nazka is.

“She doesn’t seem too happy.” Kwyn observes.

“Well, she just got her ass kicked in front of a bunch of new recruits…” I murmur. “I’d probably be a little miffed too.”

An aggravated sigh draws our attention; the guy named Jazel is bouncing nervously on his feet and biting one of his knuckles. “This is stupid. If they keep throwing people at Kayenta, she’s going to kill one of them eventually. Probably on accident, but it’s gonna happen.”

“Yeah, well. That’s CURSE for ya.” the frontiersman mutters. “They don’t know when to stop.”

“Milor.” Lysanne says sharply.

Kwyn looks down into the arena, where Surge is starting to rub his hands together, arcs of electricity beginning to spark across his forearms. “You think she can hold her own against Surge? I’ve heard he ranks pretty high up there.”

“We’ll see.” I say, folding my arms. Surge is a tallish fellow, short blonde hair, fairly photogenic. One of the more popular and powerful Peacekeepers; his sense of fashion is on-point, and he’s casual and easy to get along with. He’s usually a big hit with the fans, and CURSE often uses him for charity events and low-level press announcements. “I didn’t know he was back; I thought they had him out on assignment.”

“Is he going to try to hit her with lightning?” Jazel demands. “Oh, that’s not gonna go over well.”

I glance over at him. “Why? Can she handle something like that?”

“Because—” Jazel begins, before a loud crack interrupts him. I look down to see a flash fading down in the arena; the fox lady, who’s apparently called Kayenta, stumbles back a few steps but steadies herself without much trouble, brushing at the scorch mark on her hoodie.

“Because of that.” Lysanne says, folding her arms. “I tried hitting her with a high-power bolt a few months ago. She walked it off. Something like this is just going to tickle her.”

“Good grief.” Kwyn murmurs as Surge starts around the side of the arena, as if he intended to get a better angle on Kayenta. “I guess this is why the administration wants to recruit her?”

“Anyone that can walk off a lightning bolt is going to be pretty valuable, yes.” I say, watching as Surge bounces another crack of lightning off the wall, angling it so it ricochets and hits Kayenta from behind. While it does leave another scorch mark on her hoodie, all it does is set her staggering for a couple steps. “From what I’ve seen so far, she seems pretty versatile. Her resilience to high-energy attacks and her ability to make herself incorporeal make it hard to engage her if she’s on the defensive.”

“Why isn’t she fighting back?” Kwyn asks as Surge charges another bolt of lightning.

“Because she doesn’t feel threatened.” Jazel answers, pacing nervously in front of the barrier. “Kaya, stop toying with him! Just knock him down and get it over with!”

Kayenta looks up to Jazel when she hears his voice, and that’s what Surge needs to get in close, catching her with a right hook that’s loaded with electricity. It all comes exploding out the moment his fist makes contact with the side of her head, and sends her flying as lightning splashes everywhere. I wince as she hits the ground hard, and Jazel’s hands come up to grab his head as he hisses. I don’t know what he is to her, but he’s heavily invested in this little research session, if it could be called that.

“Shit, that had to have pissed her off.” Lysanne mutters, shifting uneasily.

“ ‘bout damn time she took off the kiddie gloves.” Milor remarks, digging in his coat until he comes up with a toothpick that he sticks between his teeth. “Ten credits says we’re about to get a good show.”

Kayenta shakes her head as she pushes herself back to her hands and knees, while Surge follows up with jumping drop punch. She rolls out the way, his fist slamming into the floor and sending arcs of lightning dancing across the arena. Getting back up, he rushes her, going for another punch, but she catches it. I expected her to get electrocuted by it, but the electricity flows over her arm with ease and into her many silver tails. When Surge swings with her other hand, she catches that too.

“My father is the Rantecevangian god of storms.” I can hear her hiss, although it’s faint at this distance. Arcs of electricity are starting to jump between her tails as they separate out, each one acting as a conduit for a building surge of power. “Did you think lightning would hurt me?”

“Daddy’s little girl is about to learn a lesson, then.” Surge grunts back, the flow of electricity increasing as he tries to overload her.

“Jazel.” Lysanne says with a quiet urgency.

“Kaya! Bring it down a couple notches!” Jazel shouts down into the arena, his hands planted on the barrier. “It’s just sparring, remember? You can’t injure people!”

“I’m not going to hurt him.” Kayenta growls, her tails starting to glow as they accumulate more and more electricity. “I’m just going to put him in his place.”

“This doesn’t seem wise.” Kwyn says, looking worried. “She’s absorbing a lot of energy. Do you think Surge will be able to handle it if she kicks it back at him all at once?”

“Uh. Honestly I don’t know?” I say, giving a helpless shrug. “You probably know more about magic than I do. I’m just a regular human; a little bit of psionic sensitivity, but I’ve got no arcane skill.”

“I don’t know much either, but I know enough to know that’s a lot of power for anyone to be channeling.” Kwyn says. “She looks like she’s built to handle it, based on how she seems to be routing it through her tails. I can’t say the same for—”

A krak-BOOM drowns out whatever she’s about to say next. In the moment prior to that, it looked like Kayenta had yanked her hands together, dragging Surge’s arms along with her; the moment they came together, all of the pent-up electricity came blasting out in every direction. I take a step backwards when one of the bolts slams into the barrier where we are, which flickers unevenly, but manages to hold. All around the edge of the arena, the recruits do the same, scrambling back from the barrier as it’s taxed. When the light fades, I can see Surge was blown clear across the arena, likely hitting the wall and falling to where he’s currently lying on the floor.

As for Kayenta, she’s dusting off her hands like she just got done emptying a trashcan.

“Dunno if he’ll listen to you two, but y’all should probably tell your head honcho to call it off now.” Milor mutters. It takes a moment for him to realize he’s talking to Kwyn and myself; he takes his toothpick out of his mouth and points it to where a medic team’s riding a couple columns down into the arena. “The kid’s right. Fluffy McFoxtails is gonna end up killin’ someone, even if she doesn’t intend to.”

“He’s right, we need to get Nazka to stop this.” Kwyn says, looking at me. Normally I wouldn’t go up to Nazka and tell him how to do his job, but with Kwyn turning those big, tawny eyes on me, all filled with concern and expectation…

Gods, I’m such a sucker for her. I hate to admit it, but she can bend me her finger like a pretzel.

Turning, I start around the group of Preservers, summoning the resolve I’ll need to hold up underneath Nazka’s cold stare. “Nazka!” I shout as I walk along the edge of the barrier towards the group of researchers. “That’s enough, we don’t need to take this any further. I think it’s pretty obvious that she can hold her own with the best of ours.”

As I’d dreaded, Nazka turns his icy gaze on me. “Your opinion is duly noted and discarded, Axiom. I do not doubt that this specimen can hold her own along with the best of ours. What we seek to discover through this test is the boundary of her capabilities, which I do not feel we have fully ascertained yet. So we will continue until I feel we have witnessed the limit of this creature’s abilities.” He turns his head somewhat, as if to look around me. “As a matter of fact, your trainee harbors abilities that would be well-suited to pressuring the morphox into demonstrating what she’s truly capable of.”

I look around to see that Kwyn has followed along behind me, and immediately turn back to Nazka, holding up a finger. “No.”

Nazka arches an eyebrow. “No?” he repeats, as if he can’t quite believe I’m defying him.

“That thing, whatever she is, is powerful enough to knock out a credentialed Peacekeeper.” I say, pointing down into the arena. “You are not going to throw my trainee — a recruit that’s only gone on a couple missions and has far less experience than a fully-fledged Peacekeeper — into that arena to satisfy your curiosity.”

“You seem to be under the illusion that the matter was up for debate.” Nazka says coldly. “So let me clarify: it was not. It was an order, not a request, Axiom.”

“You seem to be under the illusion that it’s your choice to make.” I retort just as quickly. “So let me clarify: it’s not.”

“Dare, it’s fine.” Kwyn says from behind me. “It’s just a sparring match; as long as I take it easy, I probably won’t be in any danger—”

“No, it’s not fine.” I say without looking back at her, and motioning to where the medic team is bringing Surge up on a stretcher. “I’m not going to have you end up like that for the sake of the research department.”

“And all this, after you beat her black and blue during the Challenges.” Nazka remarks drily. “What a difference two months makes.”

“That was different.” I hiss, despite feeling the heat rise to my face.

“That’s enough.” The voice, amplified, is audible across the entire room, and is almost startling in its suddenness. It’s familiar, and I realize why when I look around: it’s Administrator Tenji, standing on the balcony that overlooks the Proving Grounds. I don’t know how long she’s been watching, but I can see someone in a white-and-gold-trimmed uniform beside her, and I realize that Prophet’s back, following his absence after the Wisconsin riot.

“Administrator.” Nazka says, inclining his head towards her.

“I’ve seen what I needed to see.” Tenji says, resting a hand on the railing. “Nazka, we will consider this test concluded. Have the Preservers and the morphox sent to my office, along with Axiom and his trainee. I also expect to see you there.” With that, she turns and departs, Prophet falling in step behind her.

Nazka’s eyes flick down to me without the rest of his head moving. “It would seem our argument is now largely moot. I will wrap up with the research team, if the pair of you would be so kind as to show the Preservers to the Administrator’s office.” Though the words are polite and phrased as a request, the tone leaves no question that it’s actually an order.

“Gladly.” I reply tersely, turning and heading back around the barrier. “C’mon, Kwyn. Let’s escort our guests to the Administrator’s office.”

“Guess we’re taking a skip on today’s sparring match.” she murmurs, following me.

“For now, yeah.” I say. “We can try again tomorrow. Hey, you three! It’s Lysanne, right? The Administrator would like to meet with you. Once your fox friend is back up here, we can show you to her office…”

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

CURSE HQ: Administrator Tenji’s Office

11:48am SGT

“Now that you’re all here, we can begin with introductions.”

The words are said as Tenji is sitting down behind her desk. Kwyn and I have gotten a couple of chairs off to the side of the room — I’m still not entirely sure why we’re here — and Jazel, Lysanne, and Kayenta are seated in chairs in the middle of the room. Nazka is in his usual spot, standing by the wall not far from Tenji’s desk.

“I am Administrator Tenji; for all intents and purposes, I am the head of CURSE’s general operations.” Tenji says, using one hand to motion to the side. “To my left is Deputy Administrator Nazka, who I believe you have met already, and to my right is Axiom, one of our Peacekeepers, and Kwyn Resquill, his trainee. Lysanne, Nazka and I are already quite familiar with you due to our regular check-ins. I have already been briefed on your companions, but would you mind introducing us to them anyway?”

“This is Jazel Jaskolka; he’s a Preserver like me.” Lysanne says, motioning to Jazel before gesturing at Kayenta, whose attention is very much wandering. “And this is Kayenta Silvertail. You already know plenty about her, due to those check-ins you mentioned.”

“Secondhand accounts are very different from in-person observations.” Nazka says at this point. “Getting to meet her, and observing her performance throughout the tests, has been very enlightening.”

Hearing Nazka speak up prompts Kayenta to bare her teeth at him in a silent snarl. Lysanne responds by elbowing her and muttering “Behave.” before looking to Tenji. “I suppose we’re here to talk about the offer you wanted to make to Kayenta?”

“Yes.” Tenji says, reaching up to adjust her glasses. “The data we’ve collected over the past weeks, and what I witnessed during today’s test, makes a strong case for her potential as a Peacekeeper. It’s apparent she has a versatile arcane skillset, and no small amount of raw power. I believe that with time and training, we could teach her how to harness that in the service of the galactic public.”

“For which she would be amply compensated, as all Peacekeepers are.” Nazka adds at this point. “Axiom can attest that the benefits and compensation are commensurate with the risks and the work involved at the Peacekeeper rank within the organization.”

My abrupt involvement in this conversation catches me off guard, but it’s suddenly clear why I was brought in here. “Oh, yes. Peacekeepers are paid very well for their work, their skills, and their dedication. Talent, perseverance, and integrity are things that are recognized and rewarded within CURSE.” I say quickly, trying to mask the fact that I hadn’t been ready to jump in like that.

“So to that end, we wanted to formally extend that offer to Ms. Silvertail.” Tenji says, picking up from there. “Normally Peacekeeper positions must be earned, but with threat of the resurgent Challengers on the rise, our times demand that we make exceptions here and there. We can train you directly into the position of Peacekeeper, as a special agent of sorts.”

Kayenta flicks her silver ears at Tenji’s words, then cocks her head to one side. “You want me to fight your wars for you?”

“Not a war as such, but a battle against morally bankrupt individuals and organizations.” Nazka explains. “They threaten the peace that CURSE has established over this last decade, and if we let them go unchecked, then they will foment unrest, and eventually, rebellion and violence.”

“What will you give me if I do that for you?” she immediately asks.

Nazka and Tenji look a little befuddled at that. “Well, as we said earlier, there is ample financial compensation in the form of a generous yearly salary, along with an extensive benefits package that covers work-related expenses and medical bills free of charge…” Tenji begins.

“Kayenta doesn’t have much concept of money, or healthcare, or economics, or astropolitics, or anything along those lines.” Lysanne explains.

“I don’t know what those things are, and they sound useless.” Kayenta says, rocking in her chair a little. “They said you would try to find a way to feed me. Can you keep me fed while you’re doing that?”

“I assume she is referencing her… unusual diet?” Nazka asks, looking at Lysanne and Jazel.

“She’s talking about eating souls, yeah.” Lysanne says with a pointed look at Jazel. “We’ve been working on figuring that out. Without much progress.”

“I’m still working on it.” Jazel mutters. “There’s a lot of research to be done.”

“Research which may move faster if done by a dedicated team and trained staff that have access to a broad array of resources.” Tenji says at this point, refocusing her attention on Kayenta. “That is something that we can provide, if you would like to make a condition of your employment.”

“Yes, but can you feed me?” Kayenta presses.

Tenji appears somewhat offput by that question. “As in, feed you souls?” she asks. “I imagine that given time to study the problem, the research team will be able to provide an adequate substitute—”

“How long will that take?” Kayenta asks.

“We do not yet know.” Nazka answers. “It may take months; it may take years. It is unlikely we would find a substitute or a solution in the short term. These sorts of projects do take time to come to fruition.”

“Okay.” Kayenta says, leaning back in her chair. “So you’re going to find souls to feed me in the meantime, right?”

An uncomfortable silence fills the office. Kayenta waits for an answer, while Tenji and Nazka struggle to contain their bewildered looks. It’s clear that while they prepared for this meeting, they did not expect it to go in this direction.

“Souls, as in… the souls of people.” Tenji says slowly, as if she needed to confirm that we’re all on the same page.

“Well, wild animals don’t have a lot of soul, so yeah, it has to be people souls.” Kayenta says. “I need to eat souls, or I’ll die.”

After a moment, Tenji’s perplexed gaze goes to Lysanne and Jazel. “You all have been feeding her souls?”

“No.” Lysanne says.

“Yes.” Kayenta says at the same time.

And at the sound of the conflicting answers, Jazel just sinks a little lower in his chair.

Another uncomfortable silence fills the room as Lysanne looks at Kayenta. “We haven’t been feeding you souls.” Lysanne says, confused.

“Jazel’s been feeding me souls.” Kayenta says, leaning forward in her chair to look around Lysanne at Jazel. “He’s keeping me from starving.”

Every eye in the room turns to Jazel, who sinks into his chair a bit more. I’d been reading his quietness as him just being shy, but now I realize it’s something else.

“Jazel.” Lysanne says with a dangerous softness, turning now towards Jazel. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

He hunches his shoulders defensively. “It’s no big deal. I found a way to keep her fed while I was looking for a solution.” he mutters, folding his arms and refusing to meet Lysanne’s gaze.

“Oh really.” Lysanne says. You can almost hear the fury building behind her calm tone. “And where are you getting the souls you’ve been feeding her?”

“Doesn’t matter. I haven’t had to kill anyone to feed her, and that’s all that matters.” he mumbles, folding his arms.

“Huh.” Lysanne says, turning back the other way and looking at Kayenta. “Kayenta, you want to tell me how that works?”

Kayenta gives a shrug, motioning at Jazel. “It’s him. I feed on him. He’s had many lives before this one, so his soul has many other souls in it, and he lets me eat those.”

“You WHAT?” Lysanne snaps, whirling on Jazel. “This whole time you’ve been letting her FEED ON YOU?”

Jazel winces at the shout, still not looking at Lysanne. “Well, you were too busy fussing over Dandy while Grimes was trying to kidnap and murder me, so I figured you had more important things to worry about.” he mutters sulkily.

“OH NO YOU DON’T.” Lysanne blazes. “You’re not playing that card on me, here, in front of everyone else. Just because I’m worried about Dandy—”

“Oh, it’s a lot more than worried, it’s not like all of you left me alone on the surface of Pallus with some crazy sorcerer and his elf gang trying to kidnap and kill me—”

“This isn’t even the original topic—”

“No, you’re trying to change the topic because you don’t want to admit you abandoned me without saying a goddamn thing or warning me beforehand—”

“That has nothing to do with letting Kaya feed on you—”

“Well yeah, I guess now you know what it feels like when nobody tells you anything and you find out about it after the fact—”

The rest of us just stare as the shouting match escalates. Kwyn looks at me; I look back at her; both of us look at Tenji and Nazka, who look at us, then back at Lysanne and Jazel. The back and forth is so heated and sharp that even if I had the chance, I’m not sure what I would say to break it up. It doesn’t help that the level of awkwardness in the room just keeps rising the longer the two bicker with each other.

“Hey.” Tenji eventually says once it feels like it’s gone on long enough. “Hey! HEY! THAT’S ENOUGH, BOTH OF YOU!”

Tenji’s barking cuts through their argument, which peters out as the two of them return their attention to Tenji, who offers a small, if strained smile. “It seems like you two have some personal issues you need to sort out later. However, the purpose of this meeting was to offer Kayenta the Peacekeeper position. Kayenta, we can promise you a research team to look into your… unique dietary condition, but we do not have souls just lying around that we can use to feed you. Could you possibly live off food, like normal people do?”

Kayenta shakes her head. “I need souls to survive. If you can’t give them to me, I’m not interested. I go where my witchling goes, because he keeps me fed.”

“I see.” Tenji says, folding her arms on her desk. “While disappointing, it is understandable. Mr. Jaskolka, I wish you all the best with finding a substitute for your friend’s dietary needs, and I hope for your own sake that you have carefully considered the cost of letting her feed on you. For now, you three are dismissed, and I would recommend that all of you take a long walk apart from each other, and cool off a bit before trying to resolve your disagreements.”

“Are there any further questions before we send you on your way?” Nazka asks.

“No.” Jazel mumbles, while Lysanne shakes her head, and Kayenta looks eager to be out of the room.

“Very well. Then you are dismissed.” Nazka says, the door to the office opening at a wave of his hand. “Do enjoy your lunch hour, or your next meal, whenever it may be.”

The trio are quick to evacuate their chairs, with Jazel making for the door faster than the other two. Once they’re out of the room, Nazka waves the door shut once more, allowing Tenji to lean an arm on her desk and massage her forehead. “I need a drink.” she sighs gently, closing her eyes.

“It is perhaps for the best that she did not take the offer.” Nazka opines. “I do not believe that the morphox would’ve functioned well within anything resembling a traditional command structure. She may be powerful, but without discipline and obedience to the chain of command, she would’ve been more of a liability than an asset.”

“Could we ask the Preservers to stay here so we could train her?” Kwyn suggests. “She said she goes where her food is, so if you kept the witchling here…”

“They travel as a group, and besides, Preservers are notoriously independent when it comes to decisions relating to the research projects they want to pursue.” Tenji says, pulling out one of the drawers in her desk and rifling through it. “The pursuit of science and knowledge lends one a certain willingness to break norms and defy authority. While that may be valued in research communities, it is something we want to minimize in a peacekeeping organization, which we are. As Nazka said, it is probably for the best that she did not take our offer.”

“So what now?” I ask. “Having someone that powerful running loose in the galaxy seems dangerous.”

“I agree, but for the fact that she has no apparent motive aside from getting fed.” Tenji agrees, coming up with a box of bagged snacks and setting them on her desk. “Kayenta Silvertail seems like a simple creature from a more primitive time. I don’t ever foresee her becoming a problem in the way that more sophisticated individuals, like Songbird, have become problems.”

“Besides, we have a contingency in place to ensure that she is of use to us, regardless of whether she’s directly working for us or not.” Nazka adds.

“So we will put that into motion, and shift our attention to other things.” Tenji says, fingering through the snacks in the box. “Such as the Spark initiative. The artifact you have recovered from Chibundi has proven more esoteric than our research department is accustomed to, so we will need help decoding the secrets it possesses. It may require us to solicit assistance from certain supernatural quarters. The archaeology and arcanology departments are currently working on that together, but we expect they will be providing us a viable course of action within the next week or two. I would like the two of you, and Whisper, to be present when we put it into action.” Picking out a bag of gummipops, she looks to Nazka. “What do you think?”

“You’ll have to spend another thirty minutes on the treadmill tonight.” is his dry assessment of her selection.

Tenji stares at the bag of gummipops for a few long seconds, then says “Worth it.” and sets them down on her desk, looking at us. “Anything for you two? I keep a secret stash of goodies and junk food in my office for when I have to work long hours or pull all-nighters.”

“Oh no, I’m good.” I say, holding up a hand.

“I’m fine.” Kwyn replies just as quickly.

“C’mon, humor me. I can’t eat all this stuff on my own. You know how many goodie baskets I get from visiting dignitaries and politicians?” Tenji says, digging around in the box before pulling out a bottle. “Here, take this. It’s bottle of sparkling cider. Something like that is best shared with friends, anyhow. Go on, take it. I probably have like four more of them sitting in a closet somewhere.”

I get up out of my chair and head over to take the bottle when she insists. “Thanks.” I say, looking it over before looking to her. “Are there any orders you have for us in the meantime?”

Tenji shakes her head as she leans back in her plush chair, opening the bag of gummipops. “Remain on standby and ready for orders. The resurgent Challengers have been quiet for the last three weeks; I’m sure they’re up to something, but they haven’t showed up in open space anywhere. Just be ready to go when the call comes.”

“We can do that.” I say as Kwyn stands as well. “If that’s all, we’ll be excusing ourselves now. We were going to train, but I think we’ll have lunch first and then go from there.”

“Sounds like a fine plan to me. Enjoy the rest of your day, you two.” she says, giving us a motion of her hand that I assume is dismissal. Nodding, I turn about and make my way back to the door, ignoring Nazka’s cold grey stare as Kwyn follows me there.

Out in the hall, the first thing I do hold the bottle out to Kwyn once the door to the Administrator’s office closes. “Mind holding that for me?” I ask.

“I don’t mind.” she says, taking it. “That meeting didn’t go the way I expected.”

“Yeah, that little spat between those two Preservers was something else.” I agree, tucking my hands in my pockets as we walk down the corridor.

“Oh, that part too.” Kwyn says. “But I was talking about the Administrator having a giant box of junk food in her desk.”

“Ah. That bit. Yeah, that surprised me too.” I admit. “I suppose even the Administrator needs something to nibble on now and again.”

“I was expecting her to be more… uptight.” Kwyn says as we reach the elevator. “I also noticed her eyes… is she a vampire?”

“The Administrator?” I say, stepping into the elevator. “I’ve never really been in the same room with her often enough to think about it, but now that you mention it, she does have red irises, doesn’t she.”

“It looks like it. And she looks younger than I expected, but the way she dresses and she acts, it seems like she’s got more experience than someone at our age.” Kwyn says, stepping into the elevator as I select the mess hall floor on the control panel. “Is there a reason why Nazka’s so cold, or is he just like that?”

“He’s just like that. He’s been that way ever since I first met him a decade ago.” I say as the doors close and the elevator starts to descend. “He’s the bad cop to Tenji’s good cop. They make a good team, and I think it’s meant to be that way; Tenji always seems so much warmer and kinder when you put Nazka next to her.”

“There’s something about him that just gives me the shivers every time I look at him.” Kwyn says, hugging herself. “Like he has no empathy. Like he doesn’t care about people, only results.”

“Yeah, I can see how he’d come across that way. Especially with trying to throw you into the arena with that fox lady.” I agree. “I’ve never really liked him, but I’ve seen what he can do, so… I’m just glad he’s on our side and not the other side.”

“He’s really that powerful?” Kwyn asks, looking at me.

“He’s the Deputy Administrator for a reason.” I explain as the elevator starts slowing down. “I wouldn’t want to fight him without a lot of backup.”

Kwyn seems to think about that for a moment. “And the Administrator?”

I tilt my head, thinking about that as the elevator slows to a stop. “I’ve never seen or heard of her fighting, come to think of it.” I say, stepping out as the doors open. “But I don’t think Nazka would defer to someone if he didn’t respect their strength. He strikes me as the type to go for the highest position of authority he can get, so the fact that he’s willing to take orders from Tenji tells me that she’s powerful in her own way.”

“That makes sense.” Kwyn says, following me out and offering the bottle of sparkling cider back to me. “Here you go.”

“Nah, that’s yours now.” I say, keeping my hands in my pockets as we walk down the hall. “I don’t have any hands to carry it with, they’re stuck in my pockets.”

“What? No! The Administrator gave it to you!” Kwyn protests.

“She did. And then I gave it to you.” I agree. “That’s how trickle-down economics works, right?”

“I can’t just take a gift that the Administrator gave to you!”

“Sure you can.” I shrug. “You heard Tenji. Peacekeeper compensation is quite generous. With what I get paid, I could go grab a dozen bottles of sparkling cider and it wouldn’t make a sizable dent in my checking account. Pay for regular operatives isn’t quite so ample, so I figured you’d appreciate that more.”

“She said it was supposed to be enjoyed with friends, though.” Kwyn says, running a thumb over the label on the bottle.

“Yup. So keep it and share it with that person that caught your eye.” I recommend. “Something like that would be good for a picnic or a date night, I figure.”

She smiles sideways at me. “Do you ever do anything for yourself, Dare?”

“Well, I’m about to get myself lunch…”

“I didn’t really phrase that well.” she says, letting the bottle hang from her hand as we pass one of the observation lounges that overlooks that the rest of the HQ’s crescent. “Does anybody ever do anything nice for you?”

I think about that. “…yeah. Not often, but Whisper props me up when I’m feeling down. Makes sure that I’ve got my head screwed on straight. I suppose I’ve got someone that looks after me, the same way I look after you. Gotta pay it forward, and all that.”

She nods, looking down at the bottle of sparkling cider. “Well, one day when I’ve got a trainee of my own, I’ll make sure to do for them what you did for me, and what Whisper did for you.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” I say as we come up on the archway where people are flowing into and out of the mess hall. “I hear they’ve got hamburgers today…”

“Are we sparring after this?”

“God, no. Last thing I want to do is take a hit to the stomach and have my lunch come back up. We can wait a couple hours, then spar if you’re still up to it.”

“Oh good, I was thinking the same thing…”

CURSE HQ Security Footage

Maintenance Docks, Bay 2

4:34pm SGT

The feed from this particular camera keeps watch over one of the maintenance docks within the CURSE HQ’s crescent. In particular, it overlooks the access hatch and the benches adjacent to it, upon which a certain scruffy frontiersman sits with his widebrimmed hat pulled down over his eyes. Through the windows lining the quay, one can see the vast hull of the Dandelion Drift, parked in the bay for diagnostics and maintenance. The quay itself is largely empty; it is one of the quieter portions of the HQ when there are no ships arriving or disembarking.

It is a solitude disrupted when the air in front of Milor distorts, hexagonal ripples tracing over an unseen outline before Whisper comes into view, wearing her cloaking bodysuit and her cloaking jacket over top of it.

This results in Milor raising his head a little, then reaching up to tip back the brim of his hat somewhat. “Took you long enough.” he drawls. “Almost thought I’d be able to get out of here without being noticed.”

“Fifteen years is a long time. You’ve gotten older, and I didn’t recognize you with that baby hedgehog you’ve got growing on your face.” Whisper says, folding her arms. “What are you doing here, Trickshot?”

“Well, before you get your tits in a twist, I ain’t breaking any rules.” Milor says, leaning back against the bench as he reaches in his jacket, pulling out a toothpick and tucking it between his teeth. “I’ve stuck to the rules of the resettlement agreement. There ain’t nothin’ you can peg me for. I kept my head down, found a socially acceptable job, and didn’t cause any trouble. So you can take that judgmental look and walk it right back out the door it came through.”

“You seriously expect me to believe that?” Whisper scoffs. “A retired Challenger just happens to turn up here, at the CURSE HQ, at the same time that a group of resurgent Challengers are rising up and raising hell across the galaxy? I don’t think so.”

Milor shrugs. “If it was up to me, we would’ve skipped this stop altogether. I’ve got better things to do than hang around a bunch of traitors.”

Whisper’s mouth drops open a little. “Traitors? So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”

Milor’s gaze is bold and unflinching. “What, you don’t like hearing the truth?”

“The program no longer represented what I believed in. That’s why I left.” Whisper retorts. “That’s not being a traitor. That’s sticking up for what you believe in.”

“Sticking up for what you believe in would’ve been staying and helping fix what was broken.” Milor says, speaking around the toothpick in his teeth. “That was the hard road. You took the easy road, which was selling out to the other side and getting yourself a comfy spot while you still had the chance.”

“We both know that the Challenger program couldn’t be saved after what it had turned into.” Whisper disagrees. “Whether you want to admit it or not. Besides, what was I supposed to do, go into the resettlement program and become a glorified traffic cop? Tell me how that’s worked out for you over the past fifteen years.”

“It ain’t exactly been a joyride.” Milor admits, shrugging. “But at least I can sleep at night.”

It’s clear from the expression on Whisper’s face that she has a retort lined up and ready to go, but instead she just shakes her head. She seems to realize it’s not going to get her anywhere, since neither of them are going to yield the point in this conversation. If they’re still disagreeing on this fifteen years down the line, it’s likely they’re never going to see eye to eye on it.

“Why are you here, Trickshot?” she asks after a moment.

Milor laces his hands behind his head. “I’m bodyguard for the party of Preservers that lives on that big ol’ ship behind me. Got a problem with it?”

“You don’t honestly expect me to believe that, do you?”

“Whether or not you believe it is immaterial to the objective reality of the fact.” Milor drawls. “I ain’t here to spy on CURSE, Ilyana. I’m here because I go where the kids go, and y’all called ‘em back to the HQ so you could try to bribe Fluffy McFoxtails into doing your dirty work for ya. And don’ tell me that isn’t what y’all were doin’, ‘cause you and I both know damn well that’s exactly what you were doin’.”

“The Drift was recalled for maintenance and diagnostic.”

“ ‘Maintenance’, my ass. It’s a Challenger ship, it runs like a dream.”

Silence falls between the two as they run out of barbs to throw at each other. After a moment, Whisper breaks the silence. “If I catch you doing anything greasy—”

“You’ll do what, Ily?” Milor says, taking one of his hands from behind his head to pull his toothpick out of his mouth. “Gonna kill an old boyfriend?”

Whisper narrows her eyes at him. “It was fling. Nothing more.”

Milor’s shoulders jump with a short, puffed laugh. “Three weeks, wasn’t it? I still remember them. They were pretty memorable.” He tilts his the rim of his hat up a little more. “You haven’t aged a day since those three weeks. Still the same Ily, right down to the hair and those icy eyes. Warm body and a cold, cold soul, little kitty.”

“Sounds like someone’s a little salty about getting older.” Whisper retorts. “Seems you’ve let yourself go a little bit over the last fifteen years, Dusty.”

Milor just smiles, running his nail over the length of his toothpick. “I can’t help that I’m human, Ily. Not all of us get to live four thousand years, and not all of us get to stay twenty-five for three thousand of them.” He looks up from his toothpick. “Despite how much you hated her, you take after Gossamer more than you know. Love ‘em and leave ‘em, then watch ‘em grow old and pretend you never knew ‘em.”

Whisper’s pupils narrow to catlike slits. “You better think real careful about the next words out of your mouth, Milor.”

He smirks. “Y’know, we’ve got a saying out on the frontier. The people you hate are mirrors.” He reaches up, tucking his toothpick back between his teeth. “Now, I suggest you mosey along and find something or someone better to do.”

“I’ll be keeping an eye on you.” Whisper warns as the hex panels of her bodysuit activate again, starting at the feet and working their way up. “You put a foot out of line, I’ll have you in one of the HQ’s cells in a heartbeat.”

“You wanna waste your time watching me, be my guest.” Milor says, reaching up and tilting the brim of his hat down as Whisper fully disappears. “You need me, you know where to find me. Ain’t like I got anywhere better to be right now.”

And with that, he slouches back on the bench, the quay returning to silence once more.

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

CURSE HQ: Axiom’s Quarters

8:27pm SGT

When the doorbell to my quarters rings, I look away from the intelligence report I’d been reading. “System, door camera.” I order, and a moment later, a window pops up, showing Whisper standing outside my door. Sitting up on my bed a bit, I set my data slate to the side and quickly pull my nightshirt on. “System, open door.”

There’s a click as my door unlocks and slides open, and Whisper slips inside. She doesn’t say anything as the door slides shut behind her; she just marches over to my bed and and faceplants right onto it, letting out a muffled yell directly into the blankets. I raise an eyebrow at where she’s flopped on my bed. “Long day?” I guess.

She turns her head so she’s not talking into the mattress. “Yeah. Hey Dare — you don’t think I’m like Gossamer, do you?”

I can tell, just from that sentence, that her current mood has something to do with someone comparing her to Gossamer. “Not in any sense that matters.” I answer. “You’re both stubborn, but I think that’s where the resemblance starts and ends.”

“You don’t think I use people the way she does, do you?” Whisper presses.

This seems more than a surface-level conversation, so I lace my fingers together over my stomach, getting comfortable for what may be a long talk. “Not that I’ve seen, but I suppose I’d need some context. What do you mean by ‘using’ people?”

She rolls over on the bed, so she’s lying on her back instead. “Getting people to fall for me, taking them for a whirl for a few months, then leaving them because I’ll live longer than them and stay young while they slowly grow old.”

“Ah.” So it was this particular thorn on the rose of interspecies dating — the fact that some species easily outstripped others in terms of lifespan. “Well, not that I’ve ever been deeply privy to your romantic life, but you don’t really strike me as that sort. I’m guessing someone compared you to Gossamer in that regard?”

“An old flame from over a decade ago.” she says, pulling her legs up onto the bed so she can set the heels of her feet on the edge of the mattress. “He hasn’t aged too gracefully.”

“Ooh. Yikes. Yeah, he sounds a little bitter, so I’d take what he says with a grain of salt.”

“I didn’t let it show, but it feels like he’s right, though.” she sighs, staring up at the ceiling. “I never stay with anyone for very long. I think I’m scared to. Most sentient species in the galaxy live for one, two, three, maybe four centuries. I think elves are the only ones that begin to approach the wereckanan lifespan, and even then they only live a tenth of how long the wereckanan live. They cap out at what, four hundred years?”

“Four hundred to five hundred, yes.”

“Exactly. Hell, it usually takes about two hundred years just for a wereckanan to reach full maturity!” She lets out another sigh, running her hand over her face and through her hair. “Sometimes I hate that wereckanan live so long.”

“Isn’t that why so few wereckanan live among other societies?” I ask. “I heard there was some sort of taboo against mingling with other humanoids because of the difference in lifespans.”

“It’s not a taboo, it’s just a… thing.” Whisper says. “In the wereckanan culture at large, we’re strongly encouraged not to live among other non-wereckanan species. The elders in our culture say it’s for the best on both sides. We don’t have to grow attached to beings that will grow old and die long before we will, and those beings won’t be hurt when we leave them because they grow old while we have not.”

“I mean, there is a certain logic to that.” I admit. “It can’t be easy, watching your partner stay young as the day you met them, while you get older and creakier.”

“Yeah. I just… yeah.” she sighs, rolling over on her side, reaching up to tug and flick at the fabric of my pajama pants. “I just wish the rest of you lived as long as I do. I don’t want to watch you get old and die.”

“If it makes you feel better, I don’t think anyone wants to get old and die. But it’s not like we’re given a choice.” I say, twiddling my thumbs. “We just do the best we can with what we’re given, and hopefully the time is well-spent.”

“Yeah.” she puffs again, then wriggles a bit on the bed, repositioning so she can rest her head on my thigh. “Well, I guess that’s enough bitchin’ and moaning from me. How are you? It looked like you were reading something before I came in.”

“Just an intelligence report.” I say, picking up the data slate and placing it next to her. “I saw that Prophet was back at the HQ today. I hadn’t really thought about it, but he kinda went missing after the Wisconsin riot. Turns out he was doing damage control and some administrative rearrangement at SCORN in the aftermath, or at least that’s what he claims he was doing.”

“Tell me again why we’re allied with a league of bigoted xenophobes?” Whisper says, taking the slate so she can skim over the report.

“As far as I can tell, the only reason is because Prophet used to be a Challenger, and so he hates the resurgency as much as CURSE does.” I explain. “It’s just an alliance of convenience, moreso after the Masklings decided to recognize the resurgency. You know how much SCORN hates the Masklings. Everything lines up for them to be on our side, even though we have big differences where it regards principles.”

“Well isn’t that just snazzy. They’re jerkwads, but they’re jerkwads that have the same enemies as we do.”

“More or less.”

“Bleh. It might be convenient, but it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I don’t get how we’re supposed to be working with people that would tell me my existence is an affront to the natural order, and that mixing races is obscene.” Whisper says, tossing the slate back to the bed on the other side of my legs. “You mind if I hang with you tonight? I don’t want to be alone.”

“Yeah, at least until… I’ll say midnight. Now that I’ve got a trainee, I actually need to get up in the morning at a decent time.” I say, reaching over to grab the slate and close the intelligence report I’d been reading. “What do you want to do? I can queue up the Challenger anime if you want to pick up watching that again.”

“Nah, I want to do something.” she says, sitting upright on the bed. “Oh, I know! Why don’t we duo queue on Rant Legends?”

“I thought you wanted to do something fun.” I say, leaning over the bed to open my bedside drawer and pull out a couple of controllers.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun! We can go unranked and screw around.” she says, grabbing pillows and stacking them back against the headboard, getting comfortable.

“Getting my ass blasted by powerleveling smurfs is not my idea of fun.” I say, passing one controller over to her.

“We can duo boooooot.” she sings, grinning as she leans against me.

I give her the side eye. “Duo bot?”

“I’ll pull Radiance support if you wanna go Corone crit build.”

“Mm… fine.” I say, leaning back against my pillows. “System, bring up Rant Legends on the holoarray. Split the screen, we’re going to need two logins.”

“Yessss!” Whisper says, wriggling happily. “I’ve got a couple new skins I’ve been wanting to show off, too.”

“Is that what you spend your Peacekeeper paycheck on? Online game skins?”

“Hey, don’t judge. Everyone needs a vice. What’s yours?”

“Paying for Kent’s drinks, apparently.”

“Yeah, that’s no good. I’mma get you some Corone skins, we can’t have you playing with that basic bitch stuff.”

“Please don’t.”

“Too late, you’ve got the Pool Party skin.”

“Awesome. I’m still going to lose, but at least I’m going to look good while I’m doing it.”

“That’s the spirit!”

Intercepted Transmission

CURSE HQ Comms Tower to undisclosed recipient

11:31pm SGT

Nazka: Is the line secured?

???: Line is secured.

N: Good. I presume I am speaking with Anselm Grimes.

Grimes: Oh, you got my first name. Very good, Deputy Administrator. There’s not many that have been able to dig that up.

N: We are thorough here at CURSE. It goes without saying that I am not calling you for the idle chatter, Mr. Grimes, so I will get right to the point. It is our understanding that you and yours have a vested interest in the creature that travels aboard the Dandelion Drift, and keeps the company of Preservers Arrignis and Jaskolka?

G: I have an interest in both the witch boy and the morphox, actually.

N: Indeed. We have no use for the morphox; she cannot be tamed in a manner that would make her useful for the aims and the goals of the organization. I cannot speak for the witchling, but I will say we will not look too hard were he to go missing. CURSE is, after all, heavily preoccupied with the resurgent Challengers.

G: Yes, of course. I imagine you all are quite busy in that department. And besides, Preservers do go missing now and again. It’s a dangerous line of work, exploring and conserving endangered magical creatures and relics.

N: I’m glad you understand the risks of that career field. Now, were we to provide occasional updates on the location of the Drift and her assignment schedule to you, we would expect something in return; a favor to be called in at our discretion.

G: Of course; one doesn’t expect something for nothing. I would need something a little more concrete than that, though. What is it you’re looking for, Mr. Nazka?

N: In return for giving you the information needed to capture the morphox, CURSE would expect that you provide an instance of sabotage or interference against the resurgent Challengers. We do not expect you to topple them singlehandedly — CURSE will handle that themselves — but we expect you to make a salient contribution to destabilizing their incipient rebellion.

G: I see. How about this, then: I’ll get with my people, you get with yours. You give me the assignment schedule for the Drift, and I’ll tell you when and where would be the best time to mount an ambush against these renegades.

N: Can you guarantee it, Mr. Grimes? I do not want half-assed intel. It needs to be solid enough that we can confidently mount a crippling strike against the resurgency. If it does not bear out, I will see to it that the Drift’s assignment schedule is randomized until you can fulfill your end of the bargain.

G: Of course, Mr. Nazka. I’m a man of my word. The information, once I have it, will be solid, and you’ll have your ambush. Whether or not your people are able to capitalize on the opportunity… well, that will be up to you.

N: Provide the intel, Mr. Grimes. I will be the judge of its worth. If I deem it sufficient, you will have the Drift’s assignment schedule.

G: Fair enough. I’ll be in touch soon, Deputy Administrator. Be sure to have the assignment schedule on hand by the time I call again.

N: I hope, for your sake, that your confidence is not misplaced, Mr. Grimes. Farewell until next we speak.

-line disconnected-