Valiant

[Valiant #8: To Seduce A Raccoon]

Log Date: 9/25/12763

Data Sources: Feroce Acceso; Lucanthiline

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

The Bulwark: Prisoner Block

5:21pm SGT

“What? That’s not fair!” Ridge complains.

“That was part of the agreement.” I say as I stride down one of the cramped halls of the Bulwark, with Ridge following behind me. “If you stayed current with your schooling, then you would get to participate in training activities and field missions.”

“I’ve been doing my schoolwork, though!” Ridge protests. “I turned in all my assignments this past week!”

“That’s true. You’re doing all your assignments. But you’re not doing them well.” I point out as the door leading into the prisoner cellblock slides open before me. “I saw the grades that your tutor posted.”

“It’s not my fault the stuff is boring!” Ridge says. “Everything is boring compared to the mission we went on. Why would I bother memorizing quadratic functions when I could be helping you interrogate the Maskling? Half this stuff I’m learning isn’t even useful!”

“As someone that’s been alive for four decades, I can assure you that at least half the stuff you learn in primary schooling is eventually useful.” I say as we come up on the security checkpoint. There’s a static screen blocking the entrance to the cellblock proper, and a rickety old combat Cyber managing the guard booth to the left. “Language is especially useful. Good for writing reports, and learning a second language equips you for interacting with people that don’t speak galactic common.”

“Yeah, but when the hell am I going to use something like… like… triangle theorems, or imaginary numbers?” Ridge demands.

“That’s not the kind of language I was referring to.” I warn him sharply before going on. “I’ll be honest, I learned those once upon a time, and I never used them again. So I agree with you; they are effectively useless to anyone that’s not an architect, engineer, or an electrician.” Shaking my wrist, I hold it up, the bracelet on it blinking as I pass through the static screen. “But there’s no excuse for the rest of it. History, civics, science — these are all foundational subjects that are useful for being an intelligent, informed member of galactic society. And they are especially important for anyone looking to pick up a Challenger skillset.”

“He’s right, you know.” the old Cyber wheezes through one of his failing vocal emitters, scrolling through a website for Cyber parts and upgrades on the inside of the booth window. “A good education gets you options later on in life. If you just focus on combat, like I did, you’ll regret it. End up losing half your parts to a spiderdrone bomb and stuck on guard duty for the rest of your career.”

Ridge goes to follow me through the static screen, but jumps back when it shocks him, crackling angrily because his bracelet doesn’t have sufficient permissions. “Alright fine, I’ll do better on my assignments! Please? I need to learn how to interrogate people!”

“Results come before the reward, not the other way around.” I say as the platform arrives, the rusted railings flipping up and locking into place. “Bring your grades up, then we’ll talk. Until then, you’re on academic probation.” Looking to the Cyber, I nod to him. “Maskling cell, please.”

I can see Ridge fuming as I step back onto the platform. “I’ve still got those pictures of you and her, by the way!” he shouts.

“Yeah, I bet you do.” I smirk, leaning back against the railing of the platform as I tuck my hands into the pockets of my longcoat. “But I’m already the most hated Challenger in the galaxy. You think blackmail’s gonna scare someone whose reputation is already a pile of ash?”

Ridge stomps a foot. “We’ll see if you’re so smug after the news has pictures of you kneeling in front of a Maskling with your hands tied behind your back!”

That gets my attention. “Wait, what?” I demand, pushing off the railing. “I thought you only took pictures of when she fell over on me!”

Ridge grins, sticking his tongue out at me. “Nah, man. I snuck up on you two way before that. I’ve got the money shots, six of them. Moonlight coming in through the window in the back, her leaning back against the desk, you kneeling in front of her.” He brings his hands up, circling them around each other. “Hands behind your back, all knotted up with that pretty white tie of hers. I didn’t know you were into that, Songbird.”

I start forward. “I swear to Anaya, if you give those pictures to anyone—”

Before I can finish, Ridge nods to the Cyber in the guard booth, who throws the switch, and the platform starts winching downwards before I can step back into the cellblock entryway. The last I see of Ridge is him giving me a smug finger wave before he disappears from view; I grit my teeth, then turn around, gripping the railing and leaning on it.

The kid learns fast, I’ll give him that.

Shaking my head, I put the thought of blackmail out of my mind as I pay more attention to my surroundings. The prisoner cellblock is structured like a massive atrium, with cells built into the wall, and enough cells in here for a few hundred prisoners. They’re arranged in layers of rings stacked atop each other, with tracks on each ring that allow the platform to reach them. But the platform is the only way in or out; even if you managed to escape your cell, you’d step out into thin air, and it’s a long way down to the bottom. And even if you survived the fall, you’d be on a fast track through the disposal vents that lead to the trash incinerator.

As prison architecture goes, it’s pretty respectable.

The platform doesn’t descend too far before stopping on the third ring down. From there, it begins moving sideways along the track, passing cell by cell until it slows to one of the lit cells, locking into place. The cell door itself is a dirty, depressing, utilitarian affair, much like the rest of the Bulwark’s engineering; it’s dark, faded, gray, the door itself at least six inches of steel with thick, internal deadbolts. There’s only a single dingy window set into the door, no larger than six inches on all sides; faint yellow light leaks through the scratches on the glass, a sign that the cell is occupied and in use.

Looking down, I swipe my bracelet across the interface next to the door, and it gives me a holoscreen with interaction options. Scrolling down the list, I tap the order opening the door but keeping the internal static screen up. There’s a deep hiss as the hermetic seal opens, the internal deadbolts drawing back, and the cell door opens along the zigzag lines in the middle. The two halves retract and revolve along the axis of their hinges, opening up like a great metal maw waiting for you to step inside, and I can’t help but think that whoever designed these cells was real determined to make you feel like the infrastructure itself was trying to eat you.

Inside the narrow cell, however, is a familiar face.

“Well, look who decided to show up.” Kiwi says from where she’s slouched against her bed, dressed in a bright green prison jumpsuit. Her hair’s down instead of pulled back into a messy ponytail, since they took away her hair tie. “Were you avoiding me, or were they keeping you from visiting?”

“I had to change some minds.” I say, tucking my hands in the pockets of my longcoat as I study the cards scattered across the floor. Looks like it’s all that’s been keeping her entertained during her incarceration. “Mind if I step in?”

She shrugs. “Not like I could stop you even if I said no.” She lifts her hands, which have cuffs on them. “Done a pretty handy job of keeping me from breaking out.”

“Drain cuffs are a standard when incarcerating magically talented individuals.” I say, stepping through the static screen. “I saw what you did to Blockchain back on Valcorria. We can’t have you doing that to your cell door.”

She snorts, leaning back against her bed. “Only reason I was able to do that was because of you, Blueberry. Even with my best spells and channeling all my power, I don’t have enough energy to bareknuckle a demolition bot clear through a building and halfway across the plaza outside.”

I stare at her. “Because of… me?”

She raises an eyebrow at me. “You really thought I could do something like that on my own?”

I give a lazy shrug. “I mean, I’m not an expert on Masklings, and your race isn’t exactly forthcoming about what they’re capable of, beyond the obvious.”

“Fair. We don’t make a habit of blaring our abilities to the rest of the galaxy.” Kiwi says, starting to pick up the cards she’s got organized across the floor. “I’m not old enough to throw around that kind of power on my own.”

“Oh really?” I say, taking my hands out of my pockets and slowly crouching down, picking up one of the cards. “I know it’s usually rude, but if you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?”

Her green eyes flick to me. “C’mon, Blueberry. If you’re going to try to weasel information out of me, don’t make it so obvious.”

I smile, flipping the card over in my fingers, running my finger along the metal edge. The card itself is made of a flexiglass screen that can display different cards depending on what game you’re playing. “We can take turns. I’m forty-two. I know I don’t look it, but you’ve probably figured out by now that I’m a vampire.”

She tilts her head to one side. “Huh. Really. I’m forty-two as well.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Really? Wouldn’t have pegged you for a day over twenty-five. Do Masklings age slowly, or…?”

A shrug is her answer as she gathers up the last of the cards. “Masklings have considerable control over their physical forms. We can hold ourselves at a certain age, just the same that we can incorporate the traits of our past Maskbearers into our current or stored forms. There is a cost, but as a vampire, I’m sure you’d understand the sacrifices made for eternal youth.”

My lips draw together into a tight line. “Yeah, there are certain things you give up in order to stay young.” And I’m not really a fan of discussing those sacrifices, so I flip over the card in my hand and hold it up so she can see it. “I am curious where you got the deck from. I thought we’d taken all your stuff from you.”

That prompts a grin from her as she does a bridge shuffle with the deck. “C’mon, Blueberry. I know you’ve heard the rumor that Masklings have spies everywhere.”

I take a moment to mull that over, trying to figure out if she’s being serious or just playing with me. “You’re not the only Maskling on this mobile fortress?”

“ ‘Course not.” she says, cutting the deck and shuffling it together again. “We’ve got people everywhere. It’s how we make up for not having the sort of fleet or armies that other nations have. We’re an endangered species, so we have to defend ourselves somehow. Spycraft, infiltration, and intelligence give us the leverage we need to deal with bigger nations and organizations. Usually we focus on governments and large corporations, but mercforces aren’t out of the question.”

I’m quiet while I process that. She does another bridge shuffle, then smiles at me as she holds a hand out for the card I’ve got. “You gonna run off and tell the big bosses now?”

“Not yet.” I say after a moment, shifting down to rest on one knee, instead of remaining crouched. “I can always tell them later. I still have more questions for you.” Reaching up, I pull back the sleeve of my longcoat so the runemarks wrapped around my wrist are visible. “Tell me what you did to me.”

Her smile doesn’t go away, just takes on a softer, amused tilt, as if there was a joke there that only she knew. “I already told you, Blueberry. I tangled with you.”

“I understand that.” I say. “But I don’t know what tangling is. Tell me what that means.”

“Mmm.” After a moment, she sets the deck down, lacing her fingers together and looping them over one of her bent knees. “It’s exactly what it means, really. It’s when you take two people and tangle them together. Link them so that they are part of each other. It has certain advantages.”

Getting my head around that, and what it means for me, is a little tough. “…I’m linked to you? We’re linked to each other?”

“Yeah.”

I let my sleeve drop back over my wrist as I process that. It’s not just what she’s telling me, but also how calmly and simply she’s telling it to me. “Is it permanent?” I ask.

“It doesn’t have to be, no.”

That just raises more questions. But the one that matters the most right now: “Then why are you still tangled with me?”

She doesn’t answer right away. The way her scarlet-orange eyes search me is unnerving, as if she was looking for something in me, or trying to find the words for her answer. “You are not like the other people I’ve tangled with. There is something different about you.” After a moment, she takes a card off the top of the deck, and looks at it. “Why? Do you not want to be tangled with me?”

It’s an awkward questions to answer. “I mean… I barely know you.” I say uneasily, reaching up to rub the back of my head as I look away.

“If you don’t want to be tangled, we can untangle.” Dropping the card, she holds out her hand to me.

I stare at her hand. I hadn’t expected it to come that easily; I’d expected her to fight it, to refuse or resist. I start to raise my hand, then look at her. “Really? Just like that?”

“If you want off this ride, just say so.” she says, hand still outheld. “There’s not a lot of people that can handle being tangled with me. You wouldn’t be the first that backed out.”

Logically speaking, there’s no reason not to take the offer. Despite everything she’s said so far, I still don’t know a lot about this ‘tangling’. And from what I can tell from our fight back on Sybione, it put me at a distinct disadvantage when she could sense what I was going to do before I did it. Plus, the way she’s worded it is like she’s giving me permission to tap out. Making it sound like other people have gone the same route, and so there’d be no shame in taking that route.

But when I look at her eyes, what I see is a dare. As if she’s challenging me to back out, and prove that I’m no different than all the others that have come before.

The buzzing of my phone breaks the silence and the moment. Looking down, I reach into my jacket and pull it out; it looks like a text from Sierra, ordering me to a meeting up in the intelligence center. After reading it a second time, I lock the screen and tuck it back in my longcoat. “Sorry. The Boss needs me.”

Kiwi smirks, letting her hand drop. “You work too hard.” she says, leaning back against her bed as I stand up. “It was nice getting to see you again, Blueberry.”

“Same to you.” I say, heading for the door. Just before I pass through the static screen, though, I pause with a thought, an idea welling up within me. After a moment, I turn around to look at her again. “…perhaps I could come back tomorrow. We can play a round of cards, talk some more. How’s that sound?”

I can tell that the offer surprises her. She blinks at me, then looks down at the deck she was picking up. “I can promise you, you don’t know how to play the game that these cards are for.” she says, taking one off the top of the deck and flipping it to show me. And she’s right; I don’t recognize the card in the slightest. It’s definitely not part of your standard fifty-two card deck.

“How about you teach me, then?” I offer. “I’ll probably suck at whatever game it is, but I can give it a college try.”

That brings a faint smile to her face. “Alright then. Same time tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I feel like pointing out the fact that she has no power to set anyone’s schedule, but when I look back at her, I can tell from her smile that she already knows that. She just wants to mess with me, to pretend she has some control where she has none. And I’ve got nothing clever to say in return.

So after a moment, I just smile back at her, because sometimes silence can speak louder than words. Passing through the static screen, I step back out onto the platform, reaching over to the holoscreen and hitting the option to close up the cell again. As the jaws of the cell’s door clamp shut again, the deadbolts sliding into place, I lean back on the railing as the platform starts moving back around the cell ring.

I think I might’ve made a new friend.

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

The Bulwark: Intelligence Center

6:07pm SGT

“What we have so far doesn’t look promising.”

The diagnosis is given by Tony, the Accatria’s adjutant officer, as she makes her way around the console in the middle of the intelligence center. Sierra, myself, Commander Dussel, and Valkyrie are leaning back against the desks ringing the center of the room, watching the screens surrounding the backup archive that’s floating above the central analysis console.

“We’ve had roughly three days for our analysts to work with the archive. We knew getting into it was going to be hard, but the encryption that’s in place is beyond our ability to crack with our current resources and technology.” Tony says, scrolling through a data slate in her hand. “While we’ve been able to interface with the archive, we’ve been unable to actually get past the second layer. It appears to operate on a rank-based security system drawing on data from the Challenger roster as of thirteen years ago.”

“So it will only grant access to certain individuals from the Challenger program?” Dussel guesses.

“Generally, yes.” Tony confirms. “Rank-based access. Higher rank means access to more layers of the backup archive.”

“We’ve got three Challengers right here.” Dussel says, motioning to me, Sierra, and Valkyrie. “Should be more than enough.”

“The problem is that it’s based on the roster from thirteen years ago.” Valkyrie says. “At that point, a lot of Challengers had either been forced out of the program or left it of their own accord. Jackrabbit and myself were among those that were forced out of the program, and we were stripped of our rank in the process. The backup archive won’t recognize us as valid.”

“I got kicked to the curb after the Incident, so I’m definitely not on the roster from thirteen years ago.” I add. “I could try, but I’m probably in the same boat as Valkyrie and Jackrabbit.”

Dussel folds his thickly muscled arms, puffing out a breath. “Alright then. What’s your excuse, Lieutenant? Did you get court-martialed for bedding your commanding officer or something?”

Sierra raises an eyebrow. “Me? No, it still reads me as a valid Challenger. I’m the reason we even have access to the first layer of the archive. But it’s based on the roster from thirteen years ago, and I wasn’t high up on the hierarchy back then. My rank from thirteen years ago isn’t sufficient to access anything beyond the first layer.”

“Great.” Dussel mutters, rubbing a thumb over his chin stubble. “So what are our options, Adjutant?”

“In theory, there are two potential avenues of access. The first is that we find a Challenger that was high-ranking in the roster from thirteen years ago, use them to access the administrative layer of the archive, and reset permissions and access rights from there.” Tony says, tucking the data slate under her arm. “The other is that we get a hacker on it, the best that money can buy, and hope that they can hack their way in or crack the encryption. Both avenues come with their own set of difficulties and risks. The first avenue would be less expensive, but…”

“All the very few high-ranking Challengers from the roster thirteen years ago are either dead, defected to CURSE, disappeared into dark space, or went into the resettlement program.” Valkyrie explains. “The ones that defected to CURSE will never work with us. We can’t find the ones that are in the resettlement program because that information is locked in the archive. Our best bet would be to hope one of them is still hiding out in dark space, and we could find them, and they’d be willing to help us.”

“Or, the far more accessible, but much more expensive option: hiring the best hacker money can buy. Probably a Cyber, and very likely a digital intelligence that lives on the galaxynet.” Tony says. “I’m not sure our client will want to throw money at the problem, though.”

“What if we can do both, though?” I ask at this point. “Find a retired Challenger that used to be a technology specialist, and probably had a decent amount of rank clearance?”

Dussel raises an eyebrow, looking my way. “Oh? You have one of those in your back pocket?”

“I mean, not every Challenger was forced out of the program or went into the resettlement program or defected to CURSE.” I point out. “Some of them that had good reputations and didn’t have any scandals weighing them down — they just retired or moved onto doing other things without changing their name. Echo was one of those, I think — I saw him doing an interview a month ago, for the anniversary of the Songbird Incident.”

“That’s a good point.” Valkyrie says, looking to the little crystal prism hanging over the central console. “I hadn’t thought about that, but he had decent standing in the program thirteen years ago, and he was one of our lead scientists, in addition to being a competent field operative. He could probably get us into at least the third layer of the archive, possibly the fourth.”

“We’ll want to do a background check.” Sierra says, pushing off the desk she’s leaned back against. “It’s been fifteen years. People can change, and he might’ve been compromised by CURSE during that time.”

“Tony, can you see to it that our analysts put together a file on Echo and do a thorough review on him?” Dussel asks. “Once we know what we’re dealing with, we can figure out how to approach him and who to send to him. Assuming he hasn’t been compromised.”

“I’ll put it at the top of the priority board and ensure we devote a couple of analysts to it.” Tony says, straightening to stand at attention. “We should have an actionable report in a week, although I would recommend at least two weeks’ time just to make sure our intelligence is verified and airtight.”

“We’ll give it two weeks if we can.” Dussel says. “We may not have that time, though. CURSE knows we have the backup archive, and our merc license has been revoked by the Guild. The Colloquium’s made a criminal referral to the Vaunted accusing our mercforce of aiding and abetting rogue Challengers, so we’ll have the galactic police on our ass once they manage to scrounge up enough evidence to lock in a warrant. If that doesn’t happen fast enough, CURSE or other parties might start putting out bounties on us, so other mercforces might come after us trying to collect on them. We’re not long for civilized space, so the sooner we can crack that archive and find a Bastion to hole up in, the better.”

“I could be wrong, but the access codes to the Bastions will probably be in the higher layers of the archive.” Valkyrie warns. “Even with Echo, it may be difficult to get our hands on those.”

“Access codes should be in the lower layers, hopefully the second or third.” Sierra says at this point. “Control codes for the Bastions are probably what’s stored in the fourth or fifth layers. Access to the Bastions is all we need at the moment; control of the Bastions can come later.”

“Well, since we have access to the first layer of the archive, is there anything we can do with that information?” I ask. “There’s gotta be something in there we can use.”

Sierra shakes her head. “None of the first-layer stuff is really useful to us. Most of what’s in the first layer is already public knowledge, stuff that anybody could find on the galaxynet with a little bit of time and research. Whoever did the last archive backup made sure that all the good stuff was locked behind the higher levels.”

“Alright, so there’s not much we can do with the first layer. I still want an analyst looking it over to see if there might be anything useful; from what I saw, there’s a lot of information in there and we’ve only really been able to skim it.” Dussel says, nodding to Tony. “And while we’ve got the brain trust here, I wanted to discuss what we’re going to do with our… guest.”

“I assume you’re referring to the Maskling in the prisoner cellblock.” Valkyrie says.

“That exactly.” Dussel confirms, looking in my direction. “Now, while I appreciate both the effort and skill demonstrated by managing to capture both her and the backup archive, I do have to ask… why, exactly?”

I feel a little embarrassed as all eyes turn on me. “Well, um… it’s actually kind of a long story…”

“Shorten it.” Dussel orders. “She’s another mouth we have to feed, and even something as simple as that could get hard if the Colloquium criminalizes us. I need to know the justification for letting her take up space on this base.”

“Okay.” I say, putting my hands up. “Short version is I think I can get her on our side. She wants the archive for the same reason that we want it: it contains the location of one of her people’s lost arkships. If we can get in there and help her find it, I think we can get her help on some of the stuff we want to get done.”

“That’s not what this project is for.” Valkyrie says, shaking her head. “We’re here to protect the surviving Challengers, and build something new out of the remains. We don’t have time for someone else’s side quests.”

“Valkyrie’s right.” Dussel says. “Client’s paying us to get the Challengers back together, not run errands for the Masklings. I’m sure that lost arkship is important to her and her people, but we’re not here for her and her people. We’re gettin’ paid to take care of the Challengers.”

“Yeah, but this is something that Challengers would do.” I protest, pushing off the desk I’m leaning back against. “Challengers help other people that need help. That’s like the core of what we believed in. What’s the point of gathering the Challengers if we’re not going to help other people that need help? This isn’t a high school reunion; we’re not doing this for nostalgia’s sake. We’re doing this because we want to make a difference in the galaxy again.” I give that a moment to sink in, folding my arms as I lean back again. “At least, that’s why I’m doing it. I don’t know why the rest of you are doing it.” I glance at Dussel. “I know you’re doing it because you’re getting paid, so you don’t need to say anything.”

Dussel shrugs. “I’m a merc. That’s how it works. Ain’t nothing shameful in that, son.”

“If I may…” Sierra says, examining her fingernails. “…I think trying to win over the Maskling is a good idea.”

“Perhaps nobody else here knows you as well as I do, but your judgement leaves something to be desired.” Valkyrie says to Sierra in clipped tones. “Your track record while in the program was not that stellar, either. There’s a reason you only have first-layer clearance for the archive.”

“That less-than-stellar trend never ended; it’s still the case today and for most of her time with the Dussel Mercforce.” Tony says under her breath while tapping away at her data slate.

Sierra just smirks. “Yet here I am, at the rank of Lieutenant Commander. I must’ve done something right.” Rolling her shoulders, she stretches her arms out. “Anyway, we’re getting off topic. As I was saying, I think Feroce is right. We should keep the Maskling. And we should help the Masks find their missing arkship.” She starts circling around the analysis console, sizing up the backup archive. “If what the Commander is saying is true, then the galaxy’s about to get a lot more unfriendly for us. We’re going to need allies if we’re going to survive, and honestly… Masklings are pretty good allies.” She turns to look at the rest of us. “I mean, think about it: they’ve got an incredible intelligence network. They can infiltrate almost any institution undetected, and they have people everywhere. Masklings have been discovered at the highest levels of government in a lot of nations. They might not have raw numbers or military strength, but they can get information and pull strings — and those two things are what we need most for finding our lost Challengers.”

I scratch at my jaw. “I mean, I was thinking we should do it because it was the right thing to do…”

“But there are certain tactical advantages to doing the right thing.” Tony says slowly and thoughtfully. “Commander, it pains me to say it, but… she has a good point. We could really use allies if we’re about to become galactic pariahs, and the Masklings may be a good faction to align ourselves with.”

“Yes, I’m seeing the logic.” Dussel says, making a lopsided frown. “I can’t say I’m a fan of the idea. Masklings have always given me the willies just because of what they are and how they exist. But personal feelings aside, I see the utility. It may be necessary, and may make our lives easier in the long run. Valkyrie, any input?”

Valkyrie shakes her head. “Songbird’s got a point. We’re Challengers. Not much point in getting the gang back together if we’re not going to make the galaxy a better place while we’re at it.”

“Alright then.” Dussel says, nodding to me. “Songbird, I’m putting you in charge of cozying up to our green-haired guest. Let’s see if we can sell her on the idea — and if we can’t sell her on it, see if you can find out where we can talk to Masklings that might be open to the partnership.”

“I’ll see if I can start doing some research on her.” Tony offers. “With as often as you’ve encountered her, and her combat capabilities, I don’t think she’s a regular Maskling. I think she may be a special agent of the Maskling government.”

“Looks like you’re gonna have more dates with your darling, Feroce.” Sierra says with a coy smile. “Luci will be so proud of you when he hears.”

“They won’t be dates.” I say, rolling my eyes. “Is there anything else we needed to discuss while we’re here?”

“No, you all are dismissed.” Dussel says, unfolding his arms as he straightens up. “It’s about time for dinner anyway, and I’m hungry. Go eat, relax, and get some rest — we all have a lot of work ahead of us.”

With that, Dussel goes on his way, with Tony and Valkyrie quick to follow. I’m about to leave when I hear Sierra call my name, and I turn to see a thermos flying through the air towards me. I scramble to catch it, fumbling with it a bit before I get a good hold on it.

“Heard you burned through a lot of blood on that last mission.” she remarks, hands jammed in her pockets. “Between the smolder, and stabbing yourself to get Gossamer off your back, I figured you’d prolly be running low. But you managed to get the backup archive, so… I got you some of the good stuff.”

I turn the thermos around until I can see the marker tag on it. “Is this… holy shit, is this Dalayu blood?”

Sierra winks at me. “Enjoy. And make sure you send back the thermos; you know how the bloodbank feels about not getting their loaners back.” With that, she turns and makes her way out of the intelligence center.

Giving the wolf decal on the thermos a once-over, I smile to myself, and look up to the backup archive floating in the column of light. Though we couldn’t access it right now, we’d be able to eventually, with a little time and effort. And even though the odds were stacked against us, having the Masklings on our side would probably even things out.

It took a while, but I’m starting to feel like we’ve got a fighting chance.

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

The Bulwark: Prisoner Block: Kiwi’s Cell

9/26/12763 4:24pm SGT

“You’re early today.” Kiwi remarks as I step through the static screen of her cell.

“You told me not to be late.” I say, holding a stick of jerky out to her as I kneel down within the narrow cell. “How’d you sleep last night?”

“Well, if I’m being completely honest, this jumpsuit is really itchy, and these cells are deadass cold.” Kiwi says, sliding off the bed to sit on the floor opposite me after she takes the jerky. “So I’d take off the jumpsuit so I’m not itchy, but then I’m really cold because these covers are thinner than a runway model. So I’m either itchy or I’m shivering, but to answer your question, sleep wasn’t great.”

“Oh.” I say, feeling more awkward by far now. “That’s… rough. I’ll see if I can find you an extra blanket or something.”

“You really are a good boy, aren’t you.” she says as she starts to peel the packaging of the jerky open. “Just can’t help being nice, even when you shouldn’t. I bet you were a pushover when you were a kid.”

“Nice isn’t a bad thing to be.” I say. “I’m actually surprised you’re not more pissed off at me, since I knocked you out and got you captured.”

She shrugs as she takes a bite of the jerky. “You were just doing your job, just the same as I was just doing my job. It’s not fair to soldiers to get mad at them for doing their jobs. You’ve got your duties, I’ve got mine, and we’re just doing the best we can to protect and defend what we care about.”

“Yeah, about that…” I mention, noticing an opening. “The whole reason you were after the archive was because it had the location of one of your people’s arkships, right?”

She raises an eyebrow at me as she chews. “I’m surprised you remembered, Blueberry. But yeah, that’s why we’ve been trying to get our hands on it.”

I think about how to phrase my next words, and decide to be blunt. “You know, I did offer to work together at least twice, but you blew me off both times.”

“No, I blew you off once.” she corrects me. “The second time, I told you that if you wanted to work together, you had to come get me. But I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

“Well, here we are.” I say, waving to the cell around us. “Offer’s still up if you want to take it.”

She smiles, taking another bite of her jerky. “Let me out of this cell and I’ll consider it.”

I give her a flat look. “If I let you out of this cell, you’re going to try to escape.”

“Now you’re catching on.” she says, leaning one arm on her bed. “Besides, don’t you have your own missions to chase? It’s not like you’d be able to make time for mine.”

“I could, actually.” I say, mirroring her posture and leaning one arm on her bed. “The way I see it, I could help you with finding your missing arkship, and in return, you could help me with finding the surviving Challengers. We both get what we’d want, and it’d be a lot easier if we were working together.”

“I’m almost convinced.” she says, picking up her deck of cards with her free hand. “But it’s not my choice to make. I’ve got someone I have to answer to, just like you do. They’d have to sign off on that, and for that, you’d have to let me go, so I could go ask them.” Setting her jerky to the side, she starts dealing a hand from the top of the deck. “And I’m pretty sure you’re not going to let me go, because you’re afraid I’ll run off and never come back. So. How about a game, instead?”

I reach out, taking the hand of cards she’s holding out for me. “Tell me where I can find your commanding officer, then. We can go talk to him.”

She smiles, dealing a hand for herself. “C’mon, Blueberry. You think I’m just going to give away classified information like that? I’m not stupid. There’s people that would pay dosh to get the location of Maskling redoubts, so they could find them and crush them.”

“So what, you’re just going to sit in this cell, playing cards to pass time?” I ask, not looking at my hand yet.

“Yeah. Until they find a way to break me out.” she says, setting the deck on the floor. “It shouldn’t take too long. We already have someone on the inside; it’s just a matter of timing.”

“You’re real confident about that.” I say, starting to fan out my cards and look at them. “What if you’re wrong, and they decide it’s too much trouble to try and break you out of here?”

“They’ll come to get me, whether I want them to get me or not.” she says, picking up her jerky and taking another bite of it. “Unfortunately, I’m too valuable for them to just let me go. They always come to get me, even when I get into trouble on purpose.” She looks at me at this point, and I can see she’d rather be talking about other things. “You ready to learn how to play TSAR?”

I’ve still got questions — about what kind of asset she is if the Maskling government insists on retrieving her even when she gets herself into trouble on purpose — but it’s clear I won’t get much more out of her, based on how short and clipped her answers are. “Sure, why not. Tell me what I’m looking at here.”

“Alright, basics first. To Seduce A Raccoon is a narrative strategy game. The objective is to either get the round’s Goal card, or seduce the Raccoon.” She says, drawing four cards, handing one of them to me.

“Anaya above, what am I getting myself into.” I mutter, taking the card, which calibrates with my image as soon as I face it towards myself. “Oh look, it’s me.”

“It is. That’s your character card. Go ahead and put that down.” Kiwi says, setting her character card down in front of herself, then setting the other two cards down to the left of the deck. They calibrate as well, one showing a raccoon and the other showing what appears to be a princess. “These two cards are the Goal cards. First one is the Raccoon, that’s pretty obvious, and then it looks like the other Goal card is the princess, which, based on her objective text… needs saving from a castle.”

“I’m guessing I’m supposed to be reading this little tiny text on each card.” I say, squinting at my hand of cards.

“Yeah, there’s win conditions on the Goal cards that let you know how you can snag up those cards.” Kiwi says, tapping one of the Goal cards so it shows its win conditions. “Anyhow, looks like the princess needs a strong young man to save her, who can also bake well, knows how to knit, and is gainfully employed. If you meet three out of the four, then you can claim the Goal card.”

“Man, she’s asking the farm and then some.” I say, staring over my hand of cards. “Alright, I’ve noticed we have cards with different colors on the border. What’s that all about?”

“There’s different types of cards. Yellow border are Twist cards, red border are Event cards, Blue border are Happening cards.” Kiwi says, reaching over and tapping my character card. “You’ve also got traits on your character card. Looks like you’re good at knitting.”

“What can I say, I’ve got hidden talents.” I say. “Alright, I still know nothing about this game, but let’s do it. Who’s going first?”

“I am.” she says, setting down a card. “First thing I’m going to do is play down a Happening, that happening being me getting a job as a blacksmith down in the village, so there, I’m gainfully employed now. Your go now.”

“Alright…” I say slowly, looking through my cards. “Wait, quick question, what are the win conditions on the Raccoon?”

Kiwi taps on the Raccoon card. “Usually an object list. A piece of cheese, the princess’s left sock, the king’s diadem, and a wine cork. Three out of the four will get you there and win the round.”

“Sounds like the Raccoon’s asking the farm too.” I say, picking a card and setting it down. “Event card. Town’s on fire, most of everything burned down, including the blacksmith’s. Looks like you’re unemployed again.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “You’re a quick learner.” Drawing a card off the top of her deck, she looks through her hand, then picks a card and flips it down on the pile. “Twist. You pissed off a well fairy and got hit with a genderbender curse. You’re a missus now.”

“Aw, c’mon, man.” I groan as my character card morphs into a feminine iteration. “Princess was looking for a strong young man.”

Kiwi shrugs. “Hey, she ain’t picky. So long as you can bake, knit, and you’ve got a job, you can still snatch her up. Three out of four’s good enough.”

I pick another card off the top of the deck. “Are these cards dynamic? I noticed that they shift and change every time something gets played down.”

“Yeah, the cards shift to suit the story. Makes it easier to build a coherent narrative.” Kiwi says, looking through her cards. “We’re playing the basic version right now, but there’s a billion expansion packs. I’ve got the Modern expansion, Heist expansion, Steampunk Noir expansion, and a bunch of others. We can try some of those later, if you like.”

“Steampunk Noir sounds interesting.” I say, throwing another card down. “Event. Since the village burned down, we have to build it back up again, and the king’s paying us all to get it done, which means we’re both gainfully employed again.”

“Mm. Well, here’s another Happening.” Kiwi says, throwing down a card. “Princess gets possessed by a demon. Her win conditions have changed now; instead of a man that can bake, knit, and has a job, she wants a warrior that will help her kill her father, take over the kingdom, and will take her on long walks on the beach.”

“Oh, yikes.” I say, raising an eyebrow as the Princess’s card develops horns and a battle dress. “Not sure I want to work towards that any more.”

“Honestly I like her a little better now. Girl’s got goals and ambition.” Kiwi says with a little shrug. “I wouldn’t mind chasing that.”

“That can be all yours, then. I’m gonna go chase that Raccoon.” I say, picking up another card. “Alright, here’s another Twist: I got a date with the demon princess so I could steal her left sock, but she liked me enough that she took away my genderbender curse…”

Event Log: Lucanthiline

The Bulwark: Prisoner Cellblock Surveillance Room

9/29/12763 8:38pm SGT

Leaning back in one of the swivel chairs within the cramped surveillance room, I pretend to be focused on my phone while listening to the Boss and the Commander talk in the background.

“Lieutenant, I know that Challenger methods are sometimes… unique.” Dussel says, his muscled, seven-foot frame blocking the light from many of the screens against the far wall, showing security camera feeds from the prisoner cellblock. “But this takes the cake.”

“Feroce knows what he’s doing.” Sierra says. She’s slouched in a chair beside him, speaking around the lollipop in her mouth. “Let him work. He knows how to get results.”

“He’s done nothing but visit her and play cards for three days straight.” Dussel notes, looking aside to the Boss, the weathered contours of his face lit by the glow from the screens. “And while he has obtained bits and pieces of information, there’s been no movement on getting the Maskling to align with us.”

“That’s because Feroce isn’t looking for a temporary ally.” Sierra replies, taking her lollipop from her mouth and spinning it back and forth. “Mercenaries make alliances of convenience. Feroce just… makes friends. That takes a little more time.”

“Oh? Really?” Dussel remarks with false curiosity. “Should we be providing them with a picnic basket and some carrot sandwiches, then? Speed up the process a little?”

“No, that would undermine the genuineness.” Sierra says without taking her eyes off the screen they’re watching; it’s got footage from earlier in the day, when Songbird was visiting the Maskling. “There’s a reason we’re having him do this. You and I are bitter old things; we couldn’t bring ourselves to truly care about the Maskling even if we were being paid to. She would sense that. But Feroce… Feroce cares when he shouldn’t. It’s just who he is, even if he tries to mask it. It’s a detriment sometimes, but other times, it can be very beneficial. He’s made some friends in high places by going out of his way to help other people.”

“Really.” Dussel says, folding his arms. “He doesn’t strike me as the type to be rubbing elbows with the rich and powerful.”

“He doesn’t rub elbows with them. If he sees somebody that needs help, he goes and helps them. It’s just who he is.” Sierra says, touching the tip of her tongue to her lollipop. “If we weren’t trying to crack the archive and find the surviving Challengers, then I guarantee you, he’d be out there trying to help the Masklings find their missing ship.”

“Speaking of the archive and Challengers.” Dussel says, turning in place to cast an eye at me. “Weren’t you supposed to be finding and bringing back known Challengers?”

I take a deep breath, lowering my phone. “Well… I’ve actually managed to track down a bunch of Challengers.”

“Oh really.” Dussel says. “Is there a reason we haven’t gone to pick them up yet?”

“Well, they’re… not exactly friendly.” I say, tilting my head back to scratch at my throat. “I found Riplash, but he tried to kill me when I tried to talk him into joining up. I found Kaiser, but he killed me twice without waiting for me to explain anything, and then he gave me the slip, so I’m going to have to re-find him again and let someone else deal with him. I found Boaris, but he didn’t want to listen to me. And I found Ratchet’s daughter, but Ratchet’s brother showed me the shotgun, and after getting killed by Kaiser twice, I wasn’t down for getting killed a third time.”

Sierra looks at Dussel while motioning to me. “And this is why we need Songbird.”

“Does your pet just piss off everyone he talks to?” Dussel asks.

“Excuse you. They’re the problem, not me.” I say indignantly. “Every Challenger I’ve met so far, except for the Boss and Jackrabbit, have been ready to shoot me on sight whenever I mention anything about the Challenger program.”

“Hmm. It’s almost like it’s a sensitive subject for them.” Dussel remarks. “Perhaps avoid mentioning it right off the bat?”

“Point is, I’ve been doing my job.” I say defensively. “I can tell you where three out of those four Challengers are. You guys have to do the hard work of talking them onto the project.”

“Again, why we need Songbird.” Sierra repeats. “Once we’ve got the Maskling alliance all wrapped up, we can send him to go retrieve the known Challengers, starting with Echo.”

“At the rate he’s going, I’ll have a full beard before he gets to second base with the Maskling—” Dussel says, pausing when the room’s intercom crackles. Tony’s voice comes through a moment later, and I can’t help but sit up a little straighter in my chair.

“Commander Dussel, there’s a situation which needs your immediate attention.”

“Reading you loud and clear, Adjutant.” Dussel says, turning towards the intercom. “What’s the issue?”

“We have a small cruiser that just dropped out of hyperspace ten miles from the Bulwark. IFF negative and no identification tags, but they opened a comms channel and are requesting permission to dock. They’re claiming to be representatives from the Maskling government.”

We’re all quiet for a long moment. Dussel eventually looks to Sierra and myself. “How did they find us?”

“They’ve probably got a sleeper agent planted on the Bulwark somewhere.” Sierra says, sitting up and pushing out of her chair. “Tony, did they say what they wanted?”

“They just said they wanted to talk, but I don’t think it’s a coincidence they show a sudden interest in us after we captured one of their agents. I’m guessing they want to talk about getting her back.”

“Tony, what’s the threat assessment here?” Dussel demands. “I want to be ready in case they’ve got something planned.”

“Like I said, it’s a small cruiser. It’s got weapons, but nothing that could do major damage to either the Bulwark or our fleet ships, barring a surprise attack. I’d estimate no more than twenty people could fit on that cruiser, max, so unless they have an elite strike force, we could easily outnumber and outgun them if they attempted an attack while inside the Bulwark. Tactically speaking, they are not in a position to be making any aggressing moves, but that doesn’t mean they might not have a hidden agenda in asking to come aboard.”

“What do you think, Lieutenant?” Dussel asks, looking to Sierra.

Sierra taps her lollipop against her bottom lip, looking thoughtful. “Looking at it from the other side, it’d be really stupid and brazen to attack us here, where we’re most powerful. And if they were going to try some sneaky stuff while they were aboard the Bulwark… I don’t know, it just seems like a big risk to be taking.” She looks to me. “Luci, could you keep an eye on them once they board? Lurk around the edges, make sure they don’t get up to anything suspicious?”

“I can keep an eye on them, yeah.” I say, sliding my phone back into my pocket as I get out of my chair. “Do we know how many of them are coming aboard?”

“Let me check.” Tony says. There’s silence for a couple of moments, before she eventually returns with an answer. “They state that only two people will be coming onto the Bulwark if we agree to meet with them.”

Sierra pops her lollipop back in her mouth, shrugging to Dussel. “Unless one of those two is a hypernatural, I don’t think we’ve got much to worry about.”

Dussel nods. “Let’s make it happen, then. Tony, put the Bulwark on low alert just in case. Let the Masklings know they have permission to dock, and get a conference room ready for us to meet in. And somebody go get Songbird and Valkyrie; I want them there for this as well.”

“Luci?” Sierra says.

“On it.” I say, heading for the door and stepping out into the hall ahead of Dussel and Sierra. Taking up a brisk stride, I keep on walking until I turn a corner, feeling the pressure of their gazes lift off of me as I disappear from their field of sight. With that pressure gone, I let my mind turn towards the hall where Jackrabbit and Valkyrie’s quarters are; the hallway around me shivers and blurs as I walk, and I find myself striding along the hall I was thinking about instead.

Stopping in front of the door to Jackrabbit and Valkyrie’s quarters, I tap on the access pad next to the door, and select the doorbell option. It takes the better part of a minute, but Valkyrie eventually answers the door, dressed in her nightclothes. “Did you need something? Is somebody hurt?” she demands.

I smile. “Not yet. But you may wanna get dressed, just in case.”

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

The Bulwark: Docks

9:42pm SGT

“That’s a nice cruiser.” I murmur, staring through the glass at the sleek black cruiser pulled in to dock just behind the walls of the Bulwark. “Definitely not civilian issue, but it doesn’t really look military either. The way it’s designed, it looks almost like it was made for stealth ops and surveillance.”

“Would fit the bill for Masklings.” Valkyrie says, her arms folded where she’s standing beside me. “From what I understand of them, they avoid direct combat engagements in space. Very little is known about their fleet, but it’s suspected that it lacks the firepower and numbers to compete with other fleets.”

“Our guests are due to be here any moment now, once we finish with the security screening.” Commander Dussel says, walking up on us. Sierra and Luci are trailing along behind him, Sierra adjusting her eyepatch. “We don’t discuss the Maskling we’re holding prisoner unless they bring it up first. I want to see what they’re here for before we start getting into other things.”

“I don’t see any other reason they’d be here.” Valkyrie says, turning to look at Dussel. “The only two reasons they’d have an interest in us is because of the backup archive, and their Maskling. Outside of that, there’s no reason for them to be consorting with some no-name mercforce that’s about to get blacklisted by the Colloquium.”

“An observation that can be made without trampling my mercforce underfoot.” Dussel grunts, reaching up to flick some lint off the collar of his jacket. “I want you all there just so we can show a unified front…” He eyes Luci idling off to the side. “…except you, but I’ll make an exception just this once because you’re being useful.”

Luci sticks his tongue out, but remains silent. I fold my arms, looking back towards the Maskling cruiser. “Are we going to raise the question of a partnership if they seem friendly?”

“We’ll see. Take it one step at a time.” Dussel answers, looking past me. “Looks like they’re done with security. Look sharp.”

I turn to see that a couple of the Dussel mercs are stepping out of the hatch that connects to the boarding tube that’s attached to the cruiser. Behind them are what I assume are the two Masklings - one tall, dressed in a dark suit with a striking red tie. The other is shorter, with blond hair, a pixie haircut, dressed in jeans and a baggy hoodie. As she gets closer, I realize why she looks familiar — she’s the one that called me a dead man walking and handed me off to Kiwi at the party on Sybione.

There’s no question about it; they’re here because they know we captured Kiwi.

Dussel steps to the front of our group once the Masklings reach us. “Welcome to the Bulwark. My name is Jack Dussel, Commander of the Dussel Mercforce. I’ve been told that you all claim to be representatives of the Maskling government.”

“You were told correctly.” the tall guy in the suit answers. He’s got dark hair, neatly combed; brown eyes and a rather well-defined facial structure. “We are both Mask Knights, agents of the Maskling government. I am Forecast, and this is Tarocco. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Commander Dussel.”

Tarocco’s eyes remain on me as Dussel and Forecast are talking. It’s hard to avoid her gaze, so I just raise an eyebrow at her; she snorts and finally looks away from me as Dussel goes on.

“To be honest, this visit came as something of a surprise to us.” Dussel says, relaxing his posture now that the Masklings have introduced themselves. “We are not a very popular mercforce at the moment. To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“I understand that you are in possession of one of our agents.” Forecast says mildly, fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket. “Green hair, about ye high, with a healthy disrespect for authority. Ringing any bells?”

“We do have a Maskling matching that description in our possession.” Dussel confirms, folding his arms. “Have you come to ask for her back?”

“Well, yes, but also to talk, hopefully.” Forecast says, lacing his fingers together. “In capturing her, I assume you also captured the artifact we’ve been after for a while now.” At this point, Forecast looks past Dussel to focus on me. “For which I must commend you. Feather is one of our elite agents. I am not surprised it took a Challenger for her to meet her match.”

The compliment takes me off guard; I hadn’t been expecting that. “Uh, thank you?” I say, uncertain of how to respond.

“What do you want to talk about?” Sierra asks from Dussel’s other side. “I assume it has something to do with the archive and the information in it?”

“That’s exactly it, actually.” Forecast confirms. “We’ve been working at cross-purposes for a while now, fighting with each other over the artifact and the information contained within it. But that’s been getting us nowhere, and it’s given CURSE an opening to hound both of our groups. We wanted to come to you, see if we could set aside hostilities, and possibly work together, instead of working against each other.”

Everybody on our side exchanges looks.

Forecast and Tarocco notice. “I’m sorry, is that a problem?” he asks hesitantly. “That was quite a reaction there.”

“Funny thing about that.” Sierra says, taking her lollipop out of her mouth and using it to gesture to the Masklings. “We were thinking about asking you guys the same thing.”

Forecast raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

“We are starting to find ourselves in a position where we are a little short on allies.” Dussel explains. “We can no longer operate with quite the same freedom as we had before, and our relationship with the Colloquium and the Vaunted may turn sour soon. We could use some assistance on a few items.”

“More than a few items.” Valkyrie adds, short and blunt.

“Yeah, we did some research on you guys.” Tarocco says at this point. “We noticed you’d pissed off a lot of big names.”

“We were thinking that if the Masklings could help us with a few things — like providing safe havens, access to supply ports, and intelligence to help us get around the galaxy and find our lost Challengers — we could in turn help you with finding your missing arkship.” Sierra says. “Sound like a good deal?”

Tarocco’s brow furrows. “Who told you about that?”

“Kiwi did.” I pipe up at this point. “Or— Feather. Whatever it is you all call her.”

Tarocco sighs, looking up at Forecast. “Does she not understand the concept of classified information?”

“I’m sure she does, she just doesn’t care.” Forecast says, shaking his head. “You’re right, though, we are looking for the location of a Maskling arkship that’s supposed to be contained within your Challenger artifact. We were just hoping to get the location; that’s really all we needed. We could exchange it for some information which you all might find useful, as means of compensation.”

Looks are exchanged among our group again. “Yeah, about that…” Sierra says slowly.

“Oh no.” Tarocco says. “Don’t tell me. Did CURSE steal the artifact?”

“What? No.” I say quickly. “No no no. We have it, it’s just… well…”

“It’s locked.” Valkyrie says, again straightforward and blunt. “The archive is encrypted in layers. Access is only allowed for Challengers, and determined by rank. But it’s based on the Challenger roster from thirteen years ago. The Challengers we have here were either kicked out of the program, or didn’t have high ranking to begin with. As a result, we only have access to the first layer of the archive, which has none of the information that either of our groups want or need.”

“And so you need to find a high-ranking Challenger that was on the roster from thirteen years ago?” Forecast asks, as if just to confirm that he’s hearing us correctly.

“It’s not finding one that’s the problem.” Dussel says. “It’s finding one that isn’t dead and hasn’t defected to CURSE. Our options get pretty narrow when you have to factor in those requirements.”

Now it’s Forecast and Tarocco’s turn to exchange looks. “We might be able to help you all with that.” Tarocco says carefully.

“Oh really?” Sierra asks.

“Extracting secrets and closely-guarded information is something that certain Maskling institutions are very good at.” Forecast explains. “We are also fairly adept at finding people that don’t want to be found, or have gone into hiding. If you need help finding a Challenger that can unlock the artifact, we may be able to assist you with that.”

“It sounds to me like we could definitely help each other.” Dussel says. “With a lot of things, come to think of it. That being said, I think we should sit down and figure out what you all need what we need, and what we can do for each other. Trading ideas like this is all good and well, but getting something down in writing would probably clear up where we stand with each other.”

“Yes, I agree.” Forecast concurs. “If you’ve got the time, we’d love to sit down and discuss this further. But, before we do… would you mind giving back our Mask Knight? Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m fairly certain you still have her locked up in a cell somewhere around here, and we want to make sure she’s alive and well.”

“Perfectly understandable.” Dussel says, looking to Sierra. “Lieutenant?”

Sierra stares at him, then takes her lollipop out of her mouth, looking around Dussel to lock onto me. “Songbird? You wanna go take care of that?”

I scowl at her, even though I’m not surprised by the delegation of responsibility. “Not really, but sure.” I say, stepping away from the others and looking to the Masklings. “If you’ll follow me.”

“I’ll come with you.” Forecast says, moving to follow me while looking to his shorter compatriot. “Tarocco, would you mind sitting down with these folks and getting a head start on this partnership?”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Tarocco says, looking back to the others as Forecast and myself head off.

Crossing the docking platform, I make my way over to the Bulwark’s internal tram, only checking over my shoulder once to make sure Forecast is following. I can’t think of much to say, so I don’t say anything; there’s something about the man that I just don’t trust. He’s too polite, too well-dressed, too calm and confident.

Stepping onto the tram, I wait for him to get on, then select the station that’s nearest to the prisoner cellblock on the Bulwark. As the tram starts moving, I grab one of the poles to steady myself, and Forecast takes hold of one of the hang straps. For a while there's nothing but the sound of tram picking up speed, and the rush of wind fills the silence.

“I hope she hasn’t given you too much trouble.” Forecast eventually says. “She can be quite a handful.”

I glance aside to him. If I was just paying attention to the words, I might take it as an apology. But I can see his mouth is curled ever so slightly at the corner, his eyes slightly crinkled at the corners as if he’d just told a small joke.

“Yes.” I mutter, looking away. “She can be.”

Event Log: Feroce Acceso

The Bulwark: Prisoner Block: Kiwi’s Cell

9:58pm SGT

“You have an impressive detention facility here.” Forecast remarks as the platform winches down through the rings of cells within the cellblock’s atrium.

“From what I gather, it doesn’t see much use.” I answer. I’ve avoided saying more than I have to around him, again because I don’t trust him. At the moment, I’m avoiding looking at him, instead focusing on the grungy details of the cellblock as we descend. The clothes that Kiwi was wearing on Sybione are bundled up in my arms, so she can change into them before we let her out.

“I must admit, it is a privilege to meet a legend like yourself.” Forecast remarks. “I wasn’t sure what to expect. You’re very modest for someone that killed the one of the most powerful Challengers.”

My eyes flick aside to him as the platform shudders and slows to a stop, then starts traveling sideways along the third ring. “Nova betrayed her friends and comrades, but she was still my friend. Someone I cared about. I don’t take pride in hunting down and fighting the people I care about.”

Forecast visibly turns his head to look at me. “Now that is wisdom. I can respect such clarity, and someone that holds to their beliefs.”

“Wisdom is the bitter fruit born of the flower of regret, which in turn stems from the seeds of mistakes made.” I answer, turning around as the platform slows to Kiwi’s cell, and locks into place. Flashing my bracelet by the cell’s interface, I select the option for opening the door and lowering the static screen.

Forecast turns around to watch as the door splits and opens like a massive metal maw. As it fully opens, Kiwi comes into view, slouched on her bed and shuffling her deck; when she sees Forecast, she sits upright, eyes widening. “I thought you were gonna break me out!” she blurts out.

“There’s been a change of plans.” Forecast answers. “The Council thinks it would be wiser to make more friends instead of more enemies. We already have plenty of the latter, but we could do with more of the former.”

“Wow. Did they suddenly rediscover their faith in people?” Kiwi says, swinging her legs out of her bed and standing up. “Are we gonna start making nice with the Collective now?”

“Let’s not get excited here.” Forecast says as I step in, placing her clothes on the end of her bed and sitting her hair tie on the top, then back out. “Go ahead and get dressed. There’s still lots of talking to be done; we have to figure out exactly how we’re going to work together with the mercenaries to accomplish both our goals.”

I’m in the process of reaching for the cell door’s menu, but Kiwi’s already zipping off her jumpsuit and stepping out of it. “Whoa.” I say, putting up a hand and turning around. “I was gonna close the door, but alright.”

“My apologies. Like I said, she’s a handful.” Forecast says, turning about as well. “We’ll need to visit a Quill Sanctuary to get her a new field handler; she’s been operating without one for a few months.”

“I don’t need a new handler.” Kiwi calls from behind us. “The last one barely lasted a month.”

“You know the handler is for your benefit.” Forecast says over his shoulder. “Besides, you shouldn’t complain. You have your pick of partners, which is a privilege that most Mask Knights don’t get.”

I lean my forearms on the platform’s railing, lacing my fingers together as the two go back and forth. I’m not sure what they’re talking about, but it’s interesting to listen to.

“Not much point in having my pick of handlers if none of them can keep up with me.” Kiwi says, her bed creaking as she sits, probably to put on her socks.

“That’s not their fault.” Forecast replies. “You’re not an easy Mask Knight to work with. You should be thankful you’re allowed to have partners in the first place, and thankful that there are Masklings that are willing to try to be your partner.”

“Don’t try to give me the guilt trip, old man.” Kiwi retorts. “You said I get to pick my partners, right? What if I found one that could handle me? Would you let me keep them?”

“You know quite well that we want that outcome as much as you do.” Forecast answers with all the enthusiasm of someone repeating a conversation they’ve had at least a dozen times before. “And you also know that we’ve been trying to get that result for the last twenty-six years with no success.”

“But if I did manage to find one?” Kiwi insists.

“If you did, we would be happy to let you keep them.” Forecast says while pulling out his phone and idly checking it.

I’m a little startled when hands come from behind, gripping the railing on either side of me, and seconds later, there’s the weight of someone resting their chin on my shoulder. Though I should be able to guess who it is, I still have to turn my head to confirm that it’s Kiwi there, leaning against my back and dressed up once more, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail with a few locks left loose to frame her face. There’s a dangerous, sly grin on her face as she looks aside to Forecast.

“Well, guess what I found, Dad.” she murmurs.

By the time those words really hit home, Forecast has already turned the full force of his tall gaze on me. I suddenly feel very exposed and trapped at the same time, pinned down by Forecast’s eyes and caged by Kiwi’s arms. The dynamic between the two of them is starting to make sense — and I’m starting to realize I’m in the worst place to be in that dynamic, caught between the father and the daughter.

“I… have no idea what’s going on.” I say, laughing nervously. But even as I say the words, I’m perfectly aware of Forecast sizing me up, Kiwi leaning into me, and I can’t help but think back to the runemarks emblazoned into my wrist.

Whatever I’m tangled up in, it’s probably gonna get me in trouble.