Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It felt like a blink instead of a dreamless slumber. My fragmented mind tried to question just how long it had been. A day? Two weeks? 

The traveling pod was far from comfortable. Getting out of it became a struggle as my spine was stiff, nearly collapsing to the floor due to the weakness of my muscles who had been asleep for far too long. Limping over to the small refrigerated supplies, I immediately grabbed three small bottles of Stimuli, squeezing every last drop and swallowing it all. Three bottles usually did the trick. It wasn’t long after that my vision was no longer blurry and I could observe my home for the next few months.

The bedroom was quaint, which was perfectly fine with me. It wasn’t the lonely penthouse I was used to, a penthouse I hardly spent any time in. This was just enough room for a bed and a desk to work from, although most of my work would be spent in the lab. Given the amount of payment for traveling to this Colony, I had the feeling the lab would be quite substantial. At least the shower and bathroom seemed spacious which pleased me. 

This wasn’t my first time traveling between colonies and nor would it be the last. I thought I’d get used to it all by now and not feel so sick, but my body was a bit different than most. The trauma I already experienced, continue to experience, sometimes became even more aggravated with these long travels. The Stimuli seemed to help, but not as fast as I liked. 

What I wouldn’t give for a warm cup of coffee, maybe that would help. Such luxuries and pleasure would have to come later. There was work to be done.

How quick this morning would be was entirely reliant on me. I knew from the start that upon landing, this mission would be unique as I would be one of the briefing members. Lectures in front of curious students or other cadre of scientific caliber were normal. Lectures in front of an entire mission group was something else entirely, because it meant there would be plenty of people questioning my presence here. I would question their presence as well, but it wasn’t my job to hold others accountable. All I could do was my own work, and do it as best I can.

Cold sink water would have to replace coffee in the meantime, splashing it against my face. My fingers glided over the familiar, webbed indents into my skin around my lips and jaw. Sometimes I had dreams that the scars weren’t there. Sometimes my mind delved into a place wondering what my life would be if I never received those scars. Perhaps my work would not be as relevant. Perhaps that penthouse I lived in wouldn’t be so empty. I could still feel the way it burned, the chemicals etching into my dermis all the way to the muscles, eating away like acid. The disfigurement still caused pain, and not that of just the psychological and emotional. The ugliness was a symbol, one I couldn’t forget, one I needed to cure. 

I had to focus on something else. Now wasn’t the time to get lost in those scars again. Masks were common in the more figurative sense. In this day and age, humanity was alienated by individuality. Masks created uniformity. Only for me, the physical mask around my lower face certainly made me stand out. Applying the pain relieving cream, I let the mask settle in, breathing in and hearing my filtered breath exhale almost like a machine. 

Like most masks, this one was of my own design. It allowed me to manipulate it all with the small chip in my brain connecting it. It could create oxygen in hostile environments, it could filter toxins, and most of all, control the subtle pain neurons that stunned my brain. It was now a part of me, more than just a piece of clothing or an accessory, but rather like an additional organ I didn’t have to think twice about for it to function. 

The only way I could remove this mask permanently would be if my work became successful, if the ultimate hypothesis could be tested, tried, and become true. This mission could unlock the key to it all. 

I could see from the corner of my eye, the monitor on my desk blinking a subtle red, hinting at incoming messages and transmissions. It was time to start the day and dive straight into work. I took one last glance at the mirror, my emerald green eyes always outshining against the black of my short hair, ending just around the area of my jaw. Perfect to keep short, but just enough length to tie up if needed. Despite feeling like shit, with the mask on at least, I didn’t look like shit or the faintest disheveled. 

Black was the primary color of my wardrobe, since it always seemed to clash beautifully with a white lab coat or equipment. Very rarely were there few pieces of attire with green to match my eyes, my second favorite color. But that was for special occasions. Day one in this colony didn’t feel very special, despite what my anxious breathing suggested. Despite knowing I would assist in a briefing, I knew attire wouldn’t matter to the rabble. A black long sleeve and cargo pants would simply have to do. Attire would mean nothing when I knew everyone else would be staring at something else in wonder. 

The monitor I then sat in front of came to life, my own little workstation connected to the same chip that controlled most of my equipment. I didn’t have time this morning to perouse through old findings or former lectures. Immediately a video message appeared, clearly filmed prior to landing here, and thus the mission began:

“Good morning, Doctor Deveraux. I’m Zee, your Virtual Assistant for this mission. I will be the one assisting in cataloging your data, your video logs, and any questions you might have with your sponsor: The Science Bureau of Humanity, or rather SBH. Do you have any questions before I begin?”

Before I could shake, nod, or release a thoughtful sigh, Zee immediately began talking again. As much as I could hate interacting with people, some days like this one, virtual assets really could get on my nerves. However, even I had to admit, the data was much better read by someone like Zee rather than some corporation secretary who saw statistics and biological hypotheses as a foreign language. This work was a stretch, a risk of funds that people who ran these corporations hardly wanted to take. But given my past research, and our ultimate goals aligning, this mission was worth the cost.

“By now, you have arrived at Colony -001, better known as Colony Negative, the supposed origin of all colonies, the birthplace of our civilization. The search for Colony Negative began in 5203, hundreds of years ago when research indicated all genetic material that we know of stemmed from one original point. It wasn’t until six months ago, this planet was confirmed as the point of origin. You will be one of the first of many to fully explore Colony Negative, a privilege only less than one percent of the Colonial population could ever hope to imagine.

“While this mission is similar in objectives compared to those in your past, this mission is considered highly classified. Your mission is to collect data and tell us what that data means. This mission is already shared amongst the leaders of the crew and you will brief the rest of the staff later this morning about such data. The details of your mission, however, must remain a secret. Your objective is to gather the biological and cultural evidence that pinpoints the genetic makeup of humanity. It is believed Colony Negative could be the key to unlocking the potential of peace, a mutation that can remove all violence, aggression, and devastation in our worlds. Your data could provide the materials to create such a mutation.

“Be advised, the other men and women accompanying you into this Colony have their own objectives. Despite attempts to obtain more intelligence for you, we are unable to provide any details as to what those objectives are. Should you ever find out the details, we advise you to let them continue as long as you can keep collecting data.  Should anyone begin interfering with that process, please log that information so that we may intervene if needed. Everyone aboard your station will feel most important in terms of their mission, but we assure you Doctor, your research is of utmost priority. 

“However, do attempt to socialize. Your reports show indication of unwillingness to work with others, which ultimately skews your data. Despite the differences in missions, it would not hurt to get along with those around you. After all, this is all for the good of humanity. Should any personal problems arise with those around you, do inform Security and with us, and she will hopefully manage the situation. We do hope you enjoy your stay at Station Evolution, and welcome to Colony Negative!”

The cheery high pitched voiced assistant immediately disappeared and I couldn’t help but rub my already sore temple. The fact this was highly classified didn’t concern me, it was the fact they could see my reluctance to really work with others. Others in my field weren’t difficult, after all, we were all creatures of similar habit: in love with data, not so much people. It was everyone else that seemed to irk me. Engineers, politicians, therapists…and most of all military. Sponsors loved to protect their assets and research with trigger-happy soldiers, who ironically enough, were usually the primary issues with their grand design.

A world with peace. An entire universe filled with love, prosperity, and harmony. No wars. No fighting. No greed. A perfect utopia for every colony and the future to come. It was the aspiration of every great civilization, and only studying the past could push us all one step closer to such a goal. My own motivations played a part, but like any human, I too was unstable, biased, and most of all, filled with a capacity of violence. I had control of my urges, though, unlike most people. I found sanctity in all forms of life, and that couldn’t change, despite everything that’s happened.

Another video pulled up before I could pull away, this time not recorded but live feed. I smiled bittersweetly at the sight of long black hair, the only distinct difference between my genetic copy and myself. Twins were such a rarity these days. Yet that only made our bond a bit more special.

“Jack, you’re looking a bit spry this morning!” Angelique smiled widely, “You didn’t throw up this time, did you?”

“No. Not this time. I made sure to drink at least three Stimuli to avoid that,” I smiled in return, feeling a bit of warmth despite the slightly unwanted call.

“How are you?”

“Good,” I lied, “Just trying to push through this morning. You know how it is. Briefings, beginnings, and ultimately trying to figure out who to avoid and who might prove most useful to my research.”

“Well, I know you’ll do great in your brief. You always do great at explaining these kinds of things,” Angie laughed softly. While she was just as bubbly as Zee, she wasn’t as annoying. I could never find my sister annoying, not anymore. 

“You’ve always been the better people-person,” I retorted with envy. She always had. She just had this way of people, of caring for them beyond just mere data. And people always seemed to love her, deemed her much more approachable than myself. She always received more attention from men, not like that ever broke my heart. She was the reason for my data, the source of my hypothesis. If only there were more people like her, who radiated like sunshine, this world would be a much better place.

Morning debrief begins in thirty minutes, please report to the main hangar as soon as possible . The overhead speaker blared over the video-com and I couldn’t help but release a nervous breath. 

“You’re going to do great! You always have, always will. And, you’ll have to let me know if there’s any handsome gentlemen. Afterall, they tend to get a bit stir crazy, if you know what I mean, being so far from home,” she teased.

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t hide the smile, “Will do. I’ll talk to you later, Ange. I love-”

The video call ended before I could finish the words. It didn’t matter. She knew how much I cared about her. All of this was for her: the sweat, the tears, the dirt underneath my nails, all of it had to be for her. It wasn’t something I could go the rest of my life without attempting to try. 

Now, I just had to swallow my pride and nerves to get the rest of this morning over with. The beginnings were always the most difficult. Saying hello was so much harder than saying goodbye. 

I was fortunate enough to snag a warm brew of coffee, sipping it between the small slits in my mask. By now it was second nature, muscle memory to drink with it despite the narrow limitations. It had taken weeks of spills and mess to really get it right. Just like any prosthetic, it took time to adjust. One thing I could never adjust to was the staring. Maybe that’s why I disliked people. From a mere glance, I could get a sense of their character, of their impulses (or rather, inability to control them). It was often stares of bewilderment, followed by incredulous scoffs or even a nudge to their friend.

Hey, get a load of this idiot. What a fucking freak. I wouldn’t even tap that with a six foot pole.

Very rarely did sometimes those stares fill me with a sense of power, but only when the mask intimidated those already with frail mindsets. Fear was powerful. It’s why the quest for my mission was so dangerous and almost impossible. Even I could fall prey to its bias. And in order for this data to be perfect, I had to ignore the stares, the whispered comments, or the bewildered smirks of the men and women around me. Dehumanizing comments shouldn’t persuade me to follow down their same path.

But as the room filled with more and more staff and personnel, it felt so much easier for me to shrink and hide amongst the number of bodies. For now. Soon enough I would have to stand in front of them all. The one thing that surprised me the most was the amount of weapons . Again, I was used to the presence of soldiers or police, but this was a good half percentage of the entirety of people in this room. The room was filled with this exhausting aroma of esprit de corps. 

“Good morning everyone,” a loud feminine voice broke through the chatter, silencing everyone, “I am Chief Security Officer of Station Evolution: Kylie Ruenova. Let me begin by saying, thank you all for volunteering for this specific, pioneering experience. Here, we are all trailblazers for all different aspects of life. Everyone here comes from all walks of life within the colonies, those in District Five, of course. While I do not expect everyone to get along, I must advise that this is not the place for breaking the rules. Crimes will be punished just as they are back in the colonies. So play nice. We are all one unit here. For anyone victimized by a crime, please report it as soon as possible to security and we will investigate.

“It is a pleasure to work alongside such distinguished guests with prolific careers. Should all go well, hopefully all of our names can be placed together in the textbooks of the future. This is our moment to make history. We all know our objectives. We do this in the name of District Five and all its Colonies. Our future and the future of our children rests on every shoulder in this room. Now, with that settled, we can turn our direction towards Doctor Deveraux who can explain just a bit more about why we are all here.”

When CSO Ruenova glanced at me, so did everyone else’s eyes. Again came the stares. I cleared my throat, which only echoed louder with the mask as I approached the front. Despite my fingers feeling like they were shaking, I kept my resolve. A five minute brief and that was it, nothing more. Of course there were bound to be questions given some of these people lacked the brain capacity for comprehension, but I would get there when it happened. I pulled a tablet out, displaying a projection of my minor presentation. Luckily, everything was already created by SBH and all I had to do was read between the lines.

“Morning. I am Doctor Jacqueline Deveraux. You can either call me Doctor Deveraux or Jack, nothing else. I am your lead biocultural anthropologist with the Scientific Bureau of Humanity from Colony 500. We have arrived at Colony Negative, the believed foundation of our ancestors. It is believed according to the evidence found in previously destroyed colonies from before, every single human originated from this place. It is my job to determine who these people were, why they left, who stayed behind and what was the foundation of their culture,” I paused, seeing half boredom and half confusion on everyone’s faces. What a great start. I suppose it couldn’t get worse.

“Our genetic structure, while it has changed over the millennium, still resorts back to genetic findings here on Colony Negative, which is why we believe this to be the point of our origin. Data we can collect-”

My presentation was immediately interrupted with someone walking from behind me. And the presence alone must have held some sort of significance, given every single soldier stood from their seats with strict posture and erected attention. I couldn’t hide my frustration, craning my head back to see a tall, broad soldier walking in. He didn’t wear a similar uniform, but it was apparent from his military shaved brown hair and dog tag necklace he was one of them. Not like the muscles, or the pistol and sword attached to his hip didn’t give it away either.

There was a towering confidence about him, his head held up high. Yet, there was almost a hint of dread in his eyes. It wasn’t the weight of leadership that I read that concerned him, but something much deeper. Clearly, his mind was scattered. It wasn’t uncommon for military minds to process one thing at a time, but it was clear from initial observation I couldn’t judge him amongst his peers. He clearly rose above that, just how high was dependent on him. Hopefully his ego wasn’t as inflated.

“At ease!” he shouted, seeing all the soldiers sit down as he walked over.

“I’m sorry, is there a reason you’ve interrupted my presentation?” I couldn’t help but ask. My question immediately bothered him, astounded him really as his gray eyes met mine. His astonishment soon turned into slight amusement, a cocky smirk forming. His eyes scanned me, as if determining the proper approach to retort to my snarky question. I didn’t mean to be brash. But I already hated doing this to begin with and being interrupted was only an additional sting to this whole operation. 

“Apologies, Miss…?” he asked, extending his hand. I glanced down, seeing a hand twice the size of my own, arm littered with visible, strained veins. The nurses would certainly love him, even with the muscles making it harder to extract blood. 

“Doctor,” I corrected him, which didn’t falter his egotistical grin, “Doctor Deveraux.”

I didn’t shake his hand.

“A pleasure, Doctor. And I apologize, I didn’t mean to run late. I was unable to find a quality razor,” he laughed, “I’m Damien Rok.” 

Damien Rok reeked of expensive cologne and a brief scent of aftershave. The nicks on his jaw certainly gave the appearance he was telling the truth, that he rushed his shaving to try and be here on time. No doubt the few weeks in the traveling pod resulted in a beard that went against military regulations.

“Please, do continue. Whatever you have to say sounds important,” he smiled again, moving to sit in a chair right in the front row, crossing one leg over the other comfortably before glancing up at me.

As I was about to speak, a voice among the military men was louder than initially intended.

“Looks like we found CSO Ruenova’s first victim, didn’t take long at all.” 

The group erupted in that vicious, camaraderie laughter that was despicable. It was a step up from early school gossiping and teasing, something I was fairly used to growing up. It always held a sting to it, but unfortunately for them I wore an invisible armor impenetrable by their comments. Nothing could hurt as badly as the scars beneath my mask, and for that, I was grateful.

Instead, my eyes steeled, my posture that of annoyance. And that was enough for Damien, who also was laughing, to immediately clear his throat as our eyes met once more. CSO Ruenova seemed annoyed, perhaps having struggled with such overwhelming, not-so-hilarious forms of masculinity herself. She nodded back at me to continue, having to take the brief moment of silence to recall where my trail of thought went.

“My interest in all of this is data. And each and every single one of you will provide me data, one way or another. After this briefing, everyone is slotted a time with the medical professionals to complete physicals and blood work. This will eventually become clockwork once deployments outside this Station begins. We will monitor everything from brain chemicals to cellular activity before and after you return from your daily missions. That is the role, at least, of the scientific team I will overlook. Any incidents with them or questions should be directed to me or any other senior staff,” I continued, taking another deep breath. For some reason, it was hard to focus with that grin still appearing in the corner of my eye. 

“Now, my role is to deploy amongst you all with your various missions to collect cultural and evidence of the life that was here from before. Every little detail matters. Should smaller teams find anything you believe to be of significance, please document and take video or photographic evidence to give to me. Any signs of life, horticulture, artwork…anything you can find will be up to me to determine significance. And I greatly appreciate it if during your normal duties, should you find anything, to let me know as soon as possible,” I exhaled, glancing around the room, letting the projection before me falter, “Does anyone have any impertinent questions?”

“Yeah!” A soldier rose his hand, after shouting of course, “What the fuck is a biocultural anthropologist?” Numerous cackling and giggling, much quieter than the laughter of before, still rose through the cracks.

“It’s the study of human biology relating to culture, whether individualistic or that of a civilization. I use data to analyze behavioral constructs within a culture, how that culture shapes and defines a person, and most of all what that culture meant to a person in the past. Data of the past can be used to measure and quantify the effects of how our current and present culture greatly affects the political economy and wellbeing of colonists. Does that answer your question?” I asked, although I could tell from his furrowed forehead the answer was no, “Do I need to explain it in more childish terms?”

That question certainly seemed to strike a nerve.

Damien raised his hand, this time remaining silent until I glanced at him, nodding gently for him to proceed.

“So what is the data for? Surely you don’t need data to hypothesize that everyone in this world has two eyes, a mouth, and a giant gaping asshole to shit out of,” he asked, as seriously as he could. Clearly by more laughter around him, he was testing my patience as politely as he could get away with. 

“You’re right. What a perfect example of a giant, gaping asshole,” I remarked, seeing it was the first time his smirk faded. And the laughter around him turned into howls, as their commanding officer was immediately shut down. This man probably got away with always getting the last word, which given his personality was some egotistical and cocky retort. 

I could care less if I was already making a bad impression, despite the words Zee so encouragingly tried to uplift earlier. Yeah, I knew immediately I wasn’t making friends here, at least amongst this military rabble.

However a small clearing of the throat in the back made everyone glance back at a man dressed in a clean polo and lab pants. More than likely it was someone assigned to the scientific team. Given his shy personality and the fear in his eyes as everyone glanced at him, he definitely had some sort of social anxiety. It was quite common in the scientific field. 

“I…sorry, Doctor Deveraux. I’m a huge fan of your work. I’ve read all your publications,” he spoke shyly, nervously rubbing his hands together, “for those that don’t know, Doctor Deveraux is the reason cancer is eliminated. Through her work and data, scientists found the gene responsible for the greatest people killer in all human history. And that discovery ensures every human born since then will never have cancerous cells in their body, ever. All of us should be honored to work alongside you. Whatever you’re here for, it must be important.”

“Thank you,” I replied genuinely, seeing the room grow silent. Cancer had been, well, devastating. It had taken various forms, and arriving to colonies only made it worse due to different geographical environments, new organic materials, and mere social division. Finding a sequence in that gene that mutated into cancerous cells was my proudest work, but not because of the result but because of what I learned. Years ago, it would have seemed impossible to have preventative measures for cancer, let alone cure it. I hadn’t even been looking for something so significant at the time. 

Cancerous eliminations only taught us more about the human body and its limits, but also potential. Even to a soldier who may have never experienced cancer in their life or the lives of those around them, they understood the importance and significance of my work. While I would not brag about it, it was nice that someone had recognized my work.

“Yes, he is right. Doctors Gage and Ross from SBH were the ones to eliminate the gene and mutation for cancer, creating the cure. It was found in my data originating from Colony 599, which was decimated nearly a thousand years ago. Colony 599 was a phenomenon of a peaceful society, a community based on working together, helping one another, almost as utopian as modern day society could allow. Colony Negative predates 599 by several thousands of years, meaning there is so much more that all of us can learn. Through the tragedy of the past, we may yet learn to create peace in the future. That is my mission, and I thank you all for being here to assist in your own ways.”

As I was about to move from the center spot, Damien stood up, as if offering his seat to me. It was clear from the fact nobody else was leaving, a similar briefing would continue. And clearly, that of a more militaristic nature.

“I must ask before you conclude Doctor…if Colony 599 was so perfect and successful, why’d they die out?” Damien asked curiously, almost hoping that question would trap me. Wouldn’t that just prove my research to be faulty? How could an almost perfect society that pushed for peace and ushered the community to support each other, how could something like that die out? Wouldn’t their people and ideals live on?

“Men like you bombed it to smithereens…” 

Chapter Text

I hated her.

I hated scientists and data and all of that nonsense. I hated the way she had answered my question and took my invitation to sit in the front, in the seat I had kept briefly warm for her. She could have very easily slipped back into the crowd and ignored the entire process. Instead, she sat in the front, surrounded by my soldiers, those green eyes only highlighted with the mask she wore.

She intrigued me. All the more reason to know I wouldn’t get along with her. I wanted to know what hurt her, what would break her, what could defeat her in a way that the weapons on my hip couldn’t. She believed she could stabilize this universe. That was impossible with people like me who wanted nothing more than to destroy this place. Some random biological anthropologist or whatever the fuck she called herself wouldn’t change anything about this universe. I could. 

I’m the Saboteur. 

My mission: assassinate targets in Colony Negative who threaten District Five’s regime. 

I was probably everything this doctor hated. She was everything I hated. And soon enough she would have to realize that data wouldn’t be able to save her, people like me would. This place was dangerous, but luckily, I would be the most dangerous of them all. She was fortunate enough to have me. 

My targets would change as the mission progressed, depending on intelligence reports from my soldiers but also that of our enemies. Getting started was the hardest. And it was impertinent to me we all got on a good start, despite our disagreements. My young men and women would be a challenge. They were young because that’s how Milithreat liked it, they wouldn’t question authority nor their mission. Yet, they needed someone like me to lead them, to lie to them. They may think this as a defense mission, and to them it would be. To me, I would be on the offense.

“Good morning, I’m Supervisory Agent Damien Rok. I work in counter-intelligence for Milithreat of District Five and am here now to brief on the situation of Colony Negative,” I cleared my throat, using the presentation projector to show a display of how massive a territory we were looking at, “This is an overview of Negative’s largest compound, or rather connected city. It stretches nearly thirty miles in all directions. Due to a lot of the structures mostly intact despite the horrible weather, this has become everyone’s prime target. We are not alone here.”

The Doctor tilted her head in wonder, knowing the burning question on her mind would eventually be answered: why were there so many guns here?

“Our intelligence has already gathered that District One made landfall forty-eight hours ago at the farthest north-west sector. District Three is to the West, seated below them. Districts Three, Four, and Seven are on their way and will more than likely take the eastern sector given hopefully we will gain the entirety of this Southern section here,” my hand covered the greater section of the South, “our objective is to assist the scientists and the various teams as we push further into the center of this entire section. Mind you, this is all about quality over quantity.

“Under no circumstances do we move on to another sector without entirely checking the one we left, and leaving defenses along with it. This includes finding any data for the scientists to monitor and keep track of. When we leave a sector, we want to know everything about it before a chance an enemy team can claim it. Anything of importance or study will be brought here to ensure its secrets remain here,” I explained, taking a deep breath, my eyes meeting hers, “our scientists are the top priority for safety. This week, I will conduct tests and training to form squads and groups, preferably four: Acid, Bomb, Death, and Excise.”

They were my own versions of Alpha, Bravo, Delta, and Echo. Milithreat didn’t mind my twisted artistic touch when it came to leading. They wouldn’t care the things I said, what I did in my free time, or who I spoke to as long as my mission was successful. Leadership came with it’s own burdens, but it allowed me the freedom to also do whatever the fuck I wanted. That itch to do so only grew more closer as time went on. I no longer cared about anything but my mission and the people helping me to achieve it. So playing with the phonetic alphabet was merely artistic expression.

“Acid Squad will be spearheaded by myself and shaped from the best of the best here. Acid will be directly responsible for detailing security on Doctor Deveraux whenever she is to be out in the field. Depending on the various needs, Acid will also assist other squadrons if needed should the good doctor stay in her lab where she belongs,” I smirked. Her eyebrows narrowed, a strand of her black hair falling from her tucked ear over to her eye which only made her appear more menacing. She was all bark, and absolutely no bite. Especially with that muzzle across her face. 

“Any questions?” I asked.

She had questions, but perhaps wasn’t brave enough to ask them right now.

She was practically squirming in her seat. I could tell she was uncomfortable with the briefing and not just because I would have to accompany her. She didn’t realize just how extensive this operation was, how many other Districts would be here fighting for the same chance. Whatever reasons they were here for: resources, fame, or fortune it wouldn’t matter. I’d stop them all from getting what they wanted. Bad blood would bleed upon her good intentions, no matter how hard she might try to urge for peace. 

Blood would enrich the soil of humanity, splattering like rain from the storm that was myself. 

“What are the rules of engagement?” A soldier asked. ROEs were the foundation of a mission, constantly shaping decisions and motivations to keep focused on their tasks. And my answer would only enhance the danger of this situation and also their motivation.

“There are none. Anything that moves and is not with District Five is considered a threat,” I spoke, seeing Doctor Deveraux swallow harshly beneath the mask, “But, that doesn’t mean we shoot everything on sight. Taking prisoners for information can also prove useful. And the last thing I want is one of us fearfully shooting one of our own. You’re the best Milithreat has to offer, so prove it. Anything else?”

Silence. And smiles. Everyone was eager to get to work and so was I.

“Perfect. As soon as we have teams, we will get together and plan our first steps in mapping out the perimeter. Tomorrow my selection process will begin. Today, revel in the quiet. If you’re afraid of needles, though, probably won’t be much to enjoy. You’re dismissed.”

She was gone in a blink, standing from her seat and blending into the sea of black. She had escaped before I could properly make amends, apologizing that perhaps we had gotten off on the wrong foot. While I knew I could be antagonizing, I also liked to be the first to admit we had to work as a team. I had to ensure she wouldn’t be reckless, that her desire for data wouldn’t put my men and women at risk, or even herself. 

If she was as good as believed, it meant the other Districts would see her as a threat. I wouldn’t be the only assassin on the playing field, same as she wouldn’t be the head scientist.  The Colonies, Districts…the entire universe was derived from slaughtering one another, and an even purer future to arise from the ashes. If it was just other people to contend with, enemies of similar flesh, then that made me happy.

Perfectly happy.

—-------------------------------------------------------

The mess hall was perfect. One thing I liked about missions like this was how simple the process was and how delicious the food could be. I hated my moments on Colony 500 where the choices were endless, streets always filled with obnoxious men and women in suits arguing pointlessly. Food to them was just a mere source of energy to survive. I missed the days where food was about enjoyment, not exactly just nourishment. However, the chefs at Station Evolution certainly wanted to keep the crew happy and satiated. 

“No…no absolutely not, she’s at the bottom of the list,” Agent Grimes spoke as I approached the table, plopping my tray down.

“Okay, what about Ruenova? She’s…” Agent Owen whistled, clearly impressed and red faced at the idea.

“Top. Easily. Although she seemed a bit fascinated with our supervisor,” Grimes smirked, nudging me as I already began cutting into my steak.

“Ranking the women already? Isn’t that my job to form ranks?” I teased, almost wanting to roll my eyes. It wasn’t uncommon to immediately take any fresh moment to think about the women (or men, if that was their taste). We’d be spending months here together. While some might find friends or battle buddies for life, some people really enjoyed keeping their beds warm at night.

Not to say I don’t like women. I love women. But in terms of romantics, their intimacy could be proven as a distraction. The mission always came first. I wouldn’t hesitate however, if what they said about Ruenova was correct and we stumbled across free time. Unlike some of the men here, I liked to get to know a woman first. Women statistically were more likely to kill or assassinate after sleeping with their targets. I couldn’t be too careful. 

“Yeah well, no offense boss, but I think I could snag Ruenova first,” Owen shrugged cockily. He was handsome no doubt. But he had this kind of attitude that even I could admit that women would find bothersome. Hell, even I found it bothersome. Ego was fine and acceptable. But inflate it too much, and it tended to implode. Soldiers couldn’t be overly selfish. It narrowed their vision and thinking. I fought for the better of something. If all Owen fought for was a nice uniform and a strong enough trigger finger for a woman to clench around…that didn’t make him a good soldier. 

Bomb Squad for him, most likely. 

The steak was slightly overcooked but the good seasoning and sear made up for it. I couldn’t help but keep scanning the room, though. The entire mess hall was buzzing with life. Already, cliques were forming which was expected. Medical staff typically sat together. Very rarely did it seem a few soldiers ate with other members of the crew or security. Scientists typically ate alone with a datapad shoved in their face. Still, there was no sight of her. 

“She wasn’t here at lunch either,” Grimes observed, glancing at me.

“Who?” I asked, feigning dumb at his statement.

“Jack.”

“Jack?”

“She said we could call her Jack,” Grimes corrected, “Jacqueline Deveraux, you know, the anthropologist.”

“Right. I was late and didn’t catch her first name,” I hummed. Jacqueline. That was a pretty nice name. Oddly fitting in terms of looks. Yet Jack seemed to fit her personality so much better. 

“What do you think is with the mask?” Owen asked, butting into the conversation.

“I suppose it’s none of our business,” I shrugged. Of course I wanted to know. Who didn’t? It wasn’t every day you saw someone wear one permanently. Labs could make sense, same with certain medical staff. Soldiers specialized in weaponized gas would make sense too. A biological anthropologist? No clue, to me it seemed to have a visually aesthetic appeal to it, perhaps to cover scars or defuncts. My curiosity couldn’t get the better of me for that. It was something personal and I knew we’d never get on terms with that level of comfort. No doubt she was used to everyone probing for an answer indirectly.

I prayed for any stupid soul dumb enough to ask her in person.

“Well, it’s gotta be something foul. Makes sense why she wouldn’t eat here, the princess probably gets her food delivered to her so she can eat in peace,” Owen sighed, “someone’s gotta know something though. I’d pay a good hundred credits for anyone that knows.”

An odd waste of money. I could probably think of several scenarios that might be possible and lie to the bastard. Not like I needed any extra credits. My virtual wallet was stuffed from the fact I hardly bought anything. A duffel bag of clothes, my equipment and guns, and a good flask of whiskey was all I needed.

“Yeah and she’d probably pay you two thousand to leave her alone,” Grimes snickered, “her whole family is loaded .”

“You know her family?” I asked, a bit curious actually.

“Well, more so the family name. Deveraux Industries created the prototype for that sword attached to your hip. They specialized in laser technology,” Grimes replied, which made sense. He was the weapons expert. He could glance at any firearm or tool and know its exact serial number, company, and blueprint design for it. I’ve done a few missions with Grimes before. He was respectable, and also knowledgeable. I liked to keep the smarter ones closer to me. 

“Specialized? No longer in business?”

“Don’t know about that. They haven’t created anything within maybe a few years. Might’ve rerouted business, could’ve shut down for good. Either way, if she stems from that family, she has money. Besides, if she really is that good at her job, the Bureau must pay her well. I could ask Intel, if they have the time, to do some digging if you’d like, sir.”

“Sure,” I agreed, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to get to know who would be around my leash as I walked her around Colony Negative. 

“Hold on,” Owen stood from his seat almost rapidly, surprising myself and Grimes. Owen was an instigator. It was one thing to want answers, but they always had to stem from impertinent questions. Why an anthropologist had to wear a mask was none of our concern. Owen immediately approached a man, one who gave a slight sense of familiarity before I recognized him. It was the one scientist in the back who had notated the entire briefing of her work.

And Owen was dragging his uncomfortable ass to the table.

“Sit sit, you’re among friends,” Owen lied, “so, what is it you do?”

“Oh, um…organic chemistry. I specialize in atomic structure, particularly in substances not common within the scientific community,” he answered, seeing three confused faces glancing at him, “so, if Doctor Revenaux found something in the field, some sort of substance unknown to us, I can study it and see its genetic makeup. It could vary from anything from fuel to use or gas to avoid.”

“Huh,” Owen nodded, “have you worked with the Doctor before?”

“Me? Oh heavens no,” he shook his head, but smiled, almost as if proud to be under her leadership, “Just to be around her is an honor. She’s well known within the SBH. She just has this perseverance to her work that is remarkable, especially everything that has happened.”

Perseverance was something I could relate to and also admire. I always succeeded at my mission, always got my target as cleanly as possible. Even against odds, I always had found a way to make it work. It sounds like Jack could do that too. Her line of work was probably filled with egregious amounts of stress, after all, weren’t peoples lives on the line? It was the kind of importance that made most doctors absolute dickheads. While she had been brash this morning, it was spoken out of confidence, not cockiness. 

“What happened?” Grimes asked, actually looking interested.

I feigned interest, focusing on my steak but still listened intently.

“I well…nobody really knows. It happened a few years ago, given her university and alumni photos show a normal…well, as normal as you can get woman scientist,” he hushed, as if afraid that talking about this felt taboo, or a strike against his new supervisor, “look, all I know is that it happened right after she published her work on Colony 599. She took at least a year off before returning to the field. From what I heard, people were surprised she returned at all.”

Owen and Grimes both looked at me, as if figuring it had to be something serious if nobody knew. And if nobody at least in the science circle knew, it was classified. Good thing I had a team of people that could get that for me, if needed. I’d be surprised if we didn’t learn something new about her by the end of the week.

“Surely there’s a recent medical report on her. And you’d have access to that, working in the same sector…”

“You’re out of your mind. That’s patient confidentiality,” the chemist replied, a bit offended, “we’re here to do important work, I can’t say the same for you three. Now if you excuse me, I’m going to enjoy my dinner.”

He grabbed his tray and walked away, a disgruntled sigh leaving Owen’s lips.

“Nice going, Owen,” Grimes nudged him, “better hope he isn’t a snitch and informs her of our prying.”

“Yeah well, he seems like a royal ass kisser to her. That’s the thing about scientists and doctors, they all put each other up on these pedestals. So what if she found something to help with cancer? If she hadn’t, someone else would have stumbled upon it as well.”

The same could be said for my line of work. If I failed, it would merely go on to the next person maybe just at a lower price. My work was expensive, and so was Doctor Deveraux’s. And neither of us felt like we could fail, maybe we never had. Failure wasn’t an option, and in both of our lines of employment, it was endless. Our work wouldn’t stop until our hearts stopped beating. Maybe we did have some similarities, almost just a different side of a credit chip.  

I returned to my room to retire soon after, seeing my monitor light up with a notification. It seems like I wasn’t going to bed any time soon, at least with this brand new piece of information. I pulled up the generated report, scanning the various documents of information, canvassing databases for my target.

Crowe. Recon Specialist Crowe of District Two. He was tasked just today in scouting out our prospective area. More than likely to monitor our progress to higher ups, and if we stepped too close, they’d send a strong enough force to contest. Only five years of experience made him an amateur. Finding him, and killing him, was my ultimate objective. Glancing at the young man’s repertoire, I could do this in my sleep. My only issue was I had more than just military eyes on my back.

Science always seemed to find its ways to haunt me. I could tell just from our brief moment this morning…Jacqueline Deveraux wasn’t frightened easily. 

Chapter Text

The week was particularly exhausting. Science of all magnitudes was crammed into my day, almost reminding me of the later days of schooling. The entirety of my days had involved cramming as much knowledge and information as I could, to the point I’d avoid most meals, and try to obtain a healthy amount of sleep. This was no different. Everything from atmospheric meteorologist analysis, linguistics, to psychology was all crammed in that small head of mine.

It was nearing the end of Friday, which meant a relaxing weekend for most before the first deployment onto Colony Negative with Acid Squad. I was nervous, to say the least. All the data and windows from outside clearly pointed to a stormy, chaotic place to reside. Winds could reach up to fifty miles per hour on a normal day and it would rain for days on end. What mattered most, was on the inside of these structures.

The entrance to our first sector was primarily above ground, so I prayed it wouldn’t rain much. The weather on the first day of exploration almost guaranteed how the rest of this study was going to go. Rain was not a good sign.

A familiar, disgruntled woman walked towards me, datapad in hand.

“Doctor Carey, to what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked, not bothering to glance at her as I continued summarizing my data on my own datapad, “Did I fail my psych evaluation?” I meant that as a joke, but it was possible. After all, we weren’t supposed to lie during those.

“No. However, data will be skewed before the mission begins. Supervisory Agent Damien Rok has lied dramatically on his psych evaluation,” she answered, clear frustration in her tone.

To start this entire mission with data skewed would be a shit show. Obviously, an evaluation wasn’t needed to see him as a trigger happy psycho. But, it would be nice to know that data and see it change (more than likely not) by the end of this mission. Again, some people lied. It was another to see data completely contradict what he was saying.

“What do you mean?” I glanced up at her.

“He states he was born and bred District Five, from Colony 503. However, his blood work indicates high levels of testosterone within his actual genetic makeup. None of his genetics seems to match the others of those around him. He’s lying about the most basic question. Which means with everything else, he may be too. I was hoping you might know what his genetics might indicate.”

I did know or rather I had a basic assumption. Once I got the data, I’d know more. If it was what I assumed, based on previous knowledge of the subject, then he really was as dangerous as I first thought.

“I’ll handle it. Can you send me all the data we do have on him?” I knew that’s what she really wanted me to do, was take over. And it wasn’t exactly my field of expertise, but luckily all I had to do was follow a script of questions and that should be it. I spent the entire week avoiding him at all costs, given we were both busy. Perhaps it was time to pay him a visit and resolve this crisis.

We had to work as a team, even though I hated his guts.

When I found him, it was in the obnoxiously loud gymnasium. Music blared, which was nothing more than a cacophony of electric rock, screaming lyrics, with hidden motivational messages behind them. The room reeked of just pure sweat. My first thought was hopefully the janitorial staff got paid well to clean this shit every evening.

If my worst, and most obnoxious, of enemies could be in a single room, it would be this one. Had someone been in direct control of the music, the second I entered it probably would’ve been silenced. Most eyes met mine, nearly a hundred soldiers crammed into this spacious gym, all wondering what I was doing here. Clearly, I wasn’t here to join any of them.

I liked working out, finding avenues to release stress somehow when I wasn’t on Colony 501 to escape into the city. But, nobody here would see me in a gym unless it was for direct business, unless in the hours past midnight.

Damien Rok was benching, probably around three hundred pounds by my guestimate. From my end, it looked more like a warm-up given how quickly and efficiently he finished each rep. It didn’t seem like it, given his gray shirt was borderlining black with all the drenched sweat. He clearly was strong, muscles not just artificial as an aesthetic for his masculinity. He pushed himself to the limits. It would be an admirable trait if it wasn’t attached to him.

I stayed near the door, seeing an Agent move towards him and nudging his shoulder. It was clear I was here for him, which surprised Damien as he glanced at me, upside-down from his bench. He was quick to rack his bar, which is what surprised me. I thought he would take his sweet time to bridge the gap, but he was immediately walking over, wiping the sweat across his head and arms with a towel.

It was too loud to even ask him in here, so I nudged my head towards the door. He was smart enough to listen, still wiping that towel through his dark brown, sweat infested short hair.

“Well, Doctor, to what do I owe the pleasure? Do you need any information on Acid Squad? I already have personnel ready to go, if you’d like to get to know them,” he forced a small smile. Charming. As if I would even want to get to know them. It was his job to supervise them. All I needed to know was if they would follow his orders…and most of all if he’d follow mine. I’d follow his, if the respect was mutual.

“No. You lied on your psychological evaluation,” I jumped straight to it, my eyes meeting his.

He seemed surprised, “I didn’t know that was something I could fail.”

“You did. I’d like you to remedy that and tell the truth. You’re skewing our data,” I reminded him.

“Too bad,” he shrugged.

“Is that how we’re going to start this?” I straightened up, my tone borderline furious, “I get it, Rok-”

“Supervisory Agent Rok-”

My eyebrows narrowed down, “Sir, I need to know if I can rely on you. You being their supervisor means nothing to me. Your accolades, the amount of medals on your fancy dress uniform mean shit to me. I need to know you’re not a complete psychopath and adjust my own actions according to you. I need to know who I’m working with. I don’t like working with liars.”

“So do I, Doctor,” he spoke, crossing his arms “I’ll tell you what. We do a psych evaluation together. Whatever you ask, I’ll answer, and so will you. We’ll get to know each other. I don’t even know what I was lying about.”

Fuck no, I thought. My eyes gazed to his muscles, momentarily, finding his biceps to be just as large and broad as his fucking shoulders. I shouldn’t make this man my enemy, not yet anyways. It wasn’t just the fact that he’d make my data even harder to evaluate, it was the idea that he wouldn’t break a sweat if he wanted to kill me.

I’d sure as hell make him try and struggle, if the thought even crossed his mind.

“Is that the only way to get my data?” I asked.

“Yes,” he nodded, “but again, I answered truthfully.”

“Fine,” I agreed, which made him smirk. It was a smirk where he got his way, for now. He could question, interrogate me all he wanted. But I had data he didn’t know about. If he wanted to lie, his data would expose him better than any useless polygraph.

“Alright, let me get my things,” he retreated back into the gymnasium. Five minutes later, he was back out with his duffel bag, completely changed. He wore black cargo shorts and a Milithreat shirt, pistol attached to the right hip, sword on the left hip. He reeked of his cheap cologne, probably to try and mask his lack of a shower. But he was ready to go, and I was ready to get this over with.

I snagged one of the many empty interview rooms, separated only by a desk between us. He sat in the uncomfortable metallic chair, immediately putting his boots up on the desk. Fucking unprofessional, he was.

“Agent Rok, how old are you?” I asked.

“Thirty-two, and yourself?”

“Thirty-five,” I hummed, already jotting notes, “Have you ever had suicidal ideations?”

“Right to the juicy stuff,” he laughed, “Have you?”

“No,” I answered honestly, “Have you ever had suicidal ideations.”

“No,” he finally answered, too quickly.

“What means of coping do you use to contain your symptoms of anger?”

“My what? You think I have anger issues? I don’t remember being asked this.”

“So…no means of coping,” I hummed, pretending to jot that down but I saw he was quick to try and retract the statement.

He lifted his hands slightly, bewildered, “I mean, I work out. I…fuck a hot woman? I don’t know, Doctor. I remind myself of the mission, if my anger or any other emotional symptom becomes a problem for the mission, I correct myself. What are your means of coping with your anger?”

There were none. Therapy? Extensive, gut wrenching therapy might count. I wasn’t one to get hot flashes of anger. A temper, maybe. But it wasn’t violent by any means, merely built upon previous frustrations. I knew there were plenty of things outside my control. To adapt was the only option.

“A cold shower,” I answered, “where are you from, sir?”

“You can just call me Damien, Jacqueline,” he corrected me.

“Jack,” I immediately corrected him in return, “It’s Jack.”

“Jack,” he repeated, “I’m from District Five, I currently live on Colony 501 in the main city. I hardly live there, though. I can’t stand it. I prefer to be working out in the field, in some unknown Colony keeping the peace.”

I loved Colony 501, in an odd way that I knew I didn’t like people that much. I loved grabbing a cup of coffee, finding a nice bench near a public area, and just watching to my heart's content. People watching was much more entertaining than actually interacting with them. That would all fade away when I’d ride my bike and get cursed out by some idiotic driver on the streets. But it was safe, hardly any violence. I could walk the streets at midnight without fear, because my sleep was much more dangerous.

The city and colony had their flaws, as all people did.

We could relate on one thing though: we preferred to be working instead of just roaming around like most colonists did, lacking ambition or passion.

“I live there myself,” I replied, as cordially as possible.

“Really, near SBH headquarters I assume?”

“No. I like a good commute. I live near this coffee cafe in the Green District. They grow their coffee beans right there. You can smell them harvesting and roasting them in the early mornings.”

“Coffee of Colours…I can’t say I’ve ever been,” he spoke, which surprised me. Clearly he knew exactly what cafe I was talking about. “I live a few blocks down.”

Crazy how we might have passed across the streets numerous times, probably thinking of each other as rude pedestrians and nothing more. I doubted that it ever happened. I didn’t like the idea he lived relatively close by. At least once this mission was done, we’d never have to see each other ever again.

“You drive a Gazian? You look like you drive one,” he asked, clearly not part of the psych eval. He was trying to get to know me, in an odd condescending way.

“As if I’d drive a convertible, horribly manufactured ‘sports’ car,” I scoffed, “I ride: a Kamelot.”

His smile remained, but his eyes gleamed a bit.

“I can see why you like your commute then, given riders have their own special lane,” he hummed.

“Why did you lie?” I finally asked, seeing his demeanor fade into confusion again.

“About what? Where I live?”

“Where you come from,” I clarified.

“I didn’t. Like I said, I’m not lying,” he grew defensive.

“You work in counter-intelligence Damien. You know when stories don’t add up, when things don’t make sense, that means it’s a lie.”

“I’m not lying,” he seethed, removing his legs from the table, about to stand up.

“You’re from District Six. Although it was never called that by its cohabitants. Sabbath, am I right?” I asked patiently. His already white face went pale, his eyes darkening, his breathing heavy. He wasn’t angry. He was astounded. He was anxious. Two choices seemed laid in front of him: attack me in a fury of rage, or enter a state of post traumatic stress.

“How could you know that?” he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to relax in that chair.

“Your genetics. You have extremely high levels of testosterone, levels that no ‘normal’ man could just walk around with. If I injected that much into a random soldier here, he’d possibly die. We’re talking severe clotting or permanent liver damage, maybe both. But you, you’ve been conditioned to it. Without it, your genetic makeup would look like any other male. Yours however, was flagged in my data. Now, it’s possible you are actually from District Five, from a distant colony that perhaps Sabbath ‘liberated.’ But the truth remains, you were born and raised a child soldier. Your genetic makeup, your accolades, your answers to these questions…it’s all ingrained in you.”

“You know nothing about me. And none of your data or bloodwork is going to tell me who I am,” he scowled slightly, “I hate people like you, you know that Doctor? All humans are to you are fucking lab rats for you to poison. You relish in the idea of putting humans into an impossible maze and watch them struggle.”

“That impossible maze is called life, and I’m doing my best to solve it, same as you,” I retorted, “we just have different ideas on how to struggle through it.”

This entire conversation turned from slightly cordial back to borderline throat grabbing. It wasn’t a surprise at all.

“Have you ever had any suicidal ideations?” I repeated, thrice.

“Have you ever killed someone, Doctor?” he ignored my question with one of his own.

“No,” I replied.

“Could you?”

I hesitated, “Depends.”

“On what? Imagine I was a man who had all the data you could want from this universe, that would solve all your life’s work. But the only way you’d get it is that you’d have to kill me. Would you?”

“No. That would ruin my entire thesis,” I shook my head.

“Which is?”

“Highly classified,” I answered, which annoyed him further.

There was a moment of silence. Clearly the evaluation was ‘completed’ in terms that he did admit to the lie. It was a step forward, an angry one at that. He had to admit it to me, and I had to know his truth. I cared not for his past. I knew little into the details of the Sabbath other than they were destined to ruin my thesis. They would see this universe covered in blood, where the only law to exist was survival of the fittest.

“Milithreat knows, before you try digging further to try and blackmail me,” Damien clarified, crossing his arms. The thought hadn't even crossed my mind. If I had found it so easily from mere drops of blood, so would have his corporation.

“I’m not in the business of blackmail, nor going behind your back to obtain further information, Damien,” I sighed, “You, however, have no problem trying to dig up my past. Tell me, did you find anything?”

He remained silent for a minute, glaring at me, “No. So, that biological bitch did snitch.”

“Organic chemist,” I corrected him, seeing him roll his eyes, “I’d advise you, Damien, that the answers you’re looking for have nothing to do with this mission. And as far as I know about you, you constantly claim that mission is all that matters.”

“I need to know if your actions will put my men at risk, or myself,” he hummed, “why do you hate men like me?”

“Are you so used to being surrounded by like-minded sheep who worship you, that you think it’s rare for people like me to dislike your type? You can destroy things in seconds, things that took centuries to build and grow.”

“Without men like me, the second you start studying Colony Negative, you’ll get a laser bullet to that smart brain of yours,” he defended himself.

“Without men like you, I wouldn’t have a crosshair over my head to begin with,” I bemused.

“I have this great feeling that you and I are not going to get along,” he ignored my comment.

“It took you that long to realize that? I knew it the moment you interrupted my briefing.”

“Still bitter over that? He laughed, “You never clarified my question. You said it depends, killing someone depends on the situation. What situation do you see yourself doing so?”

“Protecting myself. Protecting the people I care about-”

“Wow, you actually care about others! Color me surprised.”

“Fuck you,” I spat, soon regretting it. I didn’t mean to be harsh. But I knew I would always be seen that way: uncompassionate. People would mean less than the actual data they provided. It meant I could never fully understand people on an empathetic level. It was bullshit. I did care. I had to care. Some days, I cared so much it hurt. The scars hurt so much, because I had cared.

And men like him made me really not want to care.

I had to care. I had to let the science flow with compassion and empathy, something I knew I lacked at the moment given it felt like everything had been taken away. I was met with admiration amongst my scientific peers, and hatred from that of the militaristic ones. None of that was really, truly, enough. If I stripped everything away, just like they did with a soldier, did I have any value in this universe?

“I see I touched a sore spot,” he pulled back slightly, his own tone calming despite me cursing at him, “that’s good, though, that you didn’t answer no to my question. None of my men, nor myself, will ever know what this science means to you. If such drive and ambition puts you in a sticky situation, nobody might be there to save you. I need you to understand that this will get dirty, I guarantee it. And anybody not from one of my squads should be considered your enemy.”

“And if someone from your squad is considered one?” I asked, honestly.

“Then you let me know, and I’ll handle it,” he replied, but I could tell he knew why I asked that. What if he was my enemy? What if he ruined my data so much, caused so much destruction that all of this was futile? He knew it, too, that he had that capability. But, there was still a glimmer of optimism maybe he wouldn’t. There was something in him that almost wanted me to succeed, to prove him wrong.

“Other than lab rats, why do you hate doctors? Whatever happened in Sabbath, it’s not my line of work,” I asked softly. I had to make up for my slight outburst, but I wasn’t going to straight up apologize for it.

We were both in this odd tug of war together, knowing we should get along yet everything indicated we were each other’s enemy.

“I suppose I hate data more than I hate doctors, but=”

“Data? You hate facts? Was math never your strong suit?” I tried to jest, but I could tell from his stern look he definitely took this seriously.

“Algorithms, that’s what they’re called right? They predict things. How usually wrong are they?”

“Depends on what it was made for. They’re not perfect. Is that what Sabbath had, an algorithm? About what?” I asked for clarification.

“Everything,” he answered.

“Everything?” I repeated, and he nodded, “What’s that got to do with me?”

“You tell me. They say the truth sets you free. Data, according to you, is the truth. Do you really think your data will make a difference?” he asked, “You found something involving cancer, and I applaud you for that. But, say they took that data and exploited it to make cancer even more dangerous, more undetectable, impossible to stop?”

“It’d be the same thing as someone taking your gun out of your holster and killing someone. It is your gun, but someone else pulled the trigger,” I swallowed, knowing that it was a possibility my studies and data could be used for harm, but it wasn’t my intention, “Not all data is foolproof. You’re six-foot-four. That is a given fact, a data I can’t change without cutting your legs off. Algorithms are built by humans, humans are inherently flawed, which means so is the algorithm. So is data. Everything I’ve produced is biased, flawed, imperfect. Science is a theory. Whatever Sabbath told you, whatever those doctors told you, it’s theory, and nothing more. Besides, in my experience, Sabbath’s logic was incredibly flawed.”

He remained silent, for just a moment to ponder. I could see there was a small narrow avenue that maybe I got through to him, but another side was wanting to reject it. Whatever he had been told, he firmly believed it.

“You asked the suicide question twice,” he observed.

“You didn’t answer it the first time,” I shrugged, wondering what that had to do with this. It was normal in any psych evaluation to bring up something in this matter. He should know that, after all, he did his own evaluations with Milithreat all the time.

“Are we done here?” he finally asked, and I nodded.

“We were done the moment you clarified your dishonesty.” Which was true, yet he had still continued to probe, so I assumed he still had plenty of questions. It was still clear he had questions, fighting with himself whether to ask them or not.

“I didn’t mean to be dishonest.”

“There are some things you can’t hide, Damien. I won’t hold it against you.”

He got from his chair, scooting it in before taking one last glance at me, “Yeah, not all of us get to wear masks. We make first ground Monday at 0800, with or without you. I hope you succeed in your mission, Doctor Deveraux”

I gritted my jaw behind the mask, avoiding exhaling a frustrated breath because he’d be able to hear it. I held my breath, watching him glance at me one last time before closing the door, leaving me there alone for a moment.

“I hope you succeed too, Damien,” I whispered to myself, although I knew a truth that had to be solidified. Neither of us could both succeed. It felt doomed from the start, that if I got everything I needed, he wouldn’t. If he won, there would be nothing left for me to calculate. If war with the other Districts was to be fought indirectly on this Colony, unbeknownst to the rest of the universe, it was a war Damien would want to win.

District Six was nowhere near involved with Colony Negative. They didn’t have the means financially to even be here, and more than likely had a minimal force. That didn’t mean they didn’t have their fingers involved in this plot somehow. I could care less if Damien was from there, it was the fact he tried to hide it. Maybe he hated Sabbath as much as I did, or maybe he was still an extension of their attempt at controlling the universe through blood. If he truly was a soldier brought up in the Sabbath ideas, failure was not an option.

I had failed once already. I couldn’t do it again. I feared Damien had never lost before, which already gave him the advantage. A man like him never liked to lose…which is why I couldn’t let him win.

No matter what, I can’t let him win. 

Chapter Text

“Acid Squad, attention!” Grimes shouted, the squadron immediately leaving their relaxed poses as I entered the hangar bay, seeing the men standing firm. Inspection was always important, especially on the first mission. These men were hand selected by me to be the best, excelling in all areas physical and mental. 

“At ease,” I commanded, seeing them relax. Uniformity was something I appreciated, something most people often overlooked or ignored. Milithreat was a corporation so they didn’t mind everyone having their own flair. Not me. I wouldn’t allow my men or women to have any say in uniform designs. Black and red, my favorite colors. 

Armor had to be a metallic black, glossy and well polished. I had a feeling by the end of this mission, that gloss would fade, but that was the point. Starting a mission always had to be pristine, and the end needed to look like a righteous clusterfucked uniform and gear. It meant we used all the tools at our disposal as often as we could. The red glows on the side seams and lights would make a difference if on the battlefield from shooting either friend or foe.

Helmets were equipped with night vision, heat detection, and acted as oxygen relief if necessary. The scientists said there shouldn’t be any problems breathing on Colony Negative, but I had my doubts. Every single soldier and scientist accompanying us live streamed their point of view from those helmets for the security teams to monitor. Even our health vitals were constantly being monitored.

CSO Ruenova would definitely keep an eye on the main personnel, specifically myself and Jack, just to make sure we stuck to the plan.

I was about to pull out my pocket projector to lay out the gameplan I had spent all night working on, that is until Doctor Deveraux caught my eye. Her armor was less militaristic and more scientific, merely an exo-skeleton of the weight my soldiers and I carried. She managed to follow the black and red uniform, at my request despite the red clashing with her green eyes. Along the back of her suit was a pack attached to her light armor, enough just for a datapad and tools.

She didn’t wear a helmet, which almost infuriated me. The easiest way to avoid detection was to wear helmets. If someone was targeting her, she’d be spotted easily. Although, with a helmet, her petite figure would probably give it away too. More than likely she didn’t have a need for a helmet if her mask filtered enough for her. 

I just didn’t like staring at her. She was the one person to unease me. 

The one thing that did surprise me was that she had a knife attached firmly to her thigh. It was the only weapon clearly in her possession, although she could very well argue it was a tool. The handle design and thin blade structure made it very easy to pinpoint it was a pararescue knife, particularly one a medic would carry in the field. I already had a medic on each squad, so why did she feel the need to carry one herself?

I wasn’t the only one to notice too.

“When the laser bullets start flying, I know I’ll be so safe around the Doctor and her knife,” Owen snickered. I hated that he was in Acid Squad. I did everything I could to put him in Bomb Squad, but unfortunately the man I previously selected broke his ankle in a training exercise. He was the next best available. If only his personality leveled with his military skill. 

“Our job is to protect the Doctor, in case you forgot, Agent Owen,” I scowled, almost borderline defensive. I must be stressed. I didn’t know why it bothered me. Owen already got on my nerves so that was probably it. It was also the fact that our mission was to clearly protect the Doctor, as much as I even hated her.

We hardly spoke since our interrogation. I couldn’t fault her for finding what I tried so hard to hide, what plagued my sleep with a trauma I couldn’t ignore. I was engineered for this. No. I earned this out of my determination and will. I escaped Sabbath and now did my own bidding. I wanted nothing to do with that hellhole. I murdered more alone under their eye than Milithreat.

Yet, I would murder today if the chance arose.

I had to murder if it prevented me from killing the only thing I cared about. 

Jack stood at slight parade rest, arms behind her back patiently. She didn’t say anything to Owen’s tease. Instead her emerald eyes glanced at mine, eagerness to make first contact on this new colony. I nodded and proceeded to project the simulation, seeing our transports arrive at an east entry point of the city. 

“Acid Squad, we are the first ones to make breakthrough in what will be our territory of Colony Negative. The second we are on the ground, we will immediately have Agent Cole conduct a perimeter sweep with his recon drones. Once clear, the other three squads will enter the square mile at different points and meet us in the center. We will clear block by block. Speed is not important, efficiency is.”

“About four miles in is the entrance to the underground region. Scans from our ship indicate layers upon layers underneath the ground. From here, we will make this a base camp when on the ground. If any issues arise or communication is cut off, this will be our meeting point. Does anyone have any questions?”

Silence.

“Good, let’s roll,” I clapped, seeing everyone grab their gear. I pulled my datapad out one last time, taking a glance at my target. Recon Specialist Crowe had electric blue hair and a distinctive neck tattoo, both of which would be covered by his own uniform. Intelligence suggested his armor would be laced with possible camouflage technology. Agent Cole’s drones wouldn’t pick it up, unless on a heat signature scan. I’d have to remind him to do that with each sector, just in case Crowe was already waiting for us.

He probably already was, which made me deliriously giddy. Nothing excited me more than a prey thinking he was a predator. 

The transport was sizeable, enough to fit two squadrons but I wanted each one to have their own individual Sioc. It would make it easier if an emergency arose to get each team out safely. While it was at a cost of gasoline and not considered efficient by our supply crew, I didn’t give a fuck. They didn’t know what it could feel like, being abandoned on the front lines, waiting forever for a transport to arrive. I did.

The Sioc rumbled over the uneven terrain. The lack of windows made it less interesting, everyone only having to stare at each other. The noise was loud, which meant little room for small talk at least in person. The helmets at least provided communication control, channels that allowed the soldiers to speak to others. While a private channel could be created, my men had no idea I could have access to it as well. Already they were talking amongst themselves, encouraging each other how big a mission this was. 

“Doctor Deveraux, are you alright? Your heart-rate is high,” Medic Garcia pointed out, over a personal channel. I was included in this one, however.

“I’m fine,” she spoke, the mask and radio chatter only making that voice of her more robotic and unenthusiastic. I glanced back from the front, gripping the handle bars up top to keep balance. She looked nervous. Her hands rested on her knees, but one index was rapidly tapping, as if counting the seconds until this was over. 

I slowly traversed down the narrow pathway, keeping my grip steady before making my way down to her. 

“When was your last deployment?” I asked, seeing her glance up in surprise that I was even saying anything, let alone on another private channel. I made sure to save that channel as a favorite. Something told me we’d have to bicker privately, less she wanted my soldiers to hear her berating me. It also wouldn’t hurt to keep checking on her status, given the differences in missions. 

Deployment was probably a poor word to use. Perhaps Colony study or mere exploration was a better word to describe her exiting a lab for once.

“Colony 599,” she answered, pausing before adding, “It’s been awhile.” Her eyes averted away slightly, perhaps intimidated about me wearing the helmet. All she saw was a black nothing, which was probably what she saw in my heart anyways. 

Or maybe she was lying. That was around the same time as her ‘incident’ according to the very basic timeline constructed by my intelligence team. Most of it was still unknown. All that was known was that she went to Colony 599, came back in the lab for a bit, then it happened. From there, she took a long period away from her work, before returning. Interviews suggested many in SBH were surprised she returned at all. 

Grimes had also been right about her family legacy. The reason Deveraux industries was no longer in service was the fact their CEO, Jacqueline’s father, killed his wife before killing himself. Only two months after the window of Jack’s incident. Whatever happened, death had followed her and her family. Still, it left Jack with a net worth of over a billion credits, enough to step aside and live a life of luxury without breaking an ounce of sweat for work.

That wasn’t her style, though. 

“I remember my first big deployment. Colony 354. The second we landed to  help a small village with aid, we were surrounded by a swarm of Canine-A’s, you know-”

“Canine Animorpheous. Once thought to be their own terrifying species, but they are merely mutated wolves. Three times the size of a normal wolf, a bite strong enough to chomp off a man’s head,” she interrupted, before realizing her scientific chatter overwhelmed my attempt at small talk, “...sounds terrifying.”

“It was,” I admitted, “I always thought humans were the biggest threat. That day proved me wrong, until I was able to study my enemy. From there, I knew how to defeat them.”

“We won’t run into any of those here. They like forest colonies. There are no forests here,” she muttered. I suppose she wasn’t seeing my point in chatter. It wasn’t about the canines, it was about the fear of my own first deployment with Sabbath. I, of course, left out the fact that Sabbath had taken the remaining alive Canine-A’s to domesticate, using them to control Colony 354 with fear of the monsters.

“What will we run into out here?” I asked, genuinely curious if she had a guess. It definitely seemed uninhabitable in the long run from the top-down imagery. But people had definitely lived here, survived by the looks of it.

“Nothing more dangerous than ourselves,”  she replied, and I was content with that answer.

Garcia didn’t say anything else about her vitals, so I assumed talking to her worked at putting her at ease. Slight ease, of course. I knew my presence could barely provide her any comfort. I noticed in the channel log from my helmet that she had saved our private channel too in her own system. For an odd reason, that made me smirk.

Yeah, she’d definitely abuse that private com-channel. So would I, given the chance. 

The Sioc stopped, the back doors dropping and immediately my men proceeded out in formation, guns drawn parallel to the ground. Jack stepped in the middle and I operated from behind her. I suppose I didn’t really realize it until now, or maybe it was just the uniform she wore. But…she had a really nice ass.

Colony Negative was…barren. The ground was all rock, greyish in color. The only thing that stood in the beginning district was just other rocks, on top of rocks. It didn’t look like any signs of life. It was a barren, moon-like wasteland. There were structures still remaining, maybe only as high as four stories, but they looked on the verge of collapsing. 

My memory flashed to the day Sabbath had obliterated Colony 106. I watched from the space above as fire hailed down like comets into the planet. The entire colony was engulfed in flames. Sabbath loved a baptism by fire, one that either drowned the colonists into submission, or damned them to eternal hell. That day, Colony 106 chose hell, and they got it. I remembered landing on the Colony, having to ensure there were no survivors. The only ones that survived the initial blasts had their skin charred off, echoing their last breaths as their burns consumed them, damaging their organs, and damning souls to eternal hell. Our souls, to be exact

“Agent Rok, no signs of movement or lifeforms,” Cole’s gentle voice echoed in everyone’s comms. 

“Copy, conduct a sweep for heat signatures as well,” I demanded, seeing him monitor his drones that roamed the mile perimeter. 

Jack dug the heel of her boot into the dirt, feeling a softness to the moondust beneath her. I watched her walk over to the one section a few feet away, doing the same. The ground beneath was harder, almost solid in entirety. A foundation. While the material of rock was the same, one was pure ground, the other utilized as a foundation for a building. 

“Doctor, I believe the architecture design mimics that of cob structures, found in various colonies, mostly that of small village populations with lack of serious construction ability,” a feminine voice went to Jack.

“Agree. Given the amount of storms on this Colony, it looks like they utilized the rain to turn this chalk into mud. The only thing is, there’s a slight substance between the rocks, similar to mortar for bricks. Can you tell what it is?” Jack asked.

Already, she was getting to work. With no signs of life, writings, symbols, or anything indicating an intelligence, once flourishing society, she had to study what she had. I, personally, never would have thought what the structure of these buildings would tell me. I lowered the volume of the Doctor’s channel, to give her some false sense of privacy, but also because the theoretical discussion was hammering my head. 

Two hours passed, two long and boring hours. By that time, my agents were a bit complacent and growing lazy. Their weapons were on safety, not pointing parallel for any threats lurking. They merely kept their heads on a swivel and kicked the dirt as we traversed further into this ‘city.’  Jack had never said anything once to me, but was constantly in communication with her various scientists, pinpointing the smallest details I was clearly overlooking. 

By now, it became more city-like with the structures made of similar material but much more numerous. It was still an urban hell, a dystopian empty pit. There were no neon signs or any form of art like I was used to back home, not even graffiti. There were no things or items in these structures that could make a home feel…well, homely. No pots or pans, no beds other than the occasional white brick like material dangling from a wall. This place was more barren than a prison.

“This is fucking boring,” Owen groaned, a few others joining into the complaints. The only one who didn’t seem to find any boredom was the good Doctor, however she looked just as puzzled about the situation as I. 

Cole finished another sweep and found nothing, but something told me we were being watched. A cold sweat dripped from my neck, my eyes scanning the horizon of the various structures, looking for any sign of movement. Nothing. There wasn’t even any wind making noise, only the crunch of our boots. 

“Sir,” Jack called out for me but on the public comms, which made me turn around to see what she was gazing at. She stood out in the open, glancing down at an impression in the ground. I walked over to her, bending down slightly. Somewhere in the dust she had been staring at were the signs of a boot heel imprinted, the back end specifically. It was not a full footprint which explained why my team had overlooked it, thinking nothing of it. 

We weren’t alone.

The softest echo like a whistle confirmed so, my instincts immediately surging. I pushed into Jack’s body, forcing her into the wall with me to cover her torso with my own. A laser beamed straight into the corner of the wall she was near, disintegrating the edge. Her mask made it easy to hear her nervous breath, and the closeness of my chest against hers made it easy to imagine her racing heart. The combination of the two was electric.

We just got fucking shot at, I shouldn’t be thinking about that. 

“You can get off me,” she finally exhaled and I took a small step back. Her eyes were soft, despite the slight venom in her voice. 

“What the fuck!? Do we have visuals?” my men shouted, all taking cover. The shot presumably came from the west, from elevation as I watched the laser still melt that wall from a diagonal position.

“Do you think these structures can withstand a laser shot?” I asked her, knowing her team might be able to know the answer. That answer would determine just how reliable our cover and positions might be. Otherwise, we’d have to go old school and go prone in the dirt for some real protection. 

“Depends on the caliber,” she answered herself, with experienced confidence. Her comms came to life, her green eyes staring deep into mine, as if she saw right through my helmet. “We should be fine to use as cover for firearms or swords. Artillery on the other hand…”

I doubted they had any, especially if this was Crowe. He wanted to make chaos with a one man army and artillery was not his speciality. Besides, it was clear he was targeting someone. Me, most likely. 

“There’s still no signs of life, heat signatures are fine,” Cole voiced over, worried that he was missing something. Surely if someone was shooting they’d show up on a scan. 

Jacqueline still stared at me as I slowly leaned my head to the right to take a peek behind the breach in the wall. Immediately she grabbed me this time by the wrist bracers of my armor, pulling me back to her. A laser whizzed by, missing my helmet by an inch.

“How did you-”

“Movement from the glare of your helmet,” she answered. Okay, so she wasn't’ staring at me, but using my helmet almost as a mirror. Genius. “Tallest building it looks like. Don’t peek again, he clearly knows you’re trying to get an angle.”

“Cole, check the building three blocks west of us, the tallest in the sector. Keep that drone high up too,” I commanded, pulling out my small datapad. Jack stepped closer, almost that same closeness when I pressed her against that wall. Her eyes watched the drone footage with intrigue. Both of us saw nothing, just gray dust off a rooftop on the verge of collapsing..

“Could be camouflage. I’ll use heat signatures now,” Cole echoed and switched. The gray image turned orange, small colors varying of temperature changes. The structures were warmer, a faint bit redder.

“They used this specific material for their homes to absorb the heat, during hotter seasons,” Jack answered my internal question why the heat signature looked different. There was nothing, yet both of us felt there had to be something.

A slight movement of orange amidst the red appeared, and then disappeared as quickly as it formed.

“Is it possible he’s laying on a thermal blanket of equal temperature to the rock?” she questioned. My eyes lit up in surprise. I suppose if I was conducting reconnaissance or acting as a sniper in a place like this, I’d avoid anything to be detected from a heat signature. He had probably been watching us for the last good hour and thought he had us pinned. With so many structures, there was belief he could be atop any of them.

My hunch told me otherwise. So did Jacqueline’s surprisingly helpful theory. 

An amateur like himself would want to sit on the highest point, to get the biggest advantage: lack of people looking up. And a thermal blanket set at just the right temperature, accompanied by armor meant to blend into his surroundings…he thought he was practically invisible.

“Team, he is up there. I guarantee it. Owen, I need you to get to the Sioc, turn it off autopilot and pull it up closer to us,” I ordered, knowing the Sioc had followed us the second we got off. It was nice to have reliable transportation mixed with intelligent technology so it stayed with us at all times. 

“Are you shitting me? It’s out in the open,” Owen scowled.

“That’s an order, Agent. He’s not aiming at you!” I barked, seeing Jack jump slightly at the anger in my voice. My life was on the line, and so was hers seeing as I had pulled her aside. Owen had to stop thinking about himself for a split second.

I could hear Owen grunt before hearing movement behind me, his feet running rapidly towards the transport. I immediately adjusted my rifle, going into the schematic panel on the side to adjust the barrel size in a matter of seconds. Weapon technology was fucking awesome. 

“What caliber will penetrate?” I asked her, seeing the surprised look in her eyes.

“Well, at least a thirty by thirty millimeter block,” she answered, not so confident.

“You sure, Doctor? That’s a pretty large barrel,” I teased, adjusting the laser size to thirty-five by thirty-five. With that size, the recoil would definitely bruise my shoulder, unaccustomed to shooting a caliber that extensive. That’s what good soldiers do, though. We adapt. We adapt to kill, to improvise and surprise our enemies. With Owen running towards that transport, I wanted Crowe to think we were leaving. Hardly.

This was our fucking territory, and he was my target.

“I think you men have a problem measuring what’s ‘large’ and what is not,” she retorted, which only widened my smile. So she could tease in a firefight? She should see action more often. 

As soon as the engine revved and my firearm was calibrated and ready to fire, I immediately aimed from behind the wall the projected height I last remembered the edge of his roof being. Jack took a step to the side, her hands moving to cover her ears. She really should wear a helmet for ear protection alone. Or maybe I should have done her a favor and suppressed the barrel. 

“Cole…keep an eye on that drone,” I whispered, letting my finger gently rest on the trigger. 

One deep breath. Then another.

I side-stepped quickly to the right, firing as soon as the barrel left the sight of our cover. Crowe had at least a foot of covered wall to cower behind from, shooting through a narrow gap in it like any good sniper would. If this penetrated the wall like Doctor Devereaux suggested, I would hit him.

“Hit! I see blood splatter in the heat signature. He’s on the move!” Cole shouted excitedly, “Nice shot, sir.”

I couldn’t help but smirk, immediately letting my rifle return to standard setting before placing it behind my back in its shoulder holster.  The chase was on, and with the Sioc ready to go, we’d have the advantage. We always had the advantage. 

“He’s getting on a bike!” 

“Let’s go!” I ordered, “Cole, stay here and monitor the drone behind cover.” I left the cover to run for the opening end of the Sioc, hopping in. When I turned around, counting my men, Jack stood there for a moment, almost shell shocked.

“Hey Doc, you coming!?” Garcia shouted, seeing her wake up from her trance before being the last in. I immediately pulled Owen away from the controls, hopping in the seat to drive. The engines revved and without warning, my foot slammed into the gas pedal. A bike might give him a slight advantage to this terrain, but I had studied this map like the back of my hand. I spent all night awake studying this fucking navigation. There were plenty of places he couldn’t escape to, narrow routes or roads that made it easier to predict his path of travel.

“He’s five blocks from you heading west…now north-west,” Cole shouted.

Perfect. I knew exactly where to cut him off. Full speed ahead, as soon as I reached an open path, I turned right, letting the wheels squeal in the dirt to gain traction before slamming on the gas again.

“Holy fuck, who taught you how to drive!?” Jack scowled, only furthering my delight and adrenaline, “You’re going the wrong way.”

How I relished the idea of proving her wrong. It was an anticipation almost as good and savory as sex. 

Another few blocks, and I made another sharp left turn, followed by grunts of frustration as I could hear the soldiers behind me not strapped in, slamming into the side walls of the small tank-like transport. 

“Owen, give me turbo engines,” I commanded.

“Sir, that’s for jumping over gaps-”

“Fucking do it!” I shouted, seeing him adjust the panel to his left, activating it.

“Holy shit, you’re on him…” Cole whispered with anticipation over the comm. 

Immediately I pressed the button, activating a burst of speed. And as predicted, the bike was in front of us for a split second before the front of the Sioc slammed into the back. The bike lost control, its rider flying into the nearest wall with painful velocity. The Sioc rammed into the wall in front of us, breaking it and also the wall behind it, and most likely parts of the front bumper. No time to think about the damage. 

I turned off the engines and pulled my pistol out, opening the doors. This was my target, and my soldiers were too stunned by the crash to come to their senses. The dust settled from my chaos as I eagerly moved towards his last position. Crowe was slow to get up, a part of his shoulder blade sticking up abhorrently like he had a hunched back. I shot him in the leg, hearing his high pitched scream through his own helmet. With the laser burning his thigh, I activated a stun, rendering him unable to return any attack against me as he writhed in the dirt, his screams increasing.

He was my prey. He was at the bottom of my fucking food chain, and I always liked to play with my food.

My boot kicked his helmet in, hearing the shattering of fragile, cheap District Three glass crack. Electric blue hair was the clear indicator this was my target, as I was his. 

“Hello Crowe…any last words?” I let my helmet collapse, showing him who I was. He must know who I was, being his target and all. 

The man groaned, anger and frustration in his eyes but there was a hint of…happiness? Perhaps with all the pain he was in, the next laser into his brain would be a relief. But there was something deeper there.

“Get out while you still have a chance. A death like this is mercy,” he spat blood at me, staining my black uniform. 

“I am not mercy. You should have hit your first shot while you had the chance. You wanted to spread homicidal murder like its a cough, well, I’m the entire fucking plague,” I spat back at him. I shot one bullet right at his head, watching his brain splatter. This time I enjoyed the splattering of blood on my uniform. 

I kicked his limp body over on his back, standing over him before shooting two additional lasers for good measure, another again in the head and the other through his light camouflage armor into the heart. Each kill ended with a high pitched ring, and not the type from tinnitus or other medical condition in my ears. It was just the sound of a soul forcibly leaving this universe by my hands. It was a comforting sound. 

That sound faded with footsteps, my men glancing over to my victim. I turned back when I heard a soft collapse and saw Jack on her knees slightly, a faint streak of blood leaving her forehead, dripping down to her sharp jawline. She must’ve slammed it somewhere amidst the crash…another good reason to wear a fucking helmet. 

“You alright!?” I shouted at her, seeing fury in her eyes, that strand of black hair dangling between them.

“You fucking son of a-”

“Okay, yeah, you sound fine,” I smiled, licking my lips before sensing the sweetness of blood. My team and I then searched Crowe’s body, looking for anything useful to scavenge. We placed his datapad and technology to the side, figuring it would be encrypted so we could extract from it later. He had a nice camp-knife, a spotting scope, and other various tools we could use.

But again, District Three were money hoarders and only used cheap equipment. These would be used once and then tossed into the dump like garbage, just like they did with their own soldiers.

A noise of surprise from a filtered mask pulled me away, glancing over to see Doctor Deveraux looking at that datapad.  And from the reflection off her blood streaked jaw, she was staring at an image. I figured with nothing else to do, she’d find a way to unlock whatever knowledge Crowe found. Probably very little, at least in terms of intelligence she was looking for.

It wasn’t until she turned the datapad towards me, that weird burn of protective fury began to boil. 

Crowe’s target: a perfect, beautiful image of her, mask and all.

Chapter Text

It didn’t make sense. I had only just arrived and now my identity was plastered into a man’s mission report as a target, not to mention, shot at. I knew from the first mission statement that this would be a military playground for just about everyone. I couldn’t begin to comprehend just why I was a target. I was a scientist, nothing more. I was not an immediate life saver, let alone life changer. My data could take ages to bear fruit.

It made me wonder just how purposeful my work must be, if upon hours of setting foot on this new planet I was already a target for trigger happy men.

Or, it made me paranoid.

What if what had happened on Colony 999 was in relation to this? What if both times, whomever was against me had failed?

Long gone were the days of assassinating doctors or scientists of real value, or so it seemed. It would be one thing to target a nuclear scientist, or perhaps an intellectual whose idea of science was borderline criminal and unethical. Such scientists still existed, but I wasn’t one of them. 

I was expecting someone like Agent Rok to be a main target in most mission reports. He was the real game changer, and his ego proved that. He was smart, calculated, brutal, and most of all, he didn’t hesitate. Those men were more dangerous than I ever could be. Damien especially. Despite not seeing him kill this man, I had heard the four shots go off, and I knew he hadn’t missed. He was putting a point across.

Now, he and his team were carefully placing the body on the side, keeping it away from the open but also not hidden. If anyone would come looking for him, they’d find him. The display would hopefully send a warning to others: don’t come for District Five. 

“This bitch is going to get us killed,” I heard Owen mutter, and not on a communication channel.

“Excuse me?” I scowled, seeing him tense up at noticing I had overheard it. Maybe if he didn’t have a distinct, whiny, pathetic voice he wouldn’t stand out amongst the others as much.

“Owen, that’s enough,” Damien replied, crossing his arms. How he could stand so high and proud after killing someone, I didn’t know. If it was me, I’d be shaking and throwing up my insides for an hour. Maybe he felt the same way after his first kill, but clearly not anymore.

“No, I think we need to know some answers. We’ve been tasked with protecting her, I think we have a right to know exactly what she’s looking for here,” Owen protested, a few others nodding. 

“It’s not our business to know,” Grimes sided with Damien.

“Everything I shared during my first briefing is the same as it is now. I am here for data, as much as I can get, no matter what the quality or quantity,” I defended myself, “Look, I’m just as surprised as you at this. I have no rational reason to be listed as a key player on this little battlefield of yours.”

Damien walked over, extending his hand out to glance at the tablet. I didn’t hesitate to give it to him, not wanting to even think further on it. I should be more focused on what I was truly here for, the data, and let the men with guns figure this out. I knew, though, that these men fought for a purpose. All of them kept their morale up with this false sense of duty.

If their duty was protecting a scientist who wasn’t willing to share her outrageous thesis…their motivation to protect me would surely falter. 

“I’ll let Intel do some digging, see what District Three might know about you. This report is rather bare bones,” Damien hummed, soon glancing back at me. From the angle of his gray eyes, he was watching the blood still pour from the scratch made from his shitty driving. When he reached forward, I lurched away with a small step.

“I’m fine,” I assured him.

“You should wear a helmet,” he nodded, but looked at Garcia to at least get some gauze to clean me up.

“You should learn to drive better,” I retorted, seeing him smirk, “You think the mechanics are going to be happy when the front of that Sioc is busted?”

“I’m keeping them in business,” he shrugged, “besides, I’m sure they can fix up this bike too. Maybe on an off day, you can take it on a joyride around here.”

Tempting offer, but not possible.

“No such thing as an ‘off day’,” I replied, seeing him linger around as Garcia walked over with his first aid kit. The scratch stung, but he was quick to end the bleeding, along with applying a small amount of pain relieving cream. Completely unnecessary. Maybe Garcia didn’t know but I was accustomed to pain. Muscle scorching, skin stinging, lungs burning kind of pain. 

A helmet wasn’t a dreadful idea, but it just never really worked on my end. It didn’t accommodate my mask well, always fogged up a tad, and I liked seeing things with my own eyes. The one I had back home for riding was engineered specifically for me. I figured asking the supply chain for a custom helmet was out of the question and budget.

I’d have to suffer, then, for Damien’s knack of causing vehicular accidents. 

“Alright, well, let’s make our way back,” Damien ordered, entering the Sioc to slowly back it away from the rubble he caused. He seemed much more cautious in driving it now, especially since something was rattling constantly under the front hood. The mechanics will certainly not be happy with him. 

Upon arriving back, Cole awaited us with a thermal blanket in hand, reflective gear attached to a battery that could specify the exact temperature he needed. 

“She was right,” Cole gleamed my way. If only he could see the faintest smile under my mask for the gentle praise. 

“Congratulations, it’s a steak dinner for the Doctor. Or should I say, smoothie? Not sure she can handle solid foods,” Owen sarcastically replied to me, probably rolling his eyes under that helmet of his. 

Ignorant piece of shit. 

“Thank you Cole, I was only doing my job,” I ignored him, which seemed to be the best solution for him. It only seemed to enrage him further that I wasn’t joining in with his petty comments. 

Now, it was back to walking and studying. I suppose the attack had been a weirdly welcoming distraction. There was not one single word to describe Colony Negative. It wasn’t something I was entirely prepared for when thinking I was glancing at the point of human origin. The place looked like a wasteland, although that was maybe the point. Something had to make people leave, to go create the Districts and smaller colonies to follow. 

My initial thought was certainly viewing this place as almost primitive, a very unbenign word that I used rarely in my research. It was a term best forgotten, given the idea of something primeval was only due to perspective, or rather lack thereof. Communities flourished with art, with items, the idea of personal property or things to own. There were no remnants of such here. 

Buildings were empty as their only purpose from observation was that it was shelter. Beds were just slabs of that same material, hardly comfortable but it was for function. Perhaps at one time they had fabrics or cloth to dampen those backaches, but the powerful winds and storms removed that evidence. 

The homes lacked any kind of kitchen or utility to cook, let alone sit around and enjoy a meal. From the various large pits in the center of these so-called streets, my hypothesis suggested they had communal burning areas. They cooked whatever they could get their hands on. From the lack of any biology or organic life around, no small animals, not even insects…it was hard to imagine what they could eat here to survive. I took minor samples of what I could find, and for now it was best to leave it like that.

This day was just for observation. In depth studies, analysis, and charting would commence once the area was truly secure. Something told me maybe it never would be if men would hide on rooftops or attempt to assassinate scientists. The promise to keep me safe was a false one. These men would try, but at what cost?

Damien seemed to stay nearby with me towards the back, never once saying anything. We hadn’t spoken much at all besides work since that interrogation. We both had struck a nerve with one another. It was clear to probably not discuss anything regarding Sabbath around him, which was quite fine with me. They put a bad taste in my mouth. I couldn’t fault him for being a product of their inventions. He had been conditioned by their propaganda since a child, and more than likely, had no choice but to survive.

Survival was something I couldn’t fault him for. 

“Banana or no banana?” he finally asked me, out of the blue, as if this past hour he had the entire conversation in his head.

“I’m sorry?” I questioned, quite puzzled by his words. With his helmet back on, I couldn’t see that stupid smirk of his. But by the way his shoulders relaxed and neck tilted, he was definitely amused.

“For your smoothie,” he clarified, thinking he’d get a chuckle out of the men in front.

“Oh fuck you-” I rolled my eyes, waiting for the laughter to ensue. But there was nothing. When we both looked away from each other and forward, we realized why. In front of us, the entrance to the underground portion of whatever laid beneath this rubble, was just a giant, gaping hole. It was caved naturally, not a crater of uncontrolled explosives. It looked carefully crafted, engineered with precision. 

Everyone peered over, and all we could see was darkness.

An unsettling sensation came over me, like staring down into an abyss of nothing. It felt like swimming in open water, unable to feel the sand beneath my feet, let alone see it. It was both equally frightening, but inspiring. To know what laid beneath dark waters, one had to be brave enough to plunge in first and dive to the depths. 

Owen next to me lit a red flare, the sound breaking the nervous thoughts to glance at everyone else. Their silence was apparent, almost deafening. They had probably been talking and cracking jokes, despite me not being able to hear it on comms. Their body language and constant glancing at each other proved otherwise. He let the flare drop, all of our eyes seeing just how far deep this crevice might go. 

At approximately twenty feet, it hit the ground, lighting up that darkness with a ruby glow. Various and vast tunnels were seen, an extensive network. What we had all just walked on today up to this point, was just a real scratch at the surface. No pun intended. Everyone else seemed to hum, knowing rappelling equipment would be needed to explore further. I was about to look away when a moving shadow across the edges of black dashed from one tunnel to the next.

Movement, something this place lacked. Movement equaled life, organic material. Trees, plants, animals, all moved either with the wind or their own muscles. Something was alive down there. Something down there thrived in the darkness these tunnels provided. 

My initial feeling was fear. Not much could survive in darkness. Humans weren’t naturally accustomed to such black, they craved sunlight like it was water. Whatever I saw made my skin crawl underneath this tight suit. It had to have been my imagination. It was like that brief moment when falling asleep where the brain flashes scary, violent images in your mind to force yourself to wake up. It was just electrical impulses, a misfire of communication between our brain and nervous system. Merely, a brain trying to make sense of it by flashing images of fright to account for the jump. 

That’s all it could be. But, perhaps I was so on edge with the violence earlier today that I couldn’t really shake it off. I was about to ask if anyone else had seen it, given that might help with my own sanity, but someone only added to my fright.

“Boo!” Owen grasped my arm, teasingly jerking my body as if he was going to send me right over the edge. The sensation was the same mimic of that falling in your sleep, the jump my body had been craving from my fear had turned into reality.

My adrenaline snapped, fear gnawing at my insides boiled with rational frustration. I blinked, and suddenly that medical knife of mine was now under his throat, the blade bracing against a thin shear of cloth separating his helmet from his armor. I hadn’t even noticed at the time the fear that held me let my fingers linger by that blade, and Owen’s stupidity. 

The clicks of safety’s being turned off immediately awakened me to the reality of the situation. Pistols were all pointed at me at various angles at my clear violation of pressing a blade to a companion’s throat. Owen himself had drawn his pistol from his holster, pointing it right at my stomach.

The only gun not pointed at me, was Damien’s, pointed right at Owen, leveled at his head.

“Don’t you ever fucking touch me again!” I spat, venom laced in my voice.

“Can’t take a joke, love?” he snickered, not even phased by the knife pressed to his throat. Perhaps he believed I wasn’t capable of slicing those vocal chords. He’d be right. 

“Owen, lower your gun!” Damien shouted.

“Tell her to fucking drop the knife!” Owen retorted, before glancing back at me, “Are you afraid of the dark, Doctor? Need a nightlight to keep you safe?”

“Team, lower your fucking guns!” he barked, his voice superior to all the rest. Those surrounding Owen and I did so, without hesitation. Yet my eyes stared into the black of Owen’s helmet, only seeing a glowing reflection of emerald. 

Owen still refused. I only felt the barrel of his pistol pressed firmly into my stomach, which only resulted in my blade applying more pressure to his neck.

“Owen, do not disobey me a third time today. Drop. The. Fucking. Gun!” Damien insisted, “I will not hesitate to blow the stupidity out from your brain.”

“I’d like to see you try, Rok,” he hummed, before finally holstering that pistol. In all honesty, after what I saw from Supervisory Agent Rok today, I wouldn’t test him. The man was an accurate sharpshooter, and I could only guess his skills at close-range marksmanship were even greater. I had faith Damien would kill him quicker than Owen could pull his own trigger.

I slowly took a step back, lowering my arm before tucking my blade away. My right arm trembled as I strapped it back along my thigh. My erratic, fearful breathing was obvious with my mask, something I was truly unable to mute against my will. They all knew I was afraid.

They all should be afraid.

What lurked below craved the chaos we had just created. It cared not for companionship, camaraderie, brotherhood, or false sense of family. It wanted violence. It got high off the stench of our fear. Fear, violence, and death were siren songs for the creatures that laid below. And it was not beautiful, nor pleasant sounding in the slightest.

A high pitched scream like a banshee pulled us away from our angst. A dark object flew from the crevice, using the edge to leap higher before landing in between all of us, between Owen and I specifically. The entity was the first organic, biological thing I had seen on Colony Negative. It was also the most foreign, horrifying, scientifically defying organism my eyes had ever laid on.

Its body structure was a resemblance to humans, yet it stood on four like an animal. Dark brown, rotten-like skin looked nothing more than just fabrics of its own decaying muscles. It was lanky, allowing for rapid movement, not sluggish in the slightest. 

Various screams of the unknown were sent through my comms. Not that of the soldiers around me, but the scientists who witnessed the entire thing.

What the fuck! What the fuck! What is that?! Jack, get out of there!

Shouts encouraged my flight or fight response. Neither, however, responded. Freeze was the only notion my body could come up with, starting this unknown alien in the eyes. 

Its iris was glossy, almost mimicking that of glaucoma or other partial blindness in the eyes. That wasn’t the disturbing part, though. The head was upside down from the rest of the body, neck not contorted in the slightest. It looked too human. There was always speculative talk of aliens, given a vast and partially unknown universe. Aliens were pictured or imagined as looking more human-like, as if to remove the terrifying prospect of not being alone in the universe.

This…this was much more terrifying to mimic a human. 

Nothing is of more danger to us than ourselves .

Jaws opened, and the noise that came out was deep and garbled, unlike its banshee scream. The language was unknown, but it was clearly sophisticated despite being unintelligible. It wasn’t gibberish from a young child putting words together. The words were said with meaning, almost like a warning. It held a tone of deep agony, of hatred. Hatred towards us.

The first undisciplined shot was fired, Cole pulling the trigger of his pistol as the laser went straight through the alien’s neck. I watched with horror as the gap between its organic material slowly regenerated, even creating a lightly colored skin as a scar. The fear in that alone created more chaos and every single soldier there began to lay fire upon the alien. It screamed, but not that of pain. There was a haughty laughter accompanying it. 

By the time I blinked again, I was being dragged behind the nearest cover of broken walls, hearing shots with panicked screams from soldiers following it.

It’s not fucking dying! Enhance the laser strength! What the fuck is this thing!?

“Shoot it with everything you’ve got!” Damien ordered, snapping me away from my dissociation. He was the one that forcibly dragged me into cover. I could feel the soreness in my bicep from his hand alone having that death grip. I hunched over, sitting down in the dirt to take cover. My hand absently and tightly gripped the strap of his thigh holster, begging him to end this misery. 

Its screams echoed in my ears, filling my lungs with dread at what this mission would truly come to be.

The creature moved rapidly, too quickly for even accurate sharpshooters to pinpoint its next move. It would bounce from the nearest wall in a completely different direction. It was measuring its prey, exhausting them of their resources before picking its prime target: the weakest, most vulnerable target. Unfortunately, I glanced over from behind the wall, cheek bracing against Damien’s calf to see Cole still in the open.

His gun had overheated from the usage, burning his hand and causing the pistol to fall from his hands. Only the strong survived here. That strength was not derived from muscles or experience. It required perfection, minimal mistakes…minimal fear. Cole had an over abundance of mistakes and fear. Jaws latched to Cole’s neck. The angle of the creature’s head made it easier for the bite from its current velocity to latch. It had adapted that way, just like its body had adapted with the lasers to its skin.

Cole unleashed a scream of pain, “Get it off! Get it off!” His scream became gurgled by his own blood, words now just as garbled as the aliens. Everyone else hid from behind their cover, whether waiting for their weapons to cool, or just cover their ears like I did to mute the sounds of crunching bones and spurting blood. All, except one. Damien left my side, filling me with this odd void.

“Damien!” I shouted, finding his bravery idiotic yet inspiring. Damien immediately drew the laser blade from his metal sheath, the glow of red slicing into the creature’s neck. 

Damien decapitated it before slamming his boot on top of its thin torso, stabbing relentlessly with a fury I had never seen before. It was Damien’s version of fear. Fear made him unstoppable. It forced him to kill, not out of the same instinct this alien did, but out of a hatred for those that ordered such violence from him. Fear was his master. Fear was his drive into the unknown, into the borderline suicidal objective.

I could see why Sabbath took a liking to him.

Blood poured from the alien thicker than that of human, a black goo that spilled all over Damien’s blade and armor. The creature’s squeals at being defeated soon diminished, its clenched muscles growing frigid almost like turning into ice before it all stopped. Instead of falling limp, it fell into an eternal catatonic death. 

With the fighting over, all that was heard over the silence was Cole’s poor, silent whimpers. The sound alone forced me to my feet, my fear leaving me as I ran towards him. My gloved hands immediately covered his gaping wound, ignoring the wetness pooling between my fingers. My mask luckily covered the iron smell of his blood, but nothing could blind my eyes from the blood still gushing from his wound, the sight of cut muscle and bones. Garcia was soon quick to come at my side, pulling out his kit with trembling hands, rare for a field surgeon who constantly needed steady hands. 

Garcia pulled out a cauterizer, Cole’s eyes widening at the concept of feeling a burn. He struggled under my grip, which only frustrated me as the blood continued to pour out. He looked away, instead looking at his commanding officer who now kneeled over him.

“Hey Cole, it’s going to be alright,” his supervisor spoke. His voice was soft, something so unexpected for me to hear from a man who just violently killed this…demon. 

“It-it hurts,” Cole cried.

“Shh, it’s okay. Garcia is going to patch you up real nice, you’ll just feel a little sting,” Damien assured him. He was gentle with his men, ironic given a mere minute ago he was pointing his own pistol at one of them. There was a soft side to him. One that faded just as quickly as it came to him. Cole collapsed in a relaxed state, his hand holding Damien’s. 

I could no longer feel the throbbing of his damaged veins against my hands. His pulse was gone. Garcia froze from his place, the cauterizer burning at the edges as he stared down at the cadaver. I swore I could hear the faint dull, never ending beep of Cole’s pulse through Garcia’s helmet. His vitals were clear, indicating he was gone. 

Immediately I felt a wave of nausea. I ran back to the wall I just hid behind, my blood covered slimy hands struggling with removing my mask before I threw up my entire breakfast. Luckily it had only been black coffee. My muscles ached at the action alone, retching quite a strain on my neck and jaw. My mind couldn’t comprehend what I had just witnessed, and neither could my body as it entered a state of shock. 

Wind howled, carrying Cole’s echoed whimpers and screams as a storm began to approach from the North. The skies darkened from a bright gray to the beginning of a dark fog. My own comms were quiet, which was good. I didn’t know if I had the heart to answer any more questions.

I didn’t know the answer to any of them. 

I put my mask back on once I chugged half my canteen of water to dissolve the acid in my mouth and throat. My breathing slowed back to its normal state, if anything could go back to normal. From this point, I knew nothing about Colony Negative could ever be normal. We believed all life had escaped his planet to go explore and find others. I wanted to study everything they left behind, everything but this alien. 

Returning back to the area, all of Acid Squad surrounded Cole in a moment of remembrance and silence. Damien was the first turn, his observation now laying on the creature he slew with an act of bravery nobody else had managed to have. I swallowed my own cowardice, walking back over to glance down at it too. Somebody had to study it, observe it, and any footage to share with my team could help.

Damien only saw this alien as an enemy, rightfully so. A more scientific mind, however, could figure out what it was. Or rather, who it was, given its human-like features. I doubted any of them had ever heard of anything like this, let alone witness it first hand. 

“What is it?” Damien asked, this time using our private comm.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. 

“What did it say?” He followed with another question. 

“I don’t know,” I repeated again, “my entire team will take a look at it, linguistics especially. I’m no expert in that field but…I don’t think it’s a dialect we know about. It’s not Latin based in any way.”

My answer didn’t seem to coax or satisfy him. The one thing I liked about science was that there usually were answers to anyone’s questions. The things people feared, the anxiety of their nightmares, the underlying medical problem, or just fear of how life was…it could  be answered with experimentation or research. This was so unknown, I feared I wouldn’t get an answer in my lifetime. 

It felt like something I would die not knowing, plague me with ‘what ifs’ or reminisce on my failures, forever going to be unknown. 

Damien moved away, and I felt a sense of loneliness I thought I had come to terms with.

“Damien, I…thank you, for pulling me out of there,” I admitted, having to thank him for that, “Maybe if I reacted quicker or didn’t freeze up he’d still be-”

“Don’t, Jack. Don’t go there. There are no if’s, only absolutes,” he corrected me, a hint of that softness peeking through his tone, “he is gone. Now, all we can do is take him back, give him a proper funeral and compensation to his family.”

That alone made me stop in my steps, turning to see Garcia and the other’s cocooning Cole’s corpse with a white body bag. No. Something told me this wasn’t a good idea. I trusted my gut often, knowing it had never once failed me. Sometimes it could be a bit overdramatic, but it never once failed at keeping me at the top of my game. Taking his body back with us didn’t feel right. 

“I don’t think we should take him back,” I voiced aloud, to everyone this time, “I think maybe we should send a team out here, conduct the autopsy here after this storm clears and-”

“Absolutely fucking not,” Damien interrupted me, that soft tone gone as if it had never existed, “We are taking him back.”

The thin line between our chaos and peace was marginal, a Maginot Line that was most vulnerable when we looked at each other.

“Something’s not right about this place. I think-”

“I don’t care what you think, Doctor! I call the shots here. This was my agent, my responsibility! He’s coming back with us. I never leave an agent behind, ever!” His shouts were laced with experience, not experience of barking orders, experience of losing those under his command. He hated losing a life as much as he enjoyed taking one. 

With me, he had been quick to forgive, knowing I had little experience in battle. He disregarded my guilt, but was slow to swallow his own. I could sense it in his voice, as his supervisor, he felt the one to blame.

“Yeah, and if your sensitive cunt didn’t get so worked up about my little prank-” Owen retorted before immediate interruption, and not by words. Damien’s fist slammed into the side of his helmet, enough force to send his skull smashing with reverberation. Owen stumbled over, nearly tripping over his own feet as he regained his composure. 

I admit, I took enjoyment in his injury, despite this catastrophe. I said nothing further about Damien’s words, though. I don’t think he called the shots here, not all of them. He may fire the most shots, physically, but I thought I should still have a say. It was me against seven other agents in this Squad, though. I had no energy to fight but something told me I should have. I should have fought for his body to remain here just as bravely as Damien fought that monster. 

The entire ride back in the Sioc was utter silence between us all. The rattling of that stupid piece under the hood from the accident was the only echo. At certain points, the engine would stall, instilling fear in everyone inside this piece of junk we’d be stranded here. Owen luckily would reboot the engine, and finally we were back at Base Camp after what felt like an eternity cramped in that vehicle. 

I knew people had seen what we all saw. They didn’t see it with their eyes, hear it with their ears, feel the fear pierce them like ice freezing our veins. But they had to follow protocol. Each and every one of us as we disembarked were immediately sent for decontamination and medical testing. I had to make sure the medical team compared everything the story our blood shared now to that of the blood drawn earlier this week. Any slight difference could mean anything. 

With everything being so unknown, it would be the faintest details overlooked that could undo frivolous study. 

There was no report debrief as there would have been for any end of the day. CSO Ruenova relieved us and told everyone to return to their rooms to compose themselves. The briefing would be handled tomorrow with fresh minds, and review of all the evidence at hand. Cole’s body was taken to the morgue, with my team half eager and half terrified to review it tomorrow for an autopsy. The creature’s body had remained where we had left it, with hope that a team could study it in the upcoming week. 

Questions upon questions were asked with no real answers, even that of those asking if I was alright. I wasn’t alright. How could anyone be? Such an event had unraveled everyone, even had the most unemotional of men on edge. The initial shock could take weeks to recover from, but I knew we didn’t have that much time.

I sat against the tile walls of the shower, feeling the cold water pelt my skin like rain. A depressing, gut wrenching rain. Tears welled but I could not cry. I would not let my body cry knowing it would only embolden the pain in my neck and lips. I could not fathom the idea of stepping foot out there, imprinting myself into the moondust. The idea of entering that darkness consumed me with fear. 

Something told me I should have let that District Three agent kill me. Something also told me that I was targeted for a reason. Scientists couldn’t stop at the frontline of discovery. If they had all stopped at the first sign of fear, if they didn’t dare to plunge into the unknown…then neither could I. I had to get answers.

What people feared most was the unknown. The threat of a doomsday was more terrifying when a timer wasn’t attached to it, when the prospective date of annihilation was unplanned. Just like on Damien’s first deployment, coming face to face with a Canine-A, he feared it. When it no longer became unknown, the fear diminished. The only way to not be afraid was to keep going, to study and learn with utmost carefulness. 

I had to figure out what happened here, no matter the cost. No matter the fear. Damien Rok had proved these aliens were killable, that we could remove their existence. It was my job to figure out why they existed in the first place. This was the moment our distasteful partnership really had to begin. 

Chapter Text

All I could see was the black nothing of Cole’s black helmet screen, seeing my own reflection. I’ve kneeled over bodies multiple times, most if not all victims of my violence. His death was a premonition, a sign of the beginning of the end. Maybe my end. I could hear that high pitched ringing of his soul escaping, not filling me with joy as it had with Crowe. I could still hear the ringing, over and over, increasing in pitch and never ending.

It wasn’t until I woke up that I realized that sound was the emergency alarms blaring over the sound speakers. Sluggishly, I rolled out from my bed, drenched in sweat of nightmares. In the process, my arm hit the bottle of whiskey I had nearly finished last night, spilling the remnants on the floor.

“Fuck,” I cursed, my head pounding from a strenuous hangover. My vision was slightly blurry, running over to the nearest clothes I could find to get dressed. I couldn’t tell how long the alarms were blaring or what the specific message was. Maybe it was a lockdown, perhaps someone had grown insane over the chaos of yesterday. 

Something told me it wasn’t that, it was worse. Something told me Jacqueline Deveraux had been right. 

I felt the sharp needle of the Stimuli in my thigh as I stabbed myself, hoping it would be just enough to remove my grogginess. I didn’t know how much time I had to properly armor up, so it was just a shirt, jeans and my rifle. I opened the door of the living suites, finding it absolutely quiet and empty. My fingers adjusted my rifle, tuning it into a more close range shotgun as I slowly traversed down the halls, keeping my weapon close to level.

Turning into the main courtyard full of leisure spots and Jack’s favorite coffee spot, it still remained eerily quiet. That is, until echoes of gunshots from the halls beyond began. The shots were rapid and chaotic, indicating maybe whatever they were shooting at caught them by surprise. Surely no District was stupid enough to invade this operational outpost? 

No. They wouldn’t have gotten past the perimeter without being spotted.

I kept my gun level with the floor this time, controlling my breathing as I hunched with each step, moving as quietly as possible.

And then, I heard it. That unknown, guttural, deep rhythmic voice that was more like a purr with variations of pitch. It sounded like a song, a deep, borderline bass-like voice overheard in the constant music my men liked to listen to at the gym. Only this wasn’t motivational lyrics, this was a warning of death.

I slowly peeked over the corner of the wall, seeing that thing, the thing I had just killed yesterday, slowly chomping away at the body on the floor. Its teeth gnawed playfully at the intestines, the body still spurting blood all over the pristine white walls. I took a deep breath, wondering how the fuck this thing could still be alive. It wasn’t until I looked further that it was clear this…thing, was wearing partially torn socks at the hind legs and nothing else. 

This wasn’t the thing I killed yesterday, not the same exact one. Someone had turned into it. It fed on its victims, only for those same victims to probably turn into it. Zombies? No. That was just ridiculous science fiction for little boys to read and gleam over when they had nothing better to do. Even I knew this was far more sophisticated, far more unknown, and far more deadly. 

My first shot put large holes into the alien’s torso, only to slowly regenerate and fill up. Another shot, followed by another and another, my shoulder already tender from the shots of yesterday screamed at me to stop. The blast alone sent the alien against the wall, a noise leaving its blood covered lips at each shot penetrating its skin. Yet it still remained alive. 

I didn’t have my sword with me, not even remembering where I had placed that last night before my drunken debacle. Decapitation seemed the best and only solution by far to stop these things, I just lacked the perfect tool for it. Stupid. Fucking stupid of me to not come more prepared. Stupid of me to get drunk. Stupid of me to let this happen. 

All I had was theory, not my biggest strong suit. I knew how to kill, I just might have the wrong tool. Or so I initially thought. I had to take advantage as the alien regenerated, both its body and strength after twelve pellets to the torso. I might not be able to sever the neck, but what if I could break it? 

The blood seeping all over the tiles made it slippery, my boots lacking grip before I tackled the creature, finding it more lightweight than I thought. It felt skeletal, lacking all the weight of body fat or deep muscles. But it certainly had strength. It struggled against my grip, both of us slamming into the floor, splashing ourselves with blood. My weight was the advantage now. My legs tangled around it from behind, prying its own legs apart to remove the use of its lower limbs. 

It took great exertion for my arms to wrap firmly around its head, but it was done. I felt its panicked voice against my throat, that gargled demonic unknown cursing at me as it tried to thrash around. It wanted me to lose my grip, but I had the power now. I would force the life out of it, whether it wanted me to or not. It knew I was in control. It was clear the alien didn’t need oxygen to survive, as constricting its throat didn’t do much. By now any normal human would have collapsed in my arms unconscious. 

Time to put the theory to practice. 

My bicep jerked one way, my other hand pressing against the jaw to go the opposite. Sharp cracking was heard, my action breaking its neck with force. The alien let out an unearthly groan before going frigid, similar to the one like yesterday. Well, theory was proven right. I let it go, sliding from underneath before leaning against the nearest wall. 

My arms were covered in droplets of blood, sinking into my skin. With a sharp blink, I imagined these white walls as black, my smaller hands trembling as I laid in a pool of blood of my own creation. My damned creation. It was from that day I was cursed to follow orders, their orders. Killing was supposed to make me feel better, yet it was making me sick. To Sabbath, they were one in the same. The day I refused to kill was the day I would die. 

Footsteps were heard and I glanced up, seeing a member of Acid Squad in full uniform rushing over, pointing his rifle at me. When I noticed the familiar Octopus insignia painted on his chest, I knew it was Grimes. He didn’t move that rifle away from me.

“Sir, did you get bitten?!” He asked, loudly and harshly.

“No,” I slowly stood, showing my all parts of my body despite the blood with my hands raised, “What the fuck is going on?”

He hesitated for a moment, lowering his rifle, “Cole…he came back to life. As that thing, whatever the fuck it was. He went on a rampage in the morgue, killing almost everyone. And then some of those started turning and the entire thing has been chaos ever since. This was the last one spotted recently, and it looks like you handled it.”

“Yeah, we had a bit of a wrestling match. Breaking the neck seems to do the trick. I think anything that disconnects the brain to the rest of its nervous system is quite effective,” I explained.

“Rue, this is Grimes. The one spotted in Sector 18 is dead, one victim so far. Any other sightings?” Grimes asked on comms, moving over to the victim to observe, “Looks like a member of the science team…another member.” He then pulled out his laser sword, slicing off the head of that scientist.

Maybe that might be enough to stop from turning, one could hope. 

“Standby,” Ruenova’s voice echoed loud enough for me to hear.

Another science member. Shit. A weird sense of worry filled me, glancing up at Grimes. Surely if they were going to begin an autopsy, Doctor Deveraux would have attended or at the very least observed. 

“Grimes, is Deveraux alright?” I cleared my throat, removing any tone of concern. 

The way his body slackened filled me with dread, “I don’t know. She was the one to make the first report over comms before the whole nightmare turned chaotic. We haven't heard from her since.”

“Shit,” I cursed, “where’s the morgue?”

“Lowest Level, furthest section east. I thought you memorized the map of this place?” Grimes hummed, slight amusement in his voice at my mistake.

“Yeah yeah, I’m fucking hungover and can’t think,” I explained, “I’ll make my way down there.”

“You sound concerned for her…” Grimes observed, handing me a small blade, “Laser knife. I’d give you my sword but-”

“Keep the sword. Knife should be fine,” I agreed, “And I’m not concerned for her. I don’t care for her. All I know is that she might be the only person to figure this out. She’s the smartest one here, that’s for damned sure.”

I didn’t care for her. I cared for her work, oddly enough. I saw all the work she put in yesterday from a mere handful of scraps in a deserted wasteland. That was talent, that was ambition. If she would have such ambition to figure out these aliens and why they were here, how we could defeat them…then she wasn’t my enemy.

Not yet. Not how I had originally thought. 

I made my way down to the morgue, knowing I left a trail of bloody footprints behind with each step. The only ones out were still my own agents and squads, patrolling and clearing the halls. Victims were already displayed all over the various hallways or rooms, all of them being decapitated as soon as possible. So many dead. Too many. 

The morgue was a fucking mess. Blood trailed all over the place, glass shattered everywhere and bodies collapsed sporadically. My eyes scanned the area, only finding one alien, a dead one at that. Someone had toppled a freezer onto it, the angle and pressure just enough to pinch the alien’s upside down neck. Well, that was pretty good improvising. 

Behind the freezer and dead alien, there was a woman with a black turtleneck and lab coat. My heart seized, immediately running over. Turning her body, the mask made it clear it was her. 

“Hey Doc, can you hear me?” I asked, my hands gently touching and probing her skin. When pressing fingers to her neck, I felt a pulse. She was alive. Thank the fucking gods. 

But an even greater fear surged. What if she had been bitten? Immediately my hands roamed her torso, lifting her limbs for any sign of a bite. Nothing. There were plenty of freshly formed bruises and cuts, but no bites. The alien must’ve slammed her into the wall, before being crushed. When my eyes went back to her face, those green eyes flashed open. She didn’t need to even glance down at my hands to notice the inappropriateness, one hand lingering on her upper thigh, the other near her left breast.

“You fucking necrophiliac-”  she spat, immediately pulling away from me.

“What?! Jack, I was just making sure you weren’t bitten,” I shook my head. It probably didn’t help that I looked covered in blood. I didn’t even know what she had called me but it probably wasn’t something nice. 

She seemed to finally understand, glancing around now at her surroundings before her voice broke through the mask. She was in pain, both physically and emotionally.

“Fuck,” she whispered, her hand moving to a corner of her forehead.

“What happened?” I asked, seeing her take a moment to recollect.

“We were beginning biological scans. Everything seemed fine until we noticed his genetic structure code change. And then all of a sudden he was awake. Sedatives didn’t stop him from changing. I tried to make sure the rest of my team got out but…Cole immediately jumped through the glass for them.”

“That’s not Cole,” I shook my head.

“It was. It was his voice that spoke through…in whatever language that was,” she dejected, “Genetics contradict you, anyways. I…I suppose it doesn’t matter.” Her fingers kept pressing at a very sensitive part of her forehead. Her eyes winced at the slight ache.

“Maybe you should wear a helmet indoors too,” I teased, seeing her eyes narrow. Her nose scrunched slightly when she did so, sneering at me.

“Helmet and mask don’t work well together, kind of like us,” she scoffed, finally explaining her reasoning. I suppose I hadn’t exactly thought about that. I already considered the mask a part of her in a way. I was already content with never seeing what laid beneath it. Surely I knew a few military engineers that could think of some work around. 

A deep echo of a sound now becoming so familiar to us silenced us before I could tease her further. The body of the organic chemist that had idolized Jack began contorting on the floor, back arching and arms flailing. It was transforming right in front of us, shedding clothing and the layers of dermis. Jacqueline slowly backed into me, her hand reaching back to rest gently on my inner thigh. 

An imaginary image of what it would feel like for that hand to go further inward, wrap around my cock-

Whoa. What the fuck was I thinking? I was still drunk, dangerously hungover, clearly. I thought perhaps killing one of these fuckers would have sobered me up but I guessed not. There was no reason to have my mind go there. It filled my stomach with disgust, associating her with such a thought. Alcohol was often a catalyst into my sexual deviations, but not as far as imagining it with her.

Gross. Fuck no.

“They can’t see well,” she whispered very quietly. 

Well, that explained how she survived. She was the first to notice that, lure Cole’s alien body into this corner before letting the freezer collapse on him. So, she could kill after all, even if not with her bare hands. Her improvisation was astoundingly good, perhaps equal to my own. 

I nodded slowly, understanding before I began to slowly rise to my feet. Her hand slipped away from my leg, the chaos in my mind bouncing all over the place once more. I knew it was best to take advantage of this thing still in the process of changing, and time was running out as that pale white skin was slowly morphing into brown. 

My knife plunged into its neck, and then into the skull, hearing the blade pierce bones. My hands gripped the back of its remaining hair to steady before sawing at the throat, hearing the alien scream before falling deaf as I killed it. The blood that pooled at my feet was both red and black, half of its body not fully transformed. I threw the severed head into the corner, feeling an odd wave of nausea before taking a deep breath. These things were vile, utterly disgusting. 

“How’d you learn they can’t see well?” I asked, shaking my tired wrist from all that stabbing before walking over to the alien crushed by the freezer. Best to decapitate this one fully, for good measure.

“Lucky guess,” she exhaled, her eyes watching me, “their eyes look similar to any form of blindness.”

The morning for me had just started. For her, it had probably started hours ago. But the day was really just starting for everyone else. The sounds of the alarms eventually quieted to a halt before CSO Ruenova was heard over the silence.

“Lockdown lifted. Agent Rok, get your team ready to move all bodies towards the hangar for removal. Everyone else…find something to do.”

Right, back to work. Moving these sons of bitches wouldn’t be too hard. Moving the actual human corpses would take most of the grunt work. I should probably suit up a bit if I had any interest in keeping myself clean, despite already being covered in blood.

“Alright, so we put them in the hanger and then what?” I asked, mostly to myself.

“Decapitate them, and then burn them,” Jack answered, her tone serious. While she wasn’t prone to taking lives, she knew now that these bodies couldn’t be at risk of being studied. Not when there was still potential for them to change and create this scenario all over again.

Burning corpses was something I had experience in, and luckily Milithreat had some very nice flamethrowers laying around somewhere. 

“How hot?” I asked.

“As hot as possible. Burn them to ashes.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------

I was finally able to get a boiling hot shower before hearing my datapad go off, stepping out to see a message from Ruenova. She wanted to talk, to clearly debrief me on the crisis at hand. The pile of bodies had been massive. While I had drowned my sorrows in the sole death that was Cole, I had ignored Jack’s pleas and brought his body back here. Now, at least fifty personnel are dead.

Dead, because of me. 

When I walked over to her office, I was surprised to see Jacqueline Deveraux waiting there, still wearing her turtleneck and her eyes deeply scanning over data on her tablet. When she glanced up, she seemed just as surprised to see me there. Clearly, this briefing was meant to be conducted together. Her eyes already looked tired despite it only being the afternoon. She had been studying all the data she had most of this morning.

She really should have at least taken a lunch break.

“Hey,” I greeted her, seeing her nod in return, “what’s a necrophiliac? Or whatever you called me.”

“You really don’t know?” she asked, definitely with a condescending tone.

“Well am I one or not? I don’t know what it is,” I crossed my arms, seeing her eyes briefly gaze at them before back at my eyes.

“It’s someone who has sex with dead people or…things,” she clarified. 

I laughed, seeing her not expecting that. I had never heard of such a morbid, disgusting thing before.

“It’s no laughing matter Rok, why do you think most morticians are women?” she suggested. I didn’t realize until she said that, that she was right. Most of all the morticians I spoke with to clarify if my targets were truly dead were women. 

“Well, I’m not one if that makes you sleep better at night,” I immediately declared my innocence, “That’s pretty revolting.”

Ruenova opened her office door, pointing at the two chairs closely placed beyond her desk, “Sit.”

Both of us followed orders. I spread my legs comfortably on the chair, annoyingly letting my knee brush Jack’s. She was quick to let out a slight sound of disgust, scooting her chair slightly to the right to avoid my touch. Shit, it was like she had no idea where her hand had been placed earlier this morning. 

All three of us were silent, taking deep steady breaths. Chaos existed all around us, but all of us were hopefully smart enough to bring it in here and eradicate it. We all needed to be smart, to be cautious and careful in this room. This was where real change could happen. 

“Right, well let’s go over what we do know after this clusterfuck,” she sighed, pulling up her summarized report, “sixty-two dead, seventy percent of that being scientific staff, a few Milithreat agents, and various professional staff. Sixteen agents have ranging injuries, half of those in the critical stage. Others all have injuries from cuts, bruises, to concussions. Doctor, how is your head?”

“It’s fine, cleared from concussion protocol,” she answered. 

“Good. We were fortunate enough none of our survivors were bitten, otherwise a difficult choice would have been made. Rok, you’ve been reported to kill three of these things already. How do you kill them?”

“Decapitation. Laser bullets to the head certainly stun or slow them down, but don’t kill them. Severing the head from the neck by any means possible appears to be the most effective method,” I answered.

“I’m assuming a laser sword, then, is the best tool for the job?” Ruenova asked.

“Yes,” Jack and I both answered together, to my surprise. 

“The heat inside that sword reaches over two hundred degrees, enough to burn remnants of bacteria or parasite,” Jacqueline clarified, “any normal sword or blade may work, but the heat is an additional precaution. 

“There’s just one problem with that. Only leadership positions within Milithreat are given a laser sword, as a sign of promotion. And very few among those leaders are actually trained with such weapons,” I looked at Ruenova, seeing her concern, “even if we could theoretically arm every soldier and agent here with one, Milithreat won’t like it. It ruins their chain of command structure, not to mention the cost.”

“Yes, that’s what concerns me. Supply told me these swords cost nearly half an agents yearly salary,” Ruenova scoffed, “we might have to budget accordingly-”

“That won’t be necessary, ma’am,” Jack chimed in, taking a deep breath, “I have contacts I can reach out to, send outdated laser swords here. For free, minus maybe a shipping cost in as little as two weeks. We can have them by the next supply rotation. That way, Milithreat doesn’t have to know about the training, and hopefully the agents will be tight lipped about using one. They won’t be the most updated, given the patent is nearly a decade old. But they should still function to our needs,”

I glanced over at her, still with surprise. That was awfully generous of her now. Ever since she took over the family business, it had turned more into a science rather than a weapon industry. She didn’t know how to run such a business and maybe let the other executives handle that. Surely, losing a large amount of these laser swords would be a dent to potential profit. She didn’t care. She had the means to deliver them without care for the cost, not when the biggest cost to her was saving human lives. 

“Well, that’s very kind of you, Doctor. Surely compensation must be made,” I pointed out, not sarcastically either. 

“I don’t care for compensation,” she crossed her arms, looking at me, “I want our voices to be equal.”

“They are,” Ruenova pointed out.

“Maybe in here, but not out there. I made a call to not let Cole’s body return with us, a call that was ignored,” Jack explained, frustration clear in her voice. 

“Right…” Ruenova nodded, taking a deep breath, “care to explain yourself, Rok?”

I now realized they were ganging up on me. How rude, given I just dispatched myself to their little problem this morning. A problem maybe I had inadvertently created.

“Me? It’s my motto to never leave a man or woman behind,” I explained, feeling a surge of anger but I did my best to swallow it, “I knew Cole had recently gotten married a month before this deployment. He has a newborn on the way. I thought the least I could do for his newly broken family was give them a funeral, one where they would know for certain that the casket wouldn’t be empty. I know what it’s like to hand nothing but dog tags to a loved one. I’ve attended several funerals as the only mourner present. I wanted to do right by his family.”

Because I knew what it was like to lose mine. Because I feared nobody would attend my funeral when it happened. Nobody would be there for me. 

Jack remained silent, her eyes looking down at her shoes. Maybe she knew what it was like. If she didn’t, she certainly would know soon given a good portion of her team was gone. 

“Jack, what made you believe that was the right call to make?” Ruenova asked, much more gently than when she asked me. Rightfully so. But, it was an odd suggestion in hindsight now. Did Jack know something like this could happen? Were there any signs she found that she didn’t tell me? 

“The entire situation felt wrong. Agent Rok is very…quick minded. It’s admirable,” she surprisingly complimented me, “however with something so unknown, I thought it was best to take slow, strict precautions. Something told me to keep the body isolated. Nothing indicated he was ‘infected’. Even once we pulled him out from refrigeration, he seemed normal.”

“Interesting. What took him so long to turn?” Ruenova inquired.

“Don’t know. Could have varied by temperature, body structure, immune system. We don’t know, and we won’t know because we burned our only evidence. A good call to make. Right now, my team can only analyze what we know and what little we have from mostly leftover blood,” she sighed.

“Which is?” I asked with intrigue.

“My team has already coined the term for these aliens as an anathema. Call it whatever you like, but that’s what they are: abominations. What we define as alien, is something foreign, different DNA structure, different form of genetics. Despite knowing now that these anathema are now turned humans, they are still alien by nature,” she explained, “it’s hard to explain.”

“So, like zombies,” I shrugged, “that’s not hard to explain.”

“Sort of,” Jack scoffed slightly at my childish effort, “but not really. Zombies aren’t real, even so, it wouldn’t change most of the genetic structure. It would just be an attack on the nervous system, almost like a parasite controlling it. This is like…humans turning into something they’re not. Damien, if you died and then turned into a zebra-”

“I would not turn into a zebra!” I gasped, “Maybe a lion but not a zebra.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Jack scowled, “okay fine, you die. You die, this thing takes a nice, juicy bite out of your stupid head, and then you turn into a lion. Genetically, you are now a lion, but you may not necessarily look like one. You speak like a lion, roar or whatever the fuck they do, you can’t speak English or any other known language, but you can speak to other lions. That is what happens with the anathemas, what has happened, what will happen.”

Ruenova remained silent during our little exchange, glancing at the both of us before humming, “Okay, we refer to them as anathemas. They change our genetic structure into one of them. Do the bodies need to be alive during the bite, or after? Say one of them found the District Three assassin’s body and bit it long after Rok shot him, is that enough?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have the science yet to prove it, but I think we should take all precautions necessary. If someone were to drop dead of a heart attack tonight, it wouldn’t hurt to remove the head. It doesn’t sound scientifically possible, but we can’t take any chances,” she insisted, “we won’t know until…until we go back and learn more.”

“Agree. Alright, Rok, what do you and your team know?” Ruenova looked at me. 

“We easily hacked the encrypted information of Crowe’s datapad. District Three has already lost numerous staff, over fifty percent of the entire operations. They don’t have the budgetary means to send more personnel over. They have to do with what they have. Crowe was told not to go back to their base camp until it was secure. It’s unsure if it even is secure. With Crowe dispatched, it’s safe to say District Three won’t be much of a problem. They have greater problems to worry about than us,” I shrugged.

“Anything further about me?” Jack asked slowly, wondering if there was something I wasn’t telling her.

“Nope,” I shook my head, “have you ever wronged District Three before?”

“I may have written a study on how horrible their serfdom-structured economy was damaging the happiness of their citizens. That was years ago and was hardly published into anything substantial,” she shook her head, “It’s not enough to kill someone over.”

“You’d be surprised,” I hummed. I’d kill over a slice of chocolate cake, especially if the person was deserving of death. Now, I did think she was right, that alone really didn’t seem enough to kill her over. 

They believed her to be a difference maker, which it was clear she was. Any other scientist I knew would have retreated back into their lab and stayed there. Hell, some were already calling to be deployed back home. She didn’t look like she was leaving, even if she was scared. Bravery wasn’t not feeling fear. She was brave, even if some of my men didn’t think that.

“Okay, so, it will be at least a month of recruiting to regain the staff lost. Two weeks to get laser swords, two weeks after to train all agents effectively in using them. I want us back to normal study status by the end of the month, if possible. Rok, I need you and your team to make sure to establish a perimeter and keep it as clear as possible. Once we have supplies and the right tools, it’s time to go deeper in that hole. Jack, unfortunately your team will have to work with what they have,” Ruenova explained, “Sound clear?”

“Crystal,” I answered. An entire month before really getting answers would irk me, but maybe they were right to be precautious. I wouldn’t mind keeping my team above ground for now, patrolling the areas. I could even have demolitions set up mines both around the hole or any gaps. But with District Three most likely out of our hairs for now, I knew it would be a boring month. 

Jack nodded, remaining silent. She was pondering, perhaps not excited about having to actually go deeper into that darkness. I couldn’t blame her, but that meant I would have to find a way to build her confidence. I had to make her feel the slightest safe, just as she had to make my team feel safe. They may not know a thing about science, but any information might provide us and Milithreat more assurance. 

“In the meantime, you two need to work this out,” Ruenova added, to my frustration, “you need to work as a team, just the two of you. You both need to learn to respect one another. Both your opinions matter and should matter to the other. I don’t care if it takes yelling at one another, but figure it out. Both of you are irreplaceable for your teams, be irreplaceable for each other.”

“Ruenova, with all due respect-” Jack spoke before seeing our CSO shake her head, not wanting to hear any of it.

“You will disrespect me if you two cannot act like functional adults to each other. Now, I will not force you into some bonding exercise or anything mimicking marriage therapy for you. I expect both of you to work something out,” Ruenova rejected any of her complaints, “You’re dismissed.”

Jack was quick to get up and not say anything as she left the office. I offered Ruenova a reassuring smile, one she seemed to offer back. Yeah, maybe Grimes was right. She did have a slight thing for me. Only thing was, she was my boss and I had a certain rule about that. I’d let it play out, see where it took us. Certainly if we shared a few drinks together, then it might happen. For that to happen, I should be on my best behavior and do as I was told. 

That meant having to make amends somehow. 

When I left the office, it didn’t surprise me Jacqueline was nowhere to be found. She would be quick to return to her work, whereas I had to be patient with mine. This upcoming month would have been more difficult to deal with, without her generous offer for those laser swords. She had provided a real gift, something that put her on Ruenova’s good terms, and well, possibly my own. 

She didn’t have to do that, but did. She knew very well how much of an advantage she was providing us. And today, she understood my reasoning for wanting Cole’s body kept here, even if she didn’t agree with it. I had to let go of my past judgements on people like her. I had to trust her to keep me alive, just as she had to trust me.

Maybe getting her a gift was a good way to mend this gap between us.

Chapter Text

There had been something borderline repugnant about that sense of protection I felt when waking up and seeing Damien’s chaotic gray eyes stare down at me, covered in red and black blood. 

Ruenova’s words were echoing in my head these past three weeks: Both of you are irreplaceable for your teams, be irreplaceable for each other . I knew initially I had wanted to blame him, he had made a bad call. But I failed in explaining my logic, because there was none other than gut feeling. He wouldn’t know to trust that like I did, not until I proved my worth to him. 

His reasoning to not leave Cole’s body was still on my thoughts. It wasn’t what he said, it was how he said it. I was beginning to realize his words were better interpreted through tone rather than the literal words themselves. In this entire month here on Colony Negative, I thought he never showed fear. He did in his tone. Others would let their voices shrink and waver. His voice grew stronger,  enhancing his pitch with one of authority when he felt fear in his veins.

He was the face of true leadership, of never asking someone to do something he wouldn’t do himself. He wanted his men and women to follow him by example. He wanted to instill diligence in his agents to never leave someone behind. That meant he feared getting left behind. I knew if all hell broke loose and Damien took a laser bullet to that thick skull of his…his men would panic and run. I knew it, and so did he. 

I didn’t have the physical capacity to pull a man like him out of danger. Sometimes, it wasn’t about strength it was about sheer will. We both had that tenacity, that will. Did we have it for each other? Could we?

No. 

“You seem distracted today, Jack,” Angelique noted over our video call, piping through our little conversation which was mostly just listening to her drawl about work.

“Am I inattentive? Sorry, I’m just…confused. I’ve tried getting along with people, but you know how it is…” I sighed, running one hand through my hair with frustration.

“I don’t know what that’s like,” she laughed, “Tell me.”

“It’s this lead agent, Damien. He’s hotheaded, egotistical, borderline psychotic. We’ve just been butting heads lately. All this science in my head pinpoints him as this dangerous guy who goes against everything I’m trying to fix. I’m to get rid of people like him, trying to create peace.”

“I see,” Angelique paused, “have you thought of not treating him like some scientific subject?”

“What? Of course. I mean, he’s human, I don’t study him.”

“Yes you do,” she stated bluntly, “I know you. You study everyone. You calculate risks in people but even you know statistics aren’t foolproof. There’s room for error or improvement. I think you need to start listening to him, from his own voice.”

“Whenever I ask him a question it feels like I bother him, or I invade his sense of privacy, or even worse question his authority,” I shook my head, feeling defeated.

“Do you question his authority?”

“I…I well I did. But, it’s different now I suppose. In an odd sense, I trust him to handle what we are dealing with,” I explained.

“Have you told him that?”

“And let it go to his big head?” I scoffed, before seeing her point.

My latest organic chemist walked in, with two plates of food to my desk. David. Tall, thin, blonde and charming. Too charming, though. He was eager to take over as the lead chemist on the team, but he didn’t take the whole anathema situation seriously. I lost a good section of my team all due to their unknown. David was more worried about making good impressions than his work. Science was never a popularity contest.

“Afternoon, some guy just dropped off lunch for you, and a note,” David explained with confusion. He placed down the plate, which was a mouthwatering, steaming portion of lasagna. I suppose I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I stared at it.

“Some guy?” I questioned.

“Yeah. He wanted to deliver it to you specifically but I said you were busy. Tall, broad, muscles larger than my damn head, borderline aggressive-”

“Damien,” I sighed, seeing him nod.

“Yeah that was his name, how’d you know?”

“You described him pretty well, thank you,” I nodded, taking the note from him. David looked like he was about to pull the chair out in front of him and have us eat together. But staring in his eyes, silently demanding him not to do that, was intimidating enough for him to realize I didn’t like eating in front of others.

“Enjoy your lunch,” David smiled, taking his plate and rushing off.

I sighed for a moment, getting up to lock the door before glancing at the note.

Wayne says your pleasure meal is lasagna. He also says you haven’t had lunch lately. NOT GOOD. Can you meet me at the training area at 1600?

I could hear his humorous berating voice through his own handwriting, which was neater than I thought it would be. Damien must’ve spoken with Wayne, who was the head chef here. Wayne was just one of those men that got along with everyone, that believed food was made from love, and just could do no wrong. Anyone who had a problem with Wayne, was a problem themselves. Damien had probably tried to do some digging on me, even if it was my favorite food. 

Yet, I didn’t know a single thing about him. There was no graveyard where I could dig up the skeletons in his closet. Damien was making an effort, in his unique way, and I figured I had to as well. And not in a scientific way.

“Is there something you’re not telling me about? He brought you lunch?” Angelique hinted. I almost forgot I was still on the call with her.

“What? Gross, Angie, don’t ever suggest that,” I feigned a gag.

“Do you at least have a photo of him?” she asked with excitement. I rolled my eyes but nodded, grabbing my other datapad to scan through the District Five directory for an image of him. Of course he was in dress uniform, highly decorated, clean shaven, a serious face with a hint of that little humorous smirk.

“Here,” I turned to show her.

“Jack! Holy shit!”

“What?!” I asked, “Did you know him?”

“No! But if you don’t tap that…”

“Ugh, you’re insane and he’s revolting,” I actually gagged this time.

“Alright, I’m just teasing. But you know, he’s pretty decent looking. And he’s protective, like you’ve mentioned, and brave…those are qualities, positives in all the negatives you see in him. I think you’re viewing him from either a faulty perspective…or a fearful one. You fear getting to know him.”

“Getting to know him means he gets to know me. He works in military intelligence, and can dig up whatever he wants without consequence. If I give him an inch of my past, he can uncover a mile of it, things I’m not willing to share,” I sighed, my fork gently cutting into my food.

“Jack, I can’t be the only person to know your burdens…” Angie pointed out.

“I know, that’s not fair to you,” I agreed.

“I didn’t mean it like that. You know why,” she disagreed, “Look, enjoy your lunch. Play nice. If you want to make a world full of peace and love and comfort, you have to be those things too.”

She ended the call with a smile, and all I saw was my own reflection. She was right. She was always right. 

I finished the lasagna in its entirety before taking the next two hours to go through research papers on any key-words possibly relatable to the anathema. Mad Cow Disease. Fungal parasites. Mutants. Nothing was really close or profound enough to stand out. I could only relate to the anathemas with what I knew about them, which at the moment was very little.

I arrived at the training arena early, sneaking in through the back quietly. Damien was giving a presentation of a more physical nature, which was much his style with the laser blades. He noticed my presence, offering a small nod before continuing with showing how to properly strike without losing a lot of energy.

“Again, I need to make it clear especially to the new team members here, this is not a toy. This is a tool, one given out of generosity. We were lucky to have these at our disposal, train with them, and ultimately, protect ourselves. Use this luck, make the enemy realize their luck has run short,” he demanded.

 “We will conduct training rotations for the next two weeks until we go back out. Acid Squad always gets to the gym in the morning. Bomb Squad, you’ll be working on sword work with the training exercises I’ve now given you. Death, you’ll be at the range. Even if our guns aren’t lethal to these anathemas, we need to keep our aim sharp. Excise, you start out with sharpening your extensive knowledge and checking gear, whether you’re a bomb tech, weapons master, or recon specialist. Hone your skill. You were all chosen individually for a reason. Those four training sessions will be rotated throughout the day, hopefully giving you plenty of downtime after dinner. Any questions?”

None. As usual. I didn’t know if that meant he was just very good at explaining or if people feared asking him questions. Maybe both. But Damien seemed the type of leader to encourage questions, because he wouldn’t want to hear it out on the field. 

“Good, you’re dismissed for the day,” he nodded and the entire room of agents began moving around and about for their gear. A few greeted and nodded at me as they left, acknowledging my presence.

Grimes had walked over drenched in sweat, smiling softly at my presence.

“Jack, how are you doing?” he asked politely.

“Fine, your boss needed to speak with me,” I explained, “how are you?”

“Oh, what about?” He seemed confused. I glanced over to see Damien explaining something to a new female agent under his group. And not just…talking but signing? The woman was deaf, apparent with the earpiece probably to hear his presentation. But up close and personal, it was clear she communicated better with signing. Damien looked more than happy to oblige.

“Not sure,” I answered, slightly surprised that even he didn’t know. Grimes and Damien seemed close, like brothers in that military sense not necessarily blood or by family. “I never asked…you have a distinctive pattern of an octopus on your gear. What does it mean?”

I hoped it wasn’t some military sexual innuendo or something crude like that. But Grimes only smiled.

“Well, my parents were originally from District Two, you know, the Oceania Colonies. They didn’t talk about it much growing up, so when I joined Milithreat and such, I used all the intelligence to know more about them. Kinda like what you do, all that research. At the time, I had been feeling lost as to who I was, who I wanted to be.”

“The past has an odd way of filling the future, even a past where we weren’t born yet,” I agreed.

“Exactly. I learned about my grandparents and their history, the history of my people. They used to live in this tropical colony, fish for days, and just…it sounded so nice. It sounded peaceful, you know? I’m a very big guy, always intimidating. It was nice to find out that it seemed like a really good community. The octopus was seen as an animal to admire, it was flexible, dextrous, strong, but also knew how to hide. I thought it looked cool.”

“It does look cool,” I nodded, seeing his smile remain. I suppose I fell prey to the same stereotypes others did. I thought Grimes to be fairly intimidating and rough…but he was in fact quite the opposite.

“My parents found it a bit disrespectful, you know, being refugees and all. But I thought it was a nice touch. Can’t please them all the time,” he laughed and I agreed with that last statement, “You sure you’re holding up okay? I know it feels like our days have been easy, can’t be easy on your end.”

“It’s our job, it’s not easy but that’s why we do it,” I explained, seeing Damien approach out of the corner of my eye. 

“Still…it’s a bit of a nightmare,” Grimes sighed, “I should go clean up. Have fun you two.”

“Fun?” Damien asked, watching him leave, “What did you say we were doing?”

“Another psych evaluation,” I teased seriously, seeing Damien’s eyes go wide before realizing I was just joking.

“Hard to tell when you’re joking with such a straight face,” he pointed out, which was him just pointing literally at the mask. .

“Want to tell me why you wanted to meet?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“Straight to the point,” he sighed, “Did you eat?”

“Yes.”

“Really?” he asked again.

“Really. The whole entire plate. I was almost waiting for a smoothie to come in and finish off the joke,” I rolled my eyes. That seemed to make him laugh, a smile forming on his lips.

“Come with me to supply, I have something to show you,” he nudged his head to follow, which I did by his side. He probably half expected me to walk behind him, yet left plenty of room for me to walk alongside him down these narrow halls. 

“I didn’t know you could sign. It’s a useful language,” I pointed out, trying to find something to compliment him on. I had to make him feel the least bit welcome around me, right? 

“Sabbath…” he began to speak but paused as a few staff walked by, waiting for them to leave, “well, their entire training program was dangerous. A lot of kids became deaf or blind or an amputee. Deaf students still had their uses, according to Sabbath. I learned because I wanted to communicate with my compatriots.”

He seemed hesitant when he spoke. Either there was more to his words, or he was trying to water it down for me. He didn’t need to, but maybe it was more for him than me. 

“Still, it’s admirable,” I pointed out, “It shows despite certain limits you wish to make things as equitable as possible.”

“Thank you,” he answered genuinely, “who was the idiot that took your lunch, the new blonde guy?”

“David, one of the chemists working with the geolists on materials found on Colony Negative. I think his reputation and curriculum vitae don’t make him an idiot,” I pointed out. 

“Well he was very adamant that he deliver the food. He said I wasn’t allowed in the lab, which I didn’t know was a rule,” Damien shrugged.

“He said that?”

“Would I lie?” he glanced at me.

“Maybe, but not about something like that,” I chuckled softly, “you are more than welcome in the lab, just keep your hands to yourself. I don’t need you touching anything in there or making a mess. But you should feel inclined to observe our progress. Better yet, a fresh pair of eyes that don’t necessarily have a scientific lens wouldn’t hurt.”

“Alright, I’ll keep the invitation in mind,” he hummed.

“You know, you could also just send me a message to come meet you. A note wasn’t necessary, nor the food,” I pointed out but remained gentle in my tone. I didn’t want him to think I was upset by it, but I didn’t want him to think he had to jump through hoops to gain my attention.

“I thought messaging you privately might be inappropriate,” he explained.

“Hah! And your alternative method didn’t seem so either?”

“Well, would you have eaten if I hadn’t sent you food?” he questioned, badging into the supply room before holding the door open for you.

“Maybe,” I lied, knowing I probably would’ve gotten lost in my work. That’s usually what happened. I’d get hungry but just so involved, by the time I glanced up it was mid or late afternoon and figured dinner would suffice as enough. 

“Sure, okay,” he saw right through my deceit, “alright, stand right here and close your eyes.”

I wasn’t really particularly fond of this game. He walked over to a box, turning around to see I wasn’t closing my eyes. Of course, it resulted in that amused look on his face, followed by a roll in his eyes.

“So, you trust me enough to kill these anathemas, and enough to protect you, but you won’t close your eyes?” he questioned.

“I do trust you,” I sighed, knowing he had planned this exactly like this to prove it. I put my hands out, closing my eyes. I had to practically pray in my own thoughts he wouldn’t place something disgusting in my hands.

“Good girl,” he teased, which only made me scoff.

I heard him pry that wooden box open, and then the sound of a zipper.

“You know, a sound like that might make it a bit hard to trust you,” I murmured, but with a small smile.

“As if I’d try such a thing,” he scoffed, “you are the last person in this entire universe I’d want to see me naked.”

“Good to know,” I hummed, soon feeling an object slowly be placed in my hands. It was heavier than expected. One of Damien’s hand held below my own, the other steadying the semi-circular item. I figured feeling that alone was enough to open my eyes, seeing a helmet in my hands. 

“I thought I told you-”

“Yes yes, helmets and masks don’t work. I’m not deaf, you know,” he rolled his eyes, slowly moving his hands, “take a look at it.”

When I glanced inside, I could see what he was talking about already. And, well, my tablet vibrated with a connection status. He had gotten this helmet to calibrate with the chip in my neck, the same one that had worked with my mask. He created them to be compatible with each other. I placed it on gently, despite not wearing the appropriate clothes underneath, but I could feel it fit quite comfortably. 

The mask connected with the filtration status of the helmet, almost as if molding as one. I could immediately remove the front glass panel of the helmet if needed, or adjust it entirely so it could collapse into my armor if needed. I was trying to find a single flaw within it, yet couldn’t find one at all. Angelique was right, I had to stop looking for flaws and highlighting them as warning signs. I had to look at everything else.

“Thank you,” I spoke softly, glancing up at him. He smiled softly, almost surprised by my reaction.

“You’re welcome. I had some Militech armor engineers figure it out. Someone had to find a solution so we don’t have you lose more brain cells with my exemplary driving,” he joked, “a lot of us can handle losing a few brain cells. You, however, aren’t allowed to lose a single one.”

“Wow, a compliment,” I joked, thinking for a minute, “How did they get the exact technological information regarding my chip?”

I saw his smile fall slightly, a guilty look on his face appearing. Right. I knew somehow in this entire gift of his, he stumbled somewhere.

“You hacked into the files of my datapad?” I asked sternly.

“No. No. I…well you might’ve left your monitor on at your workstation really late at night. I figured the file was there and it was. I promise, I didn’t look at anything else. I only sent them what they needed, which was two files,” he rubbed the back of his head with embarrassment.

I felt a surge of frustration before thinking: is it that big of a deal? Yes, he invaded my privacy completely, but if he was being honest about only looking at those things, then it was fine. Besides, I didn’t have anything else about me or anything non-work related on that system. He wouldn’t have found anything remotely sensitive to be that worked up over.

He was expecting backlash, but I only took a deep breath, “Well, apology accepted.”

“Oh, I didn’t know I was apologizing,” his face lit up in slight surprise, followed by a slight smirk.

“Next time, just ask.”

“And ruin the surprise?” He gasped dramatically before calming down, going back to that blank, stern look of his, “Look, I know nobody else here knows about you being the only reason we have these laser swords. I know it would kill you inside if everyone knew, but I wanted to show my appreciation.”

“I didn’t really do it for you, or them, I suppose,” I shrugged, “I did it for significantly higher chances of survival.”

“Higher chances for yourself or…?”

“Everyone,” I quickly corrected.

“Right. Everyone,” he nodded slowly. He didn’t really believe me. 

“So, you want me to close my eyes and trust you…but you don’t trust me?” I retorted, placing the helmet aside, “That doesn’t sound fair.”

“I do trust you,” he admitted.

“What’s the problem then? If you don’t see me an equal-”

“Will you stop putting words into my mouth?” he interrupted, crossing his arms, “I see you as my equal, alright? And what happened with bringing Cole’s body back, it won’t happen again. If out in the field we need to argue to compromise then so be it. I am willing to compromise.”

“So am I,” I reminded him, “Look, I know our first day out was you taking control. I know that. When enemies or anathemas are around, I know to shut up and follow your orders. When they’re eradicated, you can let me do my work.”

I saw the hesitation in his eyes at my last sentence. He had a lingering question on his mind, and I had a feeling it had to do with Owen’s little spat after Crowe’s killing. Damien still didn’t know why I was being targeted and he felt he was owed an answer.

“What are you looking to find here in this data?” he asked gently, finally admitting what he had wanted to ask. 

“I’ve already answered this. Look, I didn’t uncover a cure for cancer intentionally. I don’t think there’s anything I’m specifically looking for here. This Colony is our point of origin. Not just District Five, Three, or Sabbath. Everyone.”

“These anathema’s surely aren’t our ancestors,” he scoffed, not at me but certainly at our difficult situation.

“They very well could be,” I corrected him, “I don’t know what they stand for, what the goal is. All I know is we need to figure out what happened.”

“Okay, say you do find out, say someone played with genetics to create these things. Your data could very well give someone the same tools to do that with anyone.”

“And there it is. There you go again with scientists being the bad guys,” I scoffed, “You don’t trust me.”

“I do! I don’t trust whomever you give that data to. Do you understand? We now know what’s on here, other Districts are beginning to pull out. Why does SBH really want you to stay? Why couldn’t you just leave this place alone?!” He inquired, “If it were up to me, I’d just nuke this entire colony with all those anathemas so they wouldn’t hurt anyone else again.”

“It’s not up to you, though, is it?! You could annihilate something important. I get it, Damien, you want to know the answer to fucking everything. Everything you do, every order you follow has to have some purpose behind it. Is that what Sabbath did to you, did it make you question your authority?”

“You know what, I’m done here, enjoy your helmet,” he scoffed, moving to leave. I immediately beat him to the door, blocking him. It was probably to no avail, given he could easily overpower me. I could see my words had upset him, and that’s what he was trying to hide.

“You don’t know what went on there, the things I did, the things I saw. What if that data you produced about cancer was given to them, given to Sabbath? They would have easily made it more dangerous,” he shook his head.

“What if I’m looking for something that eliminates Sabbath entirely?” I asked immediately, seeing the look of surprise on his face, “What if I can find something that eliminates your pain? Eliminates the pain of future children to come that live under Sabbath domain?”

“Impossible.”

“What if , though?” I beckoned, “I know Sabbath isn’t here, not physically. They’d rather watch all the District’s brightest and greatest of soldiers and scientists fall at the hands of alien abominations. Look, our ancestors fought wars with the belief that it was to better the life of their children. Clearly, that hasn’t worked. We need to try something different, we need to look at what the data tells us.”

“You need to be careful who you speak about this to,” he spoke lowly, stepping closer to me.

“Why do you think I’m telling you?” I whispered. If anyone could hate Sabbath, it had to be him. “You could be right. We could spend months or years here and maybe find nothing. We could get no answers, lose people and money and supplies just like the other Districts and return home defeated. Even failed experiments have their purpose, Damien. But I, just as badly as you if not more, want this to succeed.”

“This stays between us,” he whispered in return, “I’m not the only de-transitioned Sabbatical here.”

“You have my word,” I promised, “Do I have yours? Your team questions my motives.”

“This kind of information is on a very marginal need to know basis, one they’re not entitled to. Yes, you have my promise,” he agreed. There was concern in his eyes, and it was on the basis of this information leaking. He was very quiet about Sabbath, especially around others. His shock at me finding out was one he couldn’t avoid. Militech executives might know of his origins, given they recruited him.

But others in Colony Negative didn’t. What was there to fear? What did he know that he wasn’t telling me?

“Thank you, again, for the helmet,” I whispered, knowing my attempts at remaining calm around him almost felt futile. But I did my best not to berate him, just as he had done his best to control his anger. 

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” he nodded, his eyes gazing down at me with this softness. There was something there we both realized, amidst the end of this conversation, we were now beginning to understand each other. It felt like maybe our goals were aligned, our objectives fairly similar, but our means of getting there varied dramatically. Damien wanted Sabbath gone. I wanted them gone, along with the idea of them, the idea of greed, colonialism, of hate and violence. 

Damien just wanted to use violence to eradicate itself. I’d have to let him, in terms of these anathemas. Beyond that, though, he’d be wrong to think he could liberate the world with the very thing that enslaved it. I could also be wrong to think that my liberation would fall on ears willing to listen. 

If Sabbath and its ideals were to eventually come crashing down, I knew Damien Rok would be annihilated along with the rest, unbeknownst to him.

And…I was okay with that. 

Chapter Text

Intelligence was leaking. There was a mole among us, an imposter, a saboteur of information being distilled to dangerous people. Sabbath had intel on us. Now, Milithreat and my team spied on them just as they spied on us. But there was something in a recent intelligence product they created that had caught my eye. My eyes specifically: anathemas.

I was meant to Sabotage the other Districts. Someone was trying to sabotage us.

As far as I knew, District Five was the only one to coin such a term for these demonic entities. Yet a Sabbath report of rather basic information had that title plastered in between the sentences of their report. That meant, someone here was sending them information. It wasn’t just Milithreat personnel being a possibility, it could be anyone.

It could be Doctor Jacqueline Deveraux.

Her conversation with me back at supply was on my mind. What data could she produce that would or even could eradicate Sabbath? Greed was inherently coded in our DNA, unless that was something she wanted to change. That could be the problem with science. All these evolutions, medicines, genetic enhancing to make us superior to our past, I’m afraid we begin to lose what it really means to be human. 

Sabbath had no file on Jack, which even made my suspicions grow. They had some information about nobodies here. They even had a brief information card on CSO Ruenova. But nothing on Jack. District Three had basic information on her as they were targeting her, but Sabbath didn’t? It didn’t sit well with me. Maybe SBH had its own intelligence team to keep information from leaking, but I had my doubts.

Could Jack be working for Sabbath all along? 

Her mask might not just be literal. Often, those that preached world peace wanted everything to do with war. Those who spoke of good intentions often held a dagger behind their back. A part of me told me not to trust her at all, believing that she could be the one putting information out there that could expose us all. Another part also knew she had nothing to do with this. War wasn’t her world, she merely studied the after effects. 

My mind was playing against my heart, against my inner instincts. Intelligence should make me wary of her. My gut instinct told me she was just as innocent as the rest. That was my problem. With all the killing, the mindless following of orders to annihilate others, innocence was such blurred lines to me. Lingering around Jack’s work slowly seemed to be attempting to change that.

All of us on Acid Squad stood near that cavern into the ground, awaiting an anathema to appear and repeat the history that had happened a month ago. There was only silence, silence and a storm approaching. Our work here might be limited today. Owen began securing the anchor for our rappel rigging into the dirt, making sure it would hold weight as everyone would slowly make their descent down.

“If you add some extra dirt on top with a bit of water, it will harden and make a sturdier anchor,” Jack pointed out gently. She hadn’t said a word all morning. Wearing that mask I gave her made most of my men wonder why she was wearing Milithreat gear. I forgot that we only used three standardized helmets and she happened to wear the most uncommon one, but it suited her needs. My men didn’t ask but figured a helmet was a healthy compromise after being an assassination target.

She even had a laser sword at her hip, although a different model than the rest of my agents. It was the most updated, like mine, with ridges in the handle to make for easier grip and technique. She wore it on her hip as if it belonged there. Whether she knew how to use it, I hoped we wouldn’t have to find out.

Owen said nothing and ignored Jack’s observation to help, throwing the rope over the edge and making sure it reached the bottom. I moved over to the anchor as everyone else prepared their rigging on their armor, slowly kicking at dirt to form a gentle mound around the anchor. Small drops of water poured, Jack letting a few drops of her canteen spill. And sure enough, it was like the dirt came alive like parched beggars in the street, demanding more drops of rain before solidifying. 

“A lot of tricalcium silicate and aluminate…” Jack muttered and I perked up.

“What?” I asked, seeing her helmet turn towards mine.

“Sorry, I was just noting it has similar chemical structures to cement with water, although it dries much quicker. It’s more than likely how they built the structures here too,” she apologized, not wanting to bother me with her scientific jargon.

“Well, wouldn’t that mean if it rained here that would actually worsen the homes?” I asked, knowing they needed both water to build them, but a bad enough storm could make them weak.

“Indeed, catastrophically. Luckily it doesn’t rain much here, mostly dust storms. But when it rained and there’s some evidence it did, those homes would collapse. It could trap anyone beneath that mess too, killing them before it solidifies them into the soil,” Jack added, a morbid fact at that.

“So, you think that’s why they went underground?” I glanced at the hole, before back at her and noticed the knot around her rigging was incorrect, “Mind if I fix that? It should hold you steady, but it’s not the best knot in terms of rappelling.”

“Most civilizations once above ground don’t go back in it,” she shook her head, before taking a glance at the knot she had made. She looked like she wanted to retort something snarky, but said nothing as she undid the bindings, letting me take over.

I moved close, adjusting the rope around her inner thighs before securing her tightly, “What do you mean by that?”

“Think of Colony 501, all those tunnels under the main city. Those existed long before the city did. Now, we know after the Battle of Fallen Skies, Sabbath, known as District Six back then, dropped a bomb centuries ago and leveled civilization. When your home has turned to catacombs, you have to rebuild on the surface provided,” she explained, “just as our bodies will decompose and turn into fossils in the earth, so shall our cities and neighborhoods. There could be colonies or planets with layers upon layers of cities of old.”

There was something oddly interesting about her work. When she removed the biological aspect of her talk and wondered about the structure of civilization or social aspects, it was much more interesting. More so only because I could understand it. Never once in my life did I think to study the kind of questions she asked. Yet it seemed every day, thoughts were in my mind when entering a new colony to conquer.

The very things she studied were the things I destroyed.

I tightened the last tug of rope, letting the rest slack and she let out a frustrated grunt as her hips thrust into mine.

“Shit, it doesn’t have to be that tight,” she scowled slightly.

“I just don’t want you to fall, Doctor,” I smiled at her scowl, stepping back, “What’s with the camera?”

She had been taking pictures all morning of the area, either for documentation or for hobby. Perhaps both. Knowing all of this would be well documented by our own recordings, I didn’t see a need for an old camera like she had. But, I wouldn’t question her methods yet. I knew she had taken a few photos with us in the background. 

“I like to chronicle my work. While the video feedback is helpful, sometimes photographs can tell a different story,” she explained, putting the camera away in her pack to secure for now, “besides, if I never went into science I would have liked to enter photography. However, it’s a dying art with all the technology to video log our entire lives.”

“Things are most beautiful when they’re dying,” I hummed, realizing how ghastly and macabre that sounded, “like stars, or meteors.”

“Agreed,” she concurred to my surprise, “beautiful, yet always taken for granted.”

“Death of art doesn’t seem a complication enough to stop you,” I observed, “what made you become the doctor that you are?”

“Strict, overbearing, intelligent parents. Too intelligent one might say. The Deveraux name has a deep history of great names, and hidden, forgotten nobodies. My parents warned they’d disown us if we ever became one of those nobodies. They craved a world where ‘nobodies’ didn’t exist.”

Family pressure. I didn’t know what my family had been like, if I had a mother who loved me, a father who would have died for me before Sabbath ruined it all. From what I had heard about families from the other Sabbaticals, it seemed like such a lovely concept. As dangerous as I could be, if I ever held my own child in my arms, I would do everything in my power to protect them.

Not all families seemed to have that kind of love. 

“Well, I can certainly say, you are not a nobody, Jack,” I tried to compliment her.

“Nobody is a nobody. There is no metric to human value, worth, responsibility, or bearing in this world. It is infinite, limitless, varied. People created gods to create this sense of numerical value to judge, only to be the ones to extort judgment on those around them,” she paused, realizing she was getting ahead of herself.

I was beginning to see why Jacqueline took it personally when I hated scientists, hated science. At first, I believed her reaction stemmed from an ego of perfection, similar to a hippocratic oath. It wasn’t that Jack didn’t believe scientists could do evil with their work. It was that she had seen it first hand, presumably from someone in her family. She didn’t want to become someone like that.

How could she rid the idea of Sabbath, of violence and total annihilation, without thinking that same way, though?

“Alright, who’s going down first?” Grimes asked, peering down into the cavern.

Silence. 

While the area below had been slightly droned out, there was still fear we were entering an animals cave. Not just cave, but domain, hive, whatever could possess a multitude of them. Maybe we were. It was very possible, though, there weren’t many anathemas still around. They could spread quickly, but what did they have to feed on before we and the other districts had arrived? Not much. Yet, my team still stood frozen with fear.

“Say no more,” I sighed, moving to be the first one down. I connected the line through my rope, slowly letting gravity and well tied knots do their work before sliding down. 

When my boots finally met the sturdy ground, I could feel the vibrations of first contact. The slight storm wind from above didn’t howl down here. In fact, it was silent. Utter silence. The ground was black, unsure if that was natural or by design. It was hard to distinguish what kind of material it was. 

Jack was the second to come down, noticing the quietness as well. Despite the helmet, it was clear from constant neck movement she was glancing at everything she could. It was dark down here, too dark. When the rest of the agents made landfall, it was all about picking where to go next. 

“Regina,” I glanced at her, the deaf and latest addition to the crew to take over Cole’s spot. I slowly let my weapon down, signing to her, “Drone out to five hundred meters each tunnel.” 

Any dead ends, we could avoid. It would be best to map out this location as quickly as possible and preferably by foot, not drone. Eventually dead ends would need to be investigated, but we had limited time today. Had this been a normal mission, I would have sent my team by two’s down each tunnel and report back within an hour. This wasn’t the case. I admitted we had to stay together.

Regina began programming the drones with instructions before the little black probes took off. The squad surrounded Jacqueline in a circle, weapons with safeties off and ready to fire if needed. While blades were the much better weapon, firearms at long range would still slow them down. Even so, we weren’t alone down here. 

Anathemas. District Three. Any other District Agents…all could be a threat. 

“Energy is bouncing off the walls, literally, Doctor,” one of her scientists chimed in over the communications, “This is a structure, almost like a bunker of some sorts.”

“An extensive, well designed one at that,” Jack responded.

It was colder down here than expected, despite the lack of a breeze. The black walls and floors had no heat to retain. Speaking of the walls, my flashlight glared at them, seeing not perfectly straight and smooth surfaces. It was coagulated. Switching to a black light briefly, it was clear to see why. 

“Team, switch to blacklight momentarily,” I ordered, seeing confusion before they followed orders.

Those black walls were littered in purple hues caught by the light, some new and fresh, some stains clearly old. Blood. Anathema blood to be precise. Like human blood could seep into the walls and floors of a place, so could theirs despite the difference in thickness. Jack walked over to one distinct handprint, taking a photo of it. 

Her gloved hand moved in front of the projection, noting the difference. When she touched the edges of the wall, it was not smooth. Indents of fingernails digging into the wall, clawing and clinging to the surface for grip. My eyes followed Jack’s black-lit flashlight as her hand followed the pattern, soon finding that hand print enlarged, fingers growing more narrow yet expansive. 

It changed into an anathema, evidence right in front of our own very eyes. The material used in this structure was thick, hard, almost polished like granite. Just the thought of digging my nails enough to indent such a canvass made my spine shiver. 

Our silent thoughts that remained in our heads became even further silenced with a high pitched shout, almost like a squeal echoing from the tunnels to the east. All agents immediately turned that direction, weapons aimed high. 

No other sounds or indications anathemas were near came after. Regina’s drones came back, all of them in one piece to report back to her datapad. She watched as the caves were drawn up, none of them seemingly leading to dead ends, only entering a large room before ending. All of them kept going, which made sense. If this structure was made by hand, why make dead ends? She turned the datapad around so I could see the data, signing with one hand:

Where to?

Her fingers trembled as she did so with such a simple question. All the new Milithreat agents were shown video footage of the anathemas so they could know exactly what we were facing. Some had taken the video with a grain of salt, like stupid indoctrinating, initiation videos at any new job. Now, it was clear this wasn’t something to ignore. These anathemas were real. They were deadly. 

“Why don’t we just delta the fuck out of here?” Owen asked. 

Under normal circumstances, it wasn’t a bad suggestion. But, our objectives were to escort Doctor Deveraux around while she worked. She couldn’t work from a virtual video highlighting the ins and outs of these structures, not entirely. Running away at the moment wasn’t an option. All of us had been given shitty tasks in the past, either mundane or dangerous beyond all belief. This was no different. 

“Excise Squad has an opening, if you’d prefer to conduct reconnaissance all day…” I muttered, not really appreciating Owen’s enthusiasm. Rather, lack thereof. I knew he was the best at demolitions but his personality was really starting to bother me. 

I looked back at what Regina was showing, staring at the vaguely mapped out area. I glanced over at Jack, who seemed to still be taking a few photos of things from rocks, indents in the ground, or more blood residue. A quick motion of my finger to wag her over caught her eye, Jack surprised before she walked over.

“Where to, Doctor?” I asked.

“You’re the man in charge,” she scoffed, before realizing this was me trying to treat her as equal, the very thing she complained about a month ago, “Alright well, it looks like a lot of the mapped out tunnels narrow as they reach a room. This tunnel, not that far mapped out, is the only one that doesn’t begin to narrow and it’s at the center of this area.”

“Okay, good idea,” I hummed, signing to Regina: keep one probe in front of us, and one behind.

Yes sir, she nodded, signing back. 

Keep Owen in the front, Jack signed, surprisingly to the both of us. Regina had a slight laugh, thinking it was a tease. Maybe it was, but I knew better than that. Jack didn’t trust him from the back, rightfully so. The front wasn’t a good prospect either, but preferable compared so she could keep her eyes on them. 

It seems like private comms weren’t the only solution to having private conversations, especially if we knew those conversations could be monitored. Of course Jack would somehow know what to sign. What didn’t she know how to do?

“Team, we’ll be touching some basics on this tunnel today,” I pointed at the east one, “Owen, you and Grimes lead in the front. I will stay in the middle with Jack and Regina to monitor, the rest follow from the back. If Jack tells us to stop, we stop. Are we clear?”

Affirmative nods of silence, just how I preferred it. Owen said nothing, but probably wondered if his comment prior earned leading the front as a punishment. Regina sent the probe back out in that direction, able to conduct some minor recon for us before it was time to get moving. I noticed Jack stayed close to me as we walked, much more than before.

“So,” I chimed into our private comm, “How many languages do you know?”

“Know as in…speak? Read or write?” She asked for clarification.

“I think you inadvertently answered my question,” I sighed, figuring by that response alone she certainly was vaguely versed in linguistics as well.

“Do you not like women smarter than you?” she questioned, but added a soft laugh to let me know she was teasing. In truth, she was almost right in asking that. I suppose in my life experience in avoiding doctors or women with a brain like hers, I was unaccustomed to talking with someone who seemed to have an answer to all my questions. That didn’t mean I disliked it. I was simply not used to it.

“I think women are smarter than men,” I answered honestly, “so given that truth, the answer to your question is no.”

“Hm,” she seemed satisfied with that, “Afrikaans I can read, don’t ask me to speak it. I can speak and read Oceanica but not comfortably. Sign language, well, I’m fairly decent at. It was never a part of my studies, but I liked the idea that a community noticed someone who was unable to hear, and therefore created a language for them and everyone else to understand. What better love for a neighbor is greater than that?”

“What can’t you do?” I asked, almost rolling my eyes. 

The hallways were empty, no visible signs of life or struggles we had seen before. Blacklight might illuminate more blood, but I didn’t want to think about that. We knew by now people struggled and fell prey to these anathemas. We didn’t need further evidence of them. Right now, it was as if we had to treat these aliens as pests, in a house we felt we held precedence. 

This was more their home than it was ours.

“Let’s see, I can’t shoot a firearm. I can’t compose music. I can’t draw well. I can’t make a nuclear bomb,” she hummed, “I can’t swim.”

“Can’t swim? Isn’t that like Survival 101?” I asked.

“Yeah well, I didn’t have a lot of time growing up to learn how. I suppose, as an adult, there’s no excuse. I haven’t made the time to embarrassingly find someone to teach me how to swim,” she explained, “good thing this colony seems a bit barren when it comes to rivers, lakes, and oceans.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’d take anathemas over a large body of water any day,” I joked. I heard her stifle a soft laugh. So, she did find me funny sometimes? Good to know her humor wasn’t all that dry. 

So, her parents were strict, borderline eugenic scientists. And, she never had fun growing up. Well, it was no wonder she seemed so miserable right? Surely, she needed to find some alone time to dabble in interesting hobbies or do something fun for once. Knowing her, though, she’d state such trivial matters to not be  productive. Learning to swim, though, was definitely a survival skill. 

“Problem,” Regina spoke over comms, breaking our conversation. Both of us glanced over to her datapad, seeing the probe stop dead in its tracks, some sort of barrier in the way. Well, maybe we did walk all this way for a dead end.

“Dead end!” Owen shouted unnecessarily as he approached the probe.

“No, not a dead end,” Jack immediately brushed past him. The probe had stopped at a large indent in the walls. She was right. It wasn’t a dead end, an empty space of nothing. It was a door, not like the type we were accustomed to with either handles or some sort of panel. 

“Well, it looks like a dead end to me,” Owen grumbled, seeing nothing important in the shape of the structure. 

“The probe senses something behind it, otherwise it would have gone into standby mode,” Jack muttered, placing her hands on the surface to gently feel it, “it’s a door, dumbass.”

She was right. Jack had only gotten a mere glance at what Regina had shown, and it was clear the probe was sensing empty space behind this barrier. A door it was, despite Owen’s attempt to want to just return back to his comfortable bed. Now comes the real question, how do we open it?

Jack’s hand followed a small, almost unnoticeable seam at the edges, finding it going into an indent into the side wall. There, she could feel soft individual ridges, like buttons for a combination. I walked over, putting my rifle aside for now.

“It’s a combination lock, looks like twenty different modules,” she glanced at me, “no numbers, or any indication of a language. It’s based on the ridges.”

My fingers gently prodded at them to feel the surface but not press anything, “It’s like touching a fucking medjool.”

“I’m surprised you know what that is,” she teased. I didn’t need her to remove her helmet to sense she was smiling. Regardless, she did eventually let that helmet collapse so she could view this puzzle without glass impeding her thought process. It was nice to see that raven hair again, and green eyes.

“Dates are tasty,” I shrugged, not caring how she judged my likeness for food, “how long do you think it will take?”

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. 

Great. Now, we wait.

Hours had passed since finding the door. Jack was in clear communication with her team, scanning and monitoring the buttons constantly. Their thought process was ingenious. Jack recommended with the help of scanning the buttons of finding evidence of wear and tear, narrowing down by touch and oils which ones were pressed more than others. Sadly, it was all twenty of them. 

“This fucking blows worse than a whore,” Owen groaned, laying down entirely on his backside, staring at the ceiling out of tiredness and boredom.

“Let her do her work,” Grimes sighed, bored himself. All of us were bored. Jack probably was too, but she was doing her best to figure out the combination. If she couldn’t figure out how to get a door open, then studying or investigating everything else would be a real challenge.

I had faith in her and her team.

“Can’t we just blow a nice hole through it?” Owen asked, glancing at me.

“We don’t know what’s behind there,” I shook my head, “seems like a waste of ordinance to me. Last thing we want to do is cause an explosion that sends all the anathemas here.”

“Jack…connection going spotty…storm.” voices rang through to the Doctor’s comms. Shit. This storm was jamming our communication, and pretty well too. Mostly static came through on our end, and it seemed to piss Jack off.

“Shit, repeat Doctor O’Brian, have you established a pattern?” Jack asked with frustration laced in her voice.

“Algorithms will…send results…possible combinations,” broke through the static before being ultimately silenced. 

Fucking algorithms. Although to be fair, at this moment, it wasn’t a bad idea. Instead of just pressing random buttons hoping it would come open, it sounded like based on the entire skin oil residue they could come out with more specific button mashing. Nothing predictable or statistical.

Nothing of what I was afraid of. 

“Well, maybe we should have headed back earlier instead of worrying about this stupid door,” Owen scowled, rising from his comfortable spot to stand, “Garcia, let’s go see how bad this storm is.”

“You’re not the one giving orders…” Garcia noted, glancing my way.

“Go ahead, report back as soon as you can. If it looks decent enough to head back, then we can try and rush back with the Sioc,” I ordered, seeing the two move.

“And if it looks bad?” Garcia questioned.

“Then we stay here for the night. We all have packs of gear for that very reason. Preferably stay here instead of near the rope, that way we only have one pathway to keep an eye on at night,” I ordered.

I could tell nobody was keen on spending the night here. Even Jack looked skeptical at the idea, and I couldn’t blame her. But driving through a sandstorm with limited communication seemed too dangerous and risky. Besides, if this algorithm took all night to calculate, then by morning this door could be open and we continue with our work.

Garcia and Owen were quick to take off, hoping there was a chance they’d see a glimmer of late afternoon sunlight to escape. I walked back to Jack, seeing some grime and black dirt residue on her forehead, along with slight wrinkles of frustration. 

“Hey, why don’t you take a break?” I asked, knowing she had spent practically all day on this thing. Just hearing her talk about all this was giving me a headache. Her having to do a lot of the brainwork was probably giving her a massive migraine. 

“Well, luckily it seems like the pattern doesn’t repeat itself,” she muttered to herself, looking at simulation runs on her datapad as if she didn’t even hear me. 

“How many different combinations are possible if they don’t repeat, and the order must be specific?” I asked, squatting down to be eye level with her.

“What’s the biggest number you can think of?” She answered with a question of her own, her tired eyes glancing at me.

“Uh…a gazillion?” I shrugged.

“Not a real number,” she laughed tiredly, “try more on the lines of quadrillion.”

“How many zeroes is that?” I tried picturing the number in my head.

“Too many,” she hummed, “I’m just worried what would happen if we don’t get the exact combination right. Doors, locked doors, are meant to hide, conceal, or secure something. I don’t know what will happen if we enter a wrong code.”

“If worst comes to worst…we blow the door open with a controlled explosion,” I sighed, not wanting that to be a possibility. 

“And give Owen that satisfaction?” Jack scowled, “I’d rather sit here and crunch numbers.”

“Boss,” Garcia’s voice broke through with some static but was much clearer than from the command post, “storm is bad, it’s a no-go on going home.”

“Copy, guess it’s sleepover time,” I said, both back to him and aloud. Everyone seemed to groan with frustration. Jack went back to sitting in the corner against the door, looking at her data. 

“You bring food? I have extra,” I offered her, knowing it was just dried meat and fruit but it would be satisfying enough.

“I have food,” she nodded, before adding, “Thank you, though.”

“How are you going to eat with…” I paused, glancing at her mask. She seemed to finally realize she wouldn’t get the privacy to do so. I could see those exhausted eyes falter with slight defeat. She’d have to take that mask off if she wanted to eat, and it was clear from her demeanor she wouldn’t do so around other people.

“I’ll be fine,” she assured me.

She’d rather starve than give us all the satisfaction of what laid beneath that mask. Admirable, but only worsened our curiosity. Surely, it couldn’t be that bad? The top half of her face looked perfectly fine, well sculpted…beautiful almost. No. She wasn’t beautiful, but she had decent looking features. Good looking. I guess I could compromise with that. She certainly wasn’t my type.

She did not eat. It worried me even more that throughout our little suppers, eating together and sharing stories, she sat alone in the corner. Every once in a while, someone on my team would glance over at her, hoping for a glimpse. I hated that they did so. I hated even more that I did it too, whenever she seemed to move awkwardly out of the corner of my eye.

We said nothing else that night, her and I. I arranged my team into firewatch stations of two hours each before going back to sleep. Jack of course was exempt. I needed her fully rested for tomorrow. I opted for the middle one, given it was the hardest and let the others fight for their slots. It took forever for me to sleep, even worse during my shift in the dark. I merely moved away from the group, laying on my stomach with my rifle on night vision to look for any heat signatures.

Nothing. We hadn’t heard or seen anything since that little banshee scream from earlier. It gave me hope that again this was hopefully not the nightmare we thought it could be. Perhaps there were only a handful of anathemas to destroy, and from there, I could work on destroying the next batch. 

Regina came to relieve me, tapping on my shoulder. When I moved from my position, eager to try and get a bit more sleep, I noticed something in her eyes. Her pupils were dilated, bloodshot, as if she hadn’t gotten any sleep at all.

What’s wrong?  

I keep hearing things.

I haven’t heard anything all night. What does it sound like ? Emotions were hardly noticeable in sign, but it was clear from her trembling hands that this was bothering her. More than bothering her, but rather haunting her.

Talking. Low, deep, conversations I can’t understand , she nervously put together. I wondered if it was the same thing I heard when that anathema spoke in front of us all in that unintelligible dialect. 

It sounds like in the walls , she clarified, although that didn’t help the sinking feeling in my gut. 

Either she had a faulty hearing aid. Or, it was doing its job too well and picking up sounds I hadn’t heard at all in the past hour. Either that, or she was going crazy and imagining it. Both scenarios seemed possible. Given her already frightened state, I hoped it was just the crazy scenario. She could be dehydrated or any other various medical problems that caused deliriousness. 

Turn your aids off, go back to sleep. I can take your shift , I ordered. Her tired eyes looked concerned, as if wondering if that was okay. Would I think anything less of her if she accepted that? Of course not, but I knew I didn’t always appear that way. I tried to be understanding when I could. 

I’m sorry , she apologized and I shook my head. I didn’t think I’d fall asleep easily anyways. I signed there was nothing to apologize for, and someone would wake her in the morning. Hopefully the noises wouldn’t be heard further and she could have some peace tonight.

Something didn’t sit right. Why did the anathema jump from the cavern depths with ease and attack, and they didn’t attack now? If it was them in the walls or wherever and knew we were here, why didn’t they strike? If it was a breach in territory, then they would attack now. 

What bothered me the most was that they talked, according to Regina. They, as in two or more. There was a possibility they could communicate in this anathema state, understand each other the same way we communicated daily. This was best kept between us for now, although in the morning I would share with Jacqueline to see what she thought.

Glancing back, she was tucked in that corner still alone, half a blanket covering her legs. She looked peaceful when asleep, the only time she really got to know the true meaning of rest. Could a woman who looked like that really work for Sabbath? What would her life have been like if she had chosen that photography route? What would mine if Sabbath hadn’t stolen me from my home?

I glanced back at my scope, trying to find something else to think about. Not about Jack’s peaceful face, hair falling between her eyes. Not about Regina’s comments about hearing noises I couldn’t. Not about the possibility of a future that wasn’t ours, if our childhoods had been different.

We’d never know the full truth of the butterfly effects that happened in our lives. Certainly, we both wouldn’t be here together, and stuck on Colony Negative. Given a choice, something I always lacked, I would be far away from this place, maybe somewhere with a beach, soaking up the sun and a nice frozen cocktail.

And with Jacqueline drowning in the background, not able to swim. 

Chapter Text

I could feel an uneasiness in my core, a heaviness as my joints froze as I began to slowly wake up. There resided a fear so paralyzing that I couldn’t recollect thoughts of yesterday or last night. I had my fair share of terrors in the night, nightmares or sleep paralysis. This felt too real. IT felt like it hovered over me, inches away, watching and waiting. 

Yet, the shuffling of people moving and boots scraping these black floors made me think this fear originated elsewhere. It still remained, and I didn’t dare open my eyes yet. It wasn’t until I could feel a presence beside me, lingering, boots pointed towards me.

Watching me. I was being watched, and not that of a guardian angel or aura of protection. I feared I couldn’t shake the demon trying to latch onto me, cling to me like a pack I couldn’t remove. Whatever darkness this was, it spoke of an omen, warning me if I were to continue in my work.

“What are you doing?” Damien’s voice rose over what had been practical silence. My fear worsened upon the realization it was him, or that’s what my mind first thought. It almost saddened me that my mind didn’t immediately refute the notion of him being a danger.

“I was just-” Owen spoke, moving away from me. My eyes flashed open, the two agents above me not even realizing I was awake. 

“Fucking stay away from her,” Damien practically scowled, and quietly too for nobody else to hear, “Now’s not the time to gawk. Get to work.”

“Yes sir,” Owen clenched his jaw as he walked away, feeling like a scolded child who had been caught. Damien watched him walk away, tiredness and stress in his gray eyes. When he finally glanced at me, those darkened and haunted eyes softened, before dilating in surprise I was awake. 

“Morning,” he kneeled down slightly, pulling something from one of his armor pockets before handing it to me.

It was a squeezable bottle of some sort of liquid. With how quickly he had forced it into my hands, he clearly didn’t want anyone seeing.

“Hi,” I sat up and glanced at it, “what is this?”

“Liquid protein. I’m tired of hearing your stomach growl,” He observed with slight irritation. I hummed at his answer, wondering why he was being so secretive about it if it was merely just a filling protein shake. But, I nodded and quickly unscrewed the cap, drinking the semi-thick fluid with ease with the opening in my mask. It tasted like shit, like a mock version of a cheap margarita. 

“Thanks,” I muttered, washing it down with a long sip of water. When I started putting my things in order, I could see Regina was the only agent still sitting down, staring tiredly at the wall. “What’s wrong with Regina?”

Damien glanced back at her for a moment, grimacing, before looking at me.

“Team. Jack and I are going to check on the weather and test for communications. If we aren’t back in ten minutes, well, assume we’re dead,” Damien announced loudly to the group, moving away to grab his rifle. 

Odd way to answer my question, not answering it at all. To me, it sounded like I would get one but not around others. As much as I didn’t like the idea of wandering around tunnels with Damien alone, that fearful feeling in my gut faded the further away I was from Owen. I made sure to secure my gear, holding only my datapad which still had lost connection with my team, before following Damien.

He said nothing, even keeping his helmet off for the time being as we walked to the center of this maze. The sun was slowly peeking through, but the wind still sounded strong from so high up. The storm was waning, but it was hard to tell how long it would last. Part of me felt like we should just leave now and come back later. Another part felt so intrigued to figure out what was inside. 

“Regina said she was hearing voices,” Damien finally said, “I had Garcia check everyone’s vitals this morning and do a full scan on her. Nothing wrong with her, at least medically.”

“That seems rather dismissive of someone who is in your care,” I critiqued, seeing him tense up at my words, “Sorry, just…what were the voices saying?”

“She didn’t know what. She said it wasn’t anything she could understand. All she could make of it was that it sounded muffled, like hearing a noisy neighbor through thick and dense walls,” Damien explained, “She brought it up during the firewatch shift change. I hadn’t heard anything all night.”

“Okay,” I breathed out, “Is it possible her hearing devices are picking up a frequency we can’t?” 

“That’s what I wanted to ask you.”

“Well, it seems a much more rational assumption than thinking she’s crazy,” I retorted, “Could she distinguish if it was a conversation, or just verbal thoughts floating in the air?”

“As far as I know, you’re the only thing here that talks to themselves,” Damien teased, before his little smirk faltered, “She said it sounded like two. I sent her back to sleep, and told her to turn the aids off. Clearly, it’s still shaken her up a bit.”

“Doctor Deveraux, can you hear me?” a scratchy voice came over my comms, linked to our communication chip.

“Barely, can you hear me?” I asked.

“Storm is parting, but only briefly. You might have a two hour window before it worsens again,” Doctor O’Brien explained, “Sending you the results now. It came up with five most likely results.”

“Any idea on what the ridges represent?” I asked, watching as the report was being sent to my datapad. All five had similar probabilities based on what I articulated, skin oils, wear and tear of the ‘buttons’, and overall pattern. 

“Negative, still working on that.”

“Copy. We’ll try these and see how it goes. Thanks,” I sighed, looking at Damien.

“Well, at least five sounds better than a quadrillion,” he offered some optimism.

I froze slightly, knowing he wasn’t able to hear that, “I don’t believe you have access to my comms.”

He made a noise equivalent to ‘oops’ before shrugging, “I have access to everyone’s. Even the private ones my team thinks are private. I work in intelligence, I like to know everything.”

Just the very thing I hated, someone spying on conversations.

“About that comment I made yesterday morning…” I crossed my arms, knowing if he was in my comms he would’ve heard it. And he just confirmed he could hear them from the very beginning.

“Oh, the one about my ego being bigger than…?” he smirked, clearly having heard it yesterday, “I forgot the last part of the metaphor.”

I groaned softly, rolling my eyes, “Yes, that comment.”

“Go on…say it,” he waited.

“Your ‘shrimp of a dick’...” I answered quickly, knowing he was just trying to get on my nerves.

“Ah yes, that was it. No offense taken by the way,” he winked, “Can’t be offended by something that’s not true. I’ll just consider it a part of your beautiful vocabulary of figurative language.” 

“Those are some big words,” I cleared my throat, “anyways, two hours before that storm worsens. How about we try to open the door, take a look inside, run some scans, and head back?”

“Sounds good to me,” he agreed, taking one last look up at the cave entrance before moving back towards the central tunnel. SIlence once more. 

I didn’t exactly mind Damien having access to comms. I was more upset at the fact I didn’t think he’d have access. Stupid of me to assume that. It’s not like any of this talk between my scientists was classified or something he didn’t need to know. If anything, I agreed it was best he did have access to everyone’s comms, just in case things got out of hand. 

“Thank you…about Owen by the way,” I slipped my helmet on, having a moment of clarity.

“Mm, you shouldn’t have to thank me for common decency. It’s rude to stare,” Damien replied, “Trust me, if I could send him back to Milithreat, I would. But despite his egg-shaped brain, he’s the best at demolitions. I’d trust my life with him being able to disarm a nuclear bomb, but even I don’t like being in the same room with him.”

“He doesn’t like me,” I sighed, knowing I could do nothing to change that. It’s not like I even wanted him to like me, but basic respect would be nice.

“I don’t like you,” Damien reminded me, “but he’s braindead if he thinks we can succeed in this mission without you. He shouldn’t dare try anything troublesome with you.”

“Are your compliments always backhanded?” I questioned. 

“For you? Always,” he chuckled softly, leading the way back. I ignored the way his laugh reverberated in my ears, like a sinful, hair raising whisper against the softest part of my neck. Instead, I focused on the data at hand as we returned to the group. 

“Hey, has anyone been in my bag? I swore I had twelve protein shakes in here…” Grimes asked, glancing down at his supply pack.

I immediately side-eyed Damein through my helmet, which luckily nobody could see. Damien didn’t say or do anything, besides glance at the others in confusion. Grimes didn’t seem overly upset, only confused. Perhaps he had mistakenly packed eleven instead of twelve. 

A liar. An eavesdropper. And now a thief. Damien’s reputation was certainly growing notorious with me. 

Now, it was about getting that door open. Five choices, five potential possibilities, and who was to say what could happen if I picked the wrong one Luckily, it seemed like the first eight of the twenty digits were all the same, so I would know quickly if even that was wrong. I could feel all eyes on me, eager eyes as if to conclude the science in my work. I feared the verbal backlash I wouldn’t be able to hear if this failed. 

Taking a deep breath, I pressed the first button on the pattern, hearing a noise soon after. Not a noise of clicking or a beep like some buttons were, but a deep, oddly pitched grunt almost. The second one was of a similar grunt, different pitch and sound. I took another glance at the ridges, realizing what they could symbolize.

“O’Brien, did you hear that?” I asked.

“Yeah, odd. The buttons correspond with a unique sound,” he agreed.

“Analyze the ridges as soundwaves, possibly inverted,” I ordered.

“They would be straight lines, Doctor,” another scientist chimed in.

“I know. Test the sounds like in a bowl, a circle, similar to echolocation. And then reference those sounds over the recordings and see if they correspond,” I added, seeing them run the tests over my datapad before my very eyes. 

Damien stood behind my shoulder, eyes glaring down, watching live the two sounds made played over and over again. My team adjusted each setting, inverting them, before adjusting the pitch and audio settings. Sure enough, they were mirror images of each other, three bends of sound waves to the right, with the corresponding image just bending to the left. 

“Impressive,” Damien muttered, eyes moving from the datapad to me.

“O’Brien, analyze the rest of the buttons and what sounds they make. Once complete, send all five results of the sounds together back to me,” I paced, hearing the scientists have that same awed optimism. 

I paced for a good two minutes, the rest of the agents talking amongst themselves or watching the empty space behind us. It wasn’t until I got the results back that everyone seemed to perk up. Twenty individual and robotic deep tones of pitch played five times, each of them unique after the eighth node. It wasn’t until the last one played that I noticed Regina stir uncomfortably. I played it again, seeing her already pale skin grow whiter.

Again , she signed to me.

I played the sound sequence again, every one of us having to hear that rhythmic, deep and demonic set of purrs. I paid no mind to the data, but rather looked at Regina. Damien seemed to understand too, walking over to her.

“Is this something you heard?” Damien asked, before signing it as well.

She nodded immediately, wet and fearful tears pooling in her blue eyes, “Try that one.”

No data or real analytics could come to a conclusion that the last module of five was the correct one. But, I knew something of intuition, a superpower certain individuals had. Regina could not fake the fear seizing her. She had heard this before and there was no reason not to believe her.

Was someone whispering her the password ? I asked myself, finishing the sequence. 

The door clicked before opening, lowering slowly. Damien was quick to step in front of me, rifle raised for any dangers that were directly behind. Instead of an empty tunnel like behind us, corpses laid at the door. Five of them, to be precise. With the door completely clear, the stench of rotting corpses hit all of our noses.

“Oh fuck,” Grimes gagged. I immediately adjusted the settings of my mask, wanting to filter that rotten stink away. Blood I could handle, but not the smell of decomposing rot.

“The door must’ve blocked the smell,” Owen sounded on the verge of throwing up. 

Damien was the first brave one to step across the threshold, his foot gently nudging one of the bodies. One good kick set the one face down rolling to his back. All of them wore white thin fabric armor, weapons laying at their sides. Every single one of them had their bodies turned towards the door, bodies pressed so closely together in such a small space. 

“They tried to open the door,” Damien observed, picking up one hand to show the fabric of their gloves had been torn by friction. Their skin and nails were scraped with blood from the friction with the ground. Claw marks and indents were in the floor, similar to the walls earlier, as they tried to somehow dig under the door in hopes of moving it aside. They must have not known the door was meant to lower, and never tried to scratch above it.

“Uhm,” Garcia swallowed, holding his datapad above them, “these men died at least five days ago, if not longer. Clearly, all five of them are in the process of decomposition.”

“Clearly,” I muttered to myself, finding myself to keep staring at them. They were trying to escape something. If it were the anathemas, then why did they not turn? If the anathemas could bite and turn someone, did they not want to come for these men? Perhaps Ruenova’s theory about them not being able to turn after death was incorrect. 

“They’re from District One,” Damien noted, “Odd, given they weren’t known to have any territory of Colony Negative near us.”

“Maybe they got lost, took a wrong turn,” Grimes added. It was a possibility. Damien didn’t seem so sure about that. 

“Any cause of death? I’m not seeing any exit wounds. No bruises or cuts other than the peeling from fingers,” Damien asked, being the closest as he kept touching the bodies. I noticed even he was growing wary. He must’ve dealt with a thousand corpses in his lifetime, but this was different. Something about this place just made everything different. 

“Data here says asphyxiation. Very sudden asphyxiation,” Garcia swallowed.

“Well, they weren’t wearing their helmets. In fact, they’re still wearing just the base layers of their armor. Thin tunics meant for insulation from their actual gear, which is nowhere to be found. If they had their helmets, they would have survived,” Damien slowly began to move the bodies aside towards an edge of the tunnel walls, laying them on their backs one by one. 

I moved to take a picture, lining up the grim burial before hesitating to press the button. It was like something told me internally not to document this, yet I did so anyways, taking a few angled shots.

“Well, their gear must be around here somewhere, let’s go take a look,” Damien ordered, already walking away. Everyone else hesitated, all looking at me in hopes maybe I’d counteract that command. But even I was curious as to whatever room they had come from and how they managed to end up here.

We didn’t have to walk for very long before noticing a very wide, open room. It was spacious yet full at the same time. Long benches made of the same black material were arranged strategically throughout the room, almost like an amphitheater. The blackness of everything inside pointed to a room of void, yet there was a lightness in the air that indicated otherwise. 

“Room is clear,” Damien confirmed once all corners were checked. The room had two other entrances with doors wide open, one heading east and the other west. “Split into groups of two to monitor each tunnel. Regina, begin probing once more. Jack…do your thing.”

Whatever that is, I could hear him refuse to finish saying. 

“It almost looks like a…” one of the scientists trailed off in my comms.

“Like a learning environment. A school. A church. Something where people sat and looked at something…” I added, hearing mumbles of wondrous affirmation. 

The blank wall where it seemed all the benches were angled to had nothing of initial indication of anything special. It wasn’t until I noticed a square cut in the floor, as if something could rise from the ground. A podium perhaps? 

“Doctor, I’m sensing some electronic readings from that spot heading to your left. Is there a panel there?” 

I turned my head, seeing a panel meshed into the wall an exact replica of the one used to open the door, “Indeed.”

It had the same ridged buttons before, the exact same, just placed in a different order of four by five rows. Now came the question, was the code the same for the door as it was here, or was this something different entirely? I didn’t think anyone here wanted to spend another five hours running tests, especially with those corpses still a premonition to this room. We didn’t have five hours at our leisure, and I was half eager to leave as well. 

A hot shower sounded like such a good luxury right now.

I pressed the same sequence as the one that opened the door, hearing another soft click. I couldn’t help but smirk with satisfaction. That indent in the floor opened up, an orb shaped machine rising before immediately flashing images rapidly across the blank wall. I was right. This was some sort of room to project knowledge. 

But knowledge of…what?

The images were predominantly white with speckles of black. They flashed every five seconds to a new image. With how rapid it was, it wasn’t allowing me to even begin to analyze whatever these symbols were before jumping to the next one. I came here expecting things like…books, art, any sort of literature. So far, all I had was verbal linguistics and now odd black and white images. This was absolutely nothing like my previous studies. 

If anything, it seemed so…nonhuman. 

“Any idea what it means?” Damien asked, his arm brushing against mine. I didn’t even notice him being that close with my eyes plastered to the projections.

“No,” I answered honestly, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It kinda looks like…” Damien hesitated, immediately going into a private comm with me, “Sabbath used to run these inkblot tests. They were meant to judge our emotional intelligence and hesitancy in certain images.”

“Those tests are designed for collecting perceptions on needs, motives, conflicts…feelings. They’re personal, slow, in a more relaxed environment,” I answered, having heard about them before, “This is different. They’re quick, too quick. By the time you come up with a feeling on one image, it immediately changes.”

“Yeah, and this room could seat maybe a hundred…people or whatever sat here before,” Damien added, “which doesn’t make it personal.”

“I’ll keep your inkblot theory as a thought,” I sighed.

“Doctor Deveraux, I have an electronic technician on the line,” David chimed in.

“Go ahead,” I answered.

“That projector model looks very similar to an early concept of the D120-S stationary projector used maybe…a couple centuries ago by District One,” a soft voice spoke over the scratchy radio, “this is a very weird similarity, but it’s possible that underneath that orb there’s a port.” 

“And if there’s a port…” 

“Then there’s a chance to download this data,” she finished my thoughts for me. Good. Great, actually. 

I slowly walked over to it, seeing the platform the projector set base on a good three feet dipped from the main floor. I crawled under, ignoring the flashing lights of irritation before letting my fingers prod and poke around. It all felt smooth, until there was a slight, almost miniscule indent. 

“I think I found one,” I answered excitedly, laying on my backside before digging through my tool kit for a cord extension. Even if their technology was dated, or rather ours were advanced, the cord should automatically adjust to the port, if it was meant for connection. Sure enough, it formed to the small mirco-slot, slipping in beautifully. 

I connected my datapad to the other end of the cable, immediately seeing it detect a flurry of information. 

Download data?

“Yes please,” I answered myself, hitting yes before seeing the size of the file trying to compress. Shit. This might take some time, which we still had. 

Or, so I thought.

“Sir, probe just picked up a lifeform on the west tunnel, half a mile down,” Regina immediately ran to Damien, showing him the red dot standing still.

“Can you switch to the probes camera mode?” he asked, seeing her do so. Black. Pitch black. Even if this thing was moving, it wasn’t possible to see any inch of movement with how dark this was.

“Shit, there’s more appearing,” Regina noted with fear in her voice. 

“Everyone, west tunnel now, safety off and ready to fire,” Damien ordered, seeing concern and hesitancy before everyone moved to set up their ammunitions and firearms to point that way.

Despite all the movement of agents, I almost felt oblivious to it. That is, until Damien poked his helmet underneath the projector to see what I was doing.

“Hey, pack up, let’s get the fuck out of here,” he demanded.

“It’s downloading,” I pointed the tablet towards him.

“We can do that another time. We’ve got movement from the west and I don’t think they’re friendly,” he insisted with urgency, grabbing my arm.

“Jack, if you disconnect now we might lose that data,” David pointed out.

“Damien, I’m not leaving without this data,” I told him, immediately shrugging my arm away from his grip.

A shot rang out from the group, the laser highlighting the darkness with a blue hue. Then another shot, followed by another.

“ANATHEMAS!” Grimes shouted, all the agents firing their weapons down that hall. 

“Let’s fucking go!” Damien grabbed my arm again harshly, about to drag me out of that hole.

“Damien, stop!” I barked at him, “Give me time, it’s halfway complete.”

“We don’t have time!”

Snarls and screams were heard. One anathema breached the defense with a leap, placing itself between Damien and his men. Yet, Damien was quick to meet it head on, slicing across the upside down head across the neck. The anathema screamed in pain before choking on its own blood. 

Fuck. I really didn’t have a lot of time. 

Regina who remained near me took off at the sight, heading all the way down the South tunnel where we came from. I couldn’t blame her. But that action alone started a chain of events that fear was known for instigating. Owen had noticed her taking off and immediately left his post.

“Fuck this shit,” he cursed, running soon after her. The rest began to follow suit, despite commands, leaving Damien and Grimes to slowly back away from the tunnel still firing their weapons.

“Jacqueline!” Damien turned to me once more, as if insisting this was the final call. He was leaving too, and I could either go with him, or take this risk.

“It’s almost done, just go to the door! You know how to close it, I’ll meet you there,” I stated, glaring back at the download. It was nearly there, almost complete. I might not know how to fight, but I could run. Damien and Grime’s rapid fire was buying me time. 

I need this data. I needed it. If I don't get it now, it could become corrupted or I might not get a chance like this again. If I wanted answers, these were the risks I had to take. 

One anathema charged at Damien, causing him to dive to the side with a quick dodge. His red laser sword hummed and scorched with each swing, the screams from the anathemas only increasing. Gods, it sounded like there were ten or more, all preparing to breach this room. 

“Hurry up!” Damien scowled, seeing Grimes head towards the door. And when he did, he noticed it beginning to shut.

“Damien, it’s closing now!” Grimes shouted, extending his hand to his superior, “Come on!”

Almost there. I was almost there. Ninety. Ninety-five. Ninety-six. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed movement on the ceiling. An anathema crawled all the way up there, seeing my leg stick out from the awkward position I was laying in. I remained still, seeing the download had completed at one hundred. Slowly, I pulled the cord, beginning to tuck my datapad away. 

The knife attached to my thigh clanged with the metal upon the slight movement, making a noise above the silence. And that was all the anathema needed to attack. I immediately pulled my feet in, cramped in this indent of the floor as the anathema thrashed above. Its jaws chomped loudly, snapping and eagerly wanting to make any contact with me it could. 

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck!” I cursed, my hand moving to unsheath my laser sword. I had to angle my elbow just right to do so, and then I felt it. A sharp pain met my forearm, feeling punctures to the muscles and bones. 

More shots rang out before I saw red. I thought it was my own blood at first blinding my eyes, but it was the glow of a ruby, heating and imploding the anathema from the inside. Damien yanked his sword away from its neck and upper torso, black blood splattering all over me. With a final shriek, it froze and slithered into this small space with me. Its blood began to pool, soaking the fibers of my armor, stinging the wound on my arm, its weight heavy on top of me. 

When I pulled my arm out, my heart stopped at the sight of it.

It bit me. It fucking bit me.

Chapter Text

My heart pounded with thrill. My jaw clenched with anger, a fury that was unleashed on every anathema within my proximity. Adrenaline was peaking, regenerated every time an anathema screamed its painful death as I chopped their heads off. These ones were different. They were darker, unlike the lighter ones I had previously experienced. They were just as quick and dangerous, but nothing special. They were nothing I couldn’t handle. 

Apparently, my team thought otherwise. 

I panted heavily over the last anathema, feeling sweat drench in my armor to later be recycled into water for later. I yanked my laser sword out, which by now looked more black than red with the amount of blood and gore. No matter. Black was just as suitable a color. The anathemas were no longer, and so was my fucking team.

I ran back over to the door, now fully closed, and there was no panel on my side.

“Fuck, Grimes, can you hear me?” I asked through comms. No response. It was static once more, as if the door itself was blocking signals just as bad as the incoming storms. It was possible. It was fucking irritating. I removed my helmet, hoping maybe the door would allow sounds of shouts. Given the state of the five corpses beside me, I doubted it. 

“Guys!? Hey, can you hear me?!” I shouted loudly at the top of my lungs. 

Nothing. Which meant I was stuck here. In fact, we were stuck here.

The entire reason I stayed behind was because of her. I should have dragged her ass out of there, but I decided to trust her instead. Now, look where it got us? 

When I turned around, she was still nowhere to be found. I thought perhaps after the fighting stopped and my shouting, she’d climb out of that little hole. Yet, the entire room remained completely still, despite those stupid black and white projections flashing continuously off the walls. 

“Jack?” I asked, hearing no response, “Doctor Deveraux?”

Nothing. Fear began to seize my veins, traveling towards my heart ready to pierce it. No. She couldn’t be dead, I protected her, right? There was a greater fear with her being dead: it was being alone in here. Despite all my experience, all the various alien corpses around me, I knew I couldn’t survive here. Not alone. 

“Jacqueline!?” I shouted this time, moving over to that hole. I immediately dragged the frozen anathema away, seeing it had collapsed on top of her. A sigh of relief left my lips as I saw a flash of those green eyes. She looked just as catatonic as the alien, barely breathing because I couldn’t even hear it from her mask. Her helmet was cracked, meaning she’d definitely need another one once we returned. If, we returned.

“Gods, Jack, why didn’t you say something?” I asked, moving to help her out but she immediately shriveled back.

“No, stay back,” she demanded harshly.

“Jack, it’s alright, they’re all gone,” I assured her, reaching forward. She immediately kicked me in the face, the heel of her boot smashing perfectly into my nose. I knew from the stinging sensation and gushing of blood she had broken it upon contact.

“Ow! Fuck! You fucking bitch,” I scowled, using one hand to pinch the bridge of my nose, “get out of there, this is all your fucking fault.”

“Damien, no. Stop,” her voice changed from demanding to pleading, “Get out of here.”

“Not without you-”

“It bit me,” she finally admitted. The revelation stunned me. I stared at her astounded, still feeling blood gush from my nose despite my heart stopping. What? It bit her?

She said nothing more but showed me her arm, one she had hidden with her torso. The light armor and fabric was torn with one good circular bite. Blood gushed from the wound, much worse than my nose. So the thing had latched its jaws into her, meaning she’d turn. No. Fuck. If anyone had to turn, it couldn’t be her. 

That stubborn, aggressive perseverance was pounding in my head. I didn’t know what exactly to call it: indomitable human spirit, bravery, or the stupid belief I was untouchable. I could feel it spike in my blood like glucose, filling me with this odd sense of hope that defeated all logical thought. I had to be untouchable, because that would make her untouchable.

“We don’t know what will happen, let me help you out and clean that up,” I calmed my breathing, trying to not let her panic radiate towards me. Someone had to be calm in this situation, and it already wasn’t her. 

“Fuck, we know exactly what happens! You and I have both seen it,”  she shook her head, not as optimistic as I. She was a pessimist at heart, and right now, she was coming to terms with dying. She slowly slid out, not to start moving but to start taking her datapad and handing it to me.

I moved closer, seeing her hand rest firmly on her knife, “Easy. Let’s just think for a moment.”

“No time. I need you to kill me,” she insisted, the words shocking me. 

“What? You’re fucking joking,” I shook my head. Shit. I’ve killed hundreds of people in my lifetime, some innocent, some deserving of it. I’ve killed people so personally and point blank without so much as blinking. This? I didn’t like the hesitation that creeped into my heart when she had mentioned having to kill her.

“I’d do it myself but...I’ve never killed anything before,” her voice broke, scratchy, full of fear. She didn’t have the bravery to kill herself, if courage could ever be coined with suicide. In some aspects, it was brave. This? It just didn’t feel right.

How could I know what felt right, when all my life had been filled with wrong?

“Look, Garcia left some of his supplies while he retreated. He might have a medical scanner in that bag. Let me check your vitals, fix up that arm, and go from there. Okay?” I asked, slowly walking over to the small duffel bag left behind. Well, at least he had left this here amidst all the chaos. Jack seemed to nod slowly and climb out, a small bit of relief in our anxious hearts. I opened his bag, finding exactly what I needed to patch her up. 

I walked back over to her, seeing her lean against the wall, taking deep breaths to calm herself. Her fingers still lingered by her knife and sword, as if at any sign of changing she’d unsheath it and draw the blade across her neck. I pulled the small scanning device over to her, taking a moment to figure out how to compute it before running a scan.

The only negatives that came up in the scan were the bite puncture, blood loss, and crazy high heartbeat.

“You’re good, so far,” I noted.

“Scanner has a more accurate measure in the handle. Remove the cap, there should be a needle. It will provide a more accurate reading,” she insisted, not entirely convinced. I removed the plastic handle like she said, seeing a rather large needle that even made me uncomfortable.

“Uh, where do you want me to-” She ignored my question, grabbing it from me before jabbing it straight into her thigh with a painful groan. When she yanked it back out, her eyes desperately darted to the results. And those results were still the same as they were a minute ago. Despite the results, it didn’t help ease her heart rate.

“Alright, let me clean this up,” I whispered to her, moving to the sleeve to tear it completely and have more access to the wound. She said nothing, staring at the wall behind me as I began to clean the residue of blood to get a clearer picture of what I was working with. I wasn’t a field medic by any means, but I had my fair share of stitching up wounds.

Once the bleeding slowly halted, I prepared the small stitch gun in Garcia’s kit to start pulling the skin together. She flinched slightly, my free hand immediately moving to her thigh to steady her. For once, she didn’t seem to mind the touch. I couldn’t tell what bothered her more, the stitching, or the idea she could turn into those things.

“So, how would you like me to kill you if it comes to that?” I asked, mostly to keep her mind distracted.

She scoffed, looking away for a moment, “You’re the expert at killing. What’s the most painless, easiest for you? You’ll have to cut my head off no matter what, just in case.”

The very thought of that was not appealing whatsoever. I hated her, yes. But…I didn’t actually want to kill her. She hadn’t exactly given me a real reason to.

“I suppose a bullet to the cranium works. Decapitating you now could still keep you alive, momentarily,” I hummed, my hand leaving her thigh to the wrist of her arm, keeping it steady as it finished.

“Alright, so I show signs of turning, just aim for the head. And don’t miss,” she insisted.

“I never miss,” I smirked, before letting that smile falter, “You’re going to be alright. You’re not going to turn into one of those things.”

“What makes you sound so sure?” she asked, genuinely curious at my optimism. She didn’t know if I was just telling this to her to help soften the blow, let her die in peace, or if I meant it. I meant it, she just had a very hard time believing me.

“You said so yourself, these things aren’t zombies. And if they were, then you’d definitely be turning right now,” I teased, seeing she wasn’t amused, “In all honesty, I don’t know. We still don’t know a lot about these things. I suppose if one bite or scratch is all that is needed, we’d be doomed.”

Jack waited as the stitching finally completed, saying nothing further for the moment. I made sure to reclean the wound, her body growing numb at it all before I wrapped it with bandages. Hopefully, these anathemas couldn’t sense blood like sharks, otherwise this wound was just one giant tracking device. As soon as I pulled away, I heard her stab herself again with that needle. 

As before, the same result, minus the blood loss. She was fine.

Her eyes glanced up at me and I was unable to decipher her emotions, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” I asked.

“You know what for. I put your team at risk, I should have pulled out sooner, data be damned,” she explained.

“My team should have stayed. Our job is to protect you, and we could very well fail at that today,” I shook my head. I wanted to be angry at her, to shake her shoulders and tell her what a fucking idiot she was. I just couldn’t. Yes, this was her fault, but I didn’t want her potential last thoughts to be such. 

“Whatever happens, promise me you’ll take this datapad back with you,” she insisted, looking at me directly in the eyes, “Promise?”

“Yeah, yeah. I promise, Jacqueline,” I nodded. She didn’t seem upset that I called her by her full name. She probably didn’t even realize I had said it. Beautiful name, so beautiful I felt like she shouldn’t keep it shortened. 

She attempted to stand up and I rose to my feet, standing by if she needed help. Her body language alone showed she had no intention of grasping my arms for balance. She steadied herself for a moment, taking a deep breath. Then, I saw those eyes of her flutter with confusion and exhaustion. Her body immediately went limp, feinting forward before I caught her in my arms.

“Shit. Jack, stay with me,” I felt panic begin to set in. I curled her body gently, making sure she was even still alive. Her heart rate was still fast, but not dangerously so. She showed no signs of turning. Maybe she just fainted from the stress her own thoughts had turned into. 

Now what?

I could leave her here, find a place to hide her. If she turned while I was out, so be it. I could come back for her datapad another time, she’d live…as an anathema. She wouldn’t want that, though. Who would want to roam the rest of their lives as some brainless alien? No. I couldn’t leave her here. That was the most logical solution, but I wasn’t going to take that risk. 

I slowly secured my gear with one arm, making sure to pack Garcia’s supplies back up too before attaching that to my pack. Once everything was ready to go, I slowly lifted Jack to rest on my left shoulder. She was much lighter than I thought, even with her gear and supplies. My right hand carried my rifle, leveled with the surface. If she showed signs of turning, thrashing into her evolutionary state, I could easily drop her and finish her off. 

“Ok, now the question is…east or west?” I muttered to myself. The anathemas came from the east tunnel, so my instinct was to go westward. 

I didn’t know how much time had passed walking through the dark. The only light I had was attached to my rifle, acting as both an accurate area of fire, but also a flashlight. Jack stirred a few times in her unconscious state, but not enough to cause much concern. The longer she spent draped over my shoulder without turning, the more comfortable and cocky I felt that she wasn’t going to transform. 

Tunnels turned into rooms, which turned into more tunnels. I made sure to record as much as I could, since I didn’t bother to explore and Jack could review this footage later for anything important. I was just trying to use my sense of direction to get back to the surface and care not for any details around me. Surely there were other cave entrances the other Districts used. Finding one of those would be better than lingering down here. 

Eventually I had to take a break, finding a small room almost equivalent to barracks. Hard black steel beds protruded from the walls, evenly spaced to allow room to dump our gear.. I placed Jack on one, my fingers touching her pulse to find it still steady before brushing some hair from her eyes. There was a temptation to let my fingers drape over her mask, pry gently at the seams and remove it entirely. Would she even wake up?

No. I couldn’t invade her privacy like that. I couldn’t carry her all this way, stitch her wounds, attempt to protect her and damage her trust. We had very little, but it still existed. Removing that mask, and her finding out about it was worse than even thinking about killing her. She’d probably try to kill me and I wouldn’t blame her. 

I focused on cleaning the blood from my nose and lips, wincing every time my fingers touched near the bridge. She smashed my nose pretty damn good. Despite hurting me, there was something admirable about it. It was partially the reason why I firmly believed she wouldn’t change. She was a fighter, not of the same equivalence as me on a physical level. She was a survivor. That was a better term to use. She’d fight to survive, and to me that was all that mattered. 

I glanced at my datapad, not having any good connection to my team. Instead I just reviewed the various files of targets on my list. The one that stood out the most was a District Three scientist, last location unknown. It sounded like he wasn’t in communication with the rest of his district, so to me he was probably dead. The only thing recognizable about him was a dragon tattoo across his neck. If I found a corpse like that, I’d mark him off the list as killed in action. 

I must have dozed off in a slight restful sleep, because when I woke up, I heard small grunts and the sounds of a puncture. Despite closed eyes, my fingers danced to the handle of my blade, knowing I might have to use it as soon as my eyes opened. Instead of finding an anathema, I found Jack standing up, now puncturing the needle into her stomach for a more accurate measure. 

She got her reading within seconds, and despite that, plunged the needle back in. She was going borderline insane, medically anxious. It didn’t matter what those readings said. She wouldn’t stop until it told her exactly what she was expecting: immediate death. I rose from my little sleeping spot, not even noticed by her as she kept staring at the screen. As soon as I got close enough, I grabbed the kit from her before throwing it harshly into the wall. The machine shattered, just like the illusion behind her eyes. 

“I…what did you just do!?” she asked, glancing at me.

“If you would have turned you would have done it already,” I explained, “Stop fucking hurting yourself. You’ve punctured yourself so much, you have more holes than a fucking sponge.” 

She remained silent, taking a deep breath. It was then she finally began to really take hold of her surroundings, “Where are we?”

“No clue, I didn’t really pay attention to where we were going,” I shrugged, “figured we’d find a way out eventually, loop around back to those various tunnels at our starting point.”

“And you haven’t heard from anyone?” she asked.

“No. Have you?” I returned the question, despite knowing her answer was the same as mine, “I think this place jams communication in a lot of parts.”

“I think it is the material this is all made out of. Once we figure that out, we can strengthen our signal strength in hopes of penetrating it,” she sighed. I could already see her brain return to its logical state, going to calculations and heartlessness.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” I began to pack up, knowing we should keep moving. Movement was survival in a place like this.

“For what?” 

“Uh, clearly saving your life, not leaving you behind,” I scoffed, wondering why she wasn’t the least bit grateful. It’s almost like she wanted to fucking turn into an anathema. 

“I thought that was your job,” she crossed her arms, those dangerous thin eyebrows of hers narrowing. Well, it seems like she was back to her sneering, healthy ways.

“I mean, it is. But I could have left you there and waited for the team to open those doors another time, or you know, let you get bit again,” I insisted, “I thought you’d be more appreciative, but your tone suggests otherwise.”

“You should have left me there. Now, we have no idea where we are with limited supplies and information, no reconnaissance, and I’m stuck in all of this with you,” she rolled her eyes.

“I mean if the roles were reversed-”

“I would have left you there,” she interrupted me.

“Wow, you really are heartless,” I pointed out, which she definitely took personally.

“You’re the one with no fucking feelings, Damien. Or if you do have any, it’s joy at utter chaos. Admit it, you enjoy it when things fall apart around you. You relish, delight in it. Despite your team cowardly fleeing, despite me disobeying your orders and getting bit…you liked it. No, you loved it,” she spat. 

And she was right. That was what made my lip twitch in response. She was right that I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the highs and lows, my heart racing before stopping and repeating the process over and over again. I enjoyed hearing those anathemas scream. I enjoyed the idea of Jack suffering, of hearing her grunt in frustration or pain. I just hadn’t enjoyed the thought of having to kill her myself.

“Mm, I should have killed you when you first offered it,” I smirked. I could see her green eyes blink in fear, her hand reaching for her sword in hesitation. “But I like it when my victims squirm. You surrendered far too easily to the idea of death.”

“You’re despicable,” she whispered, “You call yourself a protector and yet-”

“I protected you. Now, I’m debating on doing it again,” I scowled, soon stopping at the sound of movements. I immediately turned to the door, which had no panels or lock to it. Immediately three bodies moved in, heavily armored, rifles pointed at myself and Jack. I aimed my rifle at them, taking steps back to let my body cover Jack’s.

“Whoa whoa! Easy there, gentlemen!” I shouted, “Lower your fucking guns!”

An unintelligible language broke through the point man’s mask, none of the three lowering their guns or showing any sign of doing so. It was certainly a language I didn’t understand, which made me wonder if they could understand my own.

The words repeated again, like an authoritative order to most likely surrender. Yeah, fuck no. 

Their armor was brown, like the color of Jack’s favorite morning coffee. I knew from my intelligence reports on District Three that their armor uniforms and weapons were as such. Yeah, and the Oceanica language on their armor confirmed that as well. Shit. 

Eventually, one pulled out a little black box from their hip, pointing it towards us before repeating the commands. It automatically translated: Let the woman go.

“Hey, she’s with me!” I answered protectively. I could feel Jack’s thin fingers clasped around my belt, as if not wanting me to move a step further away from her. 

Is this man hurting you ?

Jack heard the words, taking deep and calming breaths that were heavily noticeable before she spoke, in clearly broken and nervous Oceanica. I had no idea what she said, as the box didn’t seem to translate her words to me. I wondered what she would do. Surely she wouldn’t be so stupid as to go with them?! 

Lower your guns and come with us. 

“Absolutely fucking not,” I laughed, “I’ll keep my weapons, if it’s all the same to you. You let us go, and we will make our way back to our camp.”

It is not safe here. Doctor Deveraux-

How the fuck did they know who she was?!

“Back up, back up right now!” I shouted protectively, “Leave her the fuck alone!”

“Damien…Damien, I think they’re friendly,” Jack whispered quietly, trying to nudge at me.

“Friendly? I have three gun barrels pointed at my fucking head. They’re not friendly,” I shook my head. I shouldn’t even be taking this risk in trying to talk to them. I could easily take down the three of them but…if they pulled the trigger, Jacqueline was in their line of fire. She’d be shot, and with her lack of armor it wouldn’t help her at all. 

Doctor, you will not be harmed .

“Don’t believe that bullshit, Jack,” I whispered back to her.

Jack said something back, and whatever she said had all three men shocked and alert. She repeated again, this time for me to hear, “I’ve been bitten. You can’t take me with you.”

One bite?

Jack nodded, squeezing her grip on my belt. For what exactly, I couldn’t tell. I couldn’t tell if she was afraid that they'd kill her on the spot. Now me, I wouldn’t have admitted to such a thing. It might be good if they wanted us as prisoners, and therefore let us go. Or, they’d kill her on the spot for even admitting such a thing. 

She showed them the wrappings on her arm, indicating it wasn’t a deep bite but it still was a bite nonetheless. 

What about the ass?

“That’ll be ‘asshole’, actually. I don’t think that translated well,” I smirked,  still keeping my gun steady and breathing focused. My finger still lingered on the trigger, ready to fire if necessary.

“Damien, lower your gun,” Jack demanded me.

“Absolutely fucking not. Do you understand what will happen if we go with them? It’s an absolute intelligence issue, not to mention, nobody in our team knows where we are!” I argued, my tone alone making the three in front high on alert, “They know who you are, I’m not taking that chance.”

“They could have scientists. We could learn more from them,” she argued, much more politely than I did.

“I’m calling the shots here,” I insisted, hearing her sigh. I would much rather take the risk of shooting these three than surrender to them. Jack would very much choose the opposite. That was how we differed. Maybe in both scenarios alone, we’d survive on our own terms. Together? It didn’t seem possible.

“Damien please,” she slowly let go of my belt, letting her hand rest on my backside, just underneath a plate of armor to feel her soft touch. It was almost just enough to hesitate. 

Oceanica was heard, but this time I noticed the box had been removed and whatever was said wasn’t translated. Jack removed her hand, taking a step back.

“Wait, stop! Don’t-!” Jack shouted before one of them pulled the trigger. Immediately I felt an electrical pulse shock me into submission, making me drop my weapons and fall to my knees. My mind immediately knew what had happened, they had stunned me. I supposed it was better than getting shot lethally in front of her. One of their agents immediately walked over to Jack, grabbing her wrist. They dragged her out of there, almost unwillingly as she kept her eyes on me, as if worried for me.

I tried to get up and fight the stun, to bark at them to get their filthy hands off her. Yet it was no use. My eyes grew heavy and I knew if I continued to fight this sensation, it would only worsen the symptoms. I collapsed in a heap, only hearing Jack’s words of Oceanica breaking through before falling into utter silence.

—

I woke up to the sounds of feet scuffling in dirt, different from the echoing sounds of boots on metal I was used to. My eyes shot open, finding myself resting on a thin blanket in what looked like a scrapped fabric tent. Not just a tent, an emergency one at that given the markings. Where the fuck was I? 

I slowly rose to my feet, finding my supplies and weapons were confiscated. They weren’t smart enough to remove the medium sized rock from the ground, which fit perfectly in my hand as an improvised weapon. Once I felt more composed, I knew I had to figure out what this exact situation was. I slowly peered out from the slit in the tent, seeing exactly where we were. 

We were clearly still in the underground compound of Colony Negative. The only reason there was dirt here was because this area had been built into the surrounding mountains, the cave walls above us with no entrance or exit in sight. It was an encampment of fifty personnel, maybe more. They all seemed to not care for me, or rather looked more interested in whatever work they were doing.

Jack had been right. Most of them looked like scientists and not agents. The question was, what were they doing here? Why didn’t they handcuff me?

Most importantly, where was Jack?

I slowly walked around, hoping someone would take notice or I could get someone’s attention. Nobody seemed to care. If anything, they looked at me as if I was getting in the way. I moved away from the tent further into their little camp, only to see a few agents with firearms guarding a walled off section, transparent with glass. 

Inside that giant opaque room was an anathema, drooling and snarling at the glass. It would occasionally slam its entire body, hoping to cause a crack in its containment but it was no use. That thing was locked up tight, and easier to study that way. So, they managed to trap one, somehow. My heart stopped again for what felt like the third time alone today.

Jack. What if that was Jack? 

“Shit. No fucking way,” I whispered to myself, walking up to those guards, “Hey! Who is that?! Is that Jack!? Doctor Deveraux?”

The guards stared at me in utter confusion. Those eyes glared down at me with befuddlement, before turning into belittlement. Whomever I was to them, I wasn’t important. That fucking irked me. I stared at the giant red button behind them, presumably the release to letting this anathema out of its prison. 

If that was Jack, she didn’t deserve to be locked up in there. She deserved freedom, most of all, a painless death. I couldn’t stand the thought of that being her, contained in glass to be studied, prodded, and tested on. No. Fuck no, I couldn’t let that happen to her. I had lived a life of such torment. Nobody was deserving of such, most of all Jacqueline. 

“Hey! Is someone going to answer me!?” I shouted, still not getting a response. How the hell could I speak to someone that didn’t understand me? I suppose in the only language I could: violence. 

I threw the rock with precise velocity, watching it cut into the guard’s head as he grunted in pain. The other guard immediately proceeded to tackle me, not bothering to shoot. I guess I wasn’t important enough to kill, which was something he’d later regret. We wrestled in the dirt, the man trying to use the element of surprise and body weight against mine. But it was clear when I began positioning my feet to grapple for a takedown, this guard was not experienced in a fight like this.

I easily got behind him, my arm wrapping around his neck and letting my bicep squeeze to apply a choking pressure. The other guard immediately pointed his gun, although he couldn’t shoot me without hurting his friend in the process.

“Easy…easy,” a voice broke out, one I could understand. I peered over the guard's shoulder, seeing an aged man approaching. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the other guard to lower his gun away from me. When he stepped closer, I could see the visible dragon tattoo on his neck. 

So, this is what remained of District Three…and my next target.

“You must be Agent Rok, right? Damien Rok,” the man asked.

“Where is Jacqueline!?” I demanded, wanting nothing more than to break the fragile neck between my arms.

“She is resting,” he answered simply, one that was truthful by the look in his eyes. So, the alien behind me that had excitedly jumped with all the action and violence wasn’t her. I couldn’t help but exhale a sigh of relief, one he seemed to notice. “Oh, you thought that was her? Tsk, no. Deveraux is tough, tougher than most. You can let my soldier go now.”

I did so, hesitantly. Immediately upon doing so, he turned me over, face first in the dirt. My hands were forced to my backside, feeling handcuffs immediately applied to my wrists. Fuck. I should have known better. Wincing in the dirt, I could see eager steps rushing over. A lot of them were now scientists and various District Three personnel that had previously ignored my existence.

“He’s with me!” Jack’s scratchy, masked voice shouted over all the noise. I glanced up, dirt catching in one eye, but the other trying to get a look at her. She still wore her armor from the hip below. From the top, she only wore a white tank top, presumably just the layer beneath her uniform. Her bite was covered in a new bandage, which made me assume these men  had investigated the bite themselves and recleaned her wound. 

The man with the dragon tattoo heard her words, glancing back at me. For an odd reason, he respected Jacqueline. It was as if they knew each other, working side by side sometime in the past. Yet, Jack looked at him as the authority figure, for the time being.

“Please, uncuff him. He will not harm anyone else,” Jack insisted for me.

“You vouched for him earlier with the same plea, yet he assaulted my guards,” the elder man hummed.

Jack gave me a disapproving glare, which only made me smirk against the dirt.

“I can attest to his character. He was only trying to find me. He won’t harm anyone else. I swear to it,” Jack assured, walking over to me. There was hesitation with those around me, before the man barked commands in Oceanica. Finally, I felt sweet freedom from those tight cuffs which luckily hadn’t been on me long. I never liked being handcuffed. My thick wrists and shoulders absolutely hated them. 

I rose to my feet, seeing Jack’s eyes slowly glance over my body as if to make sure I was alright. I immediately took her wrist gently, glancing at her bite before looking into her eyes.

“Did they hurt you? Did they touch you?” I asked, knowing that a lot of the people around here were men. And men like these could do horrible things to a woman like her, with nobody to hold them accountable. Clearly, the scientist in charge admired her, but I had to ensure nobody hurt her. If so, this whole camp was going to burn.

Especially the one with the tattoo, my new target.

“They didn’t do anything. I’m okay,” she nodded, briefly letting her hand cover mine. I almost wished I wasn’t wearing gloves, so that I could feel the softness of her touch. 

“And the bite?” 

“You were right,” she painfully admitted, yet her hand remained, “They were also adamant I wouldn’t turn. Is your nose feeling better?”

I laughed softly at that, “No.”

“Good,” the cheekbones under her eyes rose with what I assumed due to her smiling, “Now, I think we’re safe for now. These men might have some answers I’m looking for. I know you have a knack for not trusting strangers and I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to trust me. Can you do that? We might get out of here in one piece. It might not turn into an alliance but…if we leave here with more knowledge than we came with, I’ll take it as a win.”

“Yes,” I answered, knowing at this moment I had to, “I know all about winning.”

“Good. Now, promise you’ll be on your best behavior like a good boy?” She teased.

My eyes drifted behind her, vision honing and focusing on that red button. I might not only be able to take out my target, but the remnants of District Three as well. Now that…that was a tempting proposition. That was the chaos that held more pleasure than a fucking orgasm. 

“Yes, Doctor,” I smiled wearily, seeing her eyes soften in response. If she wasn’t wearing that mask, I would assume she was still smiling underneath. She looked just as relieved that I was okay as well. Odd, given a few hours ago she was scowling at me. Our relationship was definitely a coin toss. But I took her words from earlier as stress induced, borderline mania. Once someone else, more scientific, confirmed with her that she’d live, she returned back to her normalcy. 

Yeah. The plan was already beginning to form in my head. I just had to ensure that Jacqueline got what she wanted. This was how we had to inadvertently work as a team to achieve our unknown goals to one another. This was how we’d both win. She’d get what she wanted, I had to make damn sure of it before I destroyed it all. Permanently. 

Chapter Text

I didn’t expect to have to come to terms with my own death. 

I suppose sometimes in the deepest, darkest of sleepless nights, we wonder what is the best way to die, the least painful or dreadful. To come face to face with it in my mind, I could see the fear and desperation take hold of me. Death and life truly were two sides of the same mirror. They paired together like wine with poison, sweetness and toxicity. 

When babies are born, they cry at their first inhale of oxygen. It was a sign of life, a jovial feeling that their existence had only just begun. Mothers celebrated upon hearing such a cry for life. But, what if they cried because they realized the turmoil and pain ahead of them? 

Nonsense, of course, as babies don’t have the cranial development to think that way.

But in the past few hours, I had believed it. I believed life was nothing but suffering, pain, and most of all, torment. There was beauty and joy to it, but not enough. Not enough to eradicate the scars across my face and neck. Not enough to bring back everything that had been purged. 

Not enough to save everyone here.

That was why I had been so harsh with Damien. I had come to terms with my death. Yet, seeing the odd hesitation in his eyes made me wonder if he had noticed that. I wanted my eagerness for a swift death to be seen on a heroic level, not wanting to turn and bite someone else further; a selfless sacrifice. In reality, I just wanted to escape all of it. All of this.

Yet, he persisted. I could not fault him for it. His team had failed as had I, but he had not. And now, seeing him forced to the ground handcuffed, shouting as if I were the anathema locked up behind him…I knew there was a goodness from him that didn’t stem from direct orders.

Orders would have commanded him to kill me. He didn’t. Orders would have been to leave me after I fell unconscious. He didn’t. Yet I had disobeyed his orders of getting out of there. My death would have been my own doing. 

Here, I remained. And so did he. 

Damien and I walked over to a small bunker built into the mountain cave. Given the geography of the area, the nearest mountains from District Five’s base was possibly fifty miles west. Damien had traveled far carrying me, just perhaps not in the right direction. 

“Sit, let us talk. I will have some of my team heat up some broth for you,” the man cleared his throat, “I am Doctor Iso Wueh, District Three lead scientist. Doctor Deveraux, I am a fan of your work. I must admit, I am more of a biologist than anthropologist, but I admire your perspective and study. You…must be Damien.”

Damien looked uncomfortable as he sat down beside me, our thighs touching. I knew it wasn’t because he was just jostled into the hard cave ground. Damien acted naked without his weapons, awkward, fleshed out, bare for everyone to see. I briefly thought what he’d look like actually naked, but blinked that idea away. 

I was hungry, dehydrated, and most of all just exhausted. 

“So, this is what remains of District Three,” Damien hummed.

“‘Remains’ indicates the idea of being left over. Our main base is fine. This is a forward operating base,” Iso clarified, “You two are far away from your base of operations, it seems.”

“Yes, well, return our weapons and gear and we will be on our merry way,” Damien suggested.

“Rest. Doctor Deveraux needs some rest. I assure you, we will let you on your way once she is fully recovered,” he explained, “Do not worry, Rok. You are safe here.”

Nowhere was safe.

I could see Damien glance my way, his eyes softening as he wanted to make sure I was ok. I was pretty sure I had a few specks of dried anathema and grime on my skin. The bite wound was sore with the numbing beginning to wane, but I was okay. 

“Your data suggested a mere bite wasn’t enough to make me turn. How is that possible?” I asked, already wanting answers. 

“Hm,” he smiled, as if charmed by my desire to push away this fake camaraderie, “We were able to study a dead alien’s biological makeup, but only briefly. The genetic material decomposes at a fast rate given the amount of enzymes. These enzymes are the reason for the bite. Half of it follows that of a venomous reptile, paralyzing the nervous and circulatory systems. The other half establishes dominance over those systems.”

“You said the anathema-pardon-the alien’s genetic makeup was only studied briefly. How soon does it decompose?” I inquired, taking mental notes in my head. I would have liked my datapad, but that was stored with the rest of my gear. 

“Three hours,” he declared.

“Shit,” I sighed, “That’s not long at all.”

“Precisely why we made an operating base here, bringing most of our scientific gear and personnel to this location,” Doctor Wueh explained, turning his attention towards Damien, “Why did you let her stay alive? You knew she was bitten, yes?”

Damien stirred uncomfortably, his eyes steeling at the man across from us. It was clear from his demeanor and emotions he would never trust Wueh. He didn’t need to. But he was thinking before he spoke, for once. Even the slightest give away, a slip up of verbiage could make a difference today. Damien Rok was proceeding with profound caution.

“I knew she was bitten, yes. Intuition told me not to kill her,” Damien talked slow, as if trying to think of an answer himself, “It seemed different from all the others.”

“All the others ?” Wueh probed.

“Don’t act like we’re the only ones to lose people to these anathemas,” Damien scoffed, a twinge of a smirk on his lips, “not surprising. Given how ineffective your soldiers are here, they’ll drop like flies. Tell me, how many of these aliens have they killed?”

Wueh said nothing for the moment. He only stared Damien down, wondering if he was probing for information of his own. I gently let my elbow brush him, hoping he got the hint to stay nice. “The ratio is near perfect: one for one. We kill one, one our own gets slayed and turns. The cycle continues. How many have you killed, Mister Rok?”

“Nine,” he answered immediately, as if that number rested at the top of his brain. He kept a kill count. How…grossly inappropriate but also Damien-esque of him. Wueh seemed skeptical of the number, scoffing himself as he didn’t believe it. 

“Agent Rok is an exemplary fighter,” I swallowed before complimenting him, “take heed of an experienced, old leader in a profession of death where the young perish so easily. His intuition could be just as valuable as our science. He saved my life.”

Damien was surprised at my sentiment. I suppose that was my way of thanking him. Thanking him for believing I would live, and not only that, but dragging me into safety when he didn’t have to. He could have left me there. Just as I knew he didn’t want to leave Cole behind, despite knowing the ramifications now, he didn’t want to leave me either. 

Wueh shouldn’t dismiss him as some pathetic soldier, just as I had weeks ago. He was far greater than that. 

“That said, given what you’ve told me so far, the enzymes die almost as quickly as they can take over. You’re suggesting that this mere and brief bite wasn’t enough,” I changed the subject. I didn’t want to keep having these men around me constantly comparing their cocks or ego. Wueh was a scientist, yes, with no experience in killing. But even scientists and doctors had ego. I was guilty of it myself, from time to time.

“Yes. It must not just bite, but it needs to… savor you,” he had paused before choosing that word carefully, either worried the translation wasn’t strong, or there wasn’t a better word.

Savor. The sound of the anathema screeching and clawing at me reverberated in my memory. There was something a bit chilling about that word coined with these aliens. It was depraved gluttony on an epidemic level, a lust for flesh that never expired. 

“So, they need us to survive?” Damien asked. 

“No. No, we don’t have the science yet to study that, how an alien reacts to savoring its prey. But they don’t bite and eat for sustenance. There is an ongoing theory that they have been here for hundreds of years. We took samples only two weeks ago, yet there’s enough data to try and study for at least a year,” Wueh sighed.

Which meant this data could take time. That was to be expected. My job was to collect, reference, and ultimately collate all the data I could find. It would be up to experts on a molecular, biological, organic level to process that information. Just as I wasn’t the one to cure cancer. I only found the tool to do so, it was up to the others in my field to wield the tool as a weapon. 

“Temperature would have an effect on these enzymes, would it not?” I asked, “We had a deceased agent in cold storage who did not turn for at least twelve hours. Others…it could take mere minutes before they turned.”

Cole had somehow made it all the way back into the morgue without turning. Ultimately, that might have saved us if he had turned any earlier on the way back to base. Yet, when he started to bite others, they turned so much quicker. 

“Temperature could make a difference. My working hypothesis is time. When these poisonous enzymes enter a new human’s body, it ignites the cells and spreads like a cancer. Those newer, fresher enzymes are much more potent and stronger. A new alien biting its prey could result in them turning quicker. Of course, it also varies from person to person. If you’re still alive when turning, your body will resist and fight, buying yourself a moment of time before the inevitable,” Wueh answered, looking at me, “You got lucky, Doctor.”

I did, even though I didn’t really believe in luck. 

The way he said it resembled cancer made my mind go to the attempted assassination on my life by District Two. Did someone think I could actually find something here, akin to that level, that they didn’t want me to? Did they want it for themselves? Whoever held such important information in their hands would be seen as a hero, even if they had to assassinate every scientist on this colony to make it happen. 

Another scientist came in with two bowls of steaming broth and canteens of water.. The smell of it alone made my aching stomach growl in delight. He placed those down before speaking to Wueh in Oceanica. I could only understand bits and pieces of it, as the dialect was intentionally different than what I was used to. 

The data…well protected…not enough to hack.

From the grave sound of it, it seemed like they were trying to access information from our datapad. It sounded like they had more information than my team did, from a glimpse. Yet, with how exemplary and extensive this colony was, I could bet every District had a piece of information the others didn’t. 

“I will let you two rest for the night. You can use the beds in the corner. We can talk more in the morning,” Wueh smiled, leaving us to the bowls of broth.

Damien looked at the meal with skepticism. I, for once, didn’t seem to think twice. I was starving, and a hot broth might be just enough to fill my stomach and also make my head a bit more clear. Despite my mask, I was able to drink all of it, tasting the salty and hearty beef broth. 

“Here, have mine,” Damien offered, sliding the bowl over to me.

“Are you sure?” I asked, “I don’t think they would have poisoned it. What a waste of broth. You should eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” he insisted politely, turning away from me slightly to watch everyone else in this camp. He studied them, their movements, the various and small weapons in their possession, and mostly their intent. Some stared back, mostly at me, which he didn’t seem to like.

I drank his portion of broth much more slowly, hoping maybe he would change his mind. He didn’t. I knew what I had to say, what was on the tip of my tongue but I was worried how he might react. 

“Thank you,” I whispered softly, my eyes resting on the back of his posture. His backside and shoulders were broader from behind, most likely riddled with muscles without all that armor on. There was a scar on the back of his skull, trailing all the way down the middle of his neck. It looked more like a surgery scar than that of serious injury. It looked precise, intentional, and most of all painful. 

“For what?” he asked, keeping his eyes forward.

“You know what for,” I rolled my eyes, “for having faith, I suppose. You could have killed me, but didn’t. You could have left me there, but didn’t. I didn’t mean what I said back in that room…that you have no feelings, that you’re cruel and take joy in killing.”

“Perhaps you are right about that,”  he answered very bitterly, clenching his jaw, “I do like killing these things. I like the power it gives me.”

There was a long pause of silence. 

Those feelings he had were programmed by Sabbath, no doubt. They had removed any sense of his morality, gave him a sole purpose in killing and only killing. The only worth he seemed to have in himself was pride in the dominion over others. Yet, what he had done to save me also showed a resistance to that programming.

“I didn’t mean what I said either. You aren’t heartless. Or a victim…” he trailed off, “While I might enjoy seeing you struggle or squirm, I did not enjoy the thought of having to kill you.”

“Could you have done it?” I asked, closing my eyes soon after at how stupid that question was. 

“Depends. Maybe if you had closed your eyes,” he bemused. When I opened my eyes, he was craning his neck over his shoulder to stare at me.

“My eyes?” I implored with a soft laugh.

“Yeah, they’re too green,” he answered, that boyish smirk appearing on his dry lips, “I don’t know. When I think of green, I think of life.”

Green was the color of optimism. Red, quite the opposite, embodied pessimism. He might like the green, emerald nature to my eyes. Just as I seemed to like the glowing red of his laser sword, or specks of blood acting like freckles on his skin. Odd of him to think of life, when all he seemed to do was take that away from others…from everyone but myself. 

We both sat and watched the anathema in a distance, never resting, just constantly pacing behind the glass. How they managed to get it in there, I didn’t know. This would be the best way to study a live one. Running tests, however, would prove more difficult than just observation. 

“They have your datapad,” Damien observed after a period of silence, eventually turning to me to begin signing: I think they want whatever data you found in that room .

My fingers worked gently together, trying to keep our conversation quiet and most of all subtle: Do you think they will be able to hack into it? Into yours as well?

No. The encryption will change before they get close. If the system knows that someone else is trying to access it, the datapad will shut down. Only we will be able to look at our own data.

If that gets flagged, will our team think we are dead?

Possibly. 

Maybe they will let us communicate with our team. We can make a deal with them.

Damien hesitated for a moment, knowing it wouldn’t hurt to use threats. Maybe, just maybe, we could threaten that District Five will send a full task force here and annihilate them if we couldn’t communicate. If they let us talk, we could establish a partnership, or perhaps just promise to leave each other alone.

They will use you as ransom, Damien insisted, looking at me directly in the eyes, how much do you think you are worth?

I blinked, not understanding what he was saying, We might not have anything to offer them. If anything happens to me, District Five will find another anthropologist-

None as good as you , Damien interrupted silently, his hand motioning with almost aggressiveness to get his point across, They know you and your work. They like you. To me, that means they will not hurt you. But they will want something from you. They will ask something of you . 

What do you think they will ask?

He merely shrugged, still looking my way.

“Have you ever been…captured before?” I asked, this time talking loudly. If we discussed too much in sign, others might grow suspicious.

“Yeah,” Damien nodded, “District One insurgents captured me once. They tortured me for two weeks, asking for information about who I worked for.” 

Meaning Sabbath.

“Did they come and rescue you?” I inquired, but saw a scoff appear on his lips. He probably thought my question to be childish, when in reality that’s how it should be. He had never left a man behind, or at the very least hated doing so. Milithreat probably had different policies. Sabbath clearly cut ties the second they noticed a thread fraying in their grand design.

“No. That’s what District One wanted: a full blown retaliation. They didn’t get that. I escaped on my own. Same as I’m planning on doing if this doesn’t go smoothly,” he paused, “with you, of course. Unless you’d rather stay here with strangers.”

“How did you escape in the first place?”

“Most men all their life are practiced pretenders in feigning strength. Real strength is being able to pretend to be weak, and succeed in fooling everyone else. I played this meek prisoner for two weeks. When I found an opening, I took it with the remaining strength I had. A little anarchy can go a long way with unprepared soldiers. You have to do what they least expect, even if it sounds like a bat-shit crazy idea.”

“I don’t think we can use that same method here,” I yawned slightly, knowing it sounded rather odd with the mask. A slight grunt of pain left my lips as well after the motion of exhaustion.

“Does it still hurt?” he asked, moving to stand to his feet to glance over at the small cots before observing my bandaged arm. 

“It’s not the bite,” I sighed, realizing there wasn’t much hiding it now, “it’s my…condition. My neck and jaw hurt if I don’t lather a heavy dosage of enhanced lidocaine. It helps soothe everything. I usually do it every two days but…I should’ve known to bring some with my gear.”

I was beating myself up for it, as if I should have prepared for a scenario like this. Well, nothing changed SOPs better than mistakes. If we got out of this okay, I’d be sure to take some extra with me to avoid this ever again.

I moved to my cot, still seeing his eyes on me with slight worry, “I’ll be fine.”

“What happens if we don’t get you that cream?”

“Pain. Nothing I am not used to,” I shrugged, seeing that answer did not please him, “The mask helps. It would be worse if I didn’t have that.”

Which meant if Damien truly wished to cause me pain, all he would have to do is remove my safety blanket, the gag I wore willingly around my own face. Yet, with the soft look on his tired face, it wasn’t something on his mind. I remembered how eagerly he had protected me when the District Three agents got the surprise on us. Despite just mere seconds earlier, claiming he’d refuse to protect me, his own actions proved otherwise. 

“Okay, get some rest. I’ll keep watch,” he whispered.

“And brainstorm some bat-shit crazy idea, right?” I teased, sinking into the cot. It was oddly comfortable, much more comfortable than the hard bunker ground. 

He didn’t answer my question, which made me wonder if he already had a crazy idea up his sleeve, compressed tightly by those large biceps of his. 

—

My sleep was a painful one. Sleeping still had always been hard for me, and it didn’t help that my bite was the shoulder I predominantly slept on. I could have swore I once felt soft gentle fingers stroking through my short raven black hair. It hadn’t felt uncomfortable or unsettling. In the past twenty-four hours, it was the most comforting sensation I had imagined.

Damien was asleep when I woke up, his body angled towards the opening to our small living quarters. Even his boots were still on. If something had happened amidst our rest, he’d be the first to wake up and be called into action. Luckily for the both of us, it had been nothing but quiet. I took about five minutes to see if he’d awake on his own, before rising to my own feet. I decided I could give him a bit more rest on his own. 

He fucking deserved it.

Goosebumps hit my bare arms, usually warmed with the top half of my suit but that had been damaged in the fight for my life against that anathema. It must have been noticeable as I warmed myself up with the friction of my hands rubbing the obnoxious cold. Dr. Wueh stood near the anathema with his team, ordering someone around as he glanced my way. 

The scientist returned with a small leather jacket, sizing me up with his eyes before handing it to me.

“Thank you,” I whispered, repeating the words in Oceanica before slipping the jacket on. It was a bit too long at the wrists, but it would do fine in keeping me warm in this cold hell. 

“Are you feeling better, Doctor?” Wueh asked.

“Yes, thank you again for your hospitality,” I smiled softly, “I don’t know how to repay such kindness.”

“Knowledge might help,” he laughed, his voice hoarse from the dry air surrounding us. 

I knew if he had given me something, I had to give him something in return. I just had to be careful in distinguishing not to give too much away.

“There are locked doors in these…facilities, if you can call them that. Panels on the right have twenty nodes to press. We’ve figured out how to open them,” I approached the topic slowly, seeing his interest grow, “They mirror soundwaves of these aliens, producing either a sentence or word statement. One of the statements found in our recordings seemed to match a pattern and opened a door.”

I had to lie in that last sentence. I had a feeling he really wouldn’t believe me if I stated a deaf woman with hearing aids could hear those phrases in the walls deep at night. 

“Interesting. That is good to know,” he hummed, pleased with my minor assistance, “Do you think these aliens are intelligent, Jacqueline?”

I wasn’t expecting a heavy question like that so soon in the morning, but it was a rather intriguing one. My eyes watched the anathema in front of me, its glossy ugly eyes rolling in a continuous circle as it paced, trying to sense movement or a sound in its cage. 

“Depends, what are the measurements I’m using to consider it intelligent?” I asked in return.

He laughed softly at that, “Mm, there’s that anthropologist side of you. You are right. We cannot use IQ, a faulty measurement anyways. I think we must consider if this thing in front of us is still human, or animal.”

“If I were to consider the basics, then yes I would consider them to be intelligent. They can move, despite the weird physicality of their nature. They talk, in which every phrase I’ve heard is different than the one before. They are aware of their surroundings, drawn to sounds and quick movements. Whether they have deep critical thinking or analytical skills, that remains to be seen. A lot of humans lack those qualities too,” I answered, a bewildered hum leaving my raspy mask. 

“Yes, I’ve met plenty of those kinds of humans lately,” Wueh agreed.

“My question is…what drives them? What do they feel is their ambition, their reason to live?” I asked myself, “Do they have a sense of community with the others? If they do not need to eat or savor to survive, then what makes them kill? Animals kill to eat, to survive…and humans-”

“Yes, why do humans kill?” 

“I don’t know,” I frowned, knowing that was probably the main issue in my study. How could I stop violence if there wasn’t a singular issue that caused or catalyzed it? “It all depends on the human.”

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Wueh exhaled a light sigh. At first, I thought he was talking about humans, which were rather remarkable beings. Yet, he continued to stare at the anathema. I glanced around to see if anyone else had heard that comment but it was clear he oddly cherished them. I don’t know why. When I glared at the anathema in front of me, I felt sick to my stomach. I was facing a problem I didn’t know how to solve, let alone even begin to picture.

Doctor Wueh sickly admired them. 

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Doctor,” I retorted, not knowing how else to respond to that. 

“Those doors open with the same pitch and tone these aliens do, according to your research. Does that not mean that they were designed, just as this place was? Someone was their grand architect, made for a reason,” he observed.

The observation definitely gave me more questions than answers. He could be right. If our ancestry really came from here, they had planned this place around the idea of anathemas. 

What was it that I found on that projection? What were they trying to teach or instill? Was it for the anathemas, or humans? Were our ancestors even human?

“Perhaps they are the butterfly, and we are the caterpillar, Jacqueline,” Wueh wondered, “Metamorphosis in human form.”

“Humans evolve but don’t transform,” I rejected his idea. 

“Are they not the same?” He questioned my belief. He liked the idea of someone challenging him, which was fine. Everyone else around here seemed to follow his orders. Maybe he liked having me around to prove him wrong, or if anything, prove himself right with that odd godly ego he seemed to wear like an essence. 

“Most, if not all animals, if I remember my ecology correctly, use metamorphosis as a sacrifice. They give up one part of their body, or maybe it’s entirety to create something new. All for survival, for themselves but also their kin. It eliminates the competition for food or hierarchy within their community. It is meant to help, not destroy or damage something already considered ‘perfect’.”

All the potential, brainstorming ideas for what these were just continued to bounce around in my head. Bacterial infection, zombies, enzyme developing proteins of this aggressive behavior, and now mutated and purposeful metamorphosis.

Get me off this fucking Colony , I thought to myself. 

“I wish to see it for myself, study on a molecular level this transformation. We have all the tools we need,” Wueh sighed, taking a moment to think before glancing my way, “Doctor, this is something I must ask of you. Do this, and we will arrange District Five to pick you up safely as soon as possible. As a bonus, I will also give you all the data we already have to help your research.”

They had all the tools at their disposal. What were they missing? 

The subject of such a horrid experiment.

“What do you need?” I approached the situation cautiously.

Damien was right. They would ask something of me, otherwise this would begin to turn into a desperate ransom. Whatever they wanted had to be worth more than myself if they wanted this so badly.

“Agent Damien Rok. I want to throw him into this cage and watch him transform…”

Chapter Text

Doctor Deveraux all morning, if I could call it morning, was distant. When I had managed to observe her from a distance, she was near the anathema observatory with a datapad in her hand. It wasn’t her datapad, that was for certain. Whatever she was reviewing, when she made eye contact with me, there was hesitation in her body language.

She still didn’t trust me. 

Yet, she’d be foolish to trust these District Three scientists as well. Perhaps the sign of a decaying society was distrust. Governments, politics, economic policy all liked to make us distrust each other. Some systems were deserving of such distrust. But people? On an individual level like this, I truly believed she and I couldn’t succeed together without unyielding trust. 

Saving her life wasn’t enough. I know that now. In order for her to understand me, I had to give her a piece of myself. A piece of history, my knowledge, my expertise, and mostly my pain. That was also why she was so hesitant because she knew she’d have to do the same. I was willing to give that to her, knowing I might not get many answers in return.

Maybe she thought I knew them already. 

Of course, none of this could happen until we got out of here. Our gear was just sitting in a storage room, packed and ready to go. Our electronics were deemed useless to them, and I think they were worried playing around with it too much would set off some alarms back at the main base. The only thing they had apparent access to was Jacqueline’s photographic camera, which they more than happily scanned through. I didn’t think there would be anything confidential there. 

It felt so strange in a military sense, that sharing knowledge was seen as a security risk. Sabbath and Milithreat alike were very against joint task forces and kept all operations within. Scientists, on the other hand, were almost willing to give out information without a price. Colony Negative was different, though. Everything about this wretched, glorious place was different. Glory. That’s what people wanted here, even scientists alike. 

I could feel a lot of eyes on me as I finally left the tent area of our humble abode. Emotions varied on a lot of the stares, but the greatest feeling was wariness. I was a bomb with no fuse, an object of volatility that had no starting point but could end at any second. I had all the right materials to cripple this establishment, all that was missing was the spark. They had to be as cautious as I was. 

Doctor Iso Wueh caught my eye, standing at a table with all my weaponry displayed. What a biologist would care for my little armory is what provoked me to approach, with ease. I made sure to keep my hands at parade rest behind my back, showing no signs of intimidation or ill-will. Oh, I had chaotic intentions, but at this moment that bat-shit crazy idea I had lingering in my mind still felt out of reach. I could be wrong. Maybe they’d return our stuff and let us return to District Five territory. 

“Ah, Agent Rok,” Iso smiled softly, a glint of mischievousness in his eyes, “you have an exorbitant amount of weaponry. The finest in all the galaxies, of course.”

“Milithreat only pays for the best,” I replied, seeing his gaze linger on the modifiable rifle, “are you curious how it works? I can offer a demonstration.”

He laughed softly at that, not falling into that trap at all, “No, not at all. I merely want to know how effective your 2210-MDR could be against these…creatures.”

The fact he knew it was called a 2210-MDR was concerning. What would a biologist truly know about the weapon industry? It could be a hobby. Firearm enthusiasts usually fell into two categories: individuals looking for discipline, or individuals who already had discipline seeking compensation for suppressed bloodlust. While the initial report on Wueh was minimal, I knew he was dangerous. He was on a minimal list, meaning they hadn’t gathered much intel…yet. No need, of course, since I was already here. 

Anyone on that list was a danger to District Five, no exceptions.

“When can we leave?” I asked assertively, looking into his withered, slightly bloodshot eyes. He was tired, but not in an exhaustive way. It was an odd, maddening way, as if sleep couldn’t control all the sadistic thoughts keeping him awake.

“Tonight. If you answer my question and the next,” he smiled with fake politeness. 

“The 2210-MDR on standard mode seems to slow the anathemas down. Effectiveness is probably more determined on caliber size and accuracy,” I answered immediately, “It’s more intended for its initial design: humans. Now caliber doesn’t exactly matter with humans. I’ve killed someone with a caliber so microscopic, I added a fifth ventricle into that weak heart of his. On standard size, I could remove the heart entirely if I so chose.”

I was beginning to see a resemblance in his eyes. The shape and color of them, not to mention the shape of his nose and lips. It was possible the similarity was just age. But the chances were too great to ignore, especially someone so keenly interested in me and my firearms. 

“Now, what was your other question?” I asked.

“What is your relationship with Doctor Deveraux?” he asked, his eyes glancing what I presumed was her way, somewhere behind my left shoulder. I didn’t even bother to turn and glance her way as well, irked somewhat by her lack of communication this morning. I also didn’t want my eyes to soften if I had gotten a glance. 

“Strictly professional, borderline at each other's throats,” I shrugged, “You know how it can be, we are from two different worlds with different ideas on how to better it.”

“Interesting,” he hummed, “then why were you comforting her this morning? I saw you run your fingers through her hair.”

My head tilted slightly with protectiveness, wondering what this had to do with anything . What I had done early this morning hadn’t changed anything about the horrible dynamic between us, especially because Jack was far too asleep to notice. Yet, Wueh did, and questioned it greatly.

“She was having a nightmare,” I clarified, “I was doing what I could to get her to stop mumbling in her sleep, just so I could get a few hours myself. I don’t like sleeping with unnecessary noise in the background.”

That’s how I selfishly worded it, anyways. Perhaps it was far from the truth. 

“And you? How do you think she feels about you?”

“Barely tolerable,” I smiled at that, “and I prefer it that way.”

“Interesting,” Wueh hummed, “then why are you in a lot of her photographs?”

I blinked in slight confusion, surprised if that was true. Yet, he seemed more than willing to reach for the camera ten feet away and show me, if I wished. I believed him, though. 

“In all honesty, I probably got in the way of a lot of her shots,” I shrugged, avoiding the odd itch on the back of my neck, “I didn’t pay much mind to whatever she was collecting for evidence purposes.”

“Yet you are in the center of a lot of them,” he smiled at my discomfort, pausing briefly, “have you read any of her work?”

“No,” I shook my head, “It’s not my cup of tea.”

“What a shame. You should. I think of my favorite excerpt of hers from Measurements of Evil , one of her finest works: ‘There is the belief that without evil, morality itself is non-existent. Situational evil, as some might call it, is the excuse of those faced with two immoral decisions and deciding which is the lesser of such evil. There is no situational evil that goes without collateral damage. It is a pestilential cough. You’ll find yourself coughing more after you force that choked exhale the first time, over and over again until the sickness is cured. If you refuse the cough, you can convince yourself you’re not sick’.”

I heard those words in my head with Jack’s filtered, masked, voice, despite Wueh’s accent. It definitely sounded like her kind of writing, to the point, yet open for interpretation. Still, it sounded like a bunch of nonsense to me. It would make more sense if I read her dissertation as a whole, but I had no interest in doing so.

“She sure has an extensive vocabulary,” I smiled weakly.

“You don’t see it, do you?” he asked incredulously, like a teacher mocking a student after refusing to elaborate on such a subject matter so out of his league. 

I didn’t answer, merely shrugging slightly with a roll of the shoulders. It sounded like an interesting read, in all honesty, but I’m not quite sure what those words and photographs of me had to do with anything.

“She is studying you. You are her experiment,” he clarified.

I clenched my jaw in response, trying to not let any prior trauma filter in with that news. No. Wueh was lying, trying to get under my skin. Most of all, he was trying to get me to betray Jacqueline, to distrust her completely. Despite it already being frayed and withered, I couldn’t let him damage it entirely. If we were going to escape this unscathed, it had to be together. 

There was a truth to his words that I couldn’t deny, though. If the subject of her pictures were true, then it was possible she was documenting evolutionary change through photographs. She was also adamant about studying biological and psychological differences after each rotation on this Colony. Yet, her entire study was about change , about this evolutionary process nobody really cared about because it was so miniscule. Nobody cared except her. 

Change was always seen as drastic. But it was the little things of no significance that could alter with the greatest amount of force. 

“It’s not the first time you’ve been someone’s experiment,” Wueh added. My fingers gently curled into the edge of the table, tensing with a visible vein on my hand in distress.

“I passed all of those. If what you say is true, I’ll pass her tests as well,” I gritted my teeth.

“Experiments are not meant to be ‘passed’, Agent Rok. A failed experiment, in my mind, is far more telling than a successful one. Experiments are meant to be answered. How will you answer her hypothesis about you?”

I remained silent, looking directly into those familiar eyes. I didn’t know in the beginning why he was such a threat. I know why now. 

“Here, in show of my good faith that I am on your side, pick a weapon. It is a sign by the end of the day you will have the rest of them. Consider it a sign of trust that I will allow you to spend the rest of the day waiting. I am finishing what Doctor Deveraux asked of me, and when that is done, you both are free to leave.”

So, that’s what we were waiting for? If she was getting something from them, most certainly Wueh asked something of her. Funny. Ironic, even. She would not be able to offer them anything if it hadn’t been for me. 

If I had to pick one weapon from my arsenal, it had to be the laser sword. After all, it was proven to kill both humans and anathemas. But, I wondered if that was Wueh’s intention at this exchange of agreement. Would the selection of a weapon determine something for him? He was well familiar with my rifle, a very powerful one at that. The sword was even more powerful but maybe I didn’t want him to know that.

If he wanted to provoke me, then I would do the same to him.

“Funny you mention that line in Jack’s wonderful work, the one about the cough,” I hummed, my hand gently running over the weapons before resting on my pistol, “I had said something similar to your son…right before I executed him with this very same pistol.”

His eyes widened with dismay, a twitch forming on his lips of pure anger. Yeah, Wueh was Crowe’s father. I didn’t think much about the different last names until now. Crowe probably took another name when he joined the service to differentiate himself from his scientific father. Either that, or he wanted to make a different name for himself, something better. 

“M-my son is not dead,” he hissed.

“Crowe, right?” I inquired, seeing his denial wither and decay right before me, “Electric blue hair…cocky smile. Yeah, I can see where his arrogance stemmed from. He’s dead. Very dead. Now, I suggest you finish whatever paperwork you have for Jacqueline, and we will be on our way.”

Telling him I was the reason his son was dead assured that there was no way in hell that he’d let us leave. But I truly believed he wasn’t going to let us leave in the first place. I knew that from the very start, but I might as well have fun with my food…as long as Jacqueline didn’t get hurt. 

“Take your pistol and leave my sight, Rok. You are nothing more than Sabbath’s machine, a line of violent code that can’t be erased or modified, even by Milithreat. I don’t need to study you to know what you are. That little algorithm of theirs has already determined your path, and I hope yours ends as brutal, cruel, and inhumane as you are.”

I holstered the pistol, offering him a warm smile, “Thank you, Doctor Wueh. You’ve been very kind.”

I turned and left at that, not feeling so naked anymore with at least the downward weight of a barrel against my thigh. I tried to shake his words away, all of them: my attempts to coax her nightmare, her attempts to study me, and most of all, that stupid fucking algorithm. He seemed to know about it, which made me wonder how connected with Sabbath he could be. He knew more than Jack, that was for sure. Too bad he’d die before I could get any further answers. 

I didn’t have the energy to interrogate him further, and I didn’t think I’d get the chance. 

I thought for a moment I should take further interest in science, glancing up as I walked past his makeshift lab. Engineers surrounded this cylindrical object about the size of my bicep. I had seen it before, the design actually, not the product. Yet I couldn’t quite put my mind to the exact intelligence report it was. Whatever it was, they seemed invested into it greater than any weapon. Weapons were what this place really needed if they wanted to destroy some anathemas. 

When I got back to my bunk, I could feel the sting of pain in my ribs. It was right where that stunned lazer struck hours prior, despite my armor. A powerful enough stun shocked more than just a nerve or two. I removed the top layer of my armor and shirt, feeling the cool breeze hit my bare torso as I gazed down at the wound. It certainly hit a nerve, the left side of my hip had a piercing dark vein that was throbbing with pain.

Pain. I knew I shouldn’t have looked at it with my own eyes. It was Sabbath psychology that taught us to never look at a wound because it only made it worse. Removing pain sensitivity was always impossible, despite their attempts at making every Sabbath individual a numb and soulless machine. Yet there were methods to easing pain without medicine, and I’d have to do just that. 

My attempts at such meditation faltered as Jacqueline walked in, her eyes widening softly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

She paused at seeing my injury, and then at the tattoo across my chest. The Sabbath snake was a common tattoo of any soldier, typically stretching from one shoulder to the opposite hip. I made sure mine went over my heart, from my left shoulder down to my right hip. Sabbath had their own version of dog tags ingrained in the form of tattoos, but not many knew the secrets behind the tattoos themselves.

Yet Jacqueline looked at it with slight familiarity.

“That looks painful, do you want me to ask the medic for any pain cream?” she asked, her voice soft as if she hadn’t been ignoring me all morning.

“No,” I shook my head, “I’m fine.”

“If it won’t bruise your ego, I can just tell them it’s for me,” she scoffed slightly, wondering if that had anything to do with it. 

“Pain is nothing I am not already used to,” I replied, using the very words she had said last night. 

She stood awkwardly nearby, a sigh leaving her mask. She was hesitating about this entire situation, not knowing who to trust. The simple answer was she couldn’t trust anyone, but that wouldn’t get her whatever she wanted. 

“What did you say that pissed Iso off?” she asked me.

“Oh, you know, the unfortunate ‘accident’ of killing his son. The son that tried to kill you. Ironic, isn’t it? I don’t think Wueh has any clue his son was trying to kill the scientist his own father admires,” I chuckled softly. 

Just as I saw Wueh’s denial wither, I also witnessed Jacqueline’s hesitance begin to fray. She hadn’t caught onto the relationship and I couldn’t fault her for that. She had a lot going on and well, Wueh wasn’t on a list for her to glance at. She only knew him from his own dissertations. Sometimes they didn’t tell the whole picture, same as my own intel work. Together? We might have a good story to tell.

“And you still don’t know why…?” she began to ask, but she couldn’t even finish the question. No. I didn’t know exactly why they wanted her dead. But I had a slight understanding as to a possibility.

“If anyone is going to figure out what happened here, what these things are, what this all means…it’s you. They know that, and if they want the glory for themselves they need to remove their competition. Crowe may have not believed in the District Three cause, mostly because half his team died to these anathemas, but I think he believed there was redemption for him and his father if it meant ending you.”

That answer didn’t satisfy her, but not because it wasn't good speculation. It was a great speculation. She just didn’t want to accept it. No, she refused to accept her own importance. Whatever hesitation she had remaining, she swallowed down. Within a blink she was inches away from me, her cold hand resting just by that wound as if she was inspecting it. It was then I realized she was getting this close for a reason, and it wasn’t to put her hands on me.

“What did they ask for?” I asked quietly. 

“ You ,” she whispered, her entire gaze lifted towards me. I didn’t really think about being nearly a foot taller than her would make such a difference this close. 

“Information? Surely you told them you don’t know much,” I scoffed slightly, keeping my own eyes on her.

She remained silent, as if that answered my question. It was true, she didn’t know much unless she was with Sabbath. But, she couldn’t be, right? 

“If you trust me…I need you to sound like you’re in pain,” she lowered her voice even more. I felt her fingers dwindle down closer to the wound, only giving me a few seconds to make up my mind. My ego really didn’t want me to release any sound of pain, but she knew that. 

This wasn’t about ego, or what was right or wrong. Evil or moral. This was about us working together, forgetting the outside opinions and only focusing on our survival. Not just that for each other, but as a unit. The second her index spread across the elevated vein, I felt the nerve spark with a flame…but maybe not that of pain.

“Ow!” I shouted, practically seething at her before grabbing her wrist. Her emerald eyes held a slight surprise at my reaction, almost wondering if it was genuine. But if she wanted to play games, then I would play them too.

“Sorry, but you’re going to need that to be looked at,”  she spoke loudly, as if she wanted others nearby to hear. Yet that one exclamatory yelp was all she needed to know I did trust her. 

And she trusted me. 

“I’m fine,” I grunted. 

“In exchange for their research, Wueh wants to conduct an experiment with me,” she whispered, before signing with one hand, the one I wasn’t still holding at the wrist, throw you in with….monster.

Meaning the anathema. So, she was using me. She agreed to this notion only to get more information and data, risking my life with this. However, she was telling me now, swallowing her hesitation to do so. I couldn’t fault her for that.

I knew now just how much this data meant to her, having to use deceit and lies to get what she wanted. But did she truly know the cost, especially if I was the thing to be bargained?

“And you agreed to this?” I asked lowly, my grip on her growing firm as I stepped closer. I could see slight fear in her eyes at my anger, wanting to shrivel back. It mimicked back to the time right before our capture, where I had lied to her once more. I almost hated how even feigned anger seemed more truthful than an actual, genuine smile from my lips. That was nobody’s fault but my own.

She nodded her head, not wanting to say the words herself.

“I wouldn’t tell you if I didn’t care for you,” she stated, before immediately taking back her words, “I mean, you know, care for your safety. Your safety is as equal to my own. I won’t be able to make it back to our territory in one piece without you.”

“Uh huh, yeah,” I couldn’t help but smirk, loosening my grip on her wrist before letting go entirely.

“Oh shut up,” she rolled her eyes, taking a step back before signing again, Don’t eat anything they offer you .

Cowards. Fucking cowards they were. They were really going to try and medicate any food to lessen my attempts at leaving. To be fair, it wasn’t a bad idea, I just thought it was cowardly. Then again, truly there was nobody here who probably could rival me. Crowe, maybe, but he wasn’t alive. 

What made you hesitate? I signed.

She shook her head, meaning she didn’t want to tell me right now. That was probably a good thing, given we talked too much already.

“Well if you aren’t going to need any medicine, put a fucking shirt on,” she feigned annoyance, “I’m going to do more behavior observations on the anathema. You do…well, I don’t care what you do. We’ll talk more when it gets ‘dark’.”

With the way she emphasized dark, I knew she didn’t mean it so literally as in the evening. Her plan was to cause a distraction. With the many generators keeping this space up and running, it wouldn’t take much effort to sabotage them. Enough to make the place dark, even if temporarily..

“Of course, Doctor. Thanks for looking out for me,” I teased, seeing her want to roll her eyes again. I slipped my shirt back on, seeing her take one last glance at the tattoo before it was permanently covered, and she walked away, almost relieved. Relieved I wasn’t angry. 

There was a lot right now to be frustrated about. Her getting bitten, my team leaving us instead of fighting…and now she is using me as scientific leverage. Yet she was playing a game of her own with a very unique strategy. 

I worried what she’d think about my next move. Why take out only a few key players when I could just obliterate the entire board?

-

Resting comfortably in the cot, legs crossed and my hands behind my head, I spent the last few hours thinking of Sabbath, the least comforting of thoughts. My life would have been so different if none of it happened. I don’t know where I would exist, or who I would be. Would I have autonomy over myself, or was it foolish to think anyone did? Even Jacqueline, a woman born of privilege, wealth, and prosperity didn’t have autonomy growing up.

Religions always talked about predestined timelines, that our lives were written before we were even born. That was just the excuse they used when they created a system where barely a few had an actual say. That’s why, despite this horror and chaotic predicament presiding in Colony Negative…it also compelled me to stay. 

Here, there was no system. Here, Jacqueline could be both an anthropologist and photographer. Me? Maybe I could have a choice to do something different. Here, I could have a choice. I think that’s what frightened me. I had gone over thirty years with some structured autonomy, I wasn’t sure what I’d do without it. Structure and freedom were often seen as polarizing to each other, but I believed there needed to be a balance. 

That’s what life was: balance. Yet my scales were far too heavy on one side, it was like glaring up the steepest mountain top. Even if I reached the peak, I doubt it could ever balance the scales and weight of my sins. 

A guard walked in, his gun almost leveled with me before he eased himself at seeing my relaxed state, “Out. Now.”

“Oh, finally!” I sighed, a smile on his lips. I could almost see a scoffed laugh on the verge of his tongue, as if he thought I truly was this stupid or oblivious. Playing stupid was a bit of a speciality of mine, even better when standing side by side with a scientific genius.

They had offered me food earlier, but per Jack’s wisdom, I faked drinking the broth. I knew lack of food was waning my strength, but this broth was clearly not meant for nutrition. It was meant to sedate me, in another word or less. 

When I walked out, Jack already had her gear secured. Her upper armor was still thrown in the bin, along with the helmet since it was rather useless. To be fair, she looked good in leather and not a labcoat. Her own eyes gave off slight obliviousness to the entire situation. 

All my supplies were across the way, right next to the trapped anathema who still paced and paced around in circles. That thing never tired, at least not in front of us. It was forever hungry, forever desiring to hunt especially with prey so near. These District Three nonces thought I would be the perfect bait, when in reality I was the sharp lure that would prick their skin until they bled. 

“Thank you for the hospitality, Doctor Wueh,” I grinned, immediately letting my helmet connect with my datapad within my supplies, letting it slip over my head.

“Of course, anyone who is a friend of Doctor Deveraux is a friend of ours,” he forced a smile, his words ringing true. Except he believed Jack wasn’t my friend, in truth she wasn’t. But they didn’t think we could trust each other in a situation like this, given all the arguments they saw, the lack of respect for one another…half truths mixed in reality. 

Jack slowly lingered in the back, a slight crowd forming and she found it easier to slip away. There was initial fear that she would leave me. After all, she could easily slip out now while these men would fight to throw me into that trap. Yet I saw one laser sword at her hip and another in her hand. My laser sword to be exact. She tilted it forward, as if offering it to me from a very great distance. 

South-east , she signed, very quickly and urgently. 

That’s the tunnel she wanted to use, and I’d have to trust her. Just as she trusted me.

Yet, in a blink, multiple barrels were all pointed towards me, safeties off and ready to fire.

“You didn’t think we would actually let you go, did you?” Iso laughed, as if he had won this little game, “Oh no. You’re a chip to be bargained, Damien Rok. A cheap chip at that. This is what’s wrong with District Five. Your people are so inherently selfish. When it comes to survival and saving your own skin, you’d give up anything. Isn’t that right, Doctor Deveraux?”

Some eyes turned to her, seeing an awkwardness in her composure. They wanted to think this was some dramatic betrayal, and that actually worked in my favor. I could easily get their concentration off her, it just took a little bit of acting.

“You fucking bitch ,” I spat, wanting to move my hand towards my pistol but knew that could be a death sentence. Instead, I had to do what they expected, and that was to surrender with my hands up.

“Oh don’t be so harsh on her. You think she could ever learn to trust your kind? The same kind that let her get bit, that then left her…? You mean nothing to her, Rok. All your accolades, your death count, it means nothing now. But at least you won’t be worthless to all of us. You’re going to provide us with very important data,” Wueh hummed.

“Data?!” I laughed, “Is that all I am to you? Numerical values to be thrown into an impossible equation that can’t be solved?”

“That’s all you’ve ever been,” Iso scowled, soon barking commands in Oceanica and the guards moved closer. I backed up against the barrier, practically feeling the gentle pressure behind me of the anathema clawing at the wall between us. It had grown from its more anxious pacing state into rabid madness. Its aggression fed off the very energy stemming in this room.

The smell of violence to it was like a drug, and like any addict, it would never be satisfied.

I regained slight composure with my breath, watching the guards approach closer and closer, awaiting the signal.  Yet, Jacqueline was nowhere to be found. What if she had truly left? She got what she wanted, supposedly, and now she disappeared as quickly as she had entered my life. 

No, I had to believe.

Come’on Jack, don’t leave me alone , I thought to myself, my worst fear coming true.

And then the lights went black with a loud sizzle of burning electrons and static. The caves flickered like a wild strobe, between light and dark, the other generators trying to establish more stability. But that was enough for everyone to begin panicking, shouts of Oceanica in the dark. It opened up just a small gap in the crowd, enough to jump through and begin my escape.

But what if I could create an even bigger hole to escape with?

The second it went permanently black, my hand slammed against the button on the wall, hearing faint sirens over that high buzzing sound in my ear. Oh. I wasn’t killing anyone yet, but that sound was a sure sound that plenty of people here would die. All because of me. 

The banshee screech of the anathema was now heard by everybody, clawing its way against the dark walls. Its claws clamped into the dirt ground before feeling the breeze of an opening door nearby. The same door they’d try to throw me in was now wide open and an invitation for freedom. But the anathema didn’t want freedom. It wanted blood, and it couldn’t have both at the same time.

The anathema caused an even greater distraction than I could ever hope. Any guns that were once pointed at me were now pointed to the even greater threat. With no lights to really shine the way, lasers were the only thing lighting up the space. I took the opportunity to begin my sprint, running away from the sounds of the anathema tearing apart a scientist's neck, indulging in the flesh and blood. 

South east. South east. 

I adjusted my helmet to night vision, immediately finding the tunnel and a very frightened Jacqueline. I knew she hadn’t expected the anathema to be let loose. In fact, it was probably her greatest fear, letting it run rampant in such a controlled space such as this.

With the sound of my movements, she was quick to light her laser sword, pointing it towards me.

“It’s me,” I clarified, seeing her relax, “Good call on the darkness. It’s pitch black in here.”

“Yeah, I can’t see shit,” she sighed, handing me my laser sword, “What the fuck is happening?”

“Did you get what you needed?” I asked, seeing her nod as I ignored her earlier question. 

My laser sword felt warm at the hilt, which meant she had used it to jam the generator. Good thinking, the next time I wanted to start some electronic annoyance. Being of the Deveraux family, she probably knew the extent and capabilities of this sword greater than even myself. 

“Follow my lead,” I ordered, taking her hand with my left one, letting my laser sword ignite the way in my right hand. Her fingers were bony and cold against mine. Maybe it was just the sweat from my own palms that made me worried the temperature difference would cause a hurricane between our own fingers. Enough for her to pull away. Yet, she didn’t pull away. In fact her fingers interlaced even tighter for the moment.

The tunnel led to another chamber, this one with a high ceiling and another door, almost like a mantrap in any secured building. Yet this door was covered, and not by some scientific panel or veil. A fucking large panel of bronze was welded against the door.

“Shit,” I let go of her hand, trying to touch the barrier to our freedom to determine its thickness, “they welded this door.”

“Fuck,” she cursed, hearing her breathing accelerate, “We could go back, find another-”

“Half of those men are already probably infected and soon to turn. Not an option,” I shook my head, “I’ll have to see if I can cut through it with the sword. If not, well…”

“All those people are going to die…” she whispered, coming to the truth, “Fuck, it was just supposed to be a distraction. You don’t think the generator helped it escape?”

She was blaming herself. She was fucking blaming herself for something that was my deliberate doing. How could I tell her? How could I tell her out of my anger, my bloodlust, I doomed every single soul in that area, and maybe even possibly ourselves?

“It’s not your fault,” I said harshly.

“It was just supposed to be an escape attempt, not a fucking bloodbath-”

“Jack, listen to me right now,” I reached over to her wrist, pulling her to me, “They are not our problem right now. You know they weren’t going to let you leave. This wasn’t placed here as a barricade to prevent bad people from entering. It was a trap for you, knowing you’d go this route. They were never going to let you leave. You know this.”

“I…I okay, you’re right,” she nodded in acceptance, “What can I do to help?” 

“I need you to use your sword on one side, and I’ll use mine here. We will try to meet in the middle and melt the shit out of this. Got it?” I asked.

“Yes,” she nodded in the darkness, lighting the beautiful green sword in her possession. It clashed well with the black of the room, and her mask. 

“If we start to notice it’s damaging the sword, I need you to stop. Your sword is the better model. And we will need to keep one still functioning for its intended purpose,” I ordered, “now push.”

We both grunted with frustration as we pierced the metal, watching the metal light up in a bright orange spark. Jack was starting near the top, finding it easier to pull and push downward simultaneously while I forced the blade up by the handle. I was making better progress than her, but that was probably due to the sheer strength needed to penetrate this fucking hunk of metal. Despite the sounds of searing, melting metal, we could still hear the screams and shouts from the tunnel. 

They never stopped. My spine tingled with a shiver, but it wasn’t from the terror behind. The sound of my sword gently sawing into the metal gave off a screeching squeal that didn’t satisfy my ears. Yet it was a sound that was reverberating like an echo, out of this chamber and towards a creature that loved sounds.

Jack took a break, her breathing labored and heavy. I almost liked the sound of it. But the echo of a low growl was enough to throw me out of that delusion. With both our swords jammed into the metal, I knew I had to meet this anathema’s attack. The night vision helped of course, seeing the freshly borne infected ready to pounce our way. 

A shot in its direction was enough to divert its full attention towards me, yet when I went to grip my sword’s handle, it was firmly stuck in the metal. Fuck. Okay. “Keep at it darling, I’ll handle this.”

It didn’t give her enough time to respond as it lept towards me. That, or I just didn’t hear it. I dropped my pistol, letting my hands meet its upside down jaw, holding its bite back as I kept it forced open. I could feel it overpowering me, my boots sliding with minimal traction beneath me. It clawed at my armor viciously, loosening my grip. Shit. This one was somehow stronger than the other ones I had faced. I let it build momentum before quickly stepping to the side. It slammed into the wall behind me, giving me a moment of peace. 

Yet I didn’t see the one approaching my blindspot. A flash of bright green and a loud dying screech alerted me to its presence. Jack pulled the sword out from it’s torso, giving one good swipe before dismembering its fucking ugly head. The lights began to strobe again as the generators kicked back on, causing the live anathema in the corner to scream with almost pain. We knew it already had bad vision, but this definitely worsened that capability. 

With those lights, I could see Jack briefly make sure I was alright with a worried glance, “Your helmet is fucked up.”

I hadn’t even noticed the red warnings across my screen, alerting my helmet was practically useless. My fingers pried it off completely, feeling indents of anathema claws as it had tried to dig its way into the armor. What was top notch armor in the entire military complex was almost useless against these things. Almost. 

I immediately threw my helmet at the anathema still blindly losing its sanity in the corner, letting the noise and impact as a distraction before Jack immediately handed me her sword. It felt much more comfortable than my own, light, durable, and I almost liked the green color in my own hands. It didn’t feel as heavy as the red was, as if the green overpowered the black anathema blood. 

The anathema fought but not quick enough before the first strike removed one limb, causing it to stumble. While I knew it would regenerate, it was enough to knock its balance. One good strike to that disgusting head seared the brain, if there was any brain left in these things. It melted into the neck, killing it with a mutilated scream.

“Ugly fucks,” I spat, yanking her blade out, feeling my entire armor drenched in sweat. 

The brief respite was ruined as the lights came on completely, restoring power to everything around us. Looking at the impeded door near us, we were close to breaching. Now we could only hope to open the actual door behind it, but I’d leave that to Jack.

I smiled softly as I looked at her, “We make a pretty good team, don’t-”

My thoughts immediately became frazzled, discombobulated by electrical currents. Thousands of volts struck my cells, paralyzing my muscles as I shook violently on the floor. I could hear the sizzling of a shocking bullet in my right thigh, shot by a stun gun.

“Damien?!” Jack shouted, immediately moving to approach but she was worried about touching me in fear of shocking herself. 

“We just had to do this the hard way, didn’t we, Doctor?” Iso’s voice was blood-chalked, wet, and sounding on the verge of death. 

The bullet had stunned me into submission, my brain feeling like it finally stopped bouncing in my skull as I could hardly keep my eyes open. Splayed on the floor, I looked up and saw that Sabbath cylinder object on the ceiling. The inner mechanisms began to spin as the power had come back to it. And that’s when I realized what it was, yet I was too stunned and shocked to literally speak. Jack needed to get the fuck out of here.

“You could have fucking let us go. We were no threat to you,” Jack spat with venom laced in her voice that I hadn't heard before. Her eyes constantly darted from Iso to me, and back to him. Worry in one glance, anger in the other.

“You know the rule of two: Jacqueline,” Iso hummed, pulling a small looking detonator in his pocket, “Our studies both confirm that light and darkness can coexist, in fact they are dependent on each other. When inside human souls…they don't coexist. Evil and darkness always triumph. I never would have thought in my earlier days that I would throw a man into a cage all for science. But that’s what this place calls for.

“You know the agent at your feet is not innocent. He deserved what the plan was for him, but yet you still see something in him, don’t you? I won’t let that happen. Had the roles been reversed, Doctor, he would have easily left you. But, you still somehow see hope,” he sighed, showing Jacqueline the bite on his hip, “I am done for. So is he once I flip this switch. That’s the price for liars. You betray a kin of science for that of evil-”

“Regardless of Damien’s past, you had no right to think about using him as some scientific tool!” Jack shouted, “Your life is forfeit, Iso. This isn’t about the Districts now. This isn’t about who is going to leave here with knowledge only a few will ever know, or a power only little will possess. This is about survival. And we could have fucking done it together had you not offered me what you did.”

“His life means nothing-”

“His life means everything! Same as yours. Same as mine. Let us go, and we can promise you a merciful death. You don’t have to become one of those things,” she pleaded.

“What if I want to transform? I know now I have no choice. Sometimes, we must embrace change,” Iso laughed, spitting out blood. I watched the redness of it slowly turn dark with black speckles as it coagulated on the floor. 

But then I heard a sound above me I didn’t expect. Jack held my pistol in her hand, leveling it with Iso. She had pre-heated the laser, having the firearm ready to fire a powerful punch. All she needed to do was pull the trigger. And I don’t know why, but there was something quite beautiful in seeing her holding a gun, even if her arms shook against her will. She didn’t want to pull the trigger, but maybe she felt she had no choice.

“Oh, darling…don’t make this more satisfying,” Iso wheezed, “Don’t betray your thesis, your life’s work, for this man.”

“You’re giving me no choice,” her voice was firm despite the shakiness everywhere else, “Drop it. Now!”

Iso refused, still holding a delightful smile.

Jack pulled the trigger, the laser shooting out furiously…but whizzed by Iso’s leg. 

“A warning shot…how cute,” Iso laughed, before Jack pulled the trigger again. 

“It wasn’t a fucking warning shot, I missed,” Jack clarified, heaving heavily. This time, she was prepared for the kick back and recoil, aiming and adjusting higher. The laser ripped through Iso’s chest, causing the scientist to look down as Jacqueline had given him the death she never wanted to give any soul. 

When Iso collapsed to the ground, I could see her shoulders slump with depressed relief. She had saved me, but at a cost of her own virtue, her own belief. She didn’t leave much time to think or ponder, reaching for her sword near my side to finish Iso’s death permanently. Yet the body spasmed in its transformation, fingers altering before pressing that switch.

“No. No no no, fuck,” I heard her curse as she swung the sword like an executioner’s axe. She ended his life, but still had to save another: mine.

My eyes glanced up at the bright purple light shining on the ceiling. My muscles slowly contorted as I tried to roll to my side, yet I was fighting my own body. I remember what it was now. I knew exactly what it was and I hated the fact it took me so long to remember.

Sabbath’s experiment at taking out an entire room of politicians without firing a single trigger, without an explosive or use of gas. Those District Two bodies displayed, suffocated as per Garcia’s words…that was meant as a warning sign. This was District Three’s power, its main threat of a weapon. And I was powerless against it.

Humans all needed one vital thing to survive, something very hard to calculate a precise removal of it. Food and water were one thing. Oxygen…well, nobody could combat that. Except maybe a woman wearing a mask.

“Are you alright?” Jack ran back over to me, placing me back on my backside. It was hard to focus on her face, her hair draping over her eyes with that purple light in the back.

I pointed up at it, looking at her, “It…fuck, you need to…leave…me”

I barely had the strength to get my words out. Yet Jack seemed to understand the scenario as her datapad alerted with extreme readings. Her own mask was telling her what I wanted all along. Oxygen levels were dropping, and not just at a slow rate. 

She glanced up at the ceiling, eyes glancing at the cracks in the walls, a faint sense of hope in her eyes. She knew very well she’d be fine. Her mask had more than enough oxygen to get out of here, pierce through that wall and be okay. I was merely dead weight. 

Yet, she wasn’t leaving.

“Jack, did you hear me…?” I mumbled, seeing her very quick to place her supplies down. She was running out of time, but that wasn’t going to stop her. I could hear her taking very dynamic, long breaths before exhaling them quickly. She was conserving her own oxygen, while trying to slow her own heart rate. 

The second I saw her hands move to her mask, I knew what she was doing. My body was screaming at me to get to my feet, to prevent her from making this horrendous mistake but I couldn’t. All I could do was be a witness. I could feel my own brain lapsing at the lack of oxygen, a faint ringing in my ears of possibly my own death. 

Jack took one last inhale before removing her mask, firmly forcing it against my mouth until it suctioned gently against my jaw. A soft beep was enough to confirm the transfer.

Amidst blurry, tired eyes, I saw a scarred angel above me. Scars that ran deeper than skin could allow, a beauty that most humans would never witness…all consequences of life’s most alluring and rare creature: the indomitable human spirit. 

All in the form of my rival, who I thought to be my worst enemy was now a bewitching savior. Doctor Jacqueline Deveraux.

Chapter Text

One of a scientist’s greatest fears was their work turning against them. We spend so much time with our products, our experiments, and our data that an emotional attachment begins to form. There is an invisible bond, a borderline obsessive compulsion to keep that work for ourselves. Yet, we have to remember that our products are tools, and their uses depend on the hands that hold them.

To have a product betray its purpose was almost like watching a child stray from its path. One could hope one day it would return, like a prodigal son or daughter, but often they stray too far to ever return to the original idea. 

My mother had always loved her work products more than her own children. The things she constructed, designed, and even imagined seemed hundreds of years away yet she was determined to make it happen in her lifetime. She had missed all my fencing tournaments or science fairs. The only time I ever felt she had been happy to see me or Angelique was when we entered her lab. From there, all she talked about was work.

This violet glowing machine hanging from the epicenter of the ceiling was a product I never thought I’d really see again, let alone in a place like Colony Negative. I remember seeing it in the Deveraux Laboratories, the initial patent and design of a vacuum degassing machine commonly used for water treatment. But the idea was to use a similar technique to begin removing dissolved gasses from the air itself, not just liquids. 

I remember the night it was showcased, half-buzzed off disgustingly expensive champagne and wanting nothing more than to return to my own studies. Investors lined out the door to all get their hands on this: military, industrial, ecological. All men in big and fancy suits with a line of money to throw at my mother. A machine like this could remove dangerous gasses from mines and oilfields, or assist the military industrial complex in stopping unethical gas attacks.

I suppose the only time I would have been happy to see this machine would have been Colony 599. 

Now, I knew what it was really intended for: oxygen deprivation.

Damien Rok was right when this room was designed as a trap, clear to see now with the lights on and corpses strewn across the floor. I was able to briefly study the maps District Three scientists had left around of their compound and territory and determined this section to be the best shot of returning to our own main base. They would have known this was the route I was most likely to take, setting up the bait and I fell right in for it. 

I focused not on Damien still struggling to gather his wits on the floor, hearing his audible breathing through what had once been my mask. There was no time to think about what I had done. I could hold my breath longer than him and I was familiar with this machine. If I could get close, I could stop this process and we’d both live. Leaving that up to him, in his current condition, would have been a death sentence to us both.

Our relationship was so oddly symbiotic. I think we were processing the four different relationship styles, first starting as competitive rivals. Maybe that’s what we still were back at base, with me in my lab and him in his intelligence office. There were moments when actually in the field that resembled parasitism, where we sickened each other to benefit ourselves. I think we both realized now that would get us nowhere. 

Mutualism was the only way to survive. 

With a sword in one hand, and my medical knife in the other, I had to climb these black walls until I could reach the top. From there, there were plenty of cave roots to help, if they were sturdy. In my mind right now, I wasn’t thinking about safety because there was none. If I didn’t do this, I would die. Damien wouldn’t be able to make the same honorable sacrifice I had just had to save me, and I didn’t want to wonder if he would even try.

The climb was exhilarating but I knew I had to conserve my oxygen, due to how limited it would soon become. It made me a bit reminiscent of my university days, escaping into the mountains with my sister and other colleagues to escape the burdens in our minds with a bit of nature. Angelique. Angie was my motivation to keep going. I had to do this for her. 

The sword cut like butter into the metal, much easier than that welded bronze they had set up. The knife in my left hand was only used to hold my position temporarily before I could move the sword up. My boots often lost traction in the climb, the tip slipping against the flat surface which meant mainly my upper body was exerting most of this physicality. 

But finally, I was close. My heart raced out of exhaustion. My head felt light, dizzy and confused. My oxygen was running low and so was the time I had. Once in reach to the cylindrical vacuum, I hung by one arm while the other let my knife gently scrape at the top near the secured mount. Just underneath was the chip interpreting data of what precise molecules and particles to attack. If I could remove or damage that, this machine would have nothing to construe. 

I thought about just slashing my laser sword at it, but with the rate of fans spinning with velocity in this machine, it would most likely blow up in my face. Literally, not figuratively. This attempt might look suicidal, but it wasn’t intended that way. I had to undo the mistakes of my mother. I had to take her inventions and ruin them. Otherwise, I worried I’d become just like her.

With the world fading away around me, my knife finally felt the edge of the upper panel and pried it off. Oxygen was gone. My lungs burned, screaming at my brain to open my lips to gasp, but there would be no satisfaction in doing so. All I could do was choke on my own held breath. My fingers scratched the surface underneath the panel, needing to find wires, just three small wires intertwined in this well designed, killing machine.

And I found them. There was no time to cut. All I could do was utilize the last of the strength and rip the chip from its screwed-in position. I could feel my limbs go limp, succumbing to what felt like the beginning of a deep sleep. The hum from the machine stopped, and all I could feel was gravity pulling me down with no oxygen to scream from the fall.

I landed on weak, tired arms. Damien had mustered enough strength to break my fall, resulting in me landing on him as I practically slipped through his arms. I heaved and coughed for oxygen, almost fearing I had failed before hearing my lungs wheeze with delight. That vacuum glowed no more and I could exhale with relief. 

We laid there for a moment, splayed on each other's backs as we let oxygen revitalize us. Both of us just wanted to rest there, close our eyes and sleep away the sins we had created and wake up refreshed and anew. But the sounds of distant growls and very faint screams was enough to force us to keep going. It’s all we could do.

Go and go and go, never get a moment of relief for ourselves.

“Fuck,” I mumbled to myself, rolling off him before looking at him.

He chuckled, surprising me given the fact we both almost just died.

“It’s not funny,” I retorted, rising to my feet before extending a hand to him. He looked so odd with my mask across the lower half of his face. It almost was too small, but it had done the job in providing him oxygen in a time he certainly needed it. 

At that moment, I realized he was now seeing me in my monstrous form. There were only a few that really knew the true disfigurement of my scars. Damien Rok was the last person I had ever wanted to see this side of me. I couldn’t let his judgemental ego get to me with those immature comments of his. Yet, all I saw when I looked into those gray eyes was a softness and a hint of amusement, amusement for whatever he thought was funny.

“I just didn’t expect that to be the first words I heard from your lips,” he explained his chuckle, surprising me. Of course he had heard me converse, but the mask distorted the true pitch and tone of my voice. His own voice now was distorted by it. Only now, he’d have to hear my true voice until we could get the fuck out of here.

Once on his feet, he limped for a moment as he grabbed his sword before gently prying the mask off his face. He took a moment to admire the technology of it, before handing it to me with a soft smile.

“I suppose you’ll want this back,” he offered.

“It’s no use. It won’t recalibrate with my system. In order to quickly get it to register to you, I had to wipe its connection with my chip. I can’t establish connection until I get back to my room,” I explained, shying my eyes away from his gaze. I knew eventually his facade would fall. I knew eventually his eyes would speak the silent words I had seen from a lot of men.

“Oh,” he continued to look at me, “you didn’t have to-”

“I did. You would have died otherwise. The pain in your system was making you breathe harder and you wouldn’t have lasted as long as I did to turn that machine off,” I retorted, grabbing my things.

Upon grabbing my pack of supplies, my eyes caught Doctor Wueh’ corpse on the floor. A corpse I had killed, willingly shot to save my own skin and that of my military counterpart. I had scratched the itch, that horribly dangerous, contagious itch that would spread if I wasn’t too careful. 

I wanted to go my whole life never knowing what it felt like to kill, never once dreaming of an anger that would provoke me in such ways. Today, it wasn’t anger that resulted in my poor judgment. It was fear. Perhaps the murder would have been easier for me to swallow if I had let him ultimately turn into an anathema and killed him then. By then, his soul was already dead.

That was the difference between anathemas and humans: souls.

And all of it had been for naught, the button was pressed anyways, and Wueh was dead. By my hands or a biohazard enzyme that consumed him, to him it did not matter. To me, it meant everything. A soul for a soul, and mine was just disfigured by this action. 

Damien finished cutting the rest of the welded blockade enough for me to squeeze through, feeling him follow right after. We were free of District Three’s kidnapping, although I knew part of me went willingly. I didn’t know specifically how many days or hours they had held us. All I knew was that I wasn’t the same woman leaving as I had entered this compound.

We walked side by side, Damien with his rifle steady but we were beginning to feel safe (safe as we could) as most of the anathemas were probably drawn elsewhere. Elsewhere, being the slaughterhouse we just escaped. Barely escaped, actually. I was beginning to think maybe I did have some luck on my side, or if my knowledge mixed with the man next to me was enough. Just enough to survive. 

“Go on, say it,” I sighed, knowing it was about time we got this discussion over with.

“Say what?” he asked, his head turning my way.

“Oh come on,” I rolled my eyes, “that it looks…or rather I look - fill in the blank with your favorite, derogatory adjective.” I had heard them plenty of times already. I thought maybe in the beginning without the mask people would understand. They didn’t. Mentors and colleagues in my own field had shriveled away with disgust.

Ugly. Ghastly. Disfigured. And my favorite from the one time I felt vulnerable enough to show a man I was once seeing: Revolting.

Damien Rok was silent for once and I thought he either didn’t hear me or was trying to avoid the conversation. Yet my eyes had met his, seeing him still gazing at me. His eyes stared but it wasn’t the kind I was used to: this odd sense of awe. No. He stared at me like he had since the day we met, and the lack of a mask didn’t seem to change that.

“You look powerful,” he finally said, looking forward as he seemed happy with his answer. 

It wasn’t one I was expecting, most of all from him. I almost thought he was lying, but I knew from that initial interrogation with him he often looked to the left when lying. He had said that straight to my face with belief. 

We said nothing else to each other for a while as I tried to piece together his words, only navigating this labyrinth together. The only time we really did speak was when figuring out which way to go, but that was hardly an argument. Damien was very quick to trust my judgment. In all honesty, he seemed just as exhausted as me and had no energy to argue. It wasn’t until we walked a very long, straight hallway and entered a chamber of extending tunnels: a foyer, so to speak.

“This looks familiar,” Damien hummed quietly, looking around.

“We’ve seen like five of these already,” I noted, but noticed his intrigue. He glanced around before his eyes stopped at an imprint in the wall. There was a large impact, about the size of a human as if it were thrown into the wall. Dried blood was at the bottom, but no body was found.

“Huh, there was a body here last time,” he mentioned. No doubt that body was now a roaming anathema, one to be careful of. 

“Are you sure this is familiar?” I asked, seeing him nod assertively, “Do you remember which one you came from?”

He took a moment to perouse his memory, trying to remember which tunnel he must have exited at the right angle to view that dent in the wall. Or rather, what had been a corpse. He finally decided on the most eastern tunnel, which made sense.

“I think it was this one,” he hummed, “and then I took that tunnel over there.”

“Why did you take that tunnel? That wouldn’t have taken us back to where we came from,” I questioned.

“Well there was a corpse and I figured for safety’s purpose, given I was carrying an unconscious scientist over my shoulder, it would be best to go the opposite of where the corpse was flung from,” he explained himself, his tone a tad defensive.

“Okay okay, I’m not questioning your judgment,” I clarified, raising my hands in slight surrender.

“Mhm, sure,” he smirked softly, limping back towards the tunnel he remembered and I followed suit.

Eventually, we had to stop. The exhaustion between the both of us was growing and ultimately we had no choice. We needed to eat, sleep, and most of all recover to unpack everything that just happened. Damien assured us we were close and I believed him, so we found a small room with one door. It only took ten minutes to open with a panel but it was secure enough for the time being. It was just a bit cramped, practically side by side in a small storage room. But safety came above our wants.

“Still nothing on your datapad either?” he sighed, glancing down at his data which was useless unless he wanted to perouse hundreds of intelligence files. Both our comms were disconnected, so our best chance was finding a team-member alive either above or below the surface. Preferably above.

“No,” I shook my head, unpacking some of my things for the night. The datashard Wueh had given me was tucked in my own boots and I finally decided to pull that out.

“I guess we'll just have to wait,” he groaned as he sat down.

“Here,” I pulled a Stimuli from my pack, “I took it from District Three’s supply. That should stop your moaning and groaning.”

“Oh, so thieving is only okay when you do it,” Damien teased, accepting it, “I saw that look you gave when Grimes mentioned missing a protein shake.”

He began to strip all of his armor and I did my best to disgracefully look away. Yet, the reflection of my datapad with the minimal glow lights we laid around was enough to see his muscles contort with his tight gray undershirt and briefs. Not to mention the extent of his injuries. That left side of his looked worse than before, the shock Wueh had given in that final chamber catalyzing the pain further. At that point I couldn’t help but look over with sympathy.

“You sure you don’t want it? I thought without your mask that…your pain is worse?” he asked hesitantly. I was honestly a bit surprised he remembered that. 

“It would only be a temporary reprieve,” I shook my head, hating how the sweat drenched across his shirt only made his muscles more apparent, “with you it should begin the healing process and you’ll feel better in no time.”

Damien Rok was built. Not that odd body-builder style of muscles often seen in magazines, television stars, or even male sex models. His muscles were most apparent when using them. Perhaps if he had followed a strict diet, he’d look just like one of those bodybuilders with only ten percent of body fat. The fact he didn’t look like that meant he valued delicious food over strict nutrition, and I admired that. 

He was attractive, I’d give him that. Certainly not enough to even tempt me, like he’d even want to try.

He stabbed himself in the thigh with the stimuli, getting as close to the bullet wound as he could. He did so without hesitation, unlike when he didn’t want to stab my thigh with that medical device of Garcia’s. Another long silence fell between us as I began to open my rationings which were nothing more than dried fruit, crackers, and overly salted pork. He demolished his rations before I even began touching the crackers.

“It was an intelligence report from Sabbath, a paragraph with the word anathema typed inside it all,” I finally spoke, realizing he didn’t exactly know the context floating around in my head, “That’s what made me hesitate. Wueh showed me Sabbath documentation that had a term, as far as I know, that only District Five uses.”

“Yeah, I’m aware of that report,” Damien nodded in understanding, “We accessed it a few days after I gave you that helmet. My team is aware that intelligence is leaking somewhere. Doctor Wueh showed that in hopes to convince you that I probably still worked for them.”

“You knew about it? Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, although I knew deep down why. I didn’t have the necessary clearance, according to Milithreat intelligence guidelines. And…because I was a primary suspect.

“It wasn’t that I thought it was you. Okay, maybe briefly I did,” he sighed, before scratching his head with slight shame, “and…even now I wondered too, until you brought it up that’s why you hesitated. I saw the way you looked at my tattoo and then you easily took apart that Oxy-Vac-”

“That’s what they fucking decided to call it?” I rolled my eyes, before shaking my head myself. It was all beginning to make sense. All of it. I had seen a snake tattoo multiple times in my life, from childhood to adulthood, amidst small circles or even in large parties. Whether on the backs of necks, insides of wrists, subtle or blatant like Damien’s chest. All of them lingered in the grass around my mother, and she welcomed them in. In fact, she embraced them and their investors greater than any other business venture. 

I always thought her to be some materialistic snob, yet Sabbath had appealed to her without large sums of money. That kind of appeal for power was greater than any temptation of material items. 

“My mother worked for Sabbath,” I finally answered, the words like a punch to my own gut. I should have known. All the signs were there, signs that I ignored. I hadn’t loved her so I focused on my own path and studies, on my own work. There was a part of guilt that resided in that fact. Maybe I could have changed something. Maybe I could have done something differently. If I had been a better child, or if I had been maybe even more rebellious maybe…

No. I was a fucking child. I didn’t know any better, but she did. 

She wanted to make the world a better place and worked with a District that only had one worldview: their own. 

“You didn’t know until now,” Damien’s voice was soft, oddly understanding. He could see how much it pained me, pained me more than the scars aching deep into my skin, muscles pulling and burning all at the same time.

“Maybe I always knew and just ignored it. The conclusion was staring at my face the entire time and my mind was still focused on everything else,” I took a deep breath, “I could be wrong. But I don’t feel like I’m wrong about this.”

“I’m sorry to say…but I don’t think you’re wrong,” Damien said, “you don’t have a file in Sabbath databases. At least, not full of information not commonly known. And there’s only two reasons I can think of why a person wouldn’t be in there. The first: they work for them already. The second is a top-notch Sabbath scientist wrote in their contract to prohibit information of relatives. Your mother would have been worried someone would have used you to get to her, so she removed any knowledge of being connected with you.”

“Yeah well, it makes me wonder if that did happen,” I muttered to myself.

He looked like he wanted to ask more about that, but out of politeness for my feelings hesitated. I had to get it out anyways, while the thoughts were still fresh on my mind and anger on the tip of my tongue.

“After my…incident, I awoke from a comatose state to the news that my parents died. Rather, my father killed my mother before turning the gun on himself. Investigators concluded my father must have been upset about what happened to me, argued with my mother, and in a violent act of passion killed her. They didn’t find any details as to what could have caused his reaction, it was all based on assumption. My father was a very soft, quiet man who loved mathematics more than he loved people. Killing wasn’t really in his nature.”

I felt a tear escape my eyes and immediately brushed it away, feeling anger overcome me instead. I shouldn’t be upset. They weren’t good parents, even though I knew that. But I missed the desire for them to be good parents. I remembered all the nights I just wished they’d give an ounce of love or attention to my sister and I. We both never felt deserving of it.

Damien shifted awkwardly, moving closer to me, “Well, what about your sister. You still have her, right?”

“What?” I sniffled momentarily, glancing up at him knowing I had never mentioned Angelique to him.

“Sorry, but…that day I went to give you lasagne, David mentioned you were on a call with your sister. I didn’t want to interrupt that. And the fact he said I wasn’t allowed in the lab, I didn’t want to make a scene,” he explained, “I apologize if bringing her up is a problem.”

That seemed to clarify more than him just digging up files of information on me, which I knew he was capable of. Yet everything he seemed to know about me were from things I told him, or things he observed. He’d never once shared something about me that I didn’t bury in my closet of skeletons. Either he did dig and was very good about keeping those secrets, highly plausible for a man in intelligence. Or maybe everything he wanted to know about me was something he’d wanted to hear from my disfigured lips. 

“Here,” I pulled out my datapad, going through some folders within folders before finding more personal items. I pulled up an old photograph, one taken from my camera, that had both of us on Colony 501 at the peak of Mount Genesis. It was before the incident, before I…well I lost a lot that day.

“Wow, you’re twins,” Damien smiled, inching closer to look at the photo. I knew what he was thinking. Angelique Deveraux was a man’s dream. She had probably had a boyfriend for most of her life to some extent all the way through university. Her hair was longer than my own, skin and face much fairer although she still had that sharp Deveraux jawline like myself. She was just…warmer. She had a warm smile, soft eyes, and most of all a very welcoming heart. She loved, well, loves people. She didn’t really hate a soul in the entire world, even our parents.

“Go ahead, say it. She’s drop dead gorgeous,” I laughed softly, feeling my own cheeks grow sore upon looking at her. She was beautiful, both inside and out. 

“Yeah she is. But…” he paused. I could see his eyes linger towards the right side of the photograph, the side I stood on. I’m sure he’s seen photos or evidence of what I looked like before my tragedy, so this shouldn’t surprise him too much. “I don’t know. She doesn’t seem my type. She looks too nice, I’d be worried about breaking her heart.” 

“At least you seem self aware. Do tell, Damien Rok, how many women's hearts have you smashed into smithereens?” I teased. 

“I think I’ve disappointed several, but never shattered. I never let it get that close to be so damaging,” he blushed slightly.

“Well, when I tell Angie I think she might be disappointed but I’ve already warned her you seem like a one and done kinda guy,” I nudged him, “she will have to cope.”

“Tell her I’m flattered then,” he smiled softly, his eyes watching me and not the photograph now, “and tell her that…you saved my life.”

“In order to tell her that, I’d need to tell her that you saved mine first,” I retorted, but kept my tone soft. I wanted to let him know that I was thankful, just as thankful as he sounded for me.

“You didn’t have to do what you did, Jacqueline. You could have grabbed a sword, forced your way out, and not look back,” he explained.

“You’re right. I could’ve. But I went through so much lying and effort to prevent you from being thrown into that anthema cage, I wasn’t just going to let you go to waste. And again, you also saved me. You could have easily left me and didn’t. This makes us even.”

He paused for a moment, still looking at me. There was a hint of sadness in his eyes, but the more nostalgic kind. He eventually grabbed his datapad, staying close as he went through files of his own. And not just personal files, but Sabbath files. That was clear from the classification markings at the top and the snake emblem sprinkled all over.

What he showed me was a photograph of himself, similar to getting a new photo and identification card on the first day of a new job. But instead of eager enthusiasm to get to work, there was only a look of frightfulness in a young boy's eyes. 

“This was me. Or rather, is me. This was my first day in Sabbath. I was nine, I think,” he pointed at the youngest mugshot of him. He looked scared, a child who didn’t know where he was or who he was with. His face was littered with bruises, indicating maybe a lack of discipline or respect resulted in the injuries. Yet there was a bit of determination in his eyes, a hope for survival.

“Your eyes were blue then,” I observed with a soft smile, “You have a little bit of blue now but…not as strong.”

He smiled softly in return, switching to the next photo, “This was me at sixteen, after passing all my training and becoming an agent.”

That once scared little boy had changed into a man, or rather a boy who cockily believed he was one. He had that infamous Damien Rok tilt of the head, devilish smirk, and the sensation of being on top of the world. It was typical of most teenagers to feel that way. With his environment growing up, no doubt they fed his ego when he followed the rules and excelled well. Here, it looked like he had excelled. 

“And then this was me at twenty-five…after my first mission as a lead,” his voice grew quieter. It was clear to see why as he went to the last photograph. There was a stark difference from the last photo to that of before. Not only did the boy grow into a man, but he also had come to terms with just how brutal life was, how dreadful his upbringing had created. That cocky, on top of the world teenager was now a defeated, deflated man. His hair was longer, soft brown curls instead of the normal buzzcut, stubble across a tired cheek. He looked like a drunkard on the street, a young man who had wasted his early childhood and had no potential, no future to look forward to.

But in his eyes, they still held that bit of blue to them but there was so much dread. There was so much pain. Soft scars accompanied his appearance, near his eyebrows or neck. He had seen warfare outside of training simulations or games. He had lived in it, and reaped the consequences. He had seen more in a span of eight years than any man should experience in his lifetime. 

The Damien Rok beside me didn’t look so defeated as in the previous image. There was a healthier glow about him, with that hint of teenage cockiness back in his humor. Milithreat seemed to have given him a new chance to move away from this past. His humor was one I brushed aside as some weird immaturity for a man his age. I was beginning to see it was his attempt to use humor as means of a coping mechanism. 

“What was it like?” I asked with a whisper, looking at him to let him know that he didn’t have to answer. It was very apparent with what he had shown what it had been like, on a surface level. If he was willing to share further then I would listen.

“Your entire life is determined for you. You will wake up at the same time every day, and go to sleep at the same time. Your entire day is scheduled to the hour. Your food is pre-determined every day. If you were good, you’d get an overcooked, grisly steak. Bad, and you wouldn’t get to eat at all. Every day, we’d train. We’d shoot, we’d exercise, we’d learn to kill. Every single day, you’re told exactly what will happen,” he explained, trepidation laced in his voice, “for those without structure, without discipline, I suppose it was helpful. That’s how I viewed it anyway.”

“Determined by…that algorithm?” I asked quietly, hoping I wouldn’t get too far ahead of myself. But he nodded, telling me I was right. 

“Yeah. The Machine: everything that algorithm predicts, states, determines, examines…anything it can evaluate is truth. It knows everything. It knew everything about me, what I wanted, what I lacked…what I’d do,” he whispered quietly, “at first I thought it was a bunch of bullshit. I thought it was just this dark magic that they used to control us. But you were right about science. Data isn’t wrong, is it?”

I knew those words we had spat at each other in that interview room all stemmed from this pain. The pain in his voice and his eyes, the memories of everything that had happened to him all came flooding back. My words to him then were probably stinging slaps in his face, words that I understood now to have caused him turmoil.

“This…was my brother,” he explained, pulling up a new photo lineup. A lineup with just one photo. In that photo was a much younger boy, possibly the age of six, holding a torn up stuffed toy in his arms with tears streaming down his face. There were no bruises on his porcelain skin, but the fear was apparent. “This was Scott, my younger brother.”

From the lack of more photos, it didn’t take much to determine that something had happened.

“I failed to protect him,” Damien sighed, “even worse, that algorithm was right. At the time, I got so cocky with that Machine. They’d sit us down whenever they liked, let us talk to it, challenge it. It was like playing with a god when they wanted us to pray with It instead. Like any rambunctious boy, we like to be defiant. So I challenged it. I mocked its abilities, I told it to predict something so impossible that if it ever happened, I’d believe. If this impossible thing would occur, then I would have no choice but to believe any prediction it made. When it told me this impossible task, I laughed in its face.”

The left hand upon his own knee trembled, and without second thought I placed my hand over his own.

“Damien you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” I assured him. He knew that. Yet he was willing to share regardless. He was willing to share the insides of Sabbath, now truly knowing I wasn’t a part of that system, that I didn’t believe in their cause.

“It told me I would kill my brother one day. To me, that was impossible. This was my little brother. I protected him every day, took punches and fought anyone that cursed at him. He’s a lot like Angie, I think. He had a very kind soul, and didn't really ever want to hurt anyone. He just wanted to get along with everyone and Sabbath didn’t like that,” he swallowed hard, taking a deep breath, “one day we were doing simulation training. They always had us in teams conducting missions, minor things like infiltrating compounds or hand to hand combat. Things to prepare us for the real missions that lay ahead. That day, it was just me against six combatants, my brother and his friends. They wanted me to prove I could win, despite being outnumbered.”

He took another long pause. His right hand flinched slightly, his primary index twitching as if he remembered the exact trigger squeeze that had killed him. 

“The ammunition was live. It wasn’t a simulation, the lasers were real,” he admitted painfully, immediately turning off his datapad, “I didn’t know until the simulated mission was completed.”

“Damien, I-” I paused myself, not even knowing what to say. How could I? The man had unknowingly killed his own brother. What he thought had been a game turned into a nightmare. I could see why Sabbath did that, why they wanted him to make these decisions. They wanted to remove all attachments he had, both physical and emotional, and turn him into that machine I mistook him for.

I squeezed his hand, “You didn’t know. Damien, it sounds like they set you up. I was right when I said algorithms could be faulty, they’re not fool proof because they’re designed by humans. And we are very flawed beings. Whatever it had predicted, whatever it predicts…it’s not true. You still have free will. You can decide to be whatever you want to be. They wanted you to believe it was real.”

“And I fell for it. I fell for the party trick. I followed this god of data, obeyed its demands like the obedient son Sabbath wanted me to be. Every single thing it predicted after that: my first mission, the mission I got captured by District One…even the day I would leave Sabbath. It knew,” he shook his head, ashamed of himself, “it knew my birth because it created me. And it also knows my end.”

“What do you mean by that?” I asked slowly.

“There’s a reason why this has been a struggle for me. I’ve never been a leader, I’ve worked better alone in the field. Intelligence wasn’t much of my strong suit, Milithreat just placed me where they thought I’d be less damage control. In Sabbath, I led squadrons, but most didn’t come back alive. Sabbath only cared if the mission was successful and I was in one piece.  I know now what this data means to you, what you’re willing to do to get it. Even if it means betraying me, even if it’s lying or stealing. At least I know how strong you are,” he explained, finally looking my way again, “And I need you to know that I can’t be weak. I need to be strong too.”

“You are strong, Damien,” I assured him. I felt him squeeze my hand back in appreciation.

“Sabbath told me…forty days of judgment will arrive after I fail. I have never failed a mission under Sabbath, under Milithreat…even now on Colony Negative. I have not failed. Not yet. The first mission I will fail in my life, will be my last. Sabbath predicts forty days after I fail my mission, I will kill myself,” he admitted, his eyes dead serious on mine. 

He wasn’t lying. This wasn’t some odd want for pity or compassion from me. He wasn’t telling me because he wanted my sympathy. He was telling me as a warning, a warning that he was going to do whatever it took to not fail. That’s why he carried me away when I got bit. That’s why he believed the bite wouldn’t make me turn. Believing I would turn into an anathema would ultimately fail his mission. And if he failed…

I now realize why even his medical data had pinpointed signs of depression, loneliness, and minor suicidal tendencies. I first thought he was just reckless and those decisions worsened his sense of control. Failure for most was a wound to improve upon. For him, it was a death sentence. 

No. He wouldn’t fail. I couldn’t let that happen. I now realized I had to be careful, more careful than I was before with my own life. My brashness was tied to his own, in this odd, constricting vine-like relationship. We needed to entangle together to survive, but tangled too hard, someone was going to choke. 

“That’s not going to happen, Damien,” I whispered, “This algorithm is just a machine, but I need you to think of it like a person. No person has ever stopped you, Damien Rok. If you’re going to defeat this predestined life of yours, you need to kill the control it has over you.”

“I know. I know. But it’s been twenty years of perfect predictions. Twenty years of seeing a lot of shit I wish I could get out of my head. And the only people out there that might understand my sentiments would be someone from Sabbath,” he shook his head.

“They might understand, Damien. But they won’t sympathize. To Sabbath, you’re nothing more than a tool for their grand design. And even if they’re not as powerful as they were decades ago, even if their reach for colonization is limited…they still exist,” I assured, “and you’re right, they may be the only ones to understand. I will never fully understand your pain, everything that you went through. But I can show compassion and still see your worth: worth as a human, not a tool.”

He nodded gratefully but didn’t look at me any further. I think both of us had reached our limit of sharing right now, and that was okay. I think I might have shared more than I intended, but I was also relieved Damien had shared with me. I knew Sabbath was bad, but I never knew it had gotten this deep. If only there was one way I could show him that algorithm was wrong, that he wouldn’t have to worry the day he failed.

Because he would fail, in one way or another. He was human, as was I, and this place we resided in only made the odds even worse.

“Have you thought about maybe talking about it with Grimes?” I offered, grabbing my blanket to start getting ready for rest.

“No. I don’t want him to see me in a different light,” Damien dejected the idea.

“Yet you shared it with me.”

He shrugged at that, “Sometimes, Jack, you feel easy to talk to. And other times, you’re a real pain in my ass.”

“The feeling is mutual,” I laughed softly, curling up against the wall, “Do try and get some rest, will you?”

“I’ll try,” he nodded, looking away from me. I thought with all the things and thoughts in my head, sleep would almost feel impossible. Yet, the exhaustion had been so overwhelming that sleep came easy. It was the dreams that haunted me. Long dark hallways, anathemas crawling and clawing at each side of me, chasing a young boy with dirty brown buzzed hair and sharp blue eyes. 

In the end, I couldn’t save him.

-

When I awoke, it was to Damien’s hand clasped around my lips. The sensation shocked me, staggering slightly before seeing him silently shush. And I could see why there was a need for quiet.

A large moving object was right outside our door and in the hallway. Footsteps could echo in this place like light taps. Whatever this was sounded heavy, gigantic, and would brush against the walls, dragging its heavy nature with it. My heart accelerated at the sound, knowing a normal anathema wouldn’t sound like that, even if it was between the walls. 

Eventually after a few minutes of vibrations feeling more and more distant, the sound faded along with it. Whatever monster had pushed its way in traversing these narrow halls was gone. Gone for now.

Damien eventually removed his hand, grabbing his things, “We should go.”

“While that thing is still out there?” I asked.

“It’s here whether we like it or not, and it’s heading the opposite of our heading. We should keep moving,” he insisted gently, and I wasn’t going to correct him. 

“Did you get any sleep?” 

“A bit,” he hummed, although it didn’t seem very satisfying, “it was a bit difficult given you curled up against my shoulder.”

“I did?” I asked with a horrified glance. I knew I was never really one for physical touch, it wasn’t exactly my kind of intimacy. At least, that’s what I had thought. People always say the right one will bring out those emotions and acts of love. I never found a single person that I even remotely connected with to think about that.

“It’s fine,” he insisted, not wanting to discuss it much further, “let’s move.”

So, we did. There was no time to really discuss what we talked about the night before. If anything, it felt like we left all those heavy thoughts and burdens in that small room. Maybe it had just been a brief moment where we regurgitated all the things that haunted us and we’d never return to that moment again. Like two trains crossing paths nearly colliding, we’d never meet at that same path again at that same time. 

Finally, he was right in everything that looked familiar. And with a brightness seeping into the darkness of the halls, we were met with a very recognizable hole in the ground, or rather up into the fresh air. We had made it back, the same way we had entered days ago. Except the sound of roaring wind was above and that dampened our moods.

“A storm, that explains the lack of connection,” I sighed, knowing we’d either have to wait it out or maybe push through.

Damien found an odd shaped rock on the ground, a smooth stone before turning it over. On the back were etched symbols from a knife, one he seemed to recognize.

“What is that?”

“It’s a code, something Grimes and I use if we need to communicate with each other. Kind of like our sign,” he explained, smiling softly, “it basically says, if we are alive, he stationed that semi-broken Sioc above. We can get out of here.”

“Semi-broken is better than nothing,” I sighed with relief, “but what about the storm?”

“I think we should drive through it,” he explained, “the longer we wait, either in the Sioc or down here, the more and more our personnel might believe us to be dead. My datapad is also on the verge of dying.”

I didn’t really like the idea of blindly driving in a sandstorm to get back to our main base. But he was right. The longer we waited, executive decisions could be made outside our control. Even worse if they had sent a party out to go find us, thinking we were still out there somewhere. 

A deep vibration was felt beneath our feet, similar to what we had awoken to just earlier. Whatever that thing was, it was coming back. There wasn’t enough time to come up with a secondary plan, only follow Damien’s guidance.

“It’ll have to do,” I whispered, securing my gear before looking up. It was a long climb up. If the rest of the crew was here, with that equipment it would be an easy glide to the top. Without them, well, we’d just have to climb by hand. 

“Ladies first,” Damien offered, handing me the rope as he secured his own gear as well. But he made sure to have that rifle ready to fire if needed. Whatever was in these halls sounded large, large enough even his rifle wouldn’t even dream of penetrating. But I think both of us, as intrigued as we were, weren’t wanting to sit around and find out.

The climb was hard, my already sore muscles aching and burning but there was a sense in relief that Damien was close down below. He made sure not to jostle the rope with every movement up I made with his own weight, which was rather considerate of him. I almost couldn’t get that thought out of my mind: that Damien Rok was nicer than he acted. 

His actions with Cole were seen as stupid, reckless, and him trying to control an environment that got way out of his hands. His hangover caused by undisciplined drinking was also seen as immature and sloppy. But I knew now that him losing Cole hit him harder than he’d admit, not because he hadn’t lost soldiers before. He was rather used to that. To me, it seemed the first time it happened under Milithreat direction.

His consequences from Sabbath haunted him like ghosts, and just as they plagued him when awake, I knew they did worse things in his sleep. 

We can never truly escape our own monsters. Perhaps Colony Negative was the same.

The dust and debris chaotically blowing against my skin cut like fine needles. The only solace was reaching the Sioc and sitting beside the tire while the vehicle took most of the storm damage. Damien eventually followed suit, unlocking the back doors by pressing a few coded buttons. We climbed in with heavy breaths, taking just a brief respite before he moved to the front seats.

It was then that I noticed we didn’t have any keys for it. 

Damien didn’t seem to care, getting underneath the seat and pulling a panel away, like a mechanic getting dirty. Only instead of engine parts to play with, it was electrical components to mess with. The engine eventually purred with life, and so did the screens surrounding us.

“Thank you Grimes,” Damien sighed to himself, getting in the main seat before pointing to the co-pilot spot, “buckle up, doctor.”

“Our navigation is practically useless and we can barely see out the windows,” I sighed, tightening the seat belt, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Positive. I may not know much about the tunnels underneath, but I know my way around this surface,” he grinned, “sorry to say, we’re all out of helmets.”

“Hah,” I rolled my eyes, “Don’t drive so fucking stupid this time. Just tell me what I need to do.”

“Work on the comms,” Damien set the Sioc into drive, “see if we can establish something, even if spotty.”

“Yes sir,” I enthusiastically replied, figuring it was useless. 

Damien drove with speed, but not the same as that chase we had weeks prior. He remained well balanced in his driving, adjusting speed to the amount of limited visibility, while also letting his muscle memory come into play. Comms were alive, but not necessarily awake. It wasn’t until we slowly began to reach the outer urban perimeter there was an opening.

“District Five Control, do you read me?” I asked into the provided small microphone.

Static.

“Control, this is Doctor Jacqueline Deveraux. Does anyone read me?”

“Holy shit,” a muffled voice broke through, “Patch in Kylie, now.”

A brief pause: “This is Ruenova.”

“Ruenova, this is Deveraux and Agent Rok.”

“Heh, well I’ll be. What’s your status?” she had an amused, surprised tone.

“Heading your way now, actually,” I replied, seeing Damien’s focus, “We will need those hangar bay doors open soon.”

“We’ve got fragile cargo in there. The storm might-”

“Ruenova, open it from the test settings. That will mitigate any damage,” Damien spoke over me.

There he goes again, taking risks.

“That’s a very short window,” Ruenova noted, “But you have three minutes. If not, you’ll have to sit tight for a few more hours.”

That wasn’t exactly in our plan. What I wanted more than anything was a hot shower and to put a new mask on, fall asleep to soft jazz and forget this ever happened. Yet, everything about this place insisted plans were not to be followed.

“How far out are we, do you reckon?” I asked Damien.

“Four minutes,” he replied, stepping on the gas now, despite the Sioc constantly losing traction, “I need you to turn the turbo on.”

I sighed, but moved to that panel to mimic what I had seen Owen do weeks ago. I knew by now not to question Rok’s judgment, knowing this turbo was meant to gain momentum, not speed. But at this moment, it didn’t matter. We both just wanted to go back to our temporary home. 

“Let me know-” I lurched to the side as Damien swerved, barely missing a ditch in the ground that would have permanently stalled us. My hand immediately braced his upper arm in the process, clenching to his armor. 

“Sorry,” he apologized for once, stepping back on the gas again.

“I’d ask where you learned how to drive…” I muttered, but had a small smile on my lips.

“I’m glad you asked, Jack. I don’t actually have a proper license,” he retorted. At first I thought he was joking, but now it was all starting to make sense. For an unlicensed driver, he was holding himself well. “Alright, turn the turbo on now and brace yourself. Should only last about thirty seconds but it’s all we need.”

I did as he said, still bracing to his shoulder as the Sioc immediately fought with the wind. We could see the dust slowly begin to settle, reaching the end of the storm. And with the end of the storm, a clear, visible sight of our home base.

“You going to slow down…?” I questioned.

“Nope,” he shook his head, “otherwise we miss our window.”

“Great,” I sighed, “Vehicular manslaughter isn’t exactly my ideal death.”

“Mine either. That’s not what’s predicted,” Damien shrugged. He truly believed in that Machine. To the point where his dangerous behavior when it could result in his own death was dismissed. It was almost frightening how…unfrightened that notion made him. He wasn’t afraid of his actions because he truly believed the most permanent of decisions wouldn’t happen today. 

We were feet away when the doors closed, Damien flooring it before the feeling of wheels on sand changed to that of metal. He immediately slammed on the brakes, turning the Sioc at an angle as we barely made it through. Luckily enough, away from most of the storage and other vehicles in the hangar as well, and feet away from the nearest wall to slam into. 

We both laughed. How could we not? We made it back, remarkably in one piece at least physically. The odds had felt stacked against us, and together we had combined to beaten them. At least, for now. Those odds would only grow the more we went back. And after what happened, I think we both knew we had to. Every time, we left that place with more questions than answers. But that’s what kept calling us back to it.

“Standby. You’ll need to be medically checked and quarantined. After that, I expect debriefs from both of you,” Ruenova’s voice echoed over.  

We both got up with shaky legs, stumbling to the back as we could hear movement outside. Damien sifted through something in his pack, digging through Garcia’s medical bag before pulling out a plastic surgical mask. It wasn’t appealing in the slightest, but it was clear Damien held it for a reason.

I feared sharing with Damien my monstrous form, yet came to terms with it. I would have come to terms with it now, showing the emergency crew and medical staff if needed. I knew all the rumors that would spread like wildfire, the kind of game where people would do anything for a rare glimpse of what the others saw.

Damien wasn’t going to let that happen.

“Thank you,” I insisted sincerely, looking into his eyes. I could see that faint bit of blue amidst the gray, a hint of sympathy yet amusement in them. His soft, tired face changed as he swallowed, a dangerous, hesitant look forming in his eyes. I was too focused on my relief in being back here and planning on getting this mask over my lips to notice it.

Pain equaled in pleasure, yet the moment had left as quickly as it had arrived. His finger lifted my chin up before his lips crashed into mine, a brief, powerful, scornful feeling against my mutilated soft skin. 

Chapter Text

I am an impulsive dumbass. 

I knew that already of course, but I think I just solidified that to myself.

Two weeks had passed since the pivotal moment I had stupidly decided to kiss Doctor Jacqueline Deveraux. There was a part of me that wondered what the hell had gotten into my head, and the other part completely understood where my head was at.

Going down that first level into Colony Negative, I knew exactly my opinion of Doctor Deveraux: snarky, judgmental, heavily opinionated, and overall just the most emotionally unattractive woman I had ever met. How wrong I was. She was calculated, cunning, determined, and strong in a way I had never perceived before. Most of all, she did care. I knew I accused her of such, but only because her level of caring was something I had never witnessed before.

She saw things, and people objectively, something that originally turned me away. Yet, in doing so, she was able to view me as useful. She could view me as a human with thoughts and feelings, with actions and consequences, and not just a weapon of war for someone to use. Jacqueline was not quick to grow fond of people and I could see why. Few had earned her trust, and an even smaller amount had earned her love. 

There was a different kind of beauty to her when she didn’t wear the mask. Okay, it wasn’t different. It was an enhancement to the already mystifying enigma that she was. Scars told stories. I didn’t need to know the depths of her story to know that she was probably the most formidable person I’ve ever come to know. And being faced with someone stronger than me was enough to make me weak. 

It was not the kind of weakness that could make men bow before tyrants, surrender despite all odds, or give up at the slightest sign of defeat. This was a weakness that did bend the knees, warm the heart, and want me more than anything to kiss every inch of her scars with the hopes it would heal them. 

Of course, her reaction was something I should have expected.

She had immediately pushed me away with a surprised look in her eyes before questioning: What the fuck are you doing?

Neither of us had time to answer as our duties called us elsewhere. The sudden opening of the Sioc doors had her putting that mask on, and me doing my best just to step in front to shield any wandering eyes. If anything, the staff viewed us as if we had been ghosts. Apparently most of the crew had been making bets if we were even still alive.

I liked beating those odds.

It was not like me to kiss a woman without consent, or at least obtain an invitation in her eyes. She had provided me neither, and I had invaded every sense of privacy. There was a worry that the action alone would get reported, as it should when any man harasses a woman like such. I was going to own up to my actions.

Yet, it was radio silence on her end. 

What was not on the radio silence I wish it was, were all the rumors and speculations lingering around the main base. I was grateful despite my distraction of Jack’s wonderful face that I had obtained a temporary mask for her. Practically every morning since then, I was hounded by individuals, mostly Milithreat agents and personnel, asking what she looked like. My heart ached for her; it angered for her. Nobody had the right to know, and somehow I felt absolutely, wholeheartedly privileged to behold such allure. 

I kept to the same story, the same lie: I did not see it. I gave her the privacy when her mask became obsolete and found an alternative that kept her comfortable despite our circumstances. I did not gloat about saving her life, nor her saving mine. The only time that had been mentioned was during the debrief with Ruenova. The only thing I had withheld from her was pushing the button that had doomed a lot of District Three scientists. 

My morning today was already flustered with dreams of Jack, and now the news I had gotten from Milithreat personnel. I had demanded Owen be dismissed due to his actions of retreating. Not only that, but Ruenova showed me his videolog clearly showing him manipulating the panel to get that door to shut, trapping Jack and myself. Despite all that evidence, Milithreat deemed he was too good of an agent to just dispose of. Instead, he’d be sent to another squad. 

The official squad report was sent this morning, so I knew by the afternoon a lot of consequences would appear on my desk.

The first one, had just arrived at the weekly briefing. We did our best to gather in meetings to discuss objectives and new experiments working on all fields: intelligence, security, engineering, and any scientific explorations to be found. Not everyone had to attend, mostly just supervisors and the like. Jacqueline had not been at the last one, mostly due to illness. 

Rumor has it that she had not been her best a week upon returning from our mission from hell. I didn’t blame her. Perhaps she was too quick to rush back into her work. I would have reached out, but I had a feeling I was at the bottom of her list.

Yet, she walked in this morning, two cups of coffee in her hands. David followed close behind her, holding most of the folders upon folders of notes. I swallowed harshly at her presence, seeing her gait just as confident and commanding as always. I almost averted my eyes but thought that to be ridiculous. I shouldn’t be afraid of anyone, let alone a petite woman who’s eyebrows were more sharp than her nails, or tongue. 

“Damien,” she greeted, her soft voice breaking through the mask, handing me that spare coffee in her hand.

“Jack,” I couldn’t help but let a surprised smile fall upon my lips, not seeing an ounce of hatred in those emerald eyes, “What’s this for?”

“You look like you could use it,” she hummed. 

“Ouch,” I chuckled softly, taking the warm coffee from her and grasping it in my palm. 

I wanted so badly to apologize, to excuse my actions with some lame justification that maybe she’d believe. Yet, David lingered too close and there were plenty of eyes in here that loved to spread rumors. My apology would have to wait until later, if she even wanted to hear it. Knowing the bits of her she’d shown, she probably wouldn’t want to discuss it ever again and deny my actions ever occurring.

Looking at her more closely, she looked tired too. There was an exhaustion upon her face that wasn’t just a lack of sleep. There was an emotional turmoil that perhaps she didn’t know how to let go. Given what she had revealed to me, it could have been a numerous amount of things: her mother, killing Wueh, getting bit. What she went through was more than enough reason for her to leave Colony Negative and let someone else take the lead.

Yet, she remained and showed no indication of going anywhere. 

“Good morning,” Ruenova greeted, “who wants to start with updates on our progress?”

“I don’t mind,” Jack answered beside me, eagerness in her voice. Eagerness to probably just get it over with. As she moved to the center area, both David and myself reached forward if she wished to bestow her coffee momentarily as she debriefed. 

I now grasped two cups to warm my already sweaty palms.

“To update on last week’s session that I missed, it’s been proven by situation and not science that more than a mere bite is needed for these anathemas to make us turn. With that knowledge, it is recommended for anyone that is deploying to the field to wear as much armor as possible. I know scientists and engineers aren’t accustomed to such, but even a good enough layer might prevent a bite from turning catastrophic. Most importantly is to cover the weak spots these anathemas aim for: the arms, legs, and the neck,” she briefed.

Fuck, it was so nice to hear her talk again.

“Secondly, I’ve been working with the engineers on updating our flashlight capabilities. They’ve designed a strobe-like, rapid light that, hopefully, will paralyze the anathemas. They are not fond of a light that can confuse them, let alone blind them. This is all experimentation, though. Do not expect this new flashlight to save you, it is merely a tool in hopes to incapacitate these fast creatures long enough for someone to end them permanently.”

She pulled up on the projector an image of the typical human DNA structure. “For anyone not familiar with this, this is what our DNA looks like: a double helix with two complementary strands with bonds in between. And this…is what it seems like anathema DNA looks like.”

She referred to the next model, a near perfect replica. Yet in between the spiral was a thin, extra structure that seemed to break the strand of hydrogen bonds between the bases. 

“That is what this anathema enzyme does. It does not alter our DNA. per say, but rather breaks it, dominates it. It takes what is already there and wants to enhance it. Think of it as some mRNA mutation on a whole different level. If our bodies were code, a normal mutation may change at most a line or two. This wants to change whole sequences and blocks of code and it succeeds every time,” she explained, “with more data and samples to work with, we can begin to understand how this forms, works, and overall consumes us. Any questions?”

“Any progress on what was found in that data that the mysterious room provided? All those symbols being projected?” Ruenova asked.

“No,” David interrupted and I could see Jack tense slightly at that, “we’ve thrown it into different programs that might recognize its significance but have fallen short on any positive results.” 

“I believe it’s instruction on their language,” Jack muttered, “akin to our early preschool days of learning the alphabet.”

“Interesting,” I spoke, showing enthusiasm which made Jack side-eye me, wondering if a joke was coming, “How do we translate an alphabet that’s never been translated before?”

“By finding any and all resources, books, art, panels with voice prompts as possible. But it’s not just that. Linguistics needs to know the cultural nuances that I am able to provide for them. Not that of the anathemas, but what came before them, or what they once were. So far, we’ve found little,” she admitted, “Pattern matching software will help…but only if we have enough data to establish one.”

Everyone in the room seemed satisfied with that answer. Jack didn’t see any other questions and immediately back-tracked to me, taking that coffee away from my hands. I took a large sip of my own before stepping forward, enjoying the nice hint of vanilla and spice that seemed to be her favorite drink. I’d have to ask the cafe baristas what her favorite was and make sure they always had a wealthy supply of it. I never thought I’d like a bit of cayenne pepper in my morning coffee, but I seemed to be growing into a lot of things I thought I once hated. 

“This is an updated map on the recent territory movement that we’ve been seeing,” I pulled up our mapped out region of Colony Negative, “despite the unfortunate circumstance of being held ransom by District Three, they provided us with an approximate geographic location to what was their forward operating base somewhere here near this mountain range. Given the distance to that, we can assume their main base, if still intact, would only be behind that mountain range. Geospatial information determined this little valley here the only way to pass through the range, which means their base is most likely set up through that narrow avenue. It makes it highly improbable to sneak up on them.

“However, given the most recent events, there has been a lot of silence on their end in terms of movement, territory, or intelligence products they are producing. Our biggest threat at the moment is District Seven situated here,” I pointed at the map, “They’ve already begun droning our areas and even went as far as purposefully disarming our perimeter mines. And by disarming, I mean by causing them to blow up. However, it is just mind games at the moment. My team has found a vulnerability in their cyber connections we might be able to exploit. It won’t harm anyone, but it will certainly be a great distraction and show just what we are capable of.”

“How big of a threat is District Seven?” Ruenova asked.

“Their numbers are much smaller than our own. Colonization had ruined a lot of their population as many refugees fled to other Districts for protection. Their technology is a bit outdated. But, in terms of fighting, they are one of the most disciplined fighters in this galaxy,” I answered, “They are also considered a matriarchal society, meaning most women are in positions of power, leadership, and military roles.”

A few snickers were heard from the men around, as if that was another reason to think District Seven as archaic and obsolete. District Seven became that way because most of their well-bodied men had been slaughtered, by Sabbath specifically. 

“They are not to be trifled with. Man or woman, they are one of the best physical fighters in this Galactic Federation. If combat is needed, it is better suited at long range. Close range, they are very deadly,” I spoke from experience, soon looking at Jack, “Doctor Deveraux, do you know much of their scientific endeavors?”

She shook her head, “They are secretive, unwilling to share. And for good reason. A lot of their journals, data, and studies had been stolen and plagiarized over the last thousand years. Most matriarchal societies I’ve come to study, most all extinct, share a mutual influence on their opposite gender counterparts. They have mutual respect for each other and believe in complimenting each other, which should be given in any society. However, District Seven, depending on what Magistrate is in power, can sometimes view men as…subhuman.”

I didn’t get a hint of that in any of my intelligence, but knowing that bias now, it wouldn’t hurt to look at that further. Jack’s understanding was far different from my own. Military and societal studies didn’t seem to get along. Yet, with what Jack stated just earlier, maybe we could find a way to complement each other. 

The doors opened behind the small group, and in came a smug, towering Agent Owen who certainly walked in with a purpose.

“Agent Owen, do you mind not distracting the meeting?” Ruenova asked with a sigh. She had made it abundantly clear: if you were going to be late to the meeting, don’t bother to show. The entire meeting was recorded anyways if he was so interested in learning what we had to say.

I knew right away that he didn’t care about this meeting at all.

“You dare send me to Excise Squad? Really?! Recon work? You know I’m much more capable than that, Rok!” Owen scowled, clearly angry and frustrated by the news that had fallen into his lap this morning.

“Yet you’ve failed to show me what you’re capable of,” I retorted, “Owen, wait outside until this meeting is concluded.”

“No. I’m not waiting. You can’t boss me around, Rok. I’ll have you know that my uncle is a top Administrative General for Milithreat and he’s going to have you removed the second I report your misconduct,” he pointed an accusatory finger at me.

Well, that explains how he wasn’t removed entirely from this operation. He had friends in high places. Although I felt maybe his uncle must have not liked him that much if he was sent to a place like this.

“Owen, please-” Jack tried to politely dismiss him as well, which he didn’t like.

“Shut up, bitch!” The words were enough to make me tense, approaching him with authority and frustration.

“Out, Owen. Before security comes here and forces you,” I scowled, trying to not let my anger get the better of me.

“I think it’s time people knew the truth about you, Rok. I thought it best to keep this secret close to my chest, but you know what? Fuck it,” Owen immediately took over the projector, overtaking my presentation with a  display of a medical report.

My medical report. 

The one that immediately concluded coming from Sabbath. Of course Owen wouldn’t have been able to find my actual Sabbath records, as there was no way he’d find it. So he found the second best thing: Doctor Deveraux’s conclusion that I was of Sabbath origin given my genetic makeup. 

“This man leading our entire military and intelligence operation here is a Sabbatical! Not only that, but a very prominent one that was very good at killing. A man who has killed hundreds if not thousands! How many in here had their lives ruined by Sabbath? How many have friends, family, or know someone affected by the rage and turmoil by these violent inquisitors? This man stands among you, barking orders and demands, demands he once commanded to kill us all - to colonize our own cities and districts!”

I knew exactly what he was doing. He had no other holding against me, no leverage that was based on merit. He was attacking me the best and most strategic way he could: tarnishing my character. And by the look of others in the room, various scientists, mechanics, even some of my own soldiers…there was distrust in their eyes. Owen had gotten the chaos he wished to create. There was nothing I could do to stop it. I couldn’t refute a medical report with Jack’s signature written all over it. 

“Where did you get that?! You can’t just access and share private medical-” Jack was quick to defend me with a harsh tone, walking closer.

“Oh that’s rich coming from you, Doctor,” Owen interrupted, “For once, I thought you’d be on my side regarding this man’s past.”

“I’m on nobody’s side,” she retorted, yet the scowl in her voice proved otherwise. 

“What are you going to do, Damien Rok? Hm? How are you going to punish me further? You can’t. So, I will happily go to Excise squad under someone else’s command. And from there, I will gain the hearts and minds of the other agents. I will turn every single agent against you, mutinize against you, until you are that dishonorably discharged deadbeat you wanted me to be. Nobody wants you here.”

I immediately shoved him, just enough to gain some space between us. If I had to feel his hot, betraying breath against my face much more, I knew I’d be the first to strike. To him, he took that as the beginnings of a potential scrap. I could see the smirk on his lips, the fists of his curling. He was going to blow if I gave him the best opportunity. 

Yet a light hand on my chest stepped between us, Jack doing her best to step in and prevent this whole situation from blowing up. The sensation of her nails digging gently into my pec was enough to make me lightheaded, almost overcoming my furious adrenaline. 

“Boys, that’s enough. Don’t you see this is what the other Districts want? They want to separate us from the inside, turn us against one another. That’s the best thing about District Five. It doesn’t matter what our past is, where we come from or our lineage. All they care about are smart, strong people willing to make their District a better place. It should be no different here,” Jack urged, determined to use logic to sway our minds.

Logic wasn’t really in Owen’s vocabulary, though. 

“Step aside, Doctor. Not everything is about you,” Owen warned, turning his attention towards her, “I should have pushed you down that hole when I got the chance. Or even better, pulled the trigger when I had my pistol on your stomach. All of this mess is your fault-”

“Owen!” Ruenova now was getting pissed, “Damien’s not the only one with the authority to dismiss you - permanently, from this place.”

Jack gently tried to push him back as he leaned against her, urging him to stop but that was a sign for him to then put his hands on her. He grabbed her wrist, twisting it. The second I heard that sharp sound of pain from that masked tone of hers, I knew I couldn’t stop myself. 

All the rage, the anger, the depravity within my blood was just proving him right. My fists battered him, the weight of my torso on his crushed his more thin frame. Even despite his own hands blocking, it wasn’t enough. Fragments of my knuckles or even my elbows made contact with his skin. I watched as his skin turned more red than that pasty pale skin of his, covering it with blood. 

“Damien, Damien stop!” the voices urged around me. It wasn’t until three security personnel wrapped their strong arms around my limbs they were able to pull me off. 

I could see all the eyes around me, looking disgracefully at my work splayed on the floor. I could see the fear. While that one day would have brought me joy, a violent orgasm to my senses that only urged for more depravity…it wasn’t the same now. I only felt shame, guilt, and most of all disgust with myself. I had proven Owen right. Perhaps he knew I would have won any fight he had initiated. Only someone like me could turn an argument into a battlefield and that’s what he wanted to display.

I knew the situation I had now placed myself in, my past revealed to everyone in the room or watching from their desks. I had also proven to them what I danger I was, how thin my patience could be and most of all my lack of control. People would question my leadership. Fuck, even I questioned it as well. Had this just been a fight in the hallway, nobody would really care. It was just a supervisor having a spat with a subordinate. 

But this? It was possibly grounds for dismissal. And dismissal to me felt like failure.

Ruenova had a begrudging look on her face, not exactly angry at me. But she was certainly pissed at all the paperwork this little situation was going to create. And the fact that Jacqueline had been right. This dissonance between us really was enough to make a dent in our progress. Progress we thought had been going well. 

I didn’t know what Jacqueline’s reaction was. I didn’t possess the bravery to glance over my shoulder and get another shamed look from her eyes. I knew she hated the violence so quickly portrayed in front of her. No amount of excuses about protecting her or defending her honor would be enough. Because it wasn’t about that in her mind, it was about defending mine despite having very little honor to begin with. 

Instead I did what was going to happen anyways and began to dismiss myself from the room. Whatever consequence that would catch up to me, I could not outrun. All I could do was finish my work as best as I could.

Yet upon moving, I felt a hand slip from my wrist, covered in Owen’s blood from his gushing nose.

“Damien,” Jack urged, almost as if wishing I’d stay. Maybe if I stayed, I could convince everything with words that Owen was wrong, that I had no ill intent here. Yet, no words could ever be greater than actions. Actions always spoke louder than syllables scrapped together in the form of lame excuses. 

I merely brushed her hand away, walking out of the room to punish myself. And there was no greater punishment than being alone.

-

Death initiates a response in the mind akin to heartbreak. The anguish and emotional distress typically conveyed in heartbreak differ each time, and the feeling can rarely be imagined or remembered to its true strength. Death is the same way to the mind but unlike heartbreak shows indicated signs in society as irreversible. The only way to overcome that anguish is to be continually surrounded by death, which most humans are familiar with. Nobody can go a lifetime without death having its cold influence.

But what about killing? What is the difference between witnessing death and bestowing it?

Justification. 

I put my tablet down to give me a peace of mind, rubbing my tired and sore forehead in response. Jacqueline’s work was extensive and relatively diverse given most scientists preferred specific research. I avoided all her papers on cranial development or what genetics and skeletons could tell of a tribe's happiness. I felt much more called to her research on killing, more specifically murder. 

Yet, even the majority of the paragraphs were full of data and analysis even my intelligence-based mind couldn’t put together. I found myself reading her introduction, a few sentences in the middle, and mostly her conclusions to really get a baseline summary of her work. 

This past week wasn’t as hellish as I first thought it would be after the revelation of my evil. I knew the truth could always be revealed eventually. It certainly impacted my relationships as most Milithreat agents and personnel were quiet in my presence instead of cracking jokes. The only one who didn’t seem to be swayed was Grimes, who still held an ounce of respect. 

Yet, being Supervisory Agent here was only a minor responsibility in my main mission as the Saboteur. Even if this all went to shit, I knew deep down Milithreat wouldn’t want to remove me from my main purpose to destabilize other Districts here. However, without respect from the men and women around me, that side responsibility would prove to be much more difficult.

The noise outside my office went dead quiet, something unlike the military stations outside. There was always talking, or laughing, or even watching illegally recorded sporting events we really weren’t supposed to watch on company time. Never once had there been silence until now. But if anyone could silence a rowdy military crowd…

A brief knock echoed before the door opened, “It’s Deveraux. Is she allowed through?”

“Go ahead,” I sat up, wondering what the hell she’d be doing here, in my office of all sorts. 

When she walked in and the door closed behind her, she looked a tad better than the last time I saw her. She wasn’t wearing a lab coat this afternoon, just her usual dark green turtleneck and black trousers. She looked well, or about as well as she could look.

“I didn’t know you even had an office,” she laughed softly. I could only just imagine the actual smile on her lips behind that mask.

“Please, sit,” I offered, seeing her shake her head.

“It’s alright, I don’t intend to be here for too long,” she politely declined.

“Is everything alright?” I questioned. I saw her hesitate, but not if she was afraid of telling me. In fact, she seemed here for something else entirely and not an emotional discussion. She didn’t want to discuss if everything was truly alright, clearly because it wasn’t. 

Neither of us had really unpacked what had happened. I’m sure the unwanted kiss on top of that was another torment to her. Therapy didn’t seem an option for me as my mind was often scattered with half-truths, justifications to make myself feel better. I didn’t know what could help her feel better either. 

“Yeah, I…” she paused, pulling a data shard out from her back pocket, “This is what Wueh gave me. I had my IT team run a few scans on it for any malware or virus that could infiltrate our system. They found nothing but, I don’t know. I have a hard time believing Wueh would give this so easily without a back-door way into our information as well. Just got a gut feeling there’s something malicious I can’t see.”

“Makes sense, especially since Wueh put a price on your ransom. Hard to believe you’re worth a million credits,” I laughed softly, before seeing the horror in her eyes.

Shit. She didn’t know.

“Sorry, I thought you knew,” I stood from my chair, seeing her shake her head, “I guess Wueh was able to send an encrypted electronic message to our public channels about having you in their custody. They wanted a million credits to ensure you’d be safely transferred back to our home base. SBH was more than willing to pay to have you return. Ruenova was skeptical that you were alive so of course made no attempts to think about collecting payment.”

“I…the entire thing was my fault wasn’t it? I think maybe I was too willing to go with them. I didn’t want anyone to die and…” she trailed off, visibly upset. 

“No, Jack, don’t even think that way. Wueh was not the respected, moral scientist you might have thought. Of course they welcomed you because of what you had to offer. Just because you took that offer doesn’t mean what happened is on you,” I insisted gently, walking over to her, “Do you want my team to take a look at that?”

“If you don’t mind,” she answered, clearly not wanting to discuss further what we had done to District Three. 

“Of course, come with me,” I let my hand gently rest on her elbow before brushing past her. She followed without complaint, down the long, now quiet hallways. All eyes were on us. Most people had to assume if Jack and I were ever in the same room together, two supervisors from two different walks of life, whatever we were dealing with must be important. 

We reached the side of the office full of information not everyone had access to, badging in myself before inputting my identification number.

“Are you sure I’m allowed to be in here? I know I don’t have a clearance or-”

“It’s alright. You’re with me. A handsome escort is all you need,” I teased, holding the door open for her.

“And this was the most handsome escort at your disposal?” she retorted, her voice serious but even I could see the tease in her eyes. 

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” I winked, seeing her roll her eyes. But, the teasing had done its job in loosening her up a bit. Her walk wasn’t so skittish or anchored down by her emotional toil. 

We approached the information technology area, finding only four men all staring at a projected football game. Nothing seemed to pull a man away from his work like sports could. Yet, all four immediately turned to me before standing at attention, shocked at my infiltration. 

One was quick to turn the game off, as if worried I’d report such misuse.

“Don’t worry. I’ll let you get back to the game soon,” I stated, hoping my words would show I didn’t care. In fact, I had bet a thousand credits on the 501 Vipers to win the match. I had a lot more invested financially than these men did, at least with their emotional passion for the sport.

“This is Doctor Jacqueline Deveraux, as I assume you all know,” I introduced her, seeing all four perk up in her presence.

“Pleasure,” Jack replied, her voice monotone.

“I need you four to take a look at this. I need full scans and obvious scrubbing if any malware is detected. It’s District Three’s work, if that means anything to you,” I ordered, handing the shard over.

“Oh…so is this what happened with…you know?” one of the men asked, before shutting himself up. Clearly the details weren’t entirely shared with everyone. Almost everyone knew Jack had been held ransom, but they didn’t know the fact she kind of went willingly, Wueh wanted to throw me in an anathema death trap, and I pressed a button that resulted in absolute carnage.

No. They didn’t need to know those details. 

Most men and women should know when working with classified information, a lot of it was on a need to know basis. 

As they worked together, I glanced over at Jack, who stared at nothing but the ugly navy blue carpet. She looked dead inside. Usually she looked like she was always thinking deeply about something, making minor expressions to her own revelations or rolling her eyes at her conclusions. Now, it just looked like she didn’t think much of anything.

The subtle sound of her stomach growling also was noted.

“Hey, when’s the last time you ate something?” I asked quietly, seeing her break away from her hallucinations. 

“I…uh, it’s been awhile,” she replied. A while? What the fuck did that mean? A few hours? A few meals? Surely not a few days. “I had some coffee earlier.”

“Coffee isn’t real food,” I crossed my arms, “Jack, you should-”

“We got something, sir,” a voice interrupted, breaking my attention. Jack and I both looked at the screen, seeing the initial scan. At first, nothing looked wrong. Data size seemed relatively normal given the amount of information stored, temperature seemed just about right when inserted, and even files showed no sign of any compromise. 

“I’m not seeing a problem,” Jack observed, but it didn’t come off as questioning my men. She seemed rather intrigued we were seeing something she didn’t. Or rather, couldn’t. 

“Look,” I pointed next to her, “See these two scans? My team always runs two, and that is because the greatest threat from any malware is invisible perfection. We can spot issues that aren’t subtle, so blatant that any system can catch it. Your IT didn’t catch it because they used such a system. But with two scans and human eyes, we’ve found the issue.”

“Doctor, Agent Rok is right. The two scans replicate each other perfectly, meaning it’s just copying information it's told to display, not actually interpreting it. Had this chip not been infected, the two scans would have been slightly different. Different temperature, maybe different processing data, or even size calculation itself,” one agent explained.

“Interesting,” she hummed, clearly intrigued and maybe even a bit impressed, “So, how do we remove it?”

“By making a copy of the copy, and then finding the specific file causing all this trouble. It can only be one file, which is the good news. However…” I trailed off, seeing her side-eye me.

“However?” she crossed her arms now.

“If we select the wrong file, the corrupted one will initiate a process to completely wipe the drive,” the IT agents shrugged, as if not realizing the implication.

I could see Jack swallow hard. Imagine all that hard work, the lying, the infiltration to gain Wueh’s trust. Hell, she lied to my face in the beginning about it all. Several District Three scientists were dead because of this, if not ‘alive’ as anathemas. All of that could be for nothing if a mistake was made and the drive was completely wiped. 

And my team was sitting there laughing, passing along jokes to each other not really understanding the seriousness of this. Perhaps it was almost best they didn’t know. So, we stood there uncomfortably, side by side. Our elbows had briefly touched and I thought for a moment she’d do that jerk away like she always did, disgusted by my presence. But this time, she let it stay. 

I couldn’t get that fucking kiss out of my head. I couldn’t get over the softness of her lips. I just wanted to plant my hands against those hips of hers, hold her against me, tower over her but never once abuse my strength. 

I had killed and justified many times. To the point that I had believed it had damaged me beyond all repair.  If I killed for her, with her as justification, I believed it could heal me. 

“Looks like we found it,” they concluded, “you good to go with it, boss?”

“I trust you guys,” I replied, seeing a bit of respect in their eyes. Perhaps they were worried given everything about Sabbath, as dictatorial as they were, I’d want to call all the shots. But I trusted their expertise, training, and most of all their work ethic...despite walking in on a sports game.

And just like that, the data was unlocked. They perused files upon files of mapped out areas, scientific notes, medical files, and anathema studies…everything Jack could want.

“Well, Doctor, looks like this should be helpful,” one jeered.

“Indeed,” she exhaled her tension away, pausing for a moment, “why don’t you make a copy and share it with Intel here? I’m sure there’s useful information in there.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, finding that very generous of her.

“I’m sure having ‘two’ metaphorical eyes on this data will help. Two very different eyes at that,” she explained, looking up at me, “after all, we should be working together. Consider it a thank you.”

“A thank you for what?” one of the agents laughed, but got to his work in copying.

Jack and I both knew what the thanks were for. The copy was created, the now clean shard returned to Jacqueline. I had an itch to pull her aside, or even my office and begin my heartfelt apology. I knew I had to get it out sometime, afterall, it had been three weeks. Especially after giving us this data for free, with the only hard work that of our IT team. To them, though, this was a stroll on paved streets.

The agents turned their game back on, but one turned in his chair with an immature grin on his face.

“So…Doctor Deveraux, I heard you lost your virginity?” he teased.

I immediately tensed at that, glaring at him.

Fuck, we couldn’t go one day without stepping on each other’s toes. Even if it wasn’t me, these men theoretically represent me, same as I represent them. It was no wonder why she hated military men. I was beginning to hate such talk even without a woman around. It was so much worse when directed at one, such as herself.

“I beg your pardon?” she questioned, clearly pissed off.

“Oh, you know,” he still had that grin before letting his fingers mimic a gun, exhaling a whistle to a metaphorical shot.

I saw that look in her eyes, her initial anger morphing into anguish. The same anguish mentioned in her own papers: death. If anything, that joke might have been a bit more well received if it had been about anything else. Even if sexual in nature, it would have been easier for her to shrug off than what he just implied. But it was clear she couldn’t get this death out of her head.

How could she not? Clearly, she hadn’t found justification for it. 

Jack immediately left the room, out the door I had let her in. I immediately clenched my fist, glaring at the agent.

“Nice going, jackass,” I scoffed.

“What? I was complimenting her. You know, it’s badass-”

“Just shut up,” I scowled, “you did your job well until you opened that mouth of yours. And turn that game off, you’ve all lost that privilege.”

Groans echoed from them as I left the room, following after her. Again, the rest of the offices remained silent as Jack had briskly walked past them, and without that handsome escort of hers. They probably assumed I had said something to piss her off, given how fast she was leaving this sector. They wouldn’t be wrong to assume that. Yet I caught up quickly with her in the hallway, a few paces behind.

“Jack!” I shouted after her, not seeing her stop.

“Jacqueline,” I repeated with her full name, seeing her stop at that. 

When she turned, I could see a tear welling in her eyes, making my heart stop.

“I still see it when I close my eyes. I hope you know that. I can still feel the fucking trigger squeeze, feel the fucking recoil. Most of all I could feel the moment I took his life. Is that what you wanted? Does the thought of that bring you joy or laughter?” she spat slightly, disgust not in exactly me…but rather what I represented.

“Jack, of course not,” I moved close, letting my hands rest on her shoulders. I was honestly surprised she let me. “Have you talked with Doctor Carey? You know she’s a therapist, maybe she could help.”

“Damien, you know if I ever tell anyone what happened…” she trailed off for a moment, sniffling her pain away, “I’m a hypocrite. That’s all I am. How can I preach about peace, about people getting along through diplomatic measures, when I murdered a man?”

“Jacqueline, you didn’t murder him. You used self-defense. You killed him to save my life,” I justified it to her.

“Yet that button was pressed anyways. If my actions to stop him were as equal to the crime he’d commit, that’s not justifiable,” she shook her head, “I can’t sleep. I can’t even eat. Everything I eat just…I can’t even think right. My entire thesis is going to be questioned.”

“So let it be questioned, Jack. Question it yourself. Maybe you’re right, killing someone kills the soul, fragments it. But just because something is broken or shattered doesn’t mean it can’t be repaired. Just like a wound turns into a scab, the human body is capable of healing itself. The mind has such power too. What is anguish at death if not recognition for how powerful life is?”

Her eyes glanced up at me with surprise, “You’ve been reading my work?”

“I…only a little,” I admitted, “If it makes you feel better, I can barely understand it.”

She laughed softly at that, relaxing her shoulders I still held. But at that, I slowly let my hands move away, back to my side. My fingers curled gently against the fabric of my cargo pants, wishing it intertwined with her fingers instead of the rough cloth. 

Such a romantic thought would’ve disgusted me a month ago when attached to her. Now, I didn’t know what I felt, but it wasn’t disgust. 

“I’m sorry about the stunt Owen pulled,” she whispered, sympathy in her voice, “I know how…damaging that must have been to your character. I’ll have you know, a lot of my team weren’t happy with this revelation. But I made it adamant to them that you’re not that person anymore. The more they see us work together, the more people will know who you really are.”

“And who am I, really?” I asked curiously.

She took a long moment to think about it, “You are…whoever you want to be. That’s a choice you haven’t had before. You have it now, so try and make the most of it. You are also my semi-handsome escort when walking through classified sectors.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that, maybe even slightly blush, “Semi-handsome?”

“You won’t get a better compliment out of me, Agent Rok,” she teased. I was glad to see her mood had changed slightly. I knew it wasn’t permanent, merely a bandage on a wound bigger than a bullet-hole. But it was a start to the process of healing.

I swallowed hard, having to say what was on the tip of my tongue, “Jack, about that kiss-”

“How about we just pretend that didn’t happen?” She interrupted me, but remained polite. In all honesty, that was the best response she probably could give me. She could easily yell, shout, hit me, report me, all rational responses to my invasion of her lips. Yet, I think moving on might be the best step to make.

Crazy of her to think I could just pretend it never happened, but I would honor her wishes. 

I nodded, seeing her content with that response. 

“Well, why don’t you talk about this new , evolved thesis with someone who won’t think you’re a hypocrite? Let’s get something to eat,” I encouraged.

“Oh, the kitchen is closed,” she immediately tried to find an excuse.

“Nonsense, Wayne is open to his favorite patron at all hours of the day. I know you’re eager to jump right into that new data in your hands but…” I shrugged, walking away slightly towards the cafeteria, “it’s not wise to work on an empty stomach, right Doctor?”

I could hear a sigh behind me. Not the sigh of annoyance that I was pestering her. It was a sigh of annoyance that I was right. And I couldn’t wait to hear such a lovely sigh through that mask for days to come, very minor days I could actually prove her right. 

The sigh was followed by her footsteps, following me to a delightful happiness only food could provide. Food, and maybe decent company. 

And Jacqueline Deveraux, oddly enough, was decent company to have.

Chapter Text

Trauma bonding.

That’s what it was. That was the rational conclusion I had agreed with upon what had transpired since our incident with District Three. That’s all it could be.

Saving a life could be as equally powerful as taking it. 

Perhaps that had been more true for him than myself. Saving him by placing my own mask on him was almost instinctual. I didn’t have to think twice or hesitate when it came to him. I suppose maybe that same intuition came to him when I was incapacitated. The difference between us was clearly motivation. He saved me because it was his job, because his own life was somehow physiologically connected to mine. I saved him because…

Because that’s what good humans are supposed to do, right?

Trauma bonding isn’t exactly a bad thing. If anything, me recognizing it was a possible event would prevent any manipulation from either of us. Maybe this is what Ruenova wanted from us. Military operatives usually became brothers and sisters through the trials of life, from firefights where lives were on the line. I don’t know how that might work for soldiers and scientists. But if it could happen anywhere, it would be Colony Negative.

So, I had to excuse Damien Rok’s irrational behavior of kissing me as merely just a response to his trauma. 

I thought the minute I came to that conclusion, the memory of it would just escape my mind. Unfortunately, two memories were bouncing around my synapses at all times, back to back. And I found myself finding more comfort in the memory of his lips on mine rather than that of me pulling the trigger on Doctor Wueh. I couldn’t get that image out of my head.

I didn’t just shoot once, but twice. I knew in the moment our survival, mostly Damien’s survival, depended on my actions. I don’t know. I was aiming for his hand holding that button, and ended up blasting a hole through his torso. That wasn’t an image I could get out of my head. At least, when it did leave my head, my anxious thoughts would wander towards that kiss instead.

It wasn’t even that good of a kiss. It was harsh. Aggressive. Borderline manic. That was Supervisory Agent Damien Rok, however. Yet behind all of those aspects of him, there was a humorous, kind, gentle approach to him as well. Like right now.

We sat on the barstools of an empty cafeteria. The door had even been locked but Damien somehow managed to convince Wayne we needed some substance before dinner. The chef was more than happy to oblige, setting us there before leaving us to our conversation momentarily to get silverware and the like prepared for us. It was unnecessary, and I certainly hoped Wayne didn’t get the impression this was some kind of date.

Because it wasn’t.

“Do you know what you want to eat?” Damien asked, a wrinkle in his forehead as his eyebrows furrowed down, “It can just be small. Nothing fancy or a full out meal.”

“No,” I sighed, “to be honest, I don’t even know what Wayne can make.”

“I can make anything you’d like, Doctor,” Wayne approached with napkins and silverware, “Within reason, of course. You just ring me over when you’re ready.”

“Thanks, Wayne,” Damien smiled.

“Are we still on for Saturday morning?” Wayne glanced at Damien.

“Of course, unless something calls me directly into duty,” Damien nodded, relaxing in his seat as Wayne left. His left arm leaned into the bar, bicep flexing as he leaned his head against his head.

“Another football match?” I questioned, not knowing what Damien did in his free time.

“Oh, no. Not a football game,” he shook his head. When I glanced over, I could almost sense a bit of embarrassment from him. Not an overwhelming blush or anxious rush of hesitation, just questioning my own judgment. “Promise you won’t laugh.”

“I’m not one for making promises, Rok,” I honestly replied, “but I am fairly hard to amuse. Try me.”

He sighed but nodded, “He’s giving me cooking lessons.”

At that, I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow in interest, “You? Cooking?”

“You sound rather amused,” he rolled his eyes, “look, I don’t know how to cook. I never knew how of course, in fact there really isn’t a need to learn. Back in 501, all I have is a tiny studio loft with just a bathroom and bedroom. No kitchen. I’ve always liked food, though. Sabbath food was…bland mush, just enough nutrients to sustain us. The second I got a taste for real food, I haven’t gone back.”

Well, that explained his physique, built yet undisciplined. Attractive-no. No, I shouldn’t coin an adjective like that to him.

It was so interesting his place had no kitchen. Meanwhile my stupidly luxurious penthouse had a kitchen probably the size of his loft quadrupled. He’d be more than welcome to have a place like that, if he liked. I hardly ever used it, besides the coffee machine. 

“What drew you to it, other than food tasting good? A lot of people love food, and even fewer enjoy actually making it,” I asked.

“It just looked like fun. I like the idea of making something, of gathering materials and combining them to taste good. You know, like flavor profiles,” he shrugged nonchalantly, as if not thinking it was that big of a deal, “I don’t know, I think there’s food out there that really does touch the soul. If I even have one.”

“You have a soul, Damien,” I retorted. It may be a very morally distorted soul, one where he made two awfully evil decisions and followed it up with a kind of goodness I had never seen before. A type of goodness that came naturally to him too. 

I truly did wonder if he was brought up in a completely different environment how different he’d be. There was no need for imaginary speculation, as I already knew the answer must be drastic. Yet, military life suited him. Minus the lack of a kitchen.

“Well, what are you ordering?” I asked him.

“I was going to get whatever you were getting.”

“Not helpful,” I sighed, pushing that black strand that always got too close to my eyes away. 

“Is there a food that brings about a good memory? Something that inspires joy?” he questioned. Honestly, Chef Damien was someone I could actually get used to talking to. 

“I don’t know, I was always busy in school, living off cheap and quick foods. The only time I ate fancy food was at conventions or lavish parties, both of which I hated,” I shook my head, not able to think of anything.

But, as I perused for memories, I did find one silly little thing. Angelique and I very rarely would sneak out when we were young to this odd part of Colony. By odd, I meant it wasn’t the cleanest part of the city where we lived. But there was a little place there where we’d sit on barstools similar to this now, and get a stupid little milkshake. 

Most of the time we wouldn’t even talk. It was a much quieter part of the area where most people minded their own business. Angelique and I would hardly say much, as we’d often have school work or something else on our mind. It was a nice place to sit there and think, sipping on a thick and creamy drink that seemed to satisfy us. 

The day Angelique had quit her doctorate program and signed up for the Refugee Corps, we went back only to find the place had been long gone. We had both laughed at that, knowing even sometimes the best things we enjoyed would often change. Even ourselves. I would have to tell her later about having a milkshake today, and maybe leave out the fact Damien was here as well.

I motioned for Wayne back over, removing any embarrassment from my sentiment as maybe my request would be seen as childish. Damien seemed intrigued, given I wasn’t giving him a heads up about what I was going to order. 

“A milkshake. Chocolate one, please,” I added, waiting to see a judgemental reply. Yet, Wayne only nodded in approval.

“Make that two,” Damien hummed, “Add a bit of chips to mine too, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, that shouldn't be a problem!” Wayne enthusiastically made his way abc to the kitchen. 

He left us with peace once more. Relative peace until Damien’s small datapad chirped with a message. He glanced at it briefly before putting it aside, far away from him as if he wanted nothing to do with it. Instead he just gazed at me intently, ready to give me his full attention. I could even see the blueness in his gray eyes when they finally softened a bit. 

He didn’t look like he’d ask or question the milkshake. I knew it wasn’t the most nutritious thing in the world, but to be honest, a sweet treat felt well needed. Not just well needed, well deserved. 

“Does it stop…the nightmares?” I asked as I looked at him, forcing my gaze to soften.

“Yeah, eventually,” he slowly nodded, “It’s a dangerous game, though. Some only overcome the affliction of killing by adding more tallies to their name. That’s how Sabbath handled the mental aspect of it, just constant conditioning for violence.”

“Is that what I really need to do?” I didn’t think I had it in me to really kill again, not when it made me sick to my stomach or made me lose hours of sleep. 

“No. I don’t think so. I think the best solution would be justification but I know that will be hard for you. Yes, you could justify saving my life by taking his. But if his life is equal to mine, or even greater-”

“His life wasn’t greater than yours,” I interrupted, “Maybe on a rather introspective level in terms of scientific significance, sure. But to me, no. You are worth more to me alive than his existence could ever hold equal value. But that didn’t mean his life didn’t matter.”

He seemed surprised by my response, expecting a more pragmatic response but I knew I had to be honest. Honest with him and maybe myself. Yes, Damien in that moment held greater value, value in getting us back safe, value in keeping me safe. I didn’t know what District Three could have done to me with my only protection incapacitated. 

“Sometimes we get decisions that there are no right answers to. Just as two perspectives could be equally right or wrong at the same time, so can choices. The consequences of both decisions can be as equally as damning but…we aren’t the ones exactly damning them, are we? Wueh damned himself with his decision to remove me the way he did. If he truly wanted to remove me, he should have shot me,” Damien hummed.

“Shooting you in front of me surely would not have made me cooperative. That’s what he wanted from me: cooperation. That’s why he did what he did, easing me into the idea that even if you were disposable, you’d still have your use as an object of study,” I exhaled sharply, “and for some odd reason, he thought I’d be okay with it.”

“Does that offend you? That he thought you would be okay with it?” 

“At first it did. But I think there’s something about this place that changes people. Despite every horror I’ve witnessed, I still want to go back. I still want more answers. And that want for more is what encapsulated him into his violence. All of our studies, our history, our memories and experiences have shaped us for this moment of discovery. Yet, our shape doesn’t fit into the mold already created for us. He didn’t know what I would become, but firmly believed he could coax me into the change. In the end, I think he was right.”

“I don’t think you made a bad decision, Jack. Objectively speaking, even if it wasn’t my life on the line it was still admirable. You swallowed away your moral dilemma to save a life. Sometimes, I think we need a difficult decision placed in front of us to find out who we truly are,” Damien explained, “Nothing in life gives definite answers, finite data for what makes up a person but…I think it gives glimpses.”

He spoke from experience given his tone. I think he was right. In his little word-salad speech, I knew what he was talking about. Everyone in their lives had a pinnacle moment where a decision had to be made, one where we didn’t know the right answer. All we knew was that both choices would change us, we’d never know which was for the better.

“What was your choice, if you don’t mind me asking?” I inquired softly, implying he didn’t have to.

Yet, he seemed to nod in understanding. Maybe he felt he truly couldn’t help me overcome this horror without bringing up one himself. He fiddled nervously with the spoon, spinning it across the bar countertop like the needle of a compass that would never point the right direction.

“It was when I knew Sabbath was dying. Of course, we all knew the funds were unsustainable. Their District had grown far too wide, too much, and too violent to sustain. Yet they still tried. ‘Recruitment’ was never a problem, it was always the money,” he took a deep breath, “I was on Colony 952 in the outer sections, outside the main asteroid belt. A lot of the Colonies out there are rather untouched but Sabbath wanted to claim this one. 952 refused a peaceful landing, so Sabbath did what they did best: raze them into submission.

“Ship artillery firebombed them before tasking me and my team to get on the ground and round up survivors. The Colony wasn’t meant for recruitment, only resource purposes as they apparently sat on a giant mineral deposit of gold and didn’t know it. There weren’t many survivors, but there was one that gave me a choice. I found a charred woman, pretty much burnt to a crisp from her backside, black as the sky with the debris still blocking the sun. I was going to move on but I heard a soft cry from beneath her. Turning her over, I realized she had shielded her child from the blasts, probably no more than two years old. That child was miraculously alive, protected by its mothers love and embrace. That was my choice.”

I swallowed hard, knowing the story he just shared couldn’t have been easy. If my eyes had been closed, I would have thought him to be so heartless and cruel with how benign he told such a tale. His tone was monotone and bland. Yet it was so easy to see on his face how much it pained him, how much it haunted him like Wueh haunted me.

“So, you let the child either live, or die. That was your choice,” I nodded, realizing how enigmatic it was. On the outside it seemed so simple. Of course, the assumption would be to let the child live, to bring it back to Sabbath. After all, this mother died for that very reason. But would she have made the same decision if she knew what fate had in store for that child, to be tortured, groomed into a child soldier and wreak havoc similar to that which killed its own mother?

“Yeah…yeah yeah yeah,” he whispered, as if talking himself through it, “The answer is simple, is it not?”

I think he was wanting me to say yes, or rather expecting it.

Had he asked me, weirdly enough, in that interrogation room that first month we had really begun our progress here, I knew my answer. I didn’t know much about him or his dealings with Sabbath. I would have scoffed at him, told him the obvious, empathetic choice would have been to keep that child alive. Knowing what I knew now, I think it was his greatest show of empathy: he didn’t want a young child to go through what he did.

Sometimes we judged decisions, not knowing the real person making those calls of ambiguous judgment. 

“One could argue it shouldn’t be a decision any rational person should have to make,” I pointed out.

“Yet history is full of them,” he sadly replied, “and I was responsible for making such history. I have made peace with my choice. Hardest part was coming to terms that I went against that mother’s wishes.”

“It is a mother’s instinct to do what she did…” I responded, soon feeling a strike of ice at my heart from my own words. I thought maybe I should clarify myself that it was a maternal or paternal instinct to protect a child. A lot of people could become mothers and fathers. A lot of them weren’t paternal or maternal, my parents included. 

My mother certainly wouldn’t have made such the same decision. 

“I didn’t want another child to suffer what I went through. I thought maybe I was providing it some mercy. But is it mercy if maybe there was potential for that child to become something great?” he asked me.

“You won’t know. All you know is that the child would have suffered, that was guaranteed. But maybe there was a chance. After all, you’ve removed yourself from Sabbath. You’ve changed,” I pointed out. 

Has he? The thought crossed my mind. It irritated me that my brain had thought that. I had a right to be cautious, of course. But it was always a disbelief of change that limited that potential in people like him. In people like me. 

He nodded, finally stopping the twirl of the spoon.

“Some decisions, Jacqueline, you just don’t look back on. The only way to make peace is to continue off that path that you’ve made. Yes, you’ve killed. You tore a bit of your soul out. The question is, and I think that’s why you can’t sleep or eat,  what will you do now ?” he asked. 

He had made his decision, and it sounded like ultimately it began his process in leaving Sabbath. I didn’t know anything about the details, or how one could even leave Sabbath peacefully knowing what he knew. Maybe he was on their list of targets too. But I knew he had made the jump to leave, based on the one decision that plagued him.

Now it was all about what I would do. 

I didn’t answer right away as two cold encrusted glasses full of brown, chocolate deliciousness were placed right in front of us. In all honesty, the sight of a stupid milkshake seemed to make me feel a lot better. 

“Anything else I could get you two lovely people?” Wayne smiled, placing straws for the both of us to the side.

“Not at all, thank you,” I thanked him politely.

“She isn’t that lovely,” Damien teased, making Wayne laugh. I only rolled my eyes at that, ignoring his comment as I was far too focused on getting a good sip. Wayne left to go clean up his slight mess.

I took the first sip from the straw, enjoying just how perfectly balanced Wayne had made it. Perfect texture, thickness, flavor…all of it was just perfect.

“Fuck,” I moaned slightly, humming at the taste.

“I didn’t know a milkshake was an aphrodisiac…” Damien side eyed me.

“I’m surprised you know what the word even means,” I teased back, “It’s a fucking good milkshake, let me enjoy it.”

“Yes ma’am,” he smiled in reply.

So we sat there in silence, sipping down to the end through it all. He seemed to drink it slowly, savoring every bit of it instead of demolishing it like I expected. It was a rather refreshing moment compared to the rest of the day we were having. The silence was not awkward at all. 

He was silent only because I was. And I was silent because I was still hesitating over my decision. What would I do in response? I already had a feeling, an instinct to go a different route. I just wondered if it was the right choice. It felt right. In terms of an excuse for trying, it would sound rational. But what if it also led me down the path I didn’t want to go?

I finished my milkshake before him, setting the empty glass aside before topping off the aftertaste with some water. It also helped clean out the slit of the mask, despite having a straw. I knew I just had to outright ask it before I changed my own mind.

“I want you to teach me how to shoot a gun, a pistol,” I finally breached the silence.

His shock wasn’t unnoticeable. In fact, he wasn’t very good at keeping a poker face in moments like this. Perhaps he was so used to wearing tinted helmets that blocked his expression he didn’t feel the need to hide them here now.

“Sorry, you what?” he clarified, wondering if I was joking.

“Look, I meant to shoot Wueh’s hand. I didn’t mean to kill him. If I actually knew what I was doing, maybe that wouldn’t have happened,” I exclaimed. 

“You meant to shoot his hand?!”

“That’s what I just said. I don’t like repeating myself,” I grunted.

“You have atrocious aim,” he teased.

“You know what-” I got off my chair, feeling him grab my wrist.

“Relax, Doctor. Of course I will help teach you,” he insisted, soon letting go. I got back on the chair, giving him a disapproving glare.

“Has anyone ever told you never to tell a woman to relax ?” 

“Plenty of times,” he smirked.

“And has anyone slapped you for that shit-eating grin?”

“No, not yet,” his smirk remained, “Also, Jack, I don’t like doing things for free. I teach you, I want something in return.”

What the hell would he want from me? Sex? Hell, if he even brought up the idea, I was definitely going to head right over to Security and end his fucking harassment. But I had to remember, if I was disgusted by the thought, surely he must as well when attached to me.

“I don’t know what I can offer you, Damien,” I shrugged.

“Crowe’s motorbike is all fixed up, wasting away in the auto shop. You ride a Kamelot, which is the same engine his bike is composed of. Teach me,” he insisted.

“You want me to teach you how to ride?”

“I don’t like repeating myself, Doctor,” he whispered lowly, trying to act intimidating but he followed it all with that smirk. 

“Why do you want to learn how to ride?” I questioned. Why would he? If anything, he needed to learn how to drive a fucking Sioc first, but I knew that anyone could teach him that. I didn’t know if anyone else around here could ride or would care to teach Damien.

He shrugged, “I want to learn a new hobby.”

I wasn’t exactly buying it. Yet, he had wanted to learn cooking. Damien Rok, initially to me, seemed like a man who stuck with what he knew and that was it. He wasn’t adaptable, malleable…he was stuck in his own nature. Yet, he was reading my own research, was he not?

“Fine, you have a deal,” I nodded, knowing a compromise must be made, “But I don’t want anyone knowing about this.”

“Understandable,” he agreed, “You’re a night owl anyways. Your secret is safe for me. I’ll reserve the firing range late at night, I doubt anyone will question it.”

At that, his datapad chirped again and didn’t stop. He eventually reached over for it, glaring at me. He was subtly asking if it was okay to interrupt our conversation and I was more than happy to allow it. I had to keep my eyes off him anyways. There was something about him wearing stupid compression shirts and cargo pants that really was starting to bother me. 

“Grimes…” Damien answered, speaking through it.

“Hey, where are you?” his partner asked.

“Cafeteria. Eating a milkshake.”

“Alone?”

Damien glanced at me, “Yeah, alone. I don’t want anyone on the team knowing I’m breaking our nutrition guidelines.”

Grimes laughed at that.

“Ruenova approved our FOB Plan. Obviously we will still need to reach out to the other units, the science team specifically. If they approve, we can start as soon as possible on getting that established, set up a more secure perimeter and keep it monitored at all times. It’s time we dig deeper into this place, yeah?”

“Absolutely,” Damien agreed.

“You want me to reach out to Deveraux? I know you’ve been avoiding her lately,” Grimes asked.

I tilted my head in amusement, seeing Damien not glance my way this time.

“Sure, you do that. She’s been in a very bitchy mood lately,” Damien sighed.

What a fucking asshole , I thought, even though I knew he was teasing. Grimes might not think that way though.

“Ah come on, give her a break. I’ll reach out to her and let you know, thanks bud,” Grimes laughed before ending the call.

I wasn’t going to give Damien any time to excuse his words.

“Avoiding me lately?” I questioned, crossing my arms.

“You’ve been avoiding me too,” he pointed out.

Well, he was right about that. I was struggling with what had happened between us, and most of all that kiss. I wanted to keep some distance between us and reevaluate my thoughts. Was that so wrong? Then again, was it wrong if he was doing the same as well?

Given his fight with Owen, I think he was entitled to that sentiment.  

“Keep pushing my buttons, Rok. I’ll show you just how much of a bitch I can be,” I scowled slightly, but I think he clearly took that as a tease.

“I said you were bitchy, not a bitch. Those are different things.”

“Alright…” I wanted to ignore that, “What’s this FOB plan?”

“District Three got me thinking about a forward operating base procedure. After all, we saw what a labyrinth it is down there in that place. And now we know the anathema has an aversion to flashy lights. I think we might be able to establish a proper base, especially if we want to dig deeper. That way, the things that can’t be transported to your little lab can be studied there,” he explained.

“That’s risky, is it not? We’d be stretching our necks out, not to mention other Districts could get wind of it,” I observed.

“A lot of Districts don’t want to touch us right now,” Damien shrugged.

“Why?”

“Cause we’re fucking badass,” he laughed, as if that answer was there all along. 

I wasn’t buying that either. He clearly believed that the other districts didn’t want to bother us, and maybe that was true. The reason as to why certainly wasn’t, and he had no intention of telling me. It could be very intelligence based, which I would understand. Yet, I did think I had a right to know.

I knew I couldn’t deny the FOB request. Even members of my team were itching to get in the field too, just like myself.

“Alright, how long will it take?” I asked.

“Few weeks maybe. Logistics is still figuring out the order in which supplies and equipment will be transported. We will save the mobile lab for last,” he answered.

“Okay,” I sighed, knowing I didn’t have much desire to go against that. It was wise to save us for last, given we wouldn’t be much help in defending off anathemas or attacks from other Districts. 

I paused for a moment, looking at him, “And…will Excise Squad be there?”

Damien seemed to understand my question, “No. They’ll still be focused on the perimeter on the surface. Besides, Agent Owen is still in the infirmary recovering from his broken jaw.”

Right. I knew his injuries were slightly extensive, but a broken jaw would keep him at bay, for now. It was best probably for the both of us that man stayed away whenever he could. 

“‘Thought that might make you happy, you won’t have to see me for quite some time,” his smile was slight, genuine this time.

“Oh, I’m very happy,” I replied, although I knew there would be a slight feeling of absence. All normal with trauma bonding. This would actually be a good break given all the chaos we experienced together. 

“Good, I like it when you’re happy,” he admitted.

I stared at him for a moment, eventually having to look away, “I should go. I have a lot of work to do.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks for the milkshake…and talking,” I gently left my seat, still looking his way, “It was nice.”

Now the conversation was slightly awkward, and it wasn’t from his end. I think I honestly overstayed my welcome, but I was still appreciative of him forcing me to eat something. And to maybe overcome my latest obstacle. I just worried that if killing was some sort of disease, would it strike me too? 

“Jacqueline? Sorry, Jack-”

“You can call me Jacqueline,” I interrupted him. Honestly, Jack had always been a preferable nickname. It suited me better. Yet, so did Jacqueline when his voice said it. Nobody else on Colony Negative was allowed to call me that without a consequence (usually just a stare). I wouldn’t let him know about that privilege though. 

“Jacqueline…do you remember when you interrogated the fuck out of me?”

“How could I forget?” I smiled underneath the mask.

“You still stand by your reason for why you’d kill someone?” he asked.

I realized what he had meant by that. I had told him that I would kill for the people I care about, or kill to protect myself. That didn’t necessarily mean him. If anything I was protecting myself by protecting him. I wasn’t sure if he’d see it that way. 

“Yes. Do you still hate doctors?”

He took a moment before smiling, “Yeah.” 

“Good, let’s keep it that way,” I agreed, “thanks again.”

I walked away, hearing him exhale. I barely heard a whisper, which was merely a you’re welcome . I knew he wasn’t expecting anything further. I knew that our acquaintanceship, if I could even call it that, was improving. I also knew I would enjoy diving back into my work without this burden on my mind. Already I could feel the weight of my decision with Wueh lessening. I knew I had made the right call.

I worried, though, as I left: what if it wasn’t trauma bonding? 

Chapter Text

District Seven was a welcoming enigmatic challenge. What piqued my interest most about them was their decision to arrive on Colony Negative so late. Many thought due to their distance with the other Districts and lack of a stable economy, they had arrived late merely because they didn’t know about this breakthrough when everyone else did.

That was a lie. 

Intelligence suggested District Seven only arrived, or made the intention to arrive, three days after reports of aliens or anathemas were mentioned.

Why? Because they saw these creatures everyone seemed so frightened about as an invitation: to make their mark as a powerful District. 

Powerful, they were. I limped slightly to my secured office in the Forward Operating Base, what we called Base Green. Green, for the color of Jacqueline’s eyes. Nobody else needed to know the reason why it was coined as such. My entire body ached, muscles sore, bruises tender from the constant firefights with District Seven. We always kept a distance, but we knew that would come to an end soon.

Wueh’s intel provided a very important room settled between us and District Seven territory. It was marked as important given a lot of the various tunnels and halls all converged towards it. Wueh and his team had just been unable to open the door, not knowing the correct combination to the panels beside it. One person that I knew of did though: Jack. So, if there was something important in there, I wanted to get her there. 

In order to get her there, I had to make sure there was a clear path of safety.

There was no way in hell I’d let her join us when District Seven still sent their powerful women warriors to attack whenever given a chance. Especially after everything that had occurred. The incident with District Three, me releasing the anathema and destroying most of their elite scientific team had reached international, intergalactic intelligence attention. In all honesty, when I was told that, I relished in the idea. District Five were finally being showcased as not to be messed with. It wasn’t until Grimes showed me the rest of the report that the trouble arrived.

Nowhere was I mentioned in the report as the cause of such terrible effects. Doctor Jacqueline Deveraux was blamed, written to be believed as some wretched, devious, and most of all dangerous scientist who had used District Three as some deadly experiment. 

This put her on the spotlight of public enemy number one on Colony Negative, which infuriated me. There was nothing I could do quickly and effectively to refute such audacious, slanderous claims. Everything they claimed her to be was false, in fact it was District Three that had been dangerous and cruel, not her. 

Jacqueline didn’t know any of this, though. I told my team to keep it classified. She already spent most of her nights on her work, making breakthroughs into the DNA structure of anathemas or working on cracking that code of mysterious letters projected across rooms. 

I groaned as I finally laid in my bunk temporarily, despite still wearing my full armor. I’d eventually take it off and probably request some Stimuli patches with some hot and cold treatment to ease the soreness. All I wanted was a little bit of rest.

“Are you alright?” a familiar, not so unwanted voice broke through my private comms.

“Yeah,” I already felt better from hearing that scratchy voice, “just a few bumps and scrapes.”

“You were shot three times,” Jacqueline reminded me.

“The armor absorbed all of that energy,” I shrugged slightly. She sounded concerned for me. “I take it you were watching my helmet cam? Good to know we’ve improved the connection.”

“I was watching it passively,” she retorted, as if to immediately dismiss any showing of concern.

“Funny, because I got shot three times over a two hour period of a firefight,” I couldn’t help but smirk knowing it meant she must have been watching that entire time if she knew the exact number of times I had been shot. 

Silence on her end. If we had been talking in person, she would have had a witty response ready. On comms, not so much.

“What are you working on?” I asked her, figuring I should take interest in her work.

She let out a soft, amused chuff, “The cellular apoptosis that happens when an anathema cell dominates a human one.”

“Sounds fancy, care to elaborate?” I closed my eyes, resting them for a moment. I almost believed I could fall asleep just to the sound of her voice, and that didn’t feel like a bad thing. Surely she would interpret as me not listening.

The truth was, I felt comfortable around her when she wasn’t demeaning me. She had gotten better when I asked scientific questions to not treat me like some child who should know better. I think I had also learned to keep my tone inquisitive, actually ask questions that I wanted answers to, not because it was just out of politeness. She had been able to see through that fake politeness most men had used in asking her, which was only used as a tool to get a conversation going the men could later dominate.

“It’s a normal bodily function as a failsafe for cellular activity. It deprograms, or rather, causes cells to ‘turn off’. There’s a multitude of reasons. It helps fight off infections, limits cell activity, and regulates homeostasis. Again, all normal things our beautiful bodies do. Very rarely do you see it occur improperly, which creates uncontrolled cell divisions. But this seems to be what this anathema enzyme likes to do. It either has these cells commit mass suicide on extreme levels, or, causes normal apoptosis to not occur properly on accelerated levels. I’m trying to figure out why it can do both,” she explained.

A few months ago, I would have tuned such conversations out. Now, I found myself slightly captivated by them. Only when it came from her lips, though. 

“Okay…” I hummed, “so it kills cells, but still needs them to overtake the body, right?”

“Well, yes. If it just killed every single cell then the anathema wouldn’t really be considered alive,” she answered, but not in a retorting or belittling way. 

“Could it be doing both because it has to?” I inquired, “I mean, if the body is supposed to routinely do this, it does it for a reason. If it can identify cells that have gone naughty-”

“Naughty?” she laughed.

“Like...they’ve gone rogue. They don’t do what they’re supposed to anymore. Like with a virus or cancer or whatever can already kill a cell and multiply. That’s what they do, they take control and then multiply,” I rolled my eyes, “It might need to do both because it must kill the function that detects an infiltration, while also infiltrating simultaneously.”

There was a very long pause.

“I’m probably confusing you, sorry,” I apologized, knowing I was probably just rambling.

“Don’t apologize,” she insisted immediately, “I…y-you keep reading my work.”

The way she said that last sentence almost had a bit of a stutter to it. I must admit, I had never once heard her lose concentration when talking. She always spoke with authority and confidence. This was the first time I’d heard her stumble.

And I fucking loved the sound of it.

“Well, I haven’t been reading it lately. I’ve found it much easier to listen to your recorded presentations. Even better if there’s fancy pictures to go with it,” I admitted. I would not admit, however, that it was mostly used as a tool to fall asleep. Of course I still listened, not for the sake of white noise but to actually learn.

The more I learned about her work, the more I learned about her.

There was silence once more, for a brief period.

“I think you’re onto something, Damien,” she almost whispered.

If I wanted to be on anything, it was her. 

“What? Like about the gone rogue theory?”

“Maybe. But apoptosis is also a double edged sword with cancer. If done right, it can prevent cancer from spreading. When done wrong, when it fails to identify or it breaks down cells wrong, that can cause cancer too,” she explained. 

“So anathemas are caused by enzymes. Is cancer the same?”

“No. Cancer targets enzymes, though,” she answered.

Well, there goes that theory. 

I remained silent this time, taking long deep breaths to meditate the pain away.

“Where are you going with this?” she finally asked.

“With what?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I am dumb,” I rolled my eyes. At least, I felt that way around her. I used to think of it as a bad thing, almost emasculating. It wasn’t. It was on me to educate myself, not for her to speak differently around me. 

“Damien Rok, I’m going to end this call if you don’t tell me what you’re thinking,” she demanded.

I sighed, knowing I could just be feeding her ego, “I think you can find a cure to this thing.”

“Y-you think I…?” she stammered again, before laughing, “We don’t even know how this process still works, what any of this means. The idea of a cure might be decades if not centuries away.”

Another call was beginning to come in through my channels, and not from a registered line either. It was blocked, which meant it was a secure line. It could really only mean one thing: Milithreat. 

“I’ll let you go,” she insisted, probably able to hear I was getting another contact.

“Jack, wait-” I insisted but I could tell she immediately went offline. Fuck.

I didn’t wait any longer, sitting up from my bunk away from my relaxed state.

“This is Rok,” I answered, a bit frustrated given this call interrupted my chat with Jack.

“You have a new target. We’ll be sending you a file in the morning. This one will be tricky, Saboteur,” the monotone, most likely artificial intelligent voice broke through, “but well rewarding.”

“Who’s the target?”

“District Seven Magistrate: Marhwanda, commonly known as Wanda.”

A Magistrate? Were they fucking joking? 

This was as equivalent as killing the President of District 5, the highest form of authority in any District. They controlled plenty of colonies, made legislative decisions, and usually had a shitload of money and power. Some Districts elected, and others took power into their own hands, especially Six.

I knew nothing about Seven, though.

“What would a Magistrate be doing here?” I asked.

“She is frontlining her District’s operations here. Confirmed sighting recently was made by a District One reconnaissance team. With multiple confirmed sightings, it is confirmed she doesn’t intend to lead from a place of security,” the voice explained.

“ Why is she here though?” I asked my real question, this time with clarity. Who the hell would risk their necks in a place like this? Especially, since they already knew the horrors that existed in the place? Killing a Magistrate or leader of an entire District could be destabilizing. 

“You’ve never questioned why before, Agent Rok.”

“I’m not asking why I’m killing her, I’m asking why she’s here in the first place,” I scoffed.

“Does it matter?”

To me? Yes.

To Milithreat? No. 

“Just send me the fucking paperwork. Mission accepted,” I sighed, the call soon terminating as I ripped my helmet off. 

I buried my hand in my hands, letting my fingers dig and scratch into the back of my skull beneath my thinly cut hair. I wanted my nails to scratch until it bled, dig into my brain and for once let me feel some sense of control. I think that’s why I liked Jacqueline, she gave me a sense of control. She questioned my judgments, but she questioned them because I think she cared.

She cared, right? Why else would she interrupt her day to get on a comm channel and ask how I was doing? 

Pain is weakness leaving the body. That’s what was drilled into my head thousands of times, with all the bones I’ve broken growing up, all the cuts, bruises, bullet wounds in my own skin…every single one of them was meant to build an armor of strength around my body.

Not once had they talked about the pain in my mind, what it meant, how to defeat it. The pain that felt like weakness was entering my brain, not leaving it. It grew and grew, making this life feel more unbearable. With every passing day, this sense of my impending doom felt even more imminent. Yet, there had been glimpses of what could be, what felt natural, beautifully organic…and that was conversations with Jack.

Yet the more I pushed myself to grow closer to her, I was so afraid this doom of mine would implode, and bring her down with me.

I couldn’t let that happen.

-

The bloodbath continued, the same tug of war over territory between us and District Seven continued in a furious spat. While I preferred to keep the fighting long distance, rifles and pistols to do the work, District Seven this time wouldn’t let us.

If we wanted this specific corridor, I would take it by force. And that meant, hand to hand combat.

District Seven did not wear distinctive uniforms like the others. They wore whatever armor they wanted, in any vibrant color they chose. Most of their uniforms were modified, as if they were accustomed to taking armor off their dead enemies and then fashioning it to tailor to their more distinct feminine features. 

But fucking hell, they were good fighters. 

I was pinned on the hard black ground, the firm stem line of a metallic spear pinning me down on my throat with her weight on top of mine. I could feel her ferocious appetite, her adrenaline spiking as she could almost get a sense of her kill. That was the difference between these warriors and me. I had learned to control those urges, to slowly be in tune with the chaos, to not let any weakness be exploited from my greed. 

These women were young. Trained well, of course, but their eagerness was their downfall. 

“Any last words, soldier?” she spat at me.

I always hated that question when it was directed at me. I don’t think I ever pondered on what my last words could or should be. Last words were meant on people dying or being executed with meaning, like a martyr dying for a cause. Those last words were supposed to inspire. I was anything but inspiring, and nobody would mourn my passing. 

I think I’d refuse any last words when given the choice.

The good news right now was that this wasn’t my end, as much as she thought.

I slowly moved my ankle to gently hook with her leg pinning one of my hips down, trying to be unnoticeable as my hands moved to the spear. With her weight on it, it merely felt like an average bench press to me. She didn’t know that…yet. The second I pushed forward with strength, pulling that ankle of mine against her calf, she lost balance and concentration. 

Immediately, I gained the leverage, turning that spear against her, pinning it against her own throat beneath the armor. I didn’t leave any room for error, not using my entire body on hers, but just a solid knee instead to keep me composed and her lungs and diaphragm slowly crushing from the pressure. 

Yet the sudden screams of anathemas immediately turned everyone’s attention elsewhere amidst the fighting. My soldiers around me had slowly halted their own individual duels and turned their attention to the real danger. It exposed us, given District Seven could utilize this arrival of demos as a means to defeat us.

But without us, they’d succumb to even worse deaths. 

Sometimes, we were told who our enemies were. Sometimes, we were shown. In this moment, both District Five and Seven warriors knew who the real threat was. 

Seven did not have the same technological means we did. The laser swords were far more superior in dispatching anathemas, both quickly and effectively. The spears and iron metallic swords of Seven only cut, but didn’t burn or cauterize. Their bullets didn’t do much of a dent either. It was that moment I knew that when it came to anathemas, they were outmatched. 

“Hold that thought, darling,” I laughed at her, feeling her squirm. Yeah, there would be no last words for me, and maybe for her at this moment. Instead of instilling a final blow, I saved such bloodlust and instead slammed my armor covered knuckles right at the thinnest part of her own helmet. By the way her grip limped across her own spear, I knew I had at the very least dazed her.

I could finally focus on the bigger, uglier problem. A problem, of course, I felt I was beginning to master. Most of my team were trained on rather intuitive motions when facing an anathema, trying to remove any rational thinking and rely on muscle memory alone. They were terrifying, and terrifying things often led to irrational thoughts. I could not let their brains make decisions for them, but the muscles, the passion in their hearts, and most of all pure instinct.

Aim for the limbs, shotgun blast preferably to weaken or stall their movements. Swords or laser bayonets attached to some soldiers' rifles could be used within five feet. Aim for the neck, or even slice a limb if needed (expecting it could grow back). 

Black blood spilled like rain. Instead of stars speckling the dark space with light, the blood speckled us as if we were the new stars in such a void place. The screams of the anathemas had stopped as we slaughtered them. District Seven soldiers had even fought to their best ability, but their weaponry wasn’t enough. I had helped as best I could, distracting the anathemas or intervening with my sword.

In the end, only one survivor remained. And that had been the woman who minutes ago thought she could end me. Foolish of her to think I would end so swiftly.

“Everyone alright?” I asked, conducting a routine ‘bite’ check. 

“I got scratched pretty gnarly but…I’m okay,” Grimes groaned, showing his wound, “It wasn’t an anathema.” Looked like District Seven had gotten a cut of their spears right in the space between fabric and armor on his thigh. That meant they knew flaws in our armor, or just got lucky. 

“No…no no no!” a voice shrieked, a woman at that. I knew it wasn’t any of my team given I only had males assigned for now. The only woman on Acid Squad was Regina but she was working on getting perimeter video surveillance working, not out here in the fights.

When I turned, I could see blood seeping where I had stood moments prior. The District Seven soldier was bleeding from her calf, a nasty wound shown as she tried to get a better look at the wound. I could sense the defeat in her posture when she noticed it was a bite, and not a deflected gunshot or earlier injury. She also got a good glance around, knowing the rest of her squadron had been wiped out, mostly not by my own team.

“Easy…” I tried to calm her, holstering my rifle behind my shoulder, but I did have my pistol in hand behind my back, ready to fire if necessary, “let me take a look at that bite.”

“You kunst , get away from me,” she scowled.

I had no idea what she called me but it probably wasn’t nice.

“Look around you, sweetheart. I’m all you’ve got right now,” I insisted. 

She reached for her helmet, pressing the button at the side to establish her communication. Yet, it was the same side I had slammed my fist into. I knew exactly where to hit to damage the wires amidst the protection of her armor. She didn’t have anyone to call to, nor anyone to assist with today. She was alone, and all on her own, a lone survivor amidst enemies. 

She said nothing, angling her leg again and I took a small look.

“You’ll be fine, at least in terms of turning. But if you don’t get that patched up soon, you’ll bleed out,” I observed.

“I got bit,” she pointed out, again.

“Yeah but the jaw didn’t latch. Anathema’s jaw latching are clear signs of a good bite,” I retorted. Jack and her team had figured that out. There was a locking mechanism within their deformed jaws that made it easier to get that ‘savoring’ Wueh had explained. It was pretty simple to catch too, as the angle of the bite went upward instead of downward with a good latch.  A simple bite wasn’t enough to get that enzyme going.

Grimes chimed in on a private call, “You’re not helping her, are you?”

“Do you have a better idea? We can’t just leave her here.”

Grimes remained silent, but not in a bad way. He would not question my judgment, but he was questioning how my judgment had turned this way. Sure, we took prisoners all the time in previous missions, but I usually fought against them. Prisoners were dead weight, and often I wasn’t able to use the interrogation measures I enjoyed to get real information. 

This woman, though, had her uses.

“Ruenova, come in,” I asked for her, seeing her hop in the communication.

“Go ahead, Rok,” she hummed.

“Permission to take a body back with us, to Base Green only? Live body at that of course: District Seven,” I noted, “Injuries are critical but could be easily patched with our equipment.”

“Give me one good reason.”

“Consider it a parlay. She is a witness to our strength, and she will also be a witness to our generosity. We send her back to her people in one piece, they’ll turn their attention elsewhere,” I answered.

“Good enough for me. Either knock her unconscious or blindfold, disable her suit,” she demanded.

“Yes ma’am.”

“I’ll handle her,” Grimes insisted, “I’ll be gentle with her, unlike your approach.”

“Hey, I was pretty nice,” I scoffed.

“I saw you punch the shit out of her,” Grimes laughed softly, moving towards the woman.

I turned my attention elsewhere, finding that door I wanted Jack to have so desperately. The mapped out floor plan in my suit confirmed it, and so did the various combinations. Funny enough, this door had a large, long panel, unlike the short combinations we were used to. Whatever was in her felt important. 

I pulled out my datapad briefly to take pictures, as clear as I could get for Doctor Deveraux and her team. Video probably wasn’t strong or distinct enough to get all the ridges.

“Got something for you, Doc. Sending it your way,” I whispered to our private channel, figuring she wasn’t there. She hadn’t said a word to me in about a week, since that brief moment we had. 

“I can see that. That one is going to take some time to crack, few hours maybe. Once I get an answer, I’ll make my way over,” she surprised me.

“Watching me again, aren’t you?” I teased.

“Judging you, actually,” she teased in return, “I like to know who you are when my back is turned.”

In truth, she wasn’t wrong to do that. If I did have any facade around her, it would reveal itself one way or another when she wasn’t. 

“Does the great judgemental judge find me guilty?” I asked.

“Depends on the crime…”

“How about being the best soldier you’ve ever known, and the most handsome?”

“Not guilty,” she retorted immediately. Yet I could hear a stifled laugh from her end. 

“Hey, even if you get results, the forward team should still be leaving around noon tomorrow. Should have the perimeter fully secured by then,” I pointed out, “Safer to go with them.”

“I might get results in a few hours-”

“Jack, it’s not safe,” I pointed out.

“You just made it safe enough ,” she scowled slightly.

How could I tell her getting here on her own, whether her bike or Sioc wasn’t a smart choice? Anyone could be waiting for her to leave Station Evolution and expose herself. I couldn’t tell her that without having to share the entire issue. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to bring her back, you know,” she chimed in, not letting me figure out a response to her scowling.

“You never like my ideas,” I insisted. 

“True, but she’s a liability.”

“I’m trying to be a better person,” I clenched my jaw slightly. Was I? That’s how I could spin it. I could be generous to her, earn her trust, and get information out of her that way. That wasn’t as manipulative as District Three’s method of holding Jack hostage, was it? 

I could hear her sigh, as if understanding, “Alright, if it helps your moral dilemmas, so be it. Just be careful.”

“You too,” I reminded her, ending the chat. 

I hated lying to her. In the beginning it was so fucking easy, now it was just making me go insane. There were hesitant thoughts that maybe I should tell her my full mission here, my mission as Saboteur. She might understand, right? 

No. Nobody would understand. That’s why this mission fell to me and me alone. 

-

When I finally got patched and cleaned up myself, changing out of a full gear of armor and trading it for a light uniform instead, I could sense Jacqueline’s frustration from several miles away. I think she was eager to rush back into the field, even without the mobile lab completely established yet. I knew that, because the main part of her science team already here, mostly David, liked to stare me down like I was their enemy. 

I knew that while my team was warming up to Jacqueline, her team was definitely not warming up to me. I couldn’t exactly blame them, as my Sabbath history seemed to put a bad taste in everyone’s mouths. 

When I walked over to the medical tent, Grimes walked out, giving a rather interesting expression.

“What’s that look for?” I asked.

“Heh,” he laughed, unsure how to word it, “I’m telling you now, Damien. Think with that brain of yours, and not your dick.”

“When have I ever thought with my dick?” I stood still, aghast by his comment.

“Remember that mission on Colony 430, the bartender? The one that almost killed you in the morning?” he crossed his arms with a wide smirk.

“Okay, but I lived. And, in the end, the mission was successful,” I shrugged, knowing he wasn’t wrong about that moment. That felt so long ago anyways, a time where I had escaped Sabbath and wanted to indulge in a little fun. Any sort of intimacy as a Sabbatical had been…let’s just say, not passionate. It was just a mere release of some overwhelming testosterone. Sabbath leadership actually preferred non-consensual contact…something I did not and never once thought of partaking. It was one of the reasons that slowly turned me away the older I grew.

“Just be careful,” Grimes patted my shoulder before leaving. 

When I walked into the tent, I knew exactly what he was talking about. The District Seven warrior was now in her own light garments. Her skin was dark, radiating under the fluorescent lights. Her hair, now out of its tie, were long untamed curls that highlighted her thin face. 

Maybe a few months ago, my mind certainly would have delved into those sexual devious thoughts of mine. She was beautiful. But, she was also an enemy, and…

Any thoughts of sex, intimacy, or even the stupid idea of hand holding were all attributed to one woman now. A woman who didn’t want me, who’d probably throw up if she knew where my mind went at night. 

“Well, don’t you clean up nicely, kunst ,” she smirked slightly, her own eyes dilating at the sight of me. I almost hated the fact she had interrupted my thoughts.

“Are you going to explain what that means?” I asked, grabbing a chair to sit, of course sitting the wrong way with the backrest at my chest. 

“Not familiar with Afrikaans, are you?” 

“Nope,” I shook my head, “I’m Supervisory Agent Rok, but you can call me Damien.”

“I’m Alala,” she smiled, her eyes still having a glow about her, “I didn’t think the infamous Damien Rok would be so handsome.”

“Infamous?” I questioned.

“Oh of course, you are well known in District Seven,” she explained, “We’ve ranked all the important figures of the Districts. I think most have come to the conclusion you’re the most dangerous. Hell, some of the girls even pooled money to give to the one warrior who can take you down.”

“What a waste of credits,” I tsked, “it should be spent on better equipment to accomplish your missions.”

“Well, not all of us have the privilege of flourishing economies,” Alala smiled.

“So why come to an expensive place like this?”

“Why not?” she shrugged, “Why not make our mark on this world, look for new resources, claim power and fame?”

“Power and fame cost money, money your District doesn’t really have,” I pointed out, “Tell me, because I’m curious, what’s it like in a heavily matriarchal society?”

“Ugh,” she rolled her eyes, “it’s controlled by insane hormones, women crying at every inconvenience, groaning and moaning at breaking fingernails or not being able to wear fancy dresses with white pearls.”

I could tell immediately she was being sarcastic.

“I didn’t mean that question to come off as rude.”

“I know you didn’t, but the question is always going to be rude from a man. A man like you couldn’t even begin to fathom the benefits of our society, the dismantling of a system long gone. But, I forgive you. You men don’t know any better, do you?” she smirked. 

“I suppose we don’t. We are dumb creatures,” I admitted.

“You men call yourself dumb to avoid accountability for the system you created, created rather deviously and strategically. But I know you, Agent Rok, you aren’t dumb. So don’t play pretend with me. You’re a very smart man. Hm, if you were raised District Seven, I could see you having great use rather than just being a kunst .”

“Again, what does that mean?”

She only remained silent, keeping her smile. But her eyes this time eyed me up and down, and not the normal observing type strangers would do. I could tell her eyes lingered in certain places: the center of my chest, my biceps, hell, even caught her gaze wandering at my slightly spread legs and what lay hidden between them.

The tent flap opened, and in came Grimes without the same humor he had a few minutes prior.

“The Doctor is on her way,” he sighed.

“What?!” I stood from the chair, “How? Why?”

“She said by bike, she’ll be here within the hour,” he answered.

“No! It’s too fucking dangerous for that.”

“That’s what I told her,” Grimes grunted, “But she then told me to explain what that meant and I knew I couldn’t tell her. Seems she cracked that door code with relative ease.”

“Of course she did,” I huffed, taking a deep breath, “Just meet her at the hole, please. Make sure she’s escorted here to the best of her ability.”

Stubborn little… ugh, I couldn’t finish the sentence. One of the greatest things I liked about her was that damn stubbornness. I couldn’t exactly complain about something I was attracted to, could I?

“Yes sir, I’ll keep you in the loop,” he nodded before leaving. 

Alala’s demeanor had changed slightly, to that more inquisitive.

“I thought Garcia was your doctor?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah, he’s a field medic. Did he patch you up okay?” I glanced over at her bite, which was nothing more than a fading scar. 

“He did. So, what’s so special about her?” Alala asked.

Funny, I think this was the first time a District seemed to have more intelligence on me than they did on Jacqueline. It was almost refreshing, but it also could be a ploy at getting information they didn’t know yet. 

“She’s a biological anthropologist,” I answered, almost a bit proudly as if I was showing her off. She wasn’t mine to show off in the first place. There would never be a moment where she’d have her arm wrapped around mine, both of us bragging about each other’s professions. 

There was nothing proud about my work, not when she was right that I ruined everything people like her were destined to create or restore. I was nothing, nobody a woman like her could be proud of. 

“What the hell is that?” Alala asked.

“Well, biology is the study of life. So she focuses a lot on the human body and cellular activity. And an anthropologist, I think, studies societies and structures of culture and how they affect humans,” I explained.

“Sounds like a bullshit occupation,” Alala laughed, but I could tell she wasn’t joking, “Can she fight?”

“No, I mean…she’s killed a few anathemas with her laser sword,” and…one man with a pistol but I didn’t want to bring that up, “but she did fencing growing up, I think. So she knows about footwork and thrusting techniques, I suppose. I wouldn’t necessarily call her a soldier.”

“Hm, so she is weak.”

No. Fuck no. She was the strongest person I’d ever come to know. 

I think she could tell I grew defensive at that comment.

“You don’t have a lot of scientists on Seven, do you?” I asked.

“No, no and if we did, all their work would be stolen and taken credit for. All our people would be used as test subjects for the grand designs of the Federation. We have always been subjects of evolutionary experiments, all on the fact of looking, talking, and being different from most of the rest of you. But you know what they can’t take from us? Sheer, physical power. Power, strength, dominance on the battlefield is something they couldn’t even think to steal from us, let alone defeat.”

“You are rather impressive fighters,” I complimented, “You especially.”

“You act as though you've never been bested by a woman before in combat,” she finally returned to that teasing nature.

“Oh, I have a few times,” I admitted. I had in Sabbath. Some women were just pure bred machines of muscles and rage. A woman who knew the right and proper techniques to take down a man twice her size was very dangerous indeed. Which is what made Alala so dangerous even if she wasn’t armed. 

“Enough chatter about war, I think we’ve both had enough for the day. Tell me about home…your home,” she insisted.

So, I told her. All of it had been a lie of course. Stories of a beautiful family with caring parents and siblings. I had little success in school, took a great interest in boxing or fighting and found proficiency in it. Got recruited by Milithreat and the rest is history. She told me about District Seven, being taught to use a spear and sword the same age she could walk and talk. She talked about how most of all the planets there had an inverse sun, constantly dark rather than light, a night as black as her smooth skin. 

I could see I put her at ease, could humor her without effort, compliment her and she’d accept each single one like a god given gift. I knew immediately what she was doing, given Grimes’ great advice. 

The conversation slowly halted over time with a slight commotion outside in the Base. Whatever it was, it had silenced most of the soldiers particularly. It wasn’t until that commotion walked into the room, I could see why.

Jacqueline walked in, wearing her helmet (rather the one I got her that was all fixed up), leather riding jacket, and tight cargo shorts. She looked…well, I could see why the rest of my men had fallen silent at the sight. Deveraux was a beautiful woman, and most would argue especially with a black mask to hide the venom that laid underneath. I preferred her as bare as she could be, scarred lips and all. I liked that vulnerable side to her.

I hadn’t seen her physically in weeks. She looked as good as I could remember, and just the sight of her seemed to fill that weird, indescribable void in myself. That feeling of any loneliness or disbelief withered away from her very presence. I had missed her, which annoyed the shit out of me. 

Jack immediately tensed slightly at seeing Alala, who certainly had a blushing, flirtatious nature about her. She removed her helmet, brushing a few stray black strands aside before looking me with those gorgeous emerald eyes of hers.

She was about to ask a question, but Alala beat her to it.

“What’s with the mask?” she asked, rather rudely at that. 

“What is she still doing here?” Jack retorted with her own venom, still holding her stare at me. 

“She’s staying for the evening and then will make connection with her team tomorrow. We’ll drop her off at a more secure location and she’ll be on her way,” I explained, answering her question. I didn’t have the patience to answer Alala’s question, however. It wasn’t any of her business. 

Jacqueline’s eyes slowly turned to Alala, and I could see a bit of her confidence waver. Why? Her demeanor had faltered, her posture tilted, finger tapping her own helmet gently. Was this a woman thing I didn’t know about?

“Can we talk, Damien?” Jack asked me.

“Sure, Doctor, we’ll just need someone here to-”

“Oh, so you’re this biological archeologist,” Alala interrupted.

“Anthropologist…” Jack corrected her immediately, which made Alala tense up. Jack said nothing else but slowly looked back outside the tent, waving someone over to monitor Alala. Grimes happily volunteered, walking in to see everyone’s moods had shifted. 

I followed Jacqueline outside and soon into her own tent, which was hardly full of anything given she hadn’t unpacked her gear. Not like she minded. I immediately started thinking of answers to the questions she most definitely ask. Surely it must be about this whole dangerous thing, how Grimes and myself both insisted for her to wait for a secure and proper escort here. 

“Don’t tell me you’re actually falling for this, are you?” Jack asked.

“Huh?” Well, I had no idea what she was talking about now.

“You’re more oblivious than I thought,” Jack scoffed.

“Hold on, just…” I paused, crossing my arms, “What the hell is going on?”

“Fuck, I really have to spell it out for you, don’t I?” she crossed her arms too.

We both stood there in slight silence, a tension between us that I didn’t even know was a problem until now. It felt different than the original tension, of us considering each other as enemies or rivals. This felt like an odd fire, pressurized explosion ready to blow. Not out of anger or frustration, out of a passion to want to grip each other’s throats and suffocate each other. 

“She’s clearly trying to get into your pants,” Jack finally clarified.

“Alala?”

“No! Grimes, obviously,” she rolled her eyes, “Of course it’s fucking her, Damien. She is using you to sleep with you.”

“Oh, really?” I smirked slightly.

I could immediately see her tense up at that, perhaps not realizing I was only just joking. Yet that demeanor of hers faltered, once again, just as similar as it had prior. Whatever was consuming her, it seemed to be feeding some insecurity I couldn’t see. 

“I am so honestly surprised a woman hasn’t killed you yet,” Jack scowled. 

I laughed at that, “A few have tried.”

She didn’t laugh. My teasing mood slowly eroded, noticing that there was something wrong. Clearly, I wasn’t insightful enough to pinpoint it. 

“What’s wrong, Jacqueline?” I asked softly, approaching her slightly.

“Nothing,” she insisted immediately.

“I can tell her to leave, Jack,” I insisted.

“She’ll die out there without her District. You’re just trying to be nice…a gentleman for once and I’m…” she couldn’t finish her sentence.

Did she think herself to not be a nice person? Was it because she tended to see the worst in everyone, a pessimist on everyone's hearts? 

“You’re just concerned about your semi-handsome protection detail,” I hummed, “I get it. Trust me, I don’t succumb easily to women.”

An abhorrent lie, because just the sight of this woman in a leather jacket and riding gear was making me weak in the knees. 

“You don’t have to worry about her,” I insisted.

But maybe it wasn’t her that she was truly worried about. 

“You really think this will keep District Seven at bay?” 

Yes, because if everything worked out, District Seven would be shambles with their ruler usurped. I already knew from Alala’s description of her culture and homeworld that everything was determined by that Magistrate. If Wanda was the true reason for their District to arrive her, surely dismantling her would dismantle them entirely. 

“Yeah, I think so. It’ll let you get to work with relative peace and quiet on whatever is in that special room,” I nodded. She seemed to feel a bit of relief at that. Honestly, she looked stressed, and not the normal amount due to all the smart ideas piling into her brain. She looked stressed because maybe she had taken my words as true. Maybe she could find a purpose to all of this, unlock this mystery and maybe even cure it. 

“I don’t think peace and quiet can exist in the same room as you, Damien,” she sighed, “I’ll let you get back to your flirting.”

“Good, I think I need some practice,” I teased, which got a soft laugh from her, “before I go though, I have a question: what’s a kunst?”

I knew she had stated earlier she was familiar with Afrikaans but couldn’t really speak it well. The term almost seemed slang in nature, so there was a chance she wouldn’t know.

Yet, she had a slightly amused look on her face.

“It’s a term of endearment,” she answered, but I could tell that wasn’t all.

“The tone she uses when she uses it doesn’t exactly sound like it.”

“You should be honored, Damien. A kunst is the highest honor amongst the hierarchy of men within District Seven. You’ve been designated as a man meant for procreation solely on looks and physique.”

I blinked blankly at that, wondering if she was joking. But she wasn’t.

“Wait, are you saying…?”

“That she considers you a whore? Yes, yes I am,” she clarified, “A whore she intends to use to the fullest potential.”

“I don’t really like the sound of that,” I scratched my head slightly.

“Congratulations, you now know what it feels to be objectified. Now go, I don’t really trust Grimes with her alone either,” Jack shooed me away with her hand, even going as far as gently pushing me out from her tent.

The imprint of her hand against my chest burned like a brand, her brand making its mark on me. 

At this point, I wish the only problem I had were anathemas. Adding women to this entire equation of life was perhaps one of creation’s worst ideas, and maybe the best. 

One thing I knew for sure: Jacqueline Deveraux was jealous. Jealous of what? I suppose that was as great a mystery as the anathemas themselves.

Chapter Text

“You look tired,” Angelique’s voice piqued over my tablet.

“I am tired,” I retorted, almost frustrated by her interruption. Her calls were always non-negotiable when they arrived. I didn’t know the consequences of hitting the mute button when it came to her. It was almost as if she sensed when I needed to talk the most, despite my own obligations to avoid sharing about my feelings

“Busy busy busy…that’s all you ever are,” she sighed, although it was a lovingly, admirable sigh at that.

“I can’t afford to be anything else,” I hummed, taking a deep breath.

I was tired, yes. Tired of these games, tired of the unknown. Life always felt like a game I could try and solve, decipher the strategy and win. I was losing. I knew that. I think maybe we were always destined to lose. When people realized all was lost, they sought to gain whatever they could, a bit of sweetness amongst overwhelming sour.

Is that why I found myself lingering towards Damien? Did I think he could give me something amongst suffering, or would he only just add to it?

“How have things improved with that one soldier? Damien?” Angie asked, almost as if reading my mind.

“Better. Improved, not drastically of course. I still question a lot of his choices,” I hummed.

Like, why did he kiss me? I appreciated the fact he had done what I had asked, never brought it up again. But did he continue to think about it as often as I did? 

“Again, you analyze everyone. I don’t think that’s something you can stop.”

“I’m no better than them if I can’t change, I have to try.”

Them, as in the rest of the world. I had this belief that the galaxies grew cold when stagnant, when people stopped moving and doing. Certainly, there were moments in our life where we feel stuck, where everything feels outside of our control. Instead of enjoying the moment, we succumb, surrender that control permanently. And strong, dictating societies like Sabbath take over people wishing for change but never acting on it.

If I wanted change, I had to act on it too. 

“Have you changed in some ways?” she inquired.

“I…” I paused, trying to perouse earlier memories, “I suppose I am more keen on second chances in a place like this. I gave someone a second chance, even if he may not deserve it.”

“Damien.”

“Yeah, him…” I hummed, “He fucked up, like usual. There was a fight, Damien had completely broken more than a few bones. He showcased this violence I’ve been so eager to remove, put it on the center stage and yet I didn’t boo him off it. I felt like I couldn’t condemn him for his actions. I wouldn’t say the other prick didn’t deserve it but…”

Owen had deserved it. 

“The kid has friends in high places. The entire thing became a serious inquiry in Milithreat, so bad it got all the way to Ruenova’s desk. I was called in, hoping it was about my progress, instead it was about him. I was given something I hadn’t felt in a long time: power.”

“You had the power to decide his fate,” Angie observed.

“I was the one thing preventing him from reassignment. He’d still be present on Colony Negative, but he would not be a leader, he’d be punished, demoted…all that wonderful military justice at work.”

“Yet, you gave him a second chance.”

“I may need him. He is careless, but he is not stupid,” an exhausted sigh left my lips.

He may be ignorant of certain things: emotions, social awareness, and most of all just how a woman might perceive him to be. I couldn’t necessarily blame him though. Everything he was smart and cunning at was due to Sabbath, Sabbath was also his reasoning for not picking up on certain cues I was used to. He was raised around fellow soldiers, not people . Yet I could see his effort to try and see everyone as a person, even if he didn’t know exactly how to interact with them.

“I should get some rest,” I eventually sighed, seeing her nod. Her face was stoic, trying to decipher my own expression but I tried to keep it blank. Some days I felt these conversations were helping, other times I felt they could be a hindrance. 

I gave him a second chance. Colony Negative and this project had been my second chance, and I felt like I was squandering it.

-

Alala remained. Whatever the plan was for her, they were unable to establish a firm communication with District Seven. Damien said it had something to do with their shitty equipment, so thus she had to remain in Camp Green for now. At first, I was frustrated. But the second I was able to open that secret room, all thoughts of Alala and my envy were immediately distracted by a flurry of new work.

What we found was a gold mine: an archive. 

Libraries had their uses, past and present. Words from thousands of years ago could influence the present, teach about a culture almost dead in belief, or even just be a source of entertainment. The issue about this library was everything was centered in a catalog in the middle of the spacious room. Various areas of seating or desks all had ports to hold information, all sent to this central database. 

Yet, there was no way to directly access that. Literature, clearly in a language we couldn’t understand, could still be pursued with a mere touch of our fingers but only one at a time. Each page had to be scanned individually into our datapads, taking up time and effort. 

There had to be an easier way to do this, but without access or knowledge of any storage cards, this was the only way we had.

“So, you think we can take this all back and maybe decipher what these words are?” David asked, both of us in a corner to drink water. Despite it always feeling frigid cold down in these halls, I was sweating underneath my light armor. 

“That’s the hope,” I sighed. The more literature we had, the easier to begin to translate. It wouldn’t be perfect, but it would be enough to begin learning about this place. 

My eyes fell on Damien who merely guarded near the door, leaning against the wall with his rifle propped against his lifted knee. He didn’t look bored. For once, he looked rather patient, as if he had gotten used to this was how things would be. Granted, considering our last ‘outing’, we could both appreciate this kind of work. 

“I can’t stand that asshole,” David whispered, as if he had seen my eyes lingering at the Milithreat supervisor.

“Mm, funny, I think he thinks the same of you,” I teased.

“You don’t think he’d kill us all if given the chance?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I glared at him, sensing frustration in his tone.

“Oh please, if he was given the order to shoot us all down in this room, do you think he’d hesitate?”

I didn’t really know the answer to that. The simplest retort would be that whomever ordered him to do that wouldn’t ask of such things. But knowing his past, knowing about Sabbath and the choices he felt forced to make…it wasn’t far from reality. 

“I trust that he wouldn’t make such an abhorrent decision,” I replied honestly after some thought.

“I thought you would have agreed with me on this,” David sighed.

“Maybe a few months ago, yes. But people can change.”

“Not people like him,” he shook his head, “He will follow every order directed at him, even if it means the end of the world.”

Maybe, but if I didn’t try, then the experiment has already failed. 

I put my canteen away, feeling David’s gaze follow my movements. I knew he was just trying to appease me. Again, maybe a few months ago his words would have me believing in his statements. I knew David did not like anything to do with Sabbath, rightfully so. I had my own grievances and wished them hell. But Damien had been just as a victim to them as we all had. 

Grimes had walked over to Damien, whatever words being told had Damien’s soft yet grizzly demeanor fall. Damien straightened up slightly, securing his rifle firmly in his hands this time.

“Hey, heads up, growing anathema activity was noted in the area. I say we call it a day and head back,” Damien ordered to the science team, yet his gaze fell on me to make the call.

I wanted to stay, if just for an extra hour. Yet at the news of anathemas, my team was already grabbing their supply packs, ready to head into safety. I couldn’t retort with that. If they wanted safety, I’d let them have it.

Yet as they began to line up with the military escort, I looked at Damien, “Give me another hour.”

“Let’s just stick with the group. This place isn’t going anywhere, Doctor,” he replied gently.

“I know my way back. I’ll go alone if I have to,” I stubbornly refused.

Damien gave a glare to Grimes, almost rolling those beautiful gray eyes before nodding. Grimes seemed to understand, leading the rest of the group away who probably were eager for a warm dinner while I slaved away. I didn’t mind. Damien stayed, securing the door behind them before holstering his rifle.

I went back to the archive, but not without feeling Damien’s presence grow closer.

“Who’s the oblivious one now?” he asked.

“What are you talking about?” I scanned the digital pages in front of me, avoiding trying to decipher it in real time. That’s what tonight was for when I couldn’t sleep.

“Oh please,” he groaned, rolling his eyes, “Do I need to spell it out for you?”

I immediately glared at him, wondering why he was mimicking my words from yesterday. 

“Please do,” I sarcastically replied, “If you can actually spell the words correctly…”

“David was completely staring at your ass a few moments ago. Practically got a hard-on,” he answered.

“Ugh, really? I don’t need to hear this,” I rolled my eyes.

“I’m serious, Jack. I wouldn’t bring it up for no reason. The guy totally-”

“Doctor David Johnson is a royal ass kisser. He got where he is because he kissed everyone’s ass. He’s an absolute people pleaser and that is an extreme bias in his results. However, he’s still good at his job. It didn’t matter who was in charge here, he’d still be kissing their ass. And that so happens to be me,” I interrupted him.

“Oh I think he wants to do more than just kiss your ass…” he retorted. 

“Yeah, and all Alala wants to do is fuck yours so…” I retorted in return, letting my own spite get the better of me.

“Whoa! I’m not into that kind of stuff!” he laughed, thinking I was just teasing.

I wasn’t.

I didn’t blame Alala. In fact, she wasn’t a problem at all, other than her plans to try and sleep around with him. I knew it was all a ploy for information, a futuristic version of a succubus. Everyone always blamed the succubi, not the ‘victim’ who fell for their prey. I didn’t think Damien was that stupid to not sense the trap. 

“Well, you two are a match made in heaven, aren’t you? You’re both strong fighters. You both have a knack for getting into dangerous, wreckless situations, both willing to do whatever it takes to survive,” I observed.

He immediately scoffed, “Hold on, just yesterday you’re berating just the idea of her talking to me. Now, you’re playing matchmaker?”

“I’m allowed to change my mind. I’m not wrong, am I?” I asked.

“Yes, plenty of women love to change their minds. You, Jacqueline Deveraux, do not change your mind. Whenever an idea, statistic, or experiment lands in that brain of yours, you stubbornly stick with it. The only time you let it go is when it fails right in front of your face. You hold onto concepts even if they might fail, blind by your love for them.”

I took that almost as a compliment. 

I said nothing further, only going back into my work.

“It’s okay to admit that you’re jealous,” Damien finally shrugged.

“Jealous?!” I laughed, “Don’t be so fucking delusional.”

I wasn’t jealous of her. Okay, maybe that was only a half-truth. I was jealous of the idea of her, of what she represented. She was beautiful, pure and natural. She possessed a strength in a society that uplifted her, not demeaned or belittled even in the simplest ways. She was the kind of woman who could get anything, or anyone, she wanted and I could not fault her for that.

District Five prided itself in beauty. The District was wonderfully diverse, but certainly had a market towards exploiting women in the economy of all things makeup, plastic surgery, and ways to appease the gaze of others. Wealth makes people greedy, in more ways than one. When people got bored, they looked to enhance, enhance things they thought would make them happier. In the end it just became one dangerous cycle where the only happy ones were the corporations with their piles and piles of money. 

It never bothered me in the beginning. Again, Angelique was more likely to always have a man in her arms. She was beautiful and I never had once been jealous of such. It was outside my control. I had my fair share of very limited intimate affairs, most relationships never really going beyond a few months. Sex was fine, never a complaint. I just could never find someone who could understand me, or even wish to.

The scars just made it even worse. Now, expectations of someone to understand me seemed so astronomical. Physical looks had everything to do in a relationship. Everything else could be there: emotional connection, trust, unconditional support. Without physical attraction, all those other things would diminish over time.

And who, really, would be the slightest attracted to a woman who wore a mask most of her time, covering up her deformity with science when science had been her real deformity?

Damien wouldn’t understand that. He had hardly even understood just the foundation of a woman’s envy. Men never seemed to be so jealous about their own sex, other than maybe the size of muscles or dicks. Knowing he couldn’t ever understand that, understand me, I had no intention of spilling my emotions out to him.

When I blinked, he was halfway across the room, glaring at a crack in the wall. I hadn’t even noticed he had left the central console to gaze at it, or even if he had said anything relating to it.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I think there’s a draft here,” he pointed. Before I could retort that, his fingers moved into the slight crack, prying with a grunt. I was about to explain that it looked hopeless, and yet in his strength, he had opened a very small door, almost like a window. He moved to adjust his body, leveraging himself against the opening to secure it with his body weight.

“Fucking hell, Jacqueline, get over here,” he strained. 

I walked over, not in any hurry of course to slowly duck under his extended legs bracing the door open. Inside was exactly what I was looking for: a port. It was a small unit that seemed to hold data storage within its unique structure. And with a port, similar to that of the projection of the room weeks prior, downloading data should be easy. 

When the download began, I turned my gaze to Damien. Without his helmet on, I could see the clear vein forming in his forehead at the strain of keeping the door open. He could very well trap me in here, if he wished, yet was doing everything in his power to prevent that.

How endearing.

“You knew about this draft hours ago, didn’t you?” I asked.

“Maybe…” his voice was low with his physical exertion.

“And you didn’t think to point it out earlier?”

“No,” Damien insisted.

“Care to explain why?”

“How long is that download?” He ignored my question.

“Long,” I crossed my arms, “Explain, now.”

“I don’t trust your team. We still have no idea who this fucking mole is, sharing intel and information. It could be someone on your team. I wanted to share this with you, and you alone,” he answered.

The sound of claws interrupted our thoughts. The clanking of long nails within walls alerted us to the sensation we weren’t alone. Damien took one glance at the main library room, not noticing any sign of an intruder. Clearly, though, they were in spaces we couldn’t see. I wasn’t going to take that risk.

I pulled him immediately into that cramped space with me, the momentum alone practically having him collide into my bodice with force. Yet, he caught me before he could pin me against the wall.

“Fuck, Jack! You just-” he cursed loudly, panting heavily before I immediately covered his lips with my hands. I could feel the tickling of his stubble, something I was actually growing used to.

I thought him to be the faintest bit more handsome when he strayed away from the militaristic persona of clean shaven. 

The noises had paused briefly before continuing, this time echoing away. I could feel his hand resting securely above my hip, thumb gently pressing into my lateral abdominals. The feeling of his exhausted breath against my hand gave me thoughts I immediately had to shake away. 

We still waited a few moments in relative silence, not losing our close proximity to each other until we believed the anathema to be long gone. 

“Jack, we might be fucking stuck in here,” he scowled.

“You’re right, maybe we should have investigated this room when others were still present!” I whispered with a scowl.

I could see him turn back towards the door with a sigh, seeing a much more narrow opening than before. I think he was questioning if he was even strong enough to open it now, but I knew he’d give it a fair attempt when his soreness faded. His hand moved to his knee, the leg that had been propped up on the door that I yanked against, most likely twisting it.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized, knowing I had caused him some discomfort. 

“I’ll be fine,” he shrugged it off, fairly quick to dismiss my apology. 

I took a long pause, “What do you think draws these anathemas? It can’t just be sounds alone. The one that District Three held captive only grew aggravated in certain moments.”

“I…I don’t know,” he sighed, as if not wanting this conversation right now.

“Sorry,” I apologized again.

“Stop fucking apologizing,” he reprimanded, “don’t ever apologize for your scientific ramblings.”

I remained silent at that. He was stern in his words, but there was a hint of desire behind them to not get me to shut up. When he turned around, stretching his arms slightly, I glanced away from the way his armor couldn’t even hide his muscles.

“Who told you to shut up when you talked all science-like?” he inquired, his voice remaining firm.

“Nobody, I guess,” I shrugged.

“Jack, I may not know much of growing up outside Sabbath, but I know one thing about humans: words stick with us. I never knew just how powerful until it was too late. Words reside in us like…like bombs. And sometimes a certain feeling or memory is enough to light the fuse,” he explained, “What did someone say to you?”

“Nobody cares what I have to say, Damien,” I answered.

“I do.”

“Out of politeness, out of decency that we have to get along-”

“Fuck politeness, Jacqueline. I’m not the nicest person, I know that. What I do know is, you haven’t been listened to. You don’t like the idea of sharing an idea with people who couldn’t begin to understand. But how can someone begin to learn, if they don’t get the chance to listen?”

“Nobody cares about the work until it’s published, when it’s heavily reviewed by scientific peers beyond scrutiny. My ideas or theories-”

“They don’t need to be peer reviewed for you to share them with me,” he interrupted, again, “Who do I need to kill that put those words in your head?”

“No need, they’re already dead…” I muttered, seeing his face fall in understanding, “ All anyone wants is a finished product, an unbiased, perfectly pure thesis with no flaws. That includes humans, too. You, Jacqueline, I don’t see ever being perfect. ”

“Harsh words…your mother?” Damien asked.

“Yeah, you guessed it,” I sighed, “Scientists all strive for perfection, a utopia of information. Funny, if we got that, our jobs would be practically obsolete. You’re right that words stick. I could care less about her opinions now, but as a child with only parents to try and admire, it resides deep.”

It didn’t help that I’d meet men, or even just try to obtain friends in my study groups or at university that would constantly make comments. You’re a perfect woman, Jack, just not perfect for me. Or, you strive for perfection too much. You’d be much more fun if you let loose.

I couldn’t be either. 

Damien paused for a moment, looking like he was prepared to make an educated guess, “Who was the guy?”

“What guy?”

“The guy that you were dating that told you to shut up. It wasn’t just your mother,” Damien insisted.

“ We weren’t dating…” I replied, “he was dating Angelique. It was just the three of us at a dinner, I was meeting him for the first time. I was working on some study about the genetic replication certain reptiles do to regrow limbs and how that was advancing into the medical field. He had practically rolled his eyes at me and asked if I talked about anything but science. He said it hurt his brain. If I couldn’t talk about anything but science, then I should just shut up.”

“Fuck, and Angelique just…?”

“Oh, no. She broke up with him right after. She attracted all kinds of men, assholes and nice men alike. But the second anyone ever made a derogatory comment to me, she was quick to end it. We were both protective of each other in that way,” I sighed, “it made me realize he was right. I’m nothing when I can’t talk about science.”

“If you took all my weapons away from me, stripped me of rank, title, and uniforms, would you think I am nothing as well?” he asked me.

I was shocked at first, but shook my head, “No.” 

“You don’t have to be perfect, Jack. You don’t have to stop talking about science. You don’t have to get along with everyone. You do, however, have to find ways to make yourself happy, find some joy in all this misery.”

“Kind of hard in a place like this. If I’m not plunged deep into my work, then I’m stressed about all the work I still have to do. And your ideas that I can find some way to solve this problem aren’t exactly helping…” I teased, slightly.

“Sounds to me like you need to find a way to mitigate such stress,” he replied with a smile.

“Got any suggestions?” I asked, before realizing that was a stupid thing to ask in the first place. Especially with that naughty grin beginning to form. Luckily, my datapad alerted me that the data collection was complete, and hopefully we could get out of here.

Hopefully. I didn’t know what we’d get up to if we were stuck here for hours. 

Damien, however, turned around and began to pry at the seams. He struggled momentarily before getting enough grip strength, opening a gap just wide enough for me. I slipped out with ease, not before placing my things down and doing whatever I could to help widen the gap for him. It was just close enough for him to squeeze through, his armor scraping at the sides before that thing slammed shut. 

“I’m sure there’s a much easier way to open that fucking thing,” he panted, still smiling.

“Yeah, I’m sure there is too.” 

“Can we get out of here? I’m starving,” Damien whined.

“Yeah…yeah we can,” I nodded, knowing I needed to keep my distance. 

He was trying to understand me, and it was fucking terrifying. How pathetically ironic…that I could study and psychoanalyze him to my heart's content, but the moment he’d return such passionate fervor to me, I’d panic. 

I knew it was just all a stupid game. And when men played these kinds of games, they almost always won without any real consequences.

-

I had another nightmare about Wueh. Not just Wueh, but anathemas and humans alike, with me killing them all. I worried if I was beginning to condition myself. If I was so easily able to kill anathemas for my own protection, humans would begin to creep into the equation too. And once I got comfortable with humans, justifying my own need to protect myself…well, that would turn dangerous.

There wasn’t a vaccine for this infectious disease. I could wish all I wanted to be the one to create that cure, but it looked impossible.

When I got up, I had the urgent desire to look for Damien. It was still early in the morning and I had expected his presence somewhere, given he got just about the same amount of sleep I did. He was nowhere to be found. Even Grimes was missing. The only person I could really locate was Regina who was busy reprogramming those drones she used.

Good morning , I signed to her, Is your boss around?

She perked up slightly at my presence, smiling softly at someone signing to her, No. I don’t know where he is.

I nodded, knowing it wasn’t like Damien to probably let others know when he just disappeared, Thanks .

She rose from her slight seat, as if to get my attention as I tried to leave, Do you think these monsters are trying to help?

Help? I asked with clear confusion. 

They gave us the password to open the doors. They’re watching us. Maybe not all of them are bad?  

I think given the horror she had experienced that day, she was just justifying it all with fantasy to make herself more comforted. We tended to do that with horrors, especially that beyond our understanding. Same as we believed as children all we had to do was cower under our blankets and the monsters couldn’t see us. If they couldn’t see us, they couldn’t hurt us. They could always see us, and a blanket was only a protection for our eyes, not a shield to the horrors of life. 

Maybe. For a soldier, you have a different idea than your boss , I smiled faintly.

I knew from my first day upon meeting Damien he was always a shoot first, ask questions later. I understand from his perspective how that could help him with his own hidden horrors, but all of it was a temporary reprieve. One day, he’d ask questions, and by the time he felt comfortable enough to ask it would be too late. He was a man so used to following orders, I feared one day he’d shoot something that could give us answers. 

Regina smiled at that in return and went back to her drones. 

There wasn’t much use in thinking about what she said, although I could tell  my mind wandered there. Wueh too had asked if these anathemas were intelligent, were they possessing souls or just a dominating parasite over what had once been human? The answer was that I wasn’t sure. 

Damien still wasn’t found. The makeshift armory was empty. The mess area for breakfast was slowly filling up with those ready to eat lukewarm sausage and eggs. He wasn’t anywhere near his makeshift office either. The last thing I could presume to find him was his own tent of lodging. 

I didn’t hesitate to walk in, although maybe I should have. I didn’t find Damien, but I found Alala getting dressed. She seemed just as surprised as me when I barged in.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I could ask the same as you. You barge into his room often?” she asked in return, a sly smile on her face.

No. I didn’t make it a habit to barge in uninvited to Damien’s space, his room in particular. I had a feeling his room back on Station Evolution was probably messy or disorganized, reeking of his cologne or some other odor. I had no intention of ever entering his sleeping space. Well, not until now. 

“I was looking for him,” I answered.

“He’s not here,” she replied, adjusting the straps of her leather armor. 

My mind drifted to if she had any weapons at her disposal. They had been confiscated, but I was worried perhaps if Damien had left any of his own around in this tent, she could take advantage of it. 

I turned to leave, given my reason for entering this space wasn’t here. Alala seemed to think our conversation wasn’t over.

“You never answered my question about the mask…” she observed.

“It’s none of your business,” I retorted. I wasn’t in the mood for this. I hadn’t even had my morning coffee so I wasn’t ready to be polite or cordial just yet.

“Easy, I’m just curious. You’re an intriguing character, Doctor,” she raised her hands in slight defense. 

“Have you ever heard the saying curiosity kills?” 

“I haven’t been killed yet. Neither have you…” she smirked.

She was right. I was just as curious about things, if not more curious than she. I, however, never had the audacity to question such out loud to strangers, in a rude manner too. 

“You’re not deserving of him, I hope you know that,” Alala laughed, breaking the awkward tension between us. 

Deserving of him? I never once thought perhaps I was. Sometimes I wondered if he was deserving of any of my attention. I suppose the answer in my head was yes. As humans, we craved each other’s presence, some more than others. Damien had confided in me about Sabbath, something I knew he didn’t share so freely. In that, he had earned, perhaps deserved my attention. 

“We’re colleagues. The topic of deserving each other’s attention isn’t needed,” I retorted.

“So, you make it a habit to barge into the bedroom of your colleagues?”

I could feel a red, angry blush begin to form. My fist clenched in a defensive manner, knowing this woman was only trying to push my buttons. And for what? She just wanted a reaction, and I couldn’t give her that. She’d be out of my hair soon enough. 

“Damien Rok is all yours, you have no competition in that factor Alala,” I spat slightly.

“I don’t like wanting a man who wants someone else…” her eyes narrowed, “I don’t like competing, and even if I did, I’d win. And again, undeserved competition at that. He’s special, and you don’t deserve anything special.”

“Everything special about Damien came from a fucking lab, from shots of testosterone, memory enhancing drugs, or steroids to make him excel in all things. There is nothing innately, humanly spectacular about him,” I scowled quickly. Too quickly. I regretted the words when I said them. I was honestly hoping that Alala would be turned off by that, that once she knew he was a product of Sabbath she’d remove herself from any thoughts of him.

Yet she still stood there with that smirk, her eyes drifting behind me.

And when I glanced over my shoulder, I could sense his presence there. I immediately closed my eyes with a wince.

Every single time, I fucked up. I always said something too harsh, I always pushed someone away. And then I’d wonder why I was so fucking lonely, so terrified to talk to people. It’s because I was terrified of myself, of what I’d say that would anger them, all against my own will. I said things equatable to my mother, who said phrases with such aggression she didn’t care about the sting in her own truth. 

What I had said had been a lie, but did it matter if the person it was about took it for truth?

“Alala, your Magistrate has reached out to us. She wishes to speak with you,” Damien finally spoke, his tone calm, neutral…but even I could tell he was upset. 

“Wonderful, thank you for letting me know,” she gleamed, walking past me and himself.

I turned, already seeing Damien do so as well.

“Damien-” I tried to insist, wishing if he just knew the context then maybe he’d understand. But he was quick to leave with Alala. 

His absence left a feeling of familiar dread in my heart. I could blame societal structures for my failure to befriend strangers, getting along with people. People didn’t agree with me, and it was all because I didn’t agree with people. I protected myself with harsh words, not just a mask. 

And even though this man had seen me without my mask, I still attacked him under the guise of protecting myself. I was trying to spare my own feelings, in doing so, I damaged his. 

Alala was right: I wasn’t deserving of him. I wasn’t deserving of anyone, which is why I volunteered to come here. Colony Negative was the furthest from civilized population, a place I thought I could thrive in my loneliness.

I wanted to cry out of anger at myself. I wanted to hurt myself in all the ways I had hurt others. I kept putting myself in this vicious cycle, punishing myself for hurting others. Yet the more I isolated myself, the more I found myself saying such horrid, awful things, whether in my head or out loud. 

Instead, I tangled my fingers tightly in my hair, squeezing for a moment to let my scalp feel an inch of pain. Physical pain could always absolve the pain in my heart, yet it wasn’t helping this time. I was doomed to feel pain forever, even if the mask did its best to diminish it. In that, I wondered if I had deserved what had happened to me on Colony 999. 

Words did indeed stick with people, and I feared most of all what my words just now would do to the person I cared about most in this god-forsaken colony.

Chapter Text

Everything special about me was manufactured. No. Everything about me was manufactured, created, altered and groomed to be exactly what I needed to be. Needed to be for somebody else, for an idea, for a Machine. 

Jacqueline Deveraux had lied to me. She had said if all my weaponry were forcibly taken, my rank, my uniform, the very existence of my military presence…she had told me to my face that I was still something . That had been a lie. Without any of that, Sabbath, Milithreat, hell, the idea of not having a pistol around my thigh was proof enough I couldn’t exist without that. 

My existence was solely built on ruination. It was stupid of me to think I could be anything else. 

“We will have to ensure the coordinates given are safe tomorrow for you, Alala. Tell me, how has your treatment been?” Magistrate Marhwanda spoke. Her voice was strong and deep, that a leader needed to bring people to a place like this. 

“The men here have been very nice, exceeding previous reports or expectations,” Alala smiled, “You would be more impressed by their men than their women.”

Meaning Jacqueline. 

“I doubt that,” Wanda laughed, “well, when they bestow you back to us, we will have to think about a possible partnership, or perhaps a non-aggression pact.”

“District Five is led by strong soldiers, their leader is a fine specimen,” Alala blushed, even looking at me across the tent with those wanting eyes, “We would be wise to consider such possibilities.”

“Noon tomorrow then,” Wanda concurred and the communication was severed.

My eyes trailed over to Grimes, who gave a very subtle nod. We got it. Our attempts at communication had never been faulty, only purposefully spotty. Seven were known to use scramblers, hiding their true presence or geolocation. The more communication we had with them, the more we could pinpoint where their main base of operations were located. 

And according to Grimes, we had it. 

He left the room at that, leaving just Alala and myself. 

“I’m sure you’ll be happy to be back in safe hands,” I hummed, swallowing down my emotions to remain level headed.

“I have a thirst for danger, Rok. Right now, I’m feeling quite dehydrated,” she teased, leaning against the small desks to support all the communication equipment. 

Our eyes locked, and I knew exactly what she was hinting at. With the science team already ready to move back into that archive, despite obtaining all the data, they wanted to work on either pushing further or just going one room at a time. I’m sure it was Jack’s call.

With that, there wouldn’t be that much personnel around, just enough for security, a few support staff, none who would care what we got up to. 

A part of me wanted to, and that hurt more than the ache in my heart. A part of me wanted to find that temporary reprieve, to lust for someone who wanted me. But it wasn’t- no it wouldn’t be fulfilling. I didn’t want the woman in front of me. The only thing that would exist in such a moment was lust. A lust was a dangerous concept when not accompanied with more positive emotions. Lust was a man’s downfall when inherently selfish. 

I already fulfilled such desire with death, which was why I was sick of lustful desire sharing the same. I wanted something that competed with death, an amortization for life. Something just as strong to kill me, I needed something as equally as strong, if not stronger, to resuscitate me. Alala would never in a lifetime give a man like me that. For a long time, I believed nobody could. 

When she could see I wasn’t falling for it, she left the desk and approached me. A hand on the chest, the other gripping my own wrist to guide my hand. Yet my eyes still stared at her, seriousness laced in them, wanting to show her my fortitude. 

“She doesn’t care about you…” she whispered tenderly, her voice soft as evaporating clouds. 

“It does not matter if she does or does not. All that matters is that if I care,” I replied, my voice dry, maybe even cracking. But my discipline wouldn’t. 

“Don’t tell me you are a tender man, Damien. I know what you are. You’ve been playing god for so long, you haven’t realized you’ve become one. And gods like to take. They don’t ask. You’re tired of asking, tired of doing someone else’s will. Why don’t you take for once? Take me with your brutality, bruise me, prove to me the strong fighter you are,” she insisted, her hand dipping lower on my chest, lowering from the area of my midriff.

I almost, shamefully, let it all collapse. 

My free hand gripped her wrist tightly, urgently taking a step away from her. 

“My answer is no, Alala. There is nothing you could do or say to tempt me. I cannot, nor will I be, the thing you desire, the water to quench your thirst,” I defied her.

I was not a sip of cold water to hydrate her. I was blood, blood that would make her spit out with disgust. I was a warm, coagulated crimson that horrified everyone except myself. Maybe I should be horrified with myself. 

Her eyes steeled, questioning her next move. I almost wondered if she’d find the nearest thing to incapacitate me, handcuff me, and have her way with me. I gave her my lack of consent, and she’d be foolish to try such a thing. She understood this wasn’t her place to do such a thing. 

So, she accepted defeat.

“You are no fun, Damien. I expected better,” she pulled back, not letting her own disappointment show, “You’ll regret this.”

No. I didn’t think I would. Even if from this point on, I turned into some monk vying for a life of chastity, I would not regret it. My body felt right only for one person, same as my tormented soul. Even if I knew it could result in eternal punishment, punishing myself forever out of the desire I had for one person alone (one who did not want me either), maybe I deserved it.

Maybe I deserve to not get the one thing I truly wanted. I had soiled my heart for so long. I stole such pleasures of beauty and love from so many people. I tarnished whatever chance I could at obtaining a desire greater than bloodlust or accolades of war. 

Alala remained in her small confinement, perhaps waiting for another male to enter her trap. A few scientists had conversed with her, but always came off awkward or certainly not her target. I was pleased enough that she had left me alone for the rest of the morning and hopefully for the rest of the day.

Jack was nowhere to be found, which was no surprise. I assumed she had taken off with her team. I knew I was a screwdriver when it came to solving problems, even with people. If there was a spat that needed clearing up, or something like an unwanted kiss, I wanted more than anything to correct it as soon as possible. I never liked sitting in my feelings for too long.

I wanted to get her explanation. After all, what had she even been doing in my quarters? It didn’t take the sting out of her words, but it was enough to make me wonder. 

My morning was just filled with map studies and more of District Three’s discoveries, until an agent had urgently ran over.

“Sir, we have a major problem,” he insisted, guiding me back into the secured intelligence room. It was the only room, or tent, secured twenty-four seven given the nature of things. If they found a problem, it was one indeed.

“What’s going on?” I asked once it was secure, seeing worry on a few faces.

One handed me a tablet with an audio recording.

“Just picked that up five minutes ago, thought it might be a faulty artificial intelligent communication throwing us off. But it’s real…” an agent sighed.

We have Deveraux’s position, the virus worked. District Three will be pleased once we retrieve her. Remember, orders are to take her alive. Anyone else, kill on sight.

“Virus? What virus?” I asked immediately.

“Well that’s why we thought it was false. But then some scientist at breakfast this morning mentioned Deveraux had made a breakthrough in that archive, found a main port and all.”

The port I had found for her. It had been a trap, a smart one at that.

“We need to pull her out, now,” I insisted, “Prepare a team for a Sioc escort. I’ll have Grimes bring everyone back here.”

“She won’t like this…”

“I know she fucking won’t,” I sighed, immediately moving to get my things. I secured my gear quickly, weapons, armor and all before trying to get in communication with Grimes.

It took a good three solid times to ring him up on communications.

“Hey, sorry boss, a little spotty in here. Doesn’t help every single one of these scientists are transmitting information like crazy,” he grunted out of annoyance.

“Deveraux isn’t safe. We need to pull her out as soon as possible,” I demanded, “I need you to turn off her datapad now . You’re being tracked.”

“What are you talking about?”

“She unknowingly is bugged, I need you to-”

“I thought she was with you!” Grimes explained gravely. 

My heart stopped at that. 

“I haven’t seen her all morning,” I could feel my breathing increase, soon moving to the lab. Surely she had to be there, right? Wrong.

The makeshift lab was practically a ghost-town. I went into her own private tent, clean and pristine…and also empty. She wasn’t walking around the small base, nor was she with the science team. When I checked video surveillance of the Sioc above ground, I was hoping that the dirt bike was gone, that she isolated herself back at the main base. Unfortunately, that bike remained. 

“She’s not here, Grimes,” I clenched my jaw.

“Okay, okay. Damien, just calm down-”

“I’m fine! I’m fucking calm!” I insisted, although the shakiness in my voice proved otherwise.

“She couldn’t have gotten far. We will find her,” Grimes assured me before barking orders at everyone else, “Does Ruenova have eyes on her?”

“I do not,” Ruenova spoke over communications, clearly having access to every chat as well, “she hasn’t been considered online since last night.”

But I had seen her alive and well this morning, being a real bitch too. But it meant she had been alive then, she was probably still alive now. 

“I’m going out now, there’s no time to spare,” I pressed, making sure my helmet was secured, “This place is a frigid ice box. If she’s been walking around, I might be able to pick up heat residue from her boots. She wears a different standard than the rest of us, it’ll make her stand out.”

“I can see why she wanted to keep you around,” Ruenova hummed.

“Damien, I think you should wait-” Grimes tried to suggest.

“No. I can go alone. It’s best to operate quietly in this place. Too many agents will attract attention,” I demanded, “Your objective is to bring everyone back here and secure the area as tightly as possible. Monitor any transmissions we pick up and report them to me.”

“Yes boss,” he agreed.

I took off immediately, letting my helmet adjust to thermal detection rather than normal vision. Footsteps were everywhere leaving the main compound, all heading southbound towards that archive. But there were faint ones, small indents of heels and a bit of the tip of boots heading the other way. Given the size and difference of imprint, I had to believe it was hers. 

My heart was racing. I knew if anyone was monitoring my status back at Station Evolution, they would be able to perceive my anxiousness. Adrenaline was pumping, not out of fear, but of hatred.

How stupid was she to think she could just leave and not tell anyone? How could she say what she spitefully said this morning and just disappear? She couldn’t run from her decisions, from her past. Colony Negative never allowed anyone to run away from their fate. I wasn’t going to let her now, nor be taken captive.

Whatever District could get a hold of her, they would not be as nice as District Three had mistakenly been. 

Then, the footprints had faded. The temperature was warmer at a division of hallways splitting into three. 

“Fuck,” I cursed under my breath, taking the brief moment to control my breathing. My legs felt sore, my knee that had twisted from yesterday was begging me to stop running. This short break was a welcome reprieve. 

Where could she have gone, and what was she looking for?

My mind desperately went through memories of maps, District Three’s paperwork and intelligence products, and most of all what Jacqueline’s instinct might have led her astray. There was one area of note, mentioned very briefly by Wueh about a place north east of that important room (the archive). Another room they couldn’t get into but clearly wanted to. 

That had to be it. It wouldn’t be too like her to just go astray without purpose. It was my only choice. I took one last deep breath before continuing again, having to keep my mind clear on all my monitoring.

I could run for hours if needed. I fucking hated running but conditioning had it’s purpose. I had to save my energy for a potential rescue, and also the mental fortitude of having to check any sounds my suit picked up. We weren’t alone here, I knew that. Luckily, my team had cleared plenty of them these past couple of weeks in this area but I couldn’t ignore such possibilities. 

As my luck (and pure skill and intuition) would have it, the footprints picked up again. It wasn’t long, maybe half a mile away from the forward base camp, that I found her.

Doctor Deveraux was kneeling down by a door, figuring out the code to open all on her own. She seemed so deep in her work, she didn’t even notice my approach. Granted, I knew how to silence my steps, regardless of whatever material the ground was made of. 

I yanked that datapad out from her hand, stunning her before she drew her laser sword. It wasn’t until she noticed it was me, black and red suit familiar to her, that she sheathed it.

“What the hell are you doing?!” She yelled, having the fucking audacity to do so, yanking back her datapad.

“I could ask the same of you! You think you could just leave and not tell anyone?!” I shouted back.

“I told David…” she scoffed, “Just let me open this and-”

“Absolutely not,” I scowled, reaching for her datapad again, both of us tugging at it, “Give this to me, now .”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Me?! We are in fucking danger here, Jack. I don’t have the patience to be gentle with you,” I answered.

“So, there is something you’re not telling me,” she stood, gathering her things. 

“It is not within your right to know-”

“And neither is my work, yet I’ve been more than willing to share things with you,” she remarked.

“Jacqueline, give me your datapad,” I ignored her statement, asking a bit more politely. 

She refused, “Tell me what’s going on, and maybe I will.”

I didn’t like that answer. So, I did something I didn’t want to do. I grabbed the datapad from her hands, fingers prying at both ends of the device before snapping it in two. The electronics fizzled and died out as I completely tore it in half, without so much of a muscle strain. 

Her eyes widened at the sight, growing with fury.

“WHAT. THE. FUCK-”

I didn’t have the time to entertain her anger either. I took her surprised state to catch her off guard further, immediately picking her up from her legs to hold over my shoulder. I could feel her light body weight press against me with utter shock, her fist clenching to pound against my backside.

“Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” She shrieked. 

“Jacqueline Deveraux, shut up before I make you,” I demanded. I could practically feel body heat surging from her, mimicking her burning passion and fury. 

I didn’t need to force her to shut up, as the sounds of nearby anathema screams seemed to do the trick. I held her from her back thighs with one hand, the other securing my rifle. She took the moment to squirm, hoping maybe with the distraction she’d slip through my grip. It didn’t work. Either she underestimated my strength, or overestimated hers. 

I wasn’t going to let her go, not yet. Maybe a part of me took joy in this moment, while the other hated it. Our lack of communication would indeed be our downfall, but in a moment like this with survival on the line, I wasn’t going to exert my energy in explaining things to her.

The anathema noises quieted and I picked up the pace again, quick enough to not be walking, but not fast enough to make noises with my steps. Jacqueline only pinched parts of my armor with her fingers, as if afraid I’d let her go and she’d fall flat on her face. If only.

When we passed the perimeter of lights blocking anathemas from our secure site, she began to squirm again.

“You can put me down now,” she scowled.

“No, I don’t think I will,” I smirked slightly, “This will all just be easier if you simply comply, Jack.” 

I could feel her hatred for me grow. I knew exactly what I was doing. Her datapad was already destroyed, we were approaching our safe perimeter…there was no further reason to have her lifted over my shoulder. The only thing it would provide for her was embarrassment. If I had to shame her for her recklessness, so be it.

“Damien, please…” her voice softened. It was almost enough for me to fall prey to it. Yet my anger, at this moment, overcame my adoration for her. She could have gotten herself taken, captured, tortured, raped…killed. And all of it could have been something I couldn’t stop because she didn’t fucking alert me. 

If anything had happened to her, I wouldn’t forgive myself. I would have, though, eventually forgiven her for this stupidity. 

The commotion of the camp grew louder upon seeing me with Jack’s bodice across my shoulders, both scientists and agents alike approaching.

“Fuck, you found her, is she-” Grime was about to ask.

“Damien Rok, put me down. Now!” Jack shouted at me. I could see Grimes’ face resolve from worry, into slight humor himself. 

“Get your hands off her!” David shouted as he approached.

I did as he asked, dropping Jacqueline so she fell on her side with a grunt. I thought that would be enough to subdue her, gently, for now. But she quickly rose to her feet, turning her attention towards me.

“You fucking son of a bitch, Damien. You can’t just manhandle me like that. Wait until Ruenova hears about this,” she sighed, brushing dirt off her own light armor.

I let my helmet collapse in my suit, showcasing my hard work in bringing her back with the gleam of sweat. 

“Oh, don’t worry. She knows. She authorized me to do whatever it took to bring you back to the main base,” I laughed softly.

“Main base? You can’t just send me back-”

“I can, and I will,” I crossed my arms.

“This is my expedition, Rok. This is my study. Without me, without my team, you fucking trigger happy idiots wouldn’t be here!” she shouted, stirring even more attention from Milithreat personnel who didn’t like her language. In all honesty, I knew she was just angry.

And holy fuck was she hot when she was seething. 

“Your reckless decision to leave this camp without authorization-”

“Who’s permission do I fucking need?” Jack scowled.

“Mine,” I answered, tensing up. I hated using my authority against her, but at this moment I had no choice.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she sarcastically responded, “I didn’t want to bother you while you were too busy fucking our injured prisoner.”

Surprised noises, half of them amused, the other half shocked, left everyone’s throats at the audacity of her comment. The accusation alone made me turn red. To some, it might be seen as pure embarrassment and shame, if they believed Jack to be true. To myself and Grimes, and a few other agents, it was just anger. 

Alala even appeared out of the corner of my eye, making this entire situation worse. 

“Will someone tell me what the fuck is going on?!” Jack asked, turning her attention away from me.

Grimes took a slight step forward, “Jack, you’ve been put on a hit list, bigger than any previous ones. District Three is paying anyone, regardless of District association or alliances, a hefty payout for anyone who delivers you to them, alive. Enough fucking credits to last a lifetime of luxury.”

“What? For what?” she inquired, clearly confused.

“Oh, I think destroying the majority of their science team is a pretty big enough reason…” Alala commented, which made me close my eyes out of annoyance. She really should just keep her mouth shut. 

“I…but that wasn’t me . I didn’t…” she clenched her fist. I knew nobody could know. Again, I think most people did assume Jacqueline was not capable of all the reports and lies District Three was spreading. But, if they learned about Wueh, about the truth about his death…even I wasn’t going to let that spill out. 

“Regardless, Doctor, your datapad was bugged and being tracked. Orders were to extract you out of danger and back into Station Evolution where you’d be safe until we can fully control the intelligence reports. They waited until they could confirm you left your lab to send out more information demonizing you, encouraging your capture,” I added, trying to control my adrenaline and anger with deep breaths. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, looking directly at me this time. 

“Well I-”

“You don’t think she has a right to know?” David asked, fellow scientists nodding in approval of his beckoning. They were pissed their lead scientist was unknowingly a target. Hell, she was a target when she first arrived but this was different. This had every sector after her. 

Even someone from our own District, if tempted enough, could turn her in. All for fucking credits. 

Instead of just a dissonance created between Jack and I, one that had been there since our first meeting, it was now growing between my agents and her scientists. 

“This operation is tight lipped. I can’t just disseminate information freely,” I answered firmly. 

“‘Tight lipped’ my fucking ass. What a way to back up your statement by bringing a District Seven whore of a spy into this very secretive, locked down facility,” Jack refuted.

“She was hurt, I was trying to be nice-”

“You are a fucking terrorist trying to play hero. That’s all you are. That’s all you’ll ever be,” David returned with spite. At that, I could see Jacqueline’s rigid demeanor falter slightly, almost disapproving of his words. . 

“If I need to play hero to save the ass of your reckless boss and her ideas she could thrive in this Colony without us, so fucking be it. I’ll be whatever it takes to do my fucking job!” I approached David, feeling Jack step quickly between us.

“Oh, I’m the reckless one now? I didn’t achieve breakthroughs in science, enough to cure cancer by playing it safe, Damien. I know the risks I take, and at least mine are calculated rather than your brash, testosterone filled actions to make yourself feel important,” Jacqueline gently pushed me away. 

“I am doing whatever it takes to fucking protect you,” I moved closer, gripping her wrist. 

“Let go of me, Damien,” she requested robustly. 

“Jacqueline, I am allowed to be brash, daring, reckless to the point of stupidity. I die, there’s someone right there to replace me. You can’t afford to take such risks, you don’t have the luxury of knowing there is someone of equal or greater worth, waiting for an opportunity to take your spot. I need you to think of your team, think of yourself…hell, think of Angelique. If she knew what idiotic, brazen decision you made today-”

I didn’t know what specifically in that word-vomit of mine lit her fuse. Whatever it was, it ignited the burning anger and passion residing inside her like a pressure cooked explosive. One that had been there in both of us since our meeting. 

She slammed her fist into my cheek hard, with no hesitation or resistance. I admit, I didn’t see it coming. I thought my words would have provided a rational, emotional plea that I was only trying to protect her. Instead, I got quite the opposite. It was a stinging blow, one I couldn’t dodge or avoid. I didn’t think she honestly had it in her, but that was proven wrong.

My hand quelled the sting on my jaw, my eyes looking at her. I saw her anger wither and decay upon realization of her violence. Regret filled her, not just because of her aching sore hand which she shook the pain out of, but also at striking me. Her wrist shook, most likely out of pain from never hitting someone before in her life. Her own faulty technique had gotten her hurt, but it didn’t soften her blow against me. 

Maybe I deserved it. No. Surely I deserved it. 

Yet, the sounds of panic from my men, pistols being touched shook me out of my disbelief.

“Stand down,” I commanded, my tone harsh but even I could feel my resolve soften. 

David had reached out for Jack’s wrist, as if to observe if it was alright before she immediately jerked away.

“I…I’ll fucking go, alright?” she muttered, barely loud enough for everyone to hear before she retreated to her tent to gather her things. I could feel the gaze of everyone there on me. Her team viewed me as some monster, who did all of this to humiliate and demean her. And in return, my team viewed me with slight humiliation, letting a woman speak to me like that without proper authority, letting her fucking hit me of all things.

In some ways, Jack and I were oddly relatable in the pressures exerted upon us. We both had to be perfect, for different reasons, yet that stress had reached its limit. In this moment, everyone could point at our flaws, laugh, tease, or angrily demean. Would it stop us? No. 

We couldn’t let anything stop us. 

When Jack exited with her pack and helmet, Grimes was the first to approach, signaling to me that he’d escort her back to her bike. And I let him.

I was angry at her. Angry at myself. Angry at the fact Alala stood there with a proud grin on her face, like she was the instigator to this entire spectacle of drama. She wanted District Five to lose resolve. After all, she didn’t have a team of scientists to combat with.

She thought, again, after all of this I would go crawling to her.

If I truly hated her, Jacqueline I mean, then I would have. 

But I didn’t hate her, nor the idea of her, her morals or personality. 

Quite the opposite…

-

The hours had passed late into the night. No amount of burying myself into intelligence work, fabricating narratives or work to diminish District Three reports of Jacqueline seemed to distract me. I knew I needed to sleep, but something lingered on the back of my mind. 

I sat on the edge of my bunk, stretching out my sore knee before grabbing my small communication device to insert into my ear.

“Ruenova? You still there?” I asked into the dark, knowing it was late. Yet like every single supervisor, Jack, myself…Kylie, we all were haunted by our decisions late at night. 

“Mhm, barely. You caught me just in time,” she muttered, drowsiness laced in her tone.

“Sorry, I just had a question,” I sighed.

“Proceed.”

“What you said earlier, you said something like ‘I can see why she wanted to keep you around’,” I clarified.

Ruenova remained silent, to the point I almost thought she had fallen asleep.

“Milithreat requested you be assigned elsewhere after the incident with Owen. My own word of mouth wasn’t enough to save you from such consequences. They requested another person to vouch for your character, specifically one not from Milithreat or under your command. They asked Doctor Deveraux for her opinion of you,” she finally answered.

“What?” I asked, quite shocked. I thought she fucking hated my guts.

“She was more than happy to vouch for you. In fact, she wrote practically a whole ass essay arguing for you to stay as the lead for Acid Squad, which was more than enough to convince them. She stated, and this is a summary, that she couldn’t trust anyone else to be at her side that would protect her and her team. She wouldn’t feel comfortable going out in the field without you.”

“I…uh,” I couldn’t believe it. I knew Ruenova would never lie to me, but it still felt a little unbelievable.

Of course, I could still continue my true purpose as Saboteur here without the pleasure of leading this team. It would make things more difficult without a team to assist but…Jacqueline Deveraux argued for my defense. Hell, I didn’t even know I was on trial and she argued on my behalf, even after the kiss. 

“And since I know plenty about the both of you, let me add to your surprise. Doctor Deveraux doesn’t give people second chances. You make a mess of her lab, spill an important piece of data on the floor…any mistake that results in a loss of her work, she will not forgive anyone for. She won’t forgive anyone who’s wronged her. She does not give second chances, but she did, for you,” Ruenova added. 

It was my turn now to stay silent. After all I had done, bringing back Cole’s body to result in the loss of numerous staff, not be quick enough to pull her out and result in her getting bit, dragging her unconscious body out of there into danger…fucking kissing her. 

It didn’t make any sense.

“Good night, Agent Rok,” Ruenova logged off, clearly not waiting for me to put my thoughts together. 

I got up from my bunk, grabbing a few of my things and weapons before stepping out. The base was quiet, only a few souls still lingering around. Yet, Grimes was standing around, as if waiting for me. He had the slightest smirk, throwing a small object in my direction. I caught it with ease, seeing it was the Sioc keys.

I didn’t need to explain to him what I needed to do. Hell, Jacqueline might not even be awake at this hour which meant I’d have to wait until morning. But as long as I was back here before we sent Alala back to her team, that’s all that mattered. Grimes understood that.

“I’ll hold down the fort for you,” Grimes smiled, letting me make my way towards the tunnel up towards…what, redemption? Forgiveness? I didn’t even know what to do. All I knew was that we needed to talk. Alone. 

I arrived within the hour, surprising the late night security staff who were more than obliged to let me park in the main hangar and give me access. Her lab was empty, her office as well. I was almost glad she didn’t dive straight into her work after such a spat.

When I stood outside her door, I almost feared that she wouldn’t be awake. She deserved sleep and most of all just peace of mind. Yet, I could hear the faintest sound of jazz music: classical piano, a distant, wailing saxophone to accompany it. It sounded so beautiful.

I knocked on her door gently, preparing myself for the simplest rejection. Maybe she didn’t want to talk until morning. It was probably wise to give us more time and comfort to really soak into our thoughts.

Yet, the door opened. She didn’t have her mask, displaying her beauty right in front of me. Clearly, she knew it must have been me if she had opened without thought to cover up her scars. That, or maybe she didn’t care anymore. Yet by the soft gaze in her eyes, she knew it was me.

“Can I…?” I asked softly, seeing her nod immediately and step inside.

Her room was neat on one side, scattered and messy on the other with documents, letters of anathemic writing strewn all over the damn floor as if she was organizing a puzzle. The jazz music was only louder inside, a comfortable volume, but almost impossible to fall asleep to. Her black hair was still damp from a shower, the scent of her vanilla spiced shampoo still lingering in the humid air. 

Her eyes held a bit of redness inside them, between the whites and the green. 

“I brought you a new datapad. I collected the data shard from the one I smashed and transferred everything to this one. It might look a bit disorganized but it should have everything all there, passwords the same and all too,” I handed it to her gently.

“Thank you,” she whispered softly, taking that from me before placing it on the table at the side of her door. 

We both looked at each other as if time itself had stopped. I couldn’t piece my thoughts together in my head, my heart really only wanting one thing. I could feel this animalistic need rise inside me, wishing to disappear any rational, intelligent thoughts inside me. I had to swallow down such instincts, knowing that I would not betray her again with a stolen touch or kiss.

“Jacqueline, I-” I began to ramble but it was far too late. It wasn’t my instincts that seemed to overtake any sensible thought, but hers. Her fingers yanked at the chain of my dog tags around the neck, forcing my tall nature to lower just enough for her lips to smash into mine. 

I couldn’t fucking believe it. Not once, but twice today, she had stunned me with such physicality. 

Her lips were soft, still damp after her shower. Her scent of vanilla was only stronger with her lips pressed to mine, an intoxicating aroma that only made me want more of her. I wanted everything from her.

Yet, I think her actions had absolutely frozen me in disbelief, because she pulled back soon after with a look of worry in those eyes.

“Is this not what you came here for?” she asked, wondering if she had made a righteous fool of herself, kissing me like that. 

I couldn’t help but stand there with a bewildered smirk, my smile widening at her sense of worry.

“I mean, I was going to apologize but…” I trailed off, seeing relief on her beautiful features. I loved the strength of her sharp jaw, the deformed lips that offered an amorous smile, and those fucking gorgeous green eyes. All that worry had left her, leaving a confident woman before me. It didn’t matter what she needed me for, what I needed her for. If it was just a moment to release stress, to ease our anxieties about each other, or perhaps a glorious moment of dominant passion…it didn’t fucking matter.

I just fucking needed her. 

“You know what? Fuck an apology,” I insisted, pinning her against the nearest wall, my lips enveloping hers with the same passion our voices had used hours earlier.

Chapter Text

I had never known a man to be so gentle yet aggressive in his approach. I thought the two to be opposites, creating an oxymoron in the enigma that was Supervisory Agent Damien Rok. Now, living through it, I understood they were two aspects of the same characteristic: passion.

His lips, thankfully still followed by the soft pricks of his stubble, were what remained gentle about him. His hands were the most aggressive aspect of him, but one I did not deny. One hand rested firmly at my hip, not daring to go anywhere else almost in fear I’d reject any advances. The other tangled in my damp hair, not pulling, but caressing the raven threads. And every so often, I’d feel the edge of his thumb brushing against my jaw or chin. 

Fuck. If it felt wrong to want him, then why did all of this feel so good?

I couldn’t deny my own feelings for him. He astonished me, surprised me in ways that I hadn’t seen possible on my first day of meeting him. My feelings, of course, were based on lust, and perhaps the idea that maybe we could get a mutual understanding of this moment of minor intimacy. He was right in that maybe I did need a form of stress release, and maybe he would be that avenue. I wanted him to know I cared, despite my actions earlier today. 

I tried to attack him with the same vigor he gave me, but it was utterly useless. He towered over me with his height. I could feel just the rubbing of his bicep against my side as he embraced my hip. When I let one leg press between both of his own, it felt so miniscule compared to the width of his thighs. Yet I did my best to let my kisses against his skin show fervor and desire, but not enough to reek of desperation.

“Fuck, you’re a good kisser,” he pulled away softly, out of breath. 

“Did you think I’d be so utterly terrible?” I asked, out of breath myself.

His gray eyes looked down at me, dilated far beyond anything I’ve seen from him before with desire, “Well, no, I just…”

I interrupted him with another kiss, angling my head opposite of his own to add power and pressure, my tongue gently prying for entrance which he gave me with an eager smile. My hands cupped both sides of his cheek, keeping him as close as possible to establish any sense of control. It was the only dominance he allowed me, one powerful enough to elicit a quick, deep groan.

What I wouldn’t give to hear his grunts of utter pleasure. 

Yet amidst all this wonderful kissing, I could feel our hearts pounding for more. There was no way in hell I could kiss him like this and not indulge further. The tingle between my legs was subtle, but growing with every kiss and touch from him. I knew all it would take was me giving him permission to cause that ache to grow and grow before I would break. And I wanted this man to break me. All that was needed was for me to give him that consent. 

My hand left his cheek to reach for the one resting on my hip, gently pulling at his wrist to let go. He obliged, still kissing me before I planted the hand at my right breast. He took the invitation instantly, groping it in the entirety of his palm which caused a soft squeal of delight to leave my throat. My nipples hardened at the touch, only the thin fabric of my black shirt to really contain them against his hand. I knew once I had given him that, he would take the rest.

In that, I was right. 

I felt his hands everywhere. The edge of my thighs, a palm quickly embracing and groping a side of my ass, or even just the caressing of my scarred, webbed neck. Yet once he touched there, I pulled back at the slight sensitivity. 

“Sorry,” he immediately apologized, pulling back to the point his hands lost all contact with my skin. I could feel my immediate disappointment, which slightly irked me. I was just touch starved…right?

“It’s fine, I…they’re a little sensitive,” I whispered, “they haven’t been touched by…well, anyone but me.”

At least, not like this. Doctors or nurses had been different in terms of the healing and rehabilitation process. To be touched sensually, or gently, I was the only one to really give my body that pleasure. My mind went to the very few, minimal nights I would show a man such a sight and how he’d glance away with disgust. I wondered what Damien would think, or if this moment would have to go entirely clothed to save me such embarrassment. 

“Do they hurt?” he asked, before seeing me shake my head. They were more an internal than external pain, except when I didn’t have any cream lathered in the mornings. I didn’t think I could, though, feel pain from his touch. “Can I be the first to change that?”

“Well, you can’t change sensitivity-”

“The first to touch you…I want to touch you there,” he interrupted me, determination and almost slight competition in his eyes. He, clearly though, had no competition around him. Yet that wouldn’t stop his desire in the slightest. 

I wanted to prove him wrong. There was a slight ache inside me that kept whispering in my head that he was lying. That once he saw the real me he’d back away in disgust. And I was letting that temptation win. 

I lifted my shirt over my head, discarding it across the floor and feeling the slight breeze from my room prickle my skin. My erect nipples jolted at the sensitivity, knowing that my left breast was riddled in that burning webbed scar just from the edge of what was internally my lung. I knew one good look and he’d turn away. 

Yet he stood there like his knees would buckle. His muscles were tight, now clearly visible through his shirt, as if he was tensing up to not lose any control over his animalistic desires. I couldn’t help but let my lustful eyes glaze over him, the throbbing of his Adam’s apple, the heaving of his muscular stomach with heavy breaths…and the clear visual of his growing erection pressing against the fabrics of his cargo pants. 

Within seconds his hot skin was pressed to mine, his lips not meeting mine but rather the edges of my jaw and neck. He did not hesitate to press his lips against the scars, his touch softer than even prior, but he found an indent of bliss, lips gently sucking at the spot. I couldn’t let an approving whine leave my lips, my fingers moving to tangle into the back of his short hair. Luckily the hairs were just long enough to establish a good, tangled grip to encourage him further. 

Yet his lips moved downward, following the trail of scars, making sure to kiss on them and around them to show equalness of normal and disfigured. I could feel my own limbs grow weak, resisting the desire to fall limp in his arms. With that, I’d be well in his control. His hands revisited my breasts, groping tenderly before I felt his wet tongue envelope one nipple. I could tell from his eagerness and constant revisitation to my breasts that he certainly enjoyed them.

“Oh, Damien…” I moaned, hearing an encouraging noise leave his own throat. It seems he liked the reaction of me moaning his name. 

My fingers moved to claw at his backside, digging into the fabric of his shirt in hopes to move it up enough to pry it over his own head. I wanted to feel his own hot skin now, to be equal in terms of that. He seemed to get the message, pulling away slightly to pry his own shirt over his head. My hands did not provide him the same gentleness he gave me.

I clawed at his chest, feeling the tight pecs riddled in soft, short brown hairs before moving further down. I loved the soft patch of hair between his chest, the rest of his abdomen mostly bare and smooth until the patch continued as a happy trail down to his midriff and lower. His body was searing hot as if he was on the verge of a fever, hints of sweat already forming despite no great physical exertion. I wanted to feel every single muscle he possessed, the bulging of his biceps, the tenseness of his obliques, or the hardness of his thighs. I even enjoyed the small parts of his body not riddled in muscles, a softness hidden amongst them, equal to his own hidden tender nature. 

We were both playing this tug of war, bestowing pleasure to each other but wishing ultimate control. It was a game I knew from the beginning that I would lose, but I still gave forth my best effort. I wouldn’t go down without a fight. It wasn’t until I felt his fingers pry at the seams of my night shorts and infiltrate between that I knew his victory had been claimed. His rough, calloused fingers glided over my wet cunt, his longer middle index immediately flicking against my clitoris as if he knew exactly where it was.

“Oh Doctor, you’re so fucking wet,” he observed with a delightful smirk.

I don’t know why, but just him calling me Doctor in a moment like this immediately tightened the boiling hot coil of pleasure building in my core. And that was something he seemed to pick up on immediately. He didn’t need to call me that in such an intimate setting like this, but clearly he knew somehow it would turn me on. 

Three of his fingers rubbed my clit, moistening the area with friction as his lips met mine softly. The onslaught of moans that left my lips, the slight shakiness in my legs, was enough to feel that smirk of his remain against my cheek. He knew he had won, and while I would never verbally admit it to him, he didn’t need such confirmation. 

“Your scars aren’t the only sensitive thing about you, hmm Jacqueline?” he whispered, his voice sending absolutely delicious chills down my spine, “Don’t tell me I’m also the first one to touch you down there.”

“Oh fuck off,” I scowled slightly, my hand gripping his wrist, not as a deterrence but an encouragement for him to continue. As if the rolling of my hips against his hand wasn’t apparent enough.

“Tell me, Jack. No, enlighten me. What’s the last thing you thought of when you touched yourself recently?” he whispered, peppering my lips with kisses.

I didn’t want to entertain him with such a thought, but I knew I couldn’t resist. We all knew it was innate human nature to touch ourselves, to either feed into our own curiosity, stimulate our needs, or just give into a fantasy that was just that: imaginative. Well, my last imagination seemed to be coming true.

“You,” I admitted with a moan. The answer was immediately replied with a finger slipping inside me with eagerness, a surprised gasp leaving my lips. Just one thick index of his alone was sending myself clenching and throbbing around him. My fingers clutched at his skin, eyes wide open to watch him merely observe me. I was hoping he could see the beg in my eyes, hear the encouragement I dare not want to say aloud to him. Gods, if this is what his one finger felt like…

I did not lie to him of course. My most recent, frustrated release of pleasure in the shower a mere week ago was of thoughts to him. Thoughts of his protective nature, the deepness of his voice, the ferocity of his passion. Thoughts of how big his fucking cock must be if it was any close to his ego. And now I really wanted an answer to that. 

My hand reached between his legs now, palming at his clear erection. The action alone made him tense and moan in return, delighting me. Yeah, I could stand to get used to those noises he made. The action alone made his finger thrust gently back and forth, the sensation tickling the insides of my wet walls. My lips countered against his in hopes of muting my moans, biting at his bottom lip or jawline. 

“And you?” I asked with a shivered whisper, groping his erection with more intensity, “Please tell me you stroked yourself to the thought of me.”

His godly, deep, unearthly moan against my cheek along with a second finger penetrating me was enough to close my eyes shut in disbelief, wanting to collapse in his arms. All rational thoughts seemed to leave my inquisitive brain. I wanted nothing more than for him to ravage me. 

“Many times…yes,” he panted heavily, his thrusts increasing with speed. Just over the sound of jazz music, carrying our moans together into the symphony, were the sounds of my wetness pooling between his fingers and my undergarments. 

“Oh fuck ,” I whimpered with bliss, feeling the coil tightening further in my core, “Bed. Now.”

He did not hesitate or ignore my command. His fingers slipped out of me to pick me up, carrying me with the same ease (less aggression) than hours prior. The weight from the wall was gone, soon replaced by the comfort of my mattress and warm blankets. Yet he remained standing, fingers prying at my shorts and undergarments to yank down to my ankles, and soon disappearing on the floor. My eyes met his own, which soon moved to the view he had on my moistened sex.

Immediately, he was on his knees with his lips pressed to my midriff. I never once asked, nor demanded with the sight of my eyes to please me with his mouth. He did so out of his own volition and desire. His lips and stubble sensitively brushed against my entrance before his sloppy, soft, kisses enraptured my clit. My fingers moved to immediately cling to his hair, legs writhing against him. 

He didn’t seem to take too kindly to the writhing though, one arm wrapping around each of my thighs to pry apart, exposing my cunt to him for his desire. No amount of power to close my thighs would be enough to overcome his strong arms. And that only made me clench against his lips. 

His kisses on and around my clit were feather like, gentle, soft, just brushing against the sensitive skin. It was his tongue that was the most toe-curling, the wet warmth gently flicking at my insides. I couldn’t prevent my moans this time. Each touch, kiss, or suck from his lips was enough to let out of a whine or delectable moan, begging for more. 

“Damien, if you keep this up…” I warned breathlessly, my eyes closed as I only focused on his touch, and the wet noises to accompany them.

He moaned at my warning, only sending a jolt of vibration before pulling away softly to catch his own breath, “You’ll what?”

“I’ll fucking cum,” I shamefully admitted, feeling heat rise to my cheeks at the response.

A soft chuckle left his lips, causing his facial hair to brush perfectly against my inner thighs. 

“That’s what I fucking want, Jacqueline,” he demanded, returning to his work with greater fervor.

Fuck. Fuck him. Just his kisses alone I believed were maybe enough to make me climax. It didn’t help that his words, the weight of his body, the feeling of his muscles, or his fucking fingers warming me up were enough to bring me here. But I wanted more. I wanted a hint of control that maybe I knew I didn’t have. I was in no room to make a request, squirming beneath him, feeling his smirk against my growing orgasm.

“Stroke yourself. Touch yourself for me,” I whined, knowing he could very easily deny my wishes. Yet, if he was as touch starved as me, as desperate and needy as I was…then maybe he couldn’t resist such a plea either. 

His right arm wrapped around my thigh left, my body heaving and panting in anticipation, as he was doing what I wanted. I could hear the unbuckling of his belt, a sound so delightful I almost thought that alone could spur me over the edge. But then I heard his hand stroking himself, skin touching skin, a moistness between his grip from just touching my own wetness alone. 

And that was enough to send me: thoughts of his own pleasure building up from pleasing me.

“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck…Damien,” I writhed against him, feeling the coil inside me explode, wetness spurting out of me against his lips. My cunt clenched at nothing, almost begging it had released clamped around his cock instead, pulsating and shaking beneath his lips. 

He moaned in absolute ecstasy to my orgasm, his tongue and lips slowing down to place soft kisses around my now overly sensitized sex. I could hardly think. All I wanted was him. All I could picture with my eyes closed was him, his heaving chest with his hot, panting breaths, or the redness in his face. When I opened my eyes, I could see the gleam in his eyes looking up at me, making sure I was alright. I could see the moistness of his lips, accompanied with an outrageously proud smirk. 

Shit, I was absolutely smitten. 

His kisses moved up my stomach, encouraging me to calm down with deep breaths. My hands moved to his skin, caressing his sides with more gentleness than I provided before, tender touches of thankfulness for providing me such pleasure. Finally his lips met mine, allowing me to taste myself against his tongue. That, accompanied by the sensation of his cock brushing against my thigh was enough to begin that tingle to grow again, wanting more and more of him.

My fingers caressed his jaw, kissing him tenderly before pulling away to catch each other’s breath. He had risen from his knees, standing between my splayed legs naked as he stepped away from his pants and undergarments. His semi-erect shaft rested comfortably on top of my stomach, the sight of it alone eliciting a surprised gasp. Fuck. He was big. And he wasn’t even fully fucking hard.

“Shrimp of a dick…right?” he teased, mimicking the words I had (mistakenly) spoken as a jest to his ego. It wouldn’t be the first time I had been proven wrong when attached to him. 

I couldn’t help but laugh at his words, a hearty, exhausted chuckle leaving my lips but I hoped he could see the lust in my eyes at the sight, “Still not as large as your ego, Rok.”

He looked like he wanted to reply something snarky, teasingly of course. But his eyes merely watched my body still relax from what he gave me. His hands gently caressed my thighs, as if ignoring his own throbbing cock against me to merely admire me. That’s what he was doing, fucking admiring me. 

“You’re fucking hot, I hope you know that,” he admitted. 

“I know,” I lied. No. I didn’t really know that, nor think that. Not…not really until now. Not until I was able to see the truth, or rather his truth of me, from his eyes. I thought my scars and insecurities about them were ugly enough to overcome any sense of security in my body, let alone any confidence. Damien would beg to differ, though. In fact, I was beginning to think my body was a thing he would not hesitate to beg for. 

My hand reached down to grasp the underside of his cock, gently tugging at it despite it hardly fitting in my palm. I could sense his own fortitude collapse, his muscles half contracting and half collapsing at my gentle touch. The hand at his underside stroked near the stem, hardening him to full erectness before I moved my other hand to his tip. My fingers gingerly brushed his sensitive head, feeling his own moisture begin to build there.

“Don’t tell me I’m the only one to touch your cock, Damien…” I teased, watching his confident demeanor crumble at my soft touch.

“Okay, I walked into that one,” he laughed playfully before groaning softly. He was very sensitive around the tip, as equally as I was with my clit. And it brought such delight and a sense of power to watch him heave with pleasure in his eyes. It also just felt fucking wonderful to feel him harden and grow further at my touch. 

I believed I had the same effect on him that he did on me, that if I kept touching him like this it wouldn’t be long before he reached his peak of pleasure as well. But, I didn’t have the patience at the moment, and I wanted to give him what he truly desired and that was more than just a hand wrapped around him. 

Our eyes met as I moved his shaft to align with my entrance, feeling his tip brush against my swollen clit playfully. His fingers still stroked and caressed the inside of my thighs, almost as if debating to indulge in me this way. He looked afraid of ruining me…as if it would ruin him as well. 

“Do not tease me, Damien,” I whispered with a soft plea, one hand moving to his abdomen to brace myself. 

“That is not my intention, Doctor,” he whispered in return, leaning further to place a passionate kiss against my lips. I could feel the pressure building, his hand overtaking mine to guide his cock towards the best angle to penetrate. 

He pushed in slowly, angling his hips forward into mine. The pressure felt wonderful, my walls immediately grasping his warmth despite the constant stretching. He was big but it felt so fucking good. 

“S-shit,” I whispered, wincing slightly which caused him to pause.

“Are you alright-”

“Yes,” I nodded, closing my eyes before feeling his soft kisses of comfort. 

“My darling Jack, that’s just the tip,” he teased with a whisper against my lips, pushing himself deeper. My legs moved to wrap around his hips, locking to keep him from slipping out. Though with how my body instantly reacted, clenching tightly against him, I didn’t think it was possible. 

It wasn’t long until his gentle, little thrusts were enough to loosen me, finally feeling his hips rut against my own. And from there I could feel his tip pressing deep inside me, gently prodding at a sensitive area with each soft thrust. 

His hand pressed against my stomach gently, caressing with a softness to encourage me, “That’s it. You’re doing so good, Jack.”

Fuck, he was talking me through it. It wasn’t necessary by any means but it was fucking welcome regardless. Anything to hear that strained pleasure in his dry and deep voice.

“Oh yes ,” I moaned lightly, light feathery gasps leaving my open lips with each movement of his. 

His body added more weight on top of me, applying more pressure as he ground his hips. His abdomen brushed against my clit, stimulating with a tickle to the deep, growing heat inside me. His grunts increased with each thrust, accompanied by a few groans or gasps of surprise of his own. My fingers clung to his backside, nails digging into his shoulder blades not caring if it caused a sting of pain. I knew he was used to it. And I wanted him to know just how good he made me feel. 

“Fuck Jack…” he groaned against my ear, his one hand moving up to tangle in my short black hair for any sense of grip and control, “you feel so good around my fucking cock.”

“Yeah? You like that Damien?” I encouraged with a smirk, biting my lip tightly before wanting more. I wanted more of him, not just his gentle nature. “You like how I fucking clench around you?”

“Yes Jacqueline, oh fuck yes,” he groaned, moving up slightly to kiss me deeply, his tongue dominating mine as equally as his thrusts. 

It wasn’t until he angled his hips with an upward thrust that I felt it. His tip pistoned perfectly against my spot of pleasure, each gentle press sending waves of heat and tingles through to my core. I could feel my orgasm beginning to pressurize, surprising myself at how eager my body was for him.

“Harder,” I begged him, sensing his surprise at my words.

He thrusted with more exertion, my moans increasing at the heighted, borderline numbing pleasure. My legs shook around him, trembling but not enough as I’d like. I still wanted more. I knew he was holding back still and I didn’t want him to hold back. He never should have to hold back himself or hesitate around me. I wanted everything from him: the good, the bad, the ugly, and the fucking erotic monster that he was. 

“ Harder ,” I demanded again. He didn’t hesitate like he had the first time, slamming his entire body into mine with a harsh strike. I could feel the outside of my thighs sting with each thrust, hear the slap of our bodies collide over the sound of a blaring saxophone, edging us closer and closer. Words tried to escape my lips, words of encouragement and full of yes’s . Yet each hard assault inside me was rattling my brain, rendering any intelligent thought useless. 

For once in my life, I liked not having to think about anything . 

His fingers in my hair tangled harder, pinning me down between him and the bed as he exerted all his pent up passion, rage, and energy into me. His own groans increased in quantity and pitch of desperation. Just opening my slit heavy eyes I could see how red his face was, the strain of his neck muscles doing everything to hold himself back. I knew exactly what he wanted, and I would give it to him.

“Cum inside me,” I whispered with a whine against his ear, my lips and teeth digging into the side of his neck, whimpering with each thrust. 

“Jack, I..I c-cant-” he stumbled over his own words. I could feel a bit of warmth spread inside me, as if my words had almost given him permission. Yet, he resisted, just a bit of pre-cum leaking out of his excitement. 

“You can, and I want you to. I’m sterile if that’s what you’re so fucking worried about,” I clarified for him, “now fucking do it.”

He was in no position himself to deny what I wanted. Again, I knew he wanted it too. And the moment my clarification resonated in his addled, lust filled brain, I felt his release. His groans were loud, shocked grunts against my skin as his warmth filled me. In feeling and hearing his pleasure, that was enough for the coil inside my own core to spring again, sending a powerful wave of an orgasm as I still felt his tip pressed harshly against that spot. 

He rolled his hips to ease both of our orgasms, our lips meeting once more as a last, gentle touch despite our hands and thrusts being the complete opposites. God, I fucking loved the feeling of him on top of me, pounding into me without remorse or hesitation. It felt so fucking good. He was so fucking good. 

The moment had ended on a high, Damien slowly lowering himself on to me to rest and catch his breath. My fingers tangled in his hair gently, caressing them before sliding my other hand up his spine. From there I could feel the scratches I had left upon him, almost feeling a bit bad at how much I fucking clawed into him. His fingers gently combed through my short hair, the other hand running up and down my thigh still wrapped softly near his ass. 

With the pleasure fading, the clouds caused by such ecstasy evaporating, I could finally put together the thoughts that were in my mind before I had kissed him. I had to tell him, after all, that had been his true reason for arriving here tonight. It should have just been a conversation of apology, of trying to figure out this passionate dynamic between us. Maybe sex had been the best way to broach the subject and figure out where this constant tug of war with hate and admiration stemmed from. 

Passion, that’s all it was. 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered the apology sincerely, feeling the guilt overwhelm any fading pleasure.

“For what?” he asked, confused as he moved from the crevice of my neck to glance down at me. His fingers still stroked my hair, his breathing calming down as he looked into my eyes. For someone who just fucked my brains out, he was being a tad sweet.

“For all of it. Most of all, hitting you. Nobody should put your hands on you, least of all me. I…it wasn’t right. And I’m sorry,” I answered.

“To be fair, you told me to let you go and I didn’t…” he hummed.

“Still not a good excuse to hit you.”

“I’m sorry for not telling you about you being in danger. I…” he paused, taking a moment to think, “I knew how busy you were, how you spent more time in the lab than anywhere else. I knew how excited you were to return to the field. I didn’t want to tell you that they blamed you for Wueh, knowing you already blame yourself for it. I didn’t want that guilt to weigh you down, most of all, weigh your work down.” 

I nodded softly, knowing he was being genuine and that he had done all of that to protect me.

“I’m fucking stupid for-”

“You’re not stupid, Jacqueline,” he laughed.

“Yes well, for a scientist, it wasn’t so smart of me to leave a secured military base alone in a place full of anathemas and people who have me on their fucking hit list…” I muttered, “All because of hating myself and Alala and…”

“Do not hate yourself, Jack. Don’t. You’re a fucking remarkable human being,” Damien insisted, looking down at me with very serious gray eyes.

“So are you…” I whispered, caressing his cheek, “What I said to Alala, please know I did not mean it. I said it out of spite, believing that if given any sort of choice you’d always pick her over me. And most of all, I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“I can’t figure you out,” I admitted, “and I’ve spent so long trying to question everything about you and your work, your past and your future. It’s not for me to figure you out, to solve a mystery in a language I can’t understand. All I can do is enjoy it, enjoy the sound of you, the feel of you.”

“And how do I feel?” he teased with a growing smirk. 

I rolled my eyes at that, placing one long kiss on his lips before slowly squirming beneath him, “Do try and keep the slight beard. It suits you.”

“It’s against Milithreat regulations,” he hummed, but his smile remained.

“I’m sure it’s also against the rules to fuck the person you’re supposed to be in charge of protecting,” I teased back, kissing his cheek one last time, “Let me go freshen up.”

I knew what he was thinking now. We just fucked. It was just fucking, that’s all it was, with a few kissing in between. But what did that mean now? Was he even allowed to stay the night? I didn’t have the words to tell him to stay, but I hoped he’d be quick to pick up on my actions. I found his shirt laden with the rest of our clothes on the floor, covering myself with its warmth and the smell of him.

If he wanted to go sleep in his own bed, he’d have to pry his own shirt off me. 

I took a moment in my bathroom alone to take a deep breath, closing the door behind me before getting a damp cloth to clean between my legs. Fuck, he made a fucking mess inside me. I’m sure the bedsheets looked worse, which meant I’d be doing laundry tomorrow. If any of the janitorial staff saw that, I knew rumors could spread. 

I just fucked Damien Rok. Or rather, I let him fuck me. And it was a great fuck, mind blowing even though I wouldn’t admit that to him. Everything about that went against my morals, or at least the ones I had set up upon arriving on Colony Negative. That was the thing about this place, I knew now I could not leave this colony and be the same person I had arrived. Damien himself had already changed like myself. 

This place was about change . I just had to figure out why the anathemas changed the way they did and why they did that. If I could figure that out, I could go home. Damien could go home too. And maybe, just maybe, we could grab a cup of coffee together at that cafe between us. 

When I exited the room, I moved to turn off the volume of the slowing jazz music. I was grateful I had left it on, knowing anyone roaming the halls or even my own neighbor could’ve heard our moaning mess. Next time, I just might let him pick the music.

Next time. Fuck, I couldn’t believe I was even thinking that. 

Damien was quiet when I looked over, and I realized he was already asleep. I wasn’t gone for that long, only a few minutes. I felt a bit proud I could put him to sleep so easily, but I also remembered he had a fairly exhausting day: dealing with Alala, dealing with me, having to drag my fucking ass back and whatever aftermath came over. He deserved all the rest he could get. I figured I could finish my apology to him tomorrow before he left. 

The lights darkened and I crawled in beside him, feeling his body heat radiate even from a slight distance. I could feel my own eagerness to sleep, an odd aura of peace and safety stemming from the man beside me. That’s what I felt most when around him: safe. Even if his words had sometimes proved otherwise, his actions always kept that feeling steady. 

Safe. The first time in a long time I had felt so protected. 

Yeah, it was just trauma bonding. It was just me being touch starved after years of loneliness, and him just getting his stress and lust out of his system. That’s all this was. That’s all this could be.

But would it really pain me to think it could be something greater?

Chapter Text

Today was the first day I did not wake with dread in quite some time. To be honest, I couldn’t recall a morning when I didn’t feel a heavy burden across my chest. It was not uncommon for the brain to recognize a place of unknown, a place of stress, or just danger that my body would initiate a response before my eyes officially awoke. While a warm bed could provide comfort, it was the environment that triggered such a dramatic response. I remembered when I was captured by District One that I dreaded waking up, knowing a new form of torture or horror was in front of me. Or the days of Sabbath as a young boy, waking up to that dreadful deep alarm to signal the beginning of morning training.

It felt so strange to have Jacqueline Deveraux’s bedroom be filled with a feeling of home before I could even open my eyes.

When I did open my eyes, they were met with very dim lighting and an empty bed. I lurched on my side, hand reaching over to the leftover wrinkled sheets where she laid, still feeling a residual warmth. She did not get up that long ago. Foolish of me to think maybe we could enjoy the early morning with a bit of comfort and warmth. It would have been nice to hold her, even though that’s not what a lot of couples did after fucking each other’s brains out for the first time.

Although, to be honest I was quite surprised she hadn’t taken off entirely, removing herself from this potential one night stand and going back to her work. My clothes folded neatly at the end of her side proved otherwise, because my shirt was still missing. I got up and got dressed with what clothes I did have, my cargo pants, belt, boots and all. I wasn’t eager to really get the day started, but I did want to clarify things up with Jack.

As much as sex could be a decent form of communication, I knew Jack and I needed more than just that to get our points across to better understand each other. 

“Ugh, fuck,” I heard her quietly curse to herself from the bathroom area. I slowly approached, seeing the door slightly ajar. She looked to be sitting at bathroom vanity area, applying (or rather trying to) that pain relieving cream to her face. Yet her hand trembled slightly and hesitated with her own skin. Every time she got close, either her hand or her face would move away slightly, irritating her.

“Morning,” I knocked gently, hoping not to frighten her, “You alright?”

She sighed, placing her things down, “Sorry if I woke you.”

“Not at all,” I shook my head, slowly walking in, “Need some help with that?”

“Normally, no, I don’t. But…” she paused, “It’s just really sore this morning. I don’t think my lips are that accustomed to kissing so much.”

She added a faint smile on her end, as if making sure that I wouldn’t feel guilty for causing her any amount of discomfort or most of all pain.

“Oh, I’m s-”

“Don’t apologize,” she interrupted politely, her eyes drifting from mine to my bare chest for a moment, “Like I said, it’s been awhile since I’ve been kissed, and fucked like that. Unused muscles and all. You know what it’s like, working out after leaving the routine for a while.”

“Right, looks like we need you on a frequent kissing routine,” I smirked.

“Let me finish this and I’ll give you your shirt back,” she rolled her eyes with a smile, clearly blushing. 

“Let me help,” I insisted, moving over to help her, “Does it hurt the most in some area? Where is the most discomfort?”

She, surprisingly, pulled back as I stood over her in the chair, displaying the medicinal tools at her disposal. Mostly just a sponge-like applicant to help with the cream, and the cream itself.

“I’m just anticipating the pain which makes me hesitate to get a good lather on it,” she sighed, as if finding this all an inconvenience. I didn’t mind at all. 

“Close your eyes,” I whispered softly, seeing those gorgeous green eyes glance up at me. Fucking hell, she was really beautiful. One look into her eyes and I was easily entranced. 

“Well, I suppose if you wanted to kill me, you would have done it already,” she teased, soon closing her eyes, “and what will closing my eyes achieve? Lesser chance of distracting you?”

“So you don’t anticipate,” I answered with a soft laugh, beginning to lather the soft sponge with that cream. It was cream in color, but did have a bit of a pungent aroma. Still, if it helped relieve her pain, that was all that mattered to me. 

My left hand held the side of her neck while the other hand gently dabbed and lathered the cream across her scars. This time she didn’t flinch as I had seen earlier. She only hummed initially, until I got to that sensitive part of her neck on the other side of my hand. She immediately gripped my bicep out of reflex, but remained steady. 

“Sorry,” she whispered, her eyes still closed.

“Don’t be. You let me know if it’s too much or too painful,” I whispered back, adding some more cream before finishing up that side of her face with her neck. It was mostly all on her left side, remembering it was also her left breast that seemed more atrophied than the other side. 

Once I finished her neck, I moved back slightly, feeling her hand slowly leave my arm, “Do I need to do…under the shirt as well?”

“No,” her eyes opened finally, “No the chemical burned a lot of the nerves there so…I don’t quite feel too much at least internally.”

I could see her immediately wince upon saying the word chemical , as if just a single word would intrigue me further towards what had transpired. That was my first assumption, of course, was that it had been some sort of chemical accident. As curious as I was, it didn’t burn as furiously as I burned caring about her. If asking her about it would hurt her, then I'd stay furthest away from the subject as possible. 

“Then, I’m all done,” I smiled at her, ignoring her words as if acting like I hadn’t heard them at all. I noticed a few of her masks laid out, picking one for her and holding it delicately before slowly handing it to her.

“Thank you,” she smiled with a bit of surprise, as if seeing me differently. I understood if she thought I wasn’t capable of such generosity or gentleness, in both just post-sex talk but also with the sex itself. Maybe she thought me to be a very selfish lover. It was hard to be so selfish when attached to her.

She let the mask slip on, calibrating with her chip and lighting up a bit of green before it remained that dark, raven black, matching her short hair. When she wore the mask, it was easy to hear her soft breaths, sighs, or groans of annoyance. It made me wonder in the moment just what her moans would sound like with the mask on. I stirred slightly at that, having to look away upon realizing even thinking about it could get me excited.

That was the one thing about constantly being testosterone filled: my sex drive could be fairly high when surrounded by someone that spurred me on like she could. 

“I’m sorry, again, about yesterday,” she spoke up, interrupting my thoughts, “I was being a real bitch.”

“No, no…” I shook my head, crossing my arms, “It’s alright. I…I should have told you what was going on. I knew you knew I was hiding something, I just didn’t want you to worry. You have so many other things to worry about, I didn’t want the idea that anyone even from your own District could betray you. And I should have known better than to not think about them planting a virus into your datapad.”

“I should have thought of that too,” she nodded, “and…I’m sorry for what I said in front of Alala. I never should have said it, whether you were present or not. Damien, the greatest aspects of you are the things Sabbath can’t touch, the things they couldn’t create from you. I hope you know that.” 

I was touched by her comment, knowing she spoke out of sincerity and not just apologizing because it was the right thing to do. She truly meant her own words.

I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment that I looked at her differently, that very small things in my life began to circulate around her, or when she invaded my dreams. I was beginning to think that from the very moment I interrupted her briefing, the fire in her heart had pierced a hole in me. She had planted something so miniscule and unnoticeable at first inside me, perhaps even against her own knowledge, and it just continued to grow and grow until I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

I didn’t exactly know what to say to her, other than avoiding my feelings entirely with a bit of humor, “ What were you doing in my tent, anyways?”

“Well, what was she doing in your tent?” she retorted with equal tease.

“I let her rest there while I slept in my office. I think she thought I would be joining her but…” I trailed off, realizing I trapped myself.

“But…?” she asked.

Shit.

I was immediately saved by the sound of my communication device going off distantly in her room. While I didn’t want to stop our morning conversation, I was glad it went off when it did. What would she think if I admitted I had been wanting her for quite some time? She actually might take pleasure in that, having a bit of a hold on me too.

But I had to wonder, with how easily she succumbed to me last night, did that mean she had been wanting me too?

I had a feeling it was Grimes contacting me, and sure enough it was. I slipped the device in my ear, standing near her door.

“Mornin’,” I sighed.

“Hey, just wanted to let you know that we were running some communication tests with the radio strength near the prospective site to drop off Alala. There’s a good half mile where our communication just loses all strength, so that means no video or audio for Ruenova or anyone back at main base,” Grimes explained the reason for his call.

“Got it, that means ensuring this goes smoothly,” I nodded, “I’ll let Rue know so there’s no surprises.”

“Good,” Grimes paused, “Did you apologize to Jack this morning?”

“Yeah, just about finished that,” I hummed, watching her walk over with slight intrigue. I mouthed Grimes to her and she seemed to understand, glad it wasn’t anything critical or an emergency. 

“Good, she’s been through a lot. Don’t give her more to be upset about,” Grimes defended her, “Well, why don’t you just start making your way down? We’ll get the advanced team securing the site first and have Alala ready to go. She’s already awake…and asked where you were.”

“And what did you tell her…?” I asked.

“Said you got in trouble for the way you handled Deveraux and needed to speak with Ruenova about it. So be sure to come back a tad defeated, will you?” Grimes laughed.

Ugh, thank the gods for him being so smart. I swear, I only knew him for a few years but he sure was like a brother to me, always defending me and answering the right questions. He could have been honest with Alala, that I went back to apologize to Jack and surely that would have pissed her off.

“Thanks. I just uh…need my shirt,” I said a little louder than previously, looking at Jack who still wore mine across the rest of her apparently naked bodice.. 

She seemed to understand it was time for me to go, and that I’d need my shirt to solidify that. Yet, she stood there with an amused stance, crossing her arms.

“Your shirt?” Grimes asked with confusion.

“I have to find my shirt, or rather a shirt. Sorry, my place is a mess,” I lied, gently snapping at Jack to give me what I wanted. 

“You didn’t apologize to Jacqueline with your shirt off, did you?”

“What!? No. No, I hit the gym earlier and then went to apologize and just showered so…” I continued the lie. I could hear Grimes continue talking but immediately the noise was drowned out as I watched Jacqueline remove the shirt. And she didn’t do so quickly or effectively. She did every part of it deliberately. The brief show of her underwear, then the flashes of her slight ab muscles and scarred stomach, and then fully exposing her breasts to the cold morning air. 

Fucking hell, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. And she fucking knew that. 

“Damien, you still there…?” Grimes asked, his tone a bit annoyed as he had just been talking and I hadn’t even remembered a word of what he said. 

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” I shook my thoughts away, feeling the cloth of my shirt thrown directly at my face. It smelled like her. She only wore it for a few hours and my shirt smells like her. Great. I was losing my mind over this woman. 

“I’ll be there in the hour, alright?” I just tried to end the conversation, hearing an affirming grunt from Grimes before hanging up on him. I placed the device in my pocket, slipping my shirt on before seeing Jacqueline getting dressed as well. As much as I would want to stay and indulge in something a bit further, there wasn’t time. 

All I knew was that she was going to haunt me until the next time she satisfied me, and I secretly hoped I would do the same for her. If there even was a next time…

“Grimes doesn’t know, does he?” Jack asked me, slipping on a black longsleeve and white lab pants.

“No. No,” I shook my head, “Nobody knows.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way,” she demanded lightly, and I agreed. I certainly wouldn’t go outside and begin bragging about how I managed to tame the animal that was Jacqueline Deveraux. She was not an animal to be tamed, nor some kingdom to be dominated, a monument to be toppled. She was merely a woman who deserved to be loved, and not by someone like me. That didn’t mean I couldn’t try. 

To be honest though, I had a feeling if Grimes ever did find out or I admitted the truth to him, he’d actually be rather…surprised. In a good way. I think Grimes would think Jacqueline was good for me, oddly enough. I was beginning to believe that sentiment as well, despite our extreme differences. 

“Agreed,” I nodded, “Uh, thanks again for the evening and letting me stay the night.”

“Of course,” she hummed, as if smiling underneath her mask. There was slight hesitancy now in her stance, not that of fear or embarrassment. It was just…how to navigate the problem that was now in front of us. Did we leave tonight and this morning behind in the shadows? Do we forget this ever happened and enjoy the memory of it? Or did the both of us think maybe we could continue navigating this together, even if it was clearly uncharted stars still waiting to be mapped out?

“Um, Damien?” she spoke up, still hesitating on the exact words to say, “If you ever need to de-stress like that again or…you know, just let me know.”

So, she was open for another time? The thought alone absolutely excited me, although that would certainly pose as a distraction if I couldn’t get my shit together. Returning Alala, sticking with the mission came first. Then I had to figure out how to get Jacqueline back out in the field. And then, maybe, I could entertain such a wonderful thought. 

I leaned against her door slightly, “Do I get to pick the music next time?”

Her eyebrows perked up, perhaps not expecting my reaction to be so enthusiastic, “Was my jazz that horrible?”

“Not at all. I quite liked it. I do like a bit of rock for my rhythm, though,” I smirked, seeing a bit of red blush rise from the edges of her mask near her cheekbones. 

“Fine. But only if I get to pick the position next time,” she bargained. Okay. Okay. Yeah, I was absolutely fucked, in the best way possible. Now my mind would certainly think about what she’d pick, but I supposed that would make the anticipation even greater. 

“Sure…sure thing, Doctor,” I agreed, knowing I would have to leave now otherwise I would immediately undo all the dressing and getting ready for the day to please her for the rest of the morning. I also promised Grimes I’d be back within the hour. 

But I approached her one last time, planting a quick kiss on her forehead as a goodbye before leaving. 

“Be careful,” she warned, the last words I heard before immediately exiting her room. I could feel her absence the second the door closed behind me, the cold hallways awakening me from my trance. 

Whatever was in the air on Colony Negative, minus any anathema enzymes, I fucking loved it…

-

Alala had ignored me all morning and I was quite content with that. I was more worried she would take a more aggressive approach but it seemed as though she knew she had failed in her speculative mission. I almost wondered what her purpose in sleeping with me was, other than maybe I was just a decent looking guy. Or kunst, per her definition. 

I had to wonder if her goal was to get pregnant. The thought had passed my mind and I knew it was a good speculation. After all, what better way to have some sort of hook or advantage over District Five than having a child conceived from their main military leader. Good thing that wouldn’t happen. 

I knew Jacqueline wouldn’t based on her words last night, and well, just knowing that whatever chemical accident that occurred to her had hindered that. It made me a bit sad to think that whatever that chemical had done, it had taken a huge toll on her body, and not just on physical looks. Did she even want kids? I didn’t. I feared I had no idea how to actually parent a child and she probably felt the same. 

I can’t believe I was still thinking about her. I had to find a way to shake the ghost of her romantic remains off me somehow. 

“Hey, any ideas on how to get me back out in the field?” Jack had spoken through comms, as if reading my fucking mind.

“Mm, there’s a few brainstorming ideas floating around about how to get those intelligence reports skewed. The best way would be to get everyone talking, or worried, about something greater than a biological anthropologist,” I hummed, my eyes watching my surroundings as we walked towards the meeting place. Killing Wanda, actually, would be a great distraction. Killing a Magistrate? Nobody had done something so audacious in the past century, let alone on uncontested foreign soil that Colony Negative was.

I was a man for making many firsts, though. 

“What if…what if we set up a trap? Use me as bait for pickup, get the funds of whatever they’re offering for my capture, and then pull a fast one on them?” she asked.

No. No way in hell I would use her as fucking bait. Not for every District to come calling. In all honesty, that could cause a full on war in this place. It wasn’t as if this already wasn’t a war, a political, shadow filled one. Causing a war like that, getting every District to distrust one another…there would be no winners in a war like that. 

“That might force me to slaughter anyone that catches the bait,” I reminded her.

She sighed at that, clearly not wanting anyone to get hurt, “Yeah, you’re right. Bad idea.”

“It’s not a bad idea. I know you want to get back out in the field as quickly as possible,” I considered her point of view. Honestly, I didn’t like the idea of slaughtering a bunch of soldiers in front of Jack. Anathemas, sure, I didn’t mind that. I remembered how brazen I had first been with Crowe, how eager my bloodthirst was that I didn’t care about the opinions of my fellow soldiers, let alone a biological anthropologist. Crazy how so much had seemed to change since then. 

“Right, I’ll leave the intelligence military realm to the expert,” I could hear her disappointment. Patience didn’t seem to be her strongest suit. Even an amazing woman such as herself had her own flaws. 

“Once this whole District Seven thing with Alala gets situated, I’ll make it my priority, Jacqueline,” I promised her. 

“Your…comms…breaking up,” her voice came through just as broken as I presumed mine did. Fuck, we were at that beginning of no communication area. And the call was dropped soon after with nothing but static. Well, hopefully she didn’t worry too much.

The second Grimes confirmed with everyone that comms were dead, except amongst ourselves on a more local channel, Alala slowly began to slow her pace from the front, her eyes on me. It didn’t take long for her to walk by my side. My gut immediately told me she was awaiting a conversation when all forms of video and audio weren’t at disposal.

“So, I didn’t know you were a Sabbatical,” she whispered softly, surprising me those would be her first words. They didn’t sound as spiteful as I thought they’d be. After all, District Seven hated Sabbath according to Jack.

“Was,” I corrected her immediately, “Was a Sabbatical. I left a long time ago.” 

“Nobody leaves Sabbath, Damien,” she laughed. 

A dark feeling in the pit of my core awakened at that laugh. She wasn’t mocking my answer. She was letting me know that I stood incorrect, and it was intentional that I thought that way. 

“Yeah, well I did,” I scoffed.

“And did it make you question why we never hunted you down?” she inquired.

At that, I could feel my answer from earlier come back into question: why did Alala choose me? Why did she know all about me and very little about Jacqueline? The answer was simple, because she was like me. Except she made it sound like she never left.

“Where’s your tattoo?” I asked, knowing no Sabbatical could ever lie about that placement. They all had taken such great pride about their snake, the snake hidden in the grass away from all the nonbelievers. I was a little shocked Alala wasn’t being very subtle at all. Then again, she had waited for communication to fail to talk about such a secretive subject.

“Lower back. You would have gotten a good look at it if you had indulged in me. What a shame,” she feigned a disappointed sigh, “yours is on your chest, blatant, obvious…stupid, just like you are, Damien.”

“I would think someone of your kind would hate Sabbath, they killed all your men-”

“Sabbath saved us. Is that what your little anthropologist told you? That the lack of our men is what made us weak? Our men went to war against Sabbath and lost. Sabbath was what gave us all our true freedoms, or at least those willing to accept them,” she explained, “It’s made us into the District we are today.”

Meaning, not everyone from Seven was open about Sabbath, same as any other District. Most Districts were weary and for good reason, at least in the past. More death and destruction came from Sabbath than anything else. There were those that believed purification only came through baptisms by fire, by collateral damage. And there were those like Jack who believed life was about being greater than that, by struggling together in an attempt to not burn the world.

“Sabbath may have saved you, but it had destroyed me,” I pointed out, “None of this changes anything Alala. You and I are different products from the same machine. And like I said yesterday, I can’t be what you want me to be, or what you thought me to be.”

“Because it makes me the only person willing to understand you. Willing to help you.”

Bull-fucking-shit.

“None of it matters because Sabbath is nothing more than a nostalgic idea of a militant future that has withered away. Bureaucratics took over as drastic measures ruined the finances and the idea grew too big. It was no surprise to anyone it was a bubble waiting to fucking burst. District Six is irrelevant. District Five is the future,” I insisted.

There was no way of escaping the conversion. Nobody else was around in earshot, nor did they probably care what we discussed. But if I removed myself from Alala’s toying, that would garner attention, and I didn’t want to screw up any chance we had at possibly partnering with District Seven. 

Alala sighed at that, disappointed, like a teacher over a student who just simply wasn’t understanding the lesson.

“If District Five, or any of the other Districts, claim to be better than Sabbath, then why didn’t they punish them when their empire collapsed?” Alala questioned, “If the entire Federation wanted justice, why didn’t they do something as Sabbaticals split across the galaxy in a major diaspora? In fact, why did many Districts welcome them? Why was Milithreat so eager for your recruitment?”

“Sabbath failed, Alala. You should take the advice instilled so greatly in our indoctrination: adapt. It’s time for you to adopt a new system,” I clenched my jaw.

“There’s no need to adapt if you know the future. I’ve seen what the Machine promised me,” she smirked, “What did it promise you, hm?”

I remained silent at that, not even bothering to gaze at her direction. I was glad my helmet could block the tears filling my eyes, and the blinking in attempts to stop it all. 

“I don’t think the Machine promised you a happy ending. Is that what you want? You think a woman like Jacqueline Deveraux will give you a happy ending? The woman whose father enhanced the Machine’s predictability to be 99.99% accurate? That’s the one you pick, the one that doesn’t even want you?”

I froze slightly at that. Her father? All she really spoke of was her mother, who was a bitch and a horrible mother at that. Jack had never said much about her father. Only that he was quiet, kept to himself…and was a lover of mathematics. Shit. Did Jack even know? Hell, did her father even know what kind of product he was enhancing with statistical algorithms and behavioral science? 

“Oh, she didn’t tell you?” Alala teasingly pouted, “I thought you two were soooo close.”

I clenched my fist, feeling the tendons in my fingers and knuckles crack with fury, “What her family did, it does not speak for her.”

“Yes, because Deveraux is so, so innocent. Is that how you like your women? Innocent, untouched…dry? I can’t relate. The Machine promised me a position of great power, unlike you or Deveraux,” she laughed, “I would bet money on where her snake tattoo is.”

She didn’t have one. Alala perhaps assumed that I never would get a chance or opportunity to even witness Jacqueline naked. My mind scanned the moments of last night, ignoring the echoes of her moans in my mind or the way her fingernails burned with every tear at my skin. Instead, I focused on her skin, the softness of her thighs, the curvature of her beautiful breasts. What I didn’t get much in detail last night, like her backside, curvature of her spine or even bottom of her feet, I had gotten this morning.

No snake tattoo anywhere to be found.

Jacqueline Deveraux wasn’t one of them. One of…us. She never would be. 

All for the simple fact: she was better than any and all Sabbaticals combined. 

“We’re here,” Grimes announced, pulling us away from our conversation. 

Alala took the lead upon seeing her people standing guard a hundred feet away. Their own postures were proud and alert, but none of their women soldiers had their weapons unsheathed. They’d be stupid to try something here, not only because of our superior firepower, but also the fact their Magistrate was present.

I stood to the side briefly, focusing on old Sabbath breathing techniques. No matter what, I couldn’t escape my training, even if it was the lessons learned that granted me such breakdowns. 

“Hey, you alright boss? You’re on the verge of a panic attack,” Garcia chimed in on the locals comms, with Grimes in the chat as well.

“I’m fine,” I grunted, swallowing everything down before taking a step forward.

“Ah, you must be Agent Rok,” Marhwanda took a step forward across from me. She was an older woman, late forties maybe, a bit of grey in the roots of her curls most likely from stress rather than age. Her skin lacked most wrinkles a woman her age could possess, probably due to the degree of melanin in her genetics. 

Marhwanda gave off the appearance of a soft voice,  a woman who spoke with wisdom and grace rather than emotion. I knew, though, that a fire burned inside her for her people, like most leaders who cared for their populace. Whatever she wanted here on Colony Negative, she would either take with that soft voice, or with her powerful fist. Underneath her own attired laid muscles, muscles that no doubt have taken down plenty of men like me in her lifetime. 

“Wanda, a pleasure,” I bowed my head merely out of politeness, “Apologies about Alala. Amidst our fighting, anathemas attacked and bit her. We treated her to the best of our ability and now return her to you, in good favor. District Seven is full of excellent fighters. I think it is better to have you as an ally, rather than an enemy.”

“My daughter was bitten?” Wanda questioned, “Does District Five possess a cure?”

Daughter ? Fuck. 

My mission was to dispatch Wanda. Not now. It wasn’t safe to do so now, of course. But in the near future I would have to, it was my mission and it was what Milithreat wanted. I didn’t know much about District Seven lineage. I didn’t know if their politics and leadership was based on heritage or merit. Alala had both: respect from her people…and being the Magistrate’s daughter. Fucking hell.

I kill Wanda, I put Alala in power. Just like the Machine predicted for her. 

“No. No cure. Only we have a great scientific team studying these monsters. They have studied the bites extensively, determining that the jaw must latch in order for the enzyme to produce the harmful effects of turning into one. Alala was fortunate enough to not have a bad bite,” I explained, seeing the Magistrate nod.

“Agent Rok has been more than kind,” Alala smirked as she stood at her mother’s side, “I do believe we owe them some kind of thanks or gratitude. It is only fair.”

“Hm, what is it that District Five requests from us?” Wanda asked.

Ruenova and I had gone over potential requests this morning if the opportunity came. We both knew we couldn’t ask for too much, otherwise we’d be seen as desperate. Too little, and we might not be able to take advantage of what we had attempted to achieve in being overly friendly. District Seven might see that as weak.

“You handle your territory, and we handle our own. Should our paths cross, we handle it amicably without violence, and turn the other way. My team is already paving the way in handling anathemas in this region, so you shouldn’t have too much trouble. You leave us to your devices, and we will leave you to yours. Should you ever need anything or have a request, you know how to get a hold of us,” I explained.

In military terms: Fuck off, please. Always have to be polite. We won’t attack or be aggressive in hopes they won’t either. If we see each other on this battlefield, we look the other way. If anathemas appear, we take down the enemy together but that is it. I couldn’t promise them an alliance because I knew they couldn’t promise that to us. Not yet, anyways. 

And maybe I didn’t want to make an alliance with anyone who still believed Sabbath was right, still relevant in this day and age. 

“Acceptable terms… admirable and respectable. Out of good faith, I will add another deal to the bargain,” Wanda hummed, “District Three has issued reports and requests for the immediate turnover of a Doctor Jacqueline Deveraux of District Five. I assume you know her.”

“Vaguely,” I answered, hearing a few of my men chuckle in response.

“All pleas and requests for the Doctor will be ignored by District Seven. We will not be bothered by any demands for money, all for kidnapping a sophisticated scientist in your personnel,” Wanda added.

Meaning Jack was safe, in their eyes. Or at least, that’s what their Magistrate promised. That didn’t mean any of the women could go rogue upon realizing how much credits were involved. Yet, District Seven appeared disciplined, almost as if their Magistrate was divinely guided, a leader who would not lead them astray. Which meant very few of her people would do the same.

“We appreciate that. The reports regarding her are very…exaggerated,” I hummed, “Well, with that, I wish you all the luck in your endeavors. Alala, it was a pleasure to get to know you.”

I could feel the vomit as such words rose in my throat, but I swallowed that down. Her little, feigned innocent smile didn’t seem to help either.

“Likewise, Damien…” she smirked. 

For once, I had made ‘friends’ with someone I was thinking truly needed to be my enemy. Alala was dangerous, and I was beginning to question whether bringing her back to our base had been a good idea. We got the perfect intelligence on District Seven’s main base, and that was fairly valuable. It would make it easier to monitor them, predict Wanda’s movements, and ultimately take her out. 

Taking her out would give Alala what she wanted: power. And all of Wanda’s wonderful promises could be easily revoked, especially if she found out it was District Five who killed her mother. Especially…if she found out it would be me. But I couldn’t let that happen. It didn’t matter if Alala won, if she got what she wanted. It didn’t matter if Jacqueline won. Hell, I was almost hoping she would. If anyone could win in this fucking invisible war, it could be her.

The only thing I couldn’t let win was the Machine, which meant I couldn’t lose. 

I couldn’t fucking lose.

Chapter Text

“A blind man will eat whatever is in front of him if it smells sweet enough, ‘for he is incapable of witnessing a poison he cannot see. That is what we must do to the world, we must feed their gluttony. If we want to feed them our poison, first we must blind them, because only then will they eat our lies to savor their appetite. But, they cannot know it was us that created their deformity. They must blame the world, their world, for their disability. But we are the world. Just as we are their crutch, we are the cloth covering their vision. Make them rely on you, and they will forever be your humble servants-”

I turned the audio file off, the monologue of Sabbath dialect and studies making me sick to my stomach. I couldn’t even stand the sound of my mother, hearing the pride in her voice, more pride and joy than she had for her own daughters. She was sick in the head. No. I cannot align deviousness with sickness. 

While evil itself was a disease, it was also a choice to consume.

I was grateful Damien was able to provide me classified Sabbath files of my mother’s work. I knew it wasn’t easy for him to do so, and he even mentioned subtly that he had to go through multiple intelligence firewalls and backways, even avoiding his own team from knowing what he was doing. If he was caught stealing Sabbath intelligence and material, given the information Owen had spilled on the live feed meeting…everyone would think he was once again working for them. 

“A blind man will eat whatever is in front of him if it smells sweet enough…” I voiced aloud, taking a deep breath.

My office and lab were empty, the time far beyond midnight. A large storm was noticed twelve hours ago, large enough to cut off communications so most if not all the advanced team staff at Base Green were called back to Station Evolution to settle for the weekend. Damien included. 

I didn’t know the details of how the exchange with Alala unraveled, given everyone had lost connection. All of the Milithreat personnel there had concluded it went well. Yet, I could tell Damien’s tone had changed from how it was before. Something awoke inside him from that conversation, covering his mind like a shroud. Maybe this break with the storm could be enough to rejuvenate him.

Blindness. Disabilities in one area often enhanced the other senses. Remove sight, a person had to rely on another sense for survival. Smell. Sound. Taste. Anathemas had a blindness in their eyes, not the blindness we think of pure darkness but that of blurred, blocked images. Hence why they stayed mostly underground and why bright flashing lights disturbed them. When the sun burned that bright white on Colony Negative, no doubt it would hurt anathema eyes.

So, what did truly lure them if not sight?

I watched hours of evidence I could, the very sight of it sickening me. I watched the body cameras from Damien and his team handling anathemas, the video of Cole’s neck being ripped apart from our first encounter. Yet if I needed to find the conclusion to this evidence, I had to look at the beginning. What attracted them? Sound alone was a possibility but it didn’t make sense for all the scenarios.

My mind flashed to the moment Wueh had ‘betrayed’ Damien, pinning him in front of that anathema cage. I had studied the anathema all morning, the creature only pacing back and forth out of anxiety. It was not until District Three drew their guns on Damien that the monster awakened with hunger. 

Make them blind. Make them hungry. Then they will eat whatever is in front of them.

Then, back to our first encounter resulting in Cole’s death. Mere seconds before, my knife had been at Owen’s throat, his pistol pressed to my stomach. And multiple firearms pointed at us in a panicked frenzy. Violence. They were attracted by violence. The moment my mind went to that thought, it clicked. Noise wasn’t just enough. 

There were plenty of scenarios like Damien and I alone multiple times, whether bickering in a closed room, or when he was carrying me out of spite back to Base Green. That alone wasn’t enough, because the violence wasn’t…authentic. While the spite was there, we didn’t want to harm each other. The anathemas passed by as if they didn’t care to acknowledge us, because to them, we weren’t a threat. A threat to each other? A threat to them? I suppose it didn’t matter.

I stopped the videos eventually just feeling a slight wave of nausea, turning my datapad off. It wasn’t until I glanced at the clock in the back, covered by papers and documents I had strewn all over the place.

1:12 am.

“Fuck,” I scowled at myself, glancing down at my communication device. It said Damien was offline. 

We were supposed to meet at the firing range at 0100, and I had completely missed it. Fuck. I felt awful, I felt stupid. Here he was, going out of his way to try and help me overcome this issue, and I was too damn busy with my work to notice. Maybe he was still there? I didn’t know. I didn’t want to reach out to him given we both agreed to go offline.

The less people knew we were awake at the same hours, the better we could keep this private.

I secured my office for the night, making my way to the west side of the complex towards the training areas. The entire station was quiet, no souls about. Those awake at this moment were already at their stationed shifts: like the operation center, security consoles, or monitoring communications. Everyone else was long asleep.

I turned a sharp corner with a quickened, frustrated pace before colliding with a firm body.

“Sorry I-”

“Watch where you’re fucking….” Owen paused, seeing it was me, “Oh, good evening Doctor. You’re up late.”

He reeked of alcohol. No doubt he was enjoying his reprieve of recon work to return here for the weekend to drink and relax. Looks like he took it way too seriously. Despite his buzzed nature, he had a smirk on his face, not once taking a step back after colliding with me. 

“If you’ll excuse me, Owen, I have work to attend to,” I tried to brush to the side, but he side-stepped in front of me, again. He was taller and broader than I was. He wasn’t as large as Damien, but compared to me, he dominated all aspects of physicality. 

“The dorms are on the other end, Doctor. What interest do you have in the training areas?” He interrogated me, with that sickly smile as if he was just trying to do me a favor.

“It’s none of your fucking business,” I spat.

“I heard you and Rok had a fight. Saw that nasty punch you gave him…” he smirked, his eyes trailing me up and down, “Maybe we have more in common than you think.”

“Damien Rok and I made amends over our disagreement. Not everyone here has the maturity to act like an adult. Now, get out of my way. I will not ask you again,” I kept my voice firm and steady, even though my heart pounded with hateful adrenaline.

“As if you could stop me from getting what I want,” he laughed lowly, but did eventually step aside. I didn’t acknowledge his sickening comment, letting my shoulder bash harshly with his before making my way down the halls. I could feel that hatred inside me boil. I could see the way he looked at me, mask and all, mocking me with his eyes. I hated it.

I fucking hated him. Hated my mother. Hated myself. 

Owen did not follow me, and soon enough I had reached the firing range, badging into the secure unit before seeing Damien waiting there patiently, pistols laid out on the table to the side. He perked up at hearing the door open, and even more so upon seeing it was me.

“Hey!” He smiled.

“I am so fucking sorry I’m late,” I sighed, exhaling my frustration as I placed my things to the side, running my fingers through my hair. I was so fucking pissed at myself, having to make him wait here and probably making him feel alone and worthless. It’s probably how I would have felt if the roles had been reversed. 

“It’s alright,” he laughed softly, as if not caring for the slightest. In fact, he looked rather happy to see me. We hadn’t seen each other since…well, since we had sex. 

“No, it’s not alright,” I dismissed his feelings, walking over to the table.

He remained silent for a moment, studying my body language, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I…well other than being late. I don’t like being late. I hate people having to wait for me too. You could be doing a million other things than this right now,” I whispered, shaking my head. 

“I want to be here right now,” he leaned on the table with his hands, inching closer to me before looking into my eyes, “What else happened?”

“I…” I paused, seeing that he’d see right through my lies, “I bumped into Owen.”

“What!?” He immediately straightened up, “Did he say anything?”

“He asked where I was going.”

“That’s none of his business. I can-”

“No, Damien. It’s alright. I handled it. It just…he gets on my nerves, that’s all. And I was already pissed at myself for being late and busy with work,” I trailed off, fixing that angry strand of hair that always seemed to cover my right eye.

“I figured you were just working,” Damien nodded, glad that Owen didn’t bother me too much, “You cut your hair. It’s above your shoulders now.”

I did cut my hair, or rather indulged in an hour of peace at the salon. My hair had grown a tad longer than I liked and I missed the waviness my side part could give. The longer it grew, the more straight it became. I needed my hair a bit full to counter my thin face. So, a layered, slightly wavy bob cut was a good counter to how long my hair was growing. As much as I didn’t care for my looks, given my mask did all the talking, I did like my hair healthy.

I just had no idea Damien even noticed.

“I…yeah, I got it done yesterday. I know some might think it’s a little bit short-”

“No. I like it,” he smiled warmly. Too warmly. It wasn’t an awkward flame of warmth though.

Again, I knew something had happened after the meeting with District Seven, and it felt like he was using this moment to cover all of that up. Once again, using our weird relationship dynamic as a bandage to wounds maybe we could never heal. But that didn’t mean we couldn’t try, right? 

Yet even I couldn’t deny his smile was contagious, smiling in return before taking a deep breath.

“Okay. You sure you’re okay with teaching me?” I asked.

“Of course,” he nodded, walking around the table now to stand beside me, “I always thought what I’d do if I left Milithreat and this soldier life behind in the past, I’d like to be a firearm instructor. For civilians and the like, teach them self defense, that there’s no fear in handling a gun.”

“You know, Colony 501 has a very strict firearm policy,” I pointed out, knowing that if he wanted that life, then he’d probably have to move on elsewhere. 

“Yeah, figured I’d have to go somewhere else for that dream. Not like I’ve got anything waiting for me on 501,” he hummed, reaching for the pistol in front of me that was unloaded.

Well, maybe after all this mess, we could at least get coffee together before he moved on. 

“Rule number one to any firearm training: assume every gun is loaded until you check yourself. So, if I handed you this gun, ensure it’s empty. Dislodge the magazine with this button here,”  he showed me, “Then, check the inside of the barrel for no bullet lodged there either. Our standard pistols are laser generated, so there’s no need for magazines and there’s always a laser lodged cold in the chamber just not primed. But, for training purposes, we’re going to use limited ammunition for practice. Other Districts might use similar pistols like this.”

“Okay,” I nodded, watching intently as he loaded the pistol, keeping the barrel away before handing it to me. I felt the metallic weapon fit perfectly in my palm, parts of the handle cold but echoing with remnants of Damien’s warm hand. I dislodged the magazine like he said, then used my left hand to pull back on the slide to dislodge the remaining bullet.

“Good job,” he complimented me, moving to the side to grab some ear plugs and eye protection.

“So, I noticed when I shot Wueh…” I paused, swallowing the memory down, “the first shot had a lot of recoil. The second one almost felt easier.”

“That’s normal,” he nodded, “You charged the pistol when pulling down the hammer, priming it. That first shot will always pack a punch. The shots following after are just recycled heat and energy charging the next one, so it won’t cause much recoil.”

“Oh, good to know.”

Damien approached me, gently pushing the waves of my hair back to slot the earbuds in each ear. I held my breath at how close he was, smelling the hints of that aftershave of his that reminded me of a cold, stormy day on Colony 501. He had shaved, against my dismay, removing his five o’clock shadow. But I knew that was because he was returning to slight uniformity here at the main base. 

“Can you hear me okay?” he asked as he had put his own earbuds in. I couldn’t hear anything else around me, even my own feet shuffling. All I could hear was my own heartbeat, and Damien’s voice clear as ever.

“Mhm,” I nodded, “Is it alright with the mask? Do you want me to take it off?”

“You’re good, Doctor,” he smiled, soon handing me eye protection, “Rule number two: safety remains on until you’re ready to fire. This pistol modification has a switch, red shows it’s ready to fire. Our Milithreat standard pistols don’t have a safety, only a stun function for non-lethal. But that first shot won’t fire unless you’re primed.”

The lane next to us lit up as he operated it, the first target appearing only fifteen feet away from the line. I stared at the black and white target of a figure, intimidated by that alone. Yet, I walked alongside Damien anyway, knowing that I had to overcome this. I had to. If I wanted to survive, if I wanted to protect myself and the people I cared about, then I had no choice but to learn. 

“Rule three: never put your finger on the trigger unless you’re ready to fire. Never take the shot until you feel ready, too. Just take deep breaths,” he nudged me forward, slowly stepping behind me.

I could feel the sweat growing in my palm as I held the pistol, now relodging the magazine, knowing it was loaded as I kept the barrel pointed downward. I moved towards the line, taking long and nervous breaths. Damien was right behind me, his hands moving to my hips momentarily to adjust them.

“Do whatever feels comfortable,” he assured me, “some like shooting with a step forward. Some like to keep their feet spread to their shoulders. Whatever works for you, Jack. Eventually it just becomes and feels natural.”

I didn’t want shooting to feel that way, like a muscle memory, my body a sleeper agent to instill violence. Yet, it was the only way to get better. I raised the pistol level, still feeling his chest pressed to my back, one hand moving up to my arm to hold it steady.

“You know…it’s a bit hard to focus with you so close,” I admitted, trying to add a bit of humor to my nerves.

“Would you prefer I back off?” he asked sincerely.

“No,” I refuted immediately, feeling him even step closer. I tried to control my breathing, hearing it louder than anything else, even Damiens’ breath so close to my own. My finger drifted towards the safety button, flicking it upwards before an index lingered on the trigger.

Yet, I didn’t pull it. I couldn’t. I was fighting with myself internally. I remembered the sight of Wueh’s body lurching as the bullet put a hole in his chest. I remembered the guilt, the shame, the smell of just his blood lingering in the air. I remembered the feeling of taking someone’s life, deserved or not…that painful feeling lingered in my gut.

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” I immediately flicked the safety back on, taking a firm step away from Damien.

“It’s okay,” Damien nodded, angling himself to face me.

“No, it’s not okay!” I shouted at him, realizing that I had raised my voice at him. Yet, he remained, his face remaining gentle and understanding. “This should’t be so fucking hard!”

“Jack, just you getting to that line and holding the pistol is brave enough after everything that’s happened. We can take little steps,” he assured me.

“No. I can’t afford to take little steps. Not out there. I need to go back out there prepared. I already broke my promise, my vow. I can’t act like it never happened. I can’t let it rule over me when any moment of hesitation can get me killed, or the team killed. I need to protect myself.”

“You can protect yourself, Jack. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen you slice with a sword without hesitation, and you can do so because it’s your element,” he stepped a bit closer, “think about fencing. I know there’s protective gear involved, I know you’re just lunging a blade at someone who can hardly feel the sting. This is the same right here, right now. I know what’s in front of you looks like a person, but it’s just a manufactured sponge.”

I nodded slowly at that, surprised he had even remembered that I did fence as a hobby at university. I did so because of rage. I had this pent up frustration inside me, I saw it as the only avenue to really unleash it. That was what I was afraid of. I knew I had anger inside me, and that with a firearm was never a good combination. It never could be. 

“I got into fencing because I hated my mother. I liked the fact my opponent could wear a mask. I could always just pretend it was her…” I admitted quietly, seeing his eyes soften, “but I can’t use that technique here.”

“Why not?” he asked me. 

“It’s dangerous. It’s one thing in a competition to use anger as a drive-”

“So don’t use anger,” he gently interrupted me, “I used to be that way too. I  used to picture my enemies in front of me. Instead of picturing what I’d kill, I was picturing what I was saving, what I could, or should have saved.”

I could see his resolve falter slightly, knowing who he was talking about.

“Scott, right? Your brother…” I whispered, seeing him nod.

“I shoot to protect him, even though it was my shot that had killed him. At first I thought that was rather hypocritical, is it not? But remembering the image of him, the kind of kid he was…the kid I once was,” he trailed off for a moment, “Sabbath made me fight for their cause. If I want to fight against that, I need something, or someone to push me there. He is that reason.”

So, what was mine?

I knew the answer to that, and I also knew I didn’t need to tell him it. He wasn’t asking for it, for me to spill the shame and guilt that stuck inside me. I couldn’t rely on someone else to protect me because I couldn’t protect myself. Even if it was Damien’s job, I couldn’t put that burden on him. I couldn’t continue to put myself into reckless situations, ones I knew were dangerous, and pull him into that with me. 

With this, I could do my best to pull myself out as best as I could.

I lined back up, taking a deep breath. Damien returned behind me, keeping a slight distance this time, but still held his hand under my dominant arm to hold it level. He knew I had found my resolve, a core drive that would push me to my element. I was so very grateful he never asked to know.  

Safety off, I primed with the pulling back of the hammer. I could feel the energy pick up as my index gently rested on the trigger. All it would take was a squeeze.

BANG !

Again, I jolted slightly at the recoil but Damien’s hand held my arms as steady as possible. I could feel my own energy surge as it had left the gun, pulling the trigger again.

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG!

I pulled the trigger once more but it clicked with emptiness, the slide pulled back showcasing an empty chamber. I didn’t even realize how quickly I had gone through all that ammunition.

“Look at that!” Damien laughed with encouragement, a proud grin on his face, “How do you feel?”

“I…I don’t know. Not terrible,” I answered, placing the gun down on a side table. I could feel a temptation of power, almost a shot of dopamine in my system at pulling the trigger. Oddly enough, it felt almost relaxing, as if firearms could actually be a fairly decent tool at instilling calm and discipline. I could see why men lingered towards this kind of hobby. 

Damien pulled the sponge target forward to us, showcasing exactly where the bullet lodged itself in. Out of the six bullets I did shoot, only three actually hit the body while the others missed. One hit the shoulder, the other the side of his head, and the other the lower stomach.

“Not bad,” Damien smirked.

“It’s horrible,” I rolled my eyes.

“No, it’s not. You hit him. That’s all that matters. Doesn’t matter where, you did enough to slow him down, and then finished it with this shot by the head,” he pointed out.

“Okay but I was aiming at his center chest,” I huffed.

“It’s just bullet sway and recoil. With more time and practice, you’ll get used to it. 

“You think?”

“I know it. I was the same way once. Just took a lot of time and repetition. The best thing though is that you know how to use it, and you know how to hit a target. Even though it’s not moving, it’s enough. If the other District’s out there learn that Doctor Jacqueline Deveraux can use a gun, they will all run the opposite direction,” he grinned, clearly teasing, “I also gave you the hardest training pistol to use.”

“You fucker!” I scowled playfully, slapping his shoulder. 

“And you did great! You use my pistol with all the modifications, it’ll be a piece of cake,” he continued laughing.

“Yeah well, you were also distracting me,” I retorted, crossing my arms.

“I was helping you,” he clarified, switching that fucked up target with a newer one.

“You going to show me how it’s done?” I challenged.

He smirked at that, “Would you like that? I’ll even make it harder, do a speed draw.”

He approached the same pistol I used, lodging a new magazine of six rounds before securing it in his thigh holster. I took a few steps back, giving him space unlike what he gave me. He adjusted with the settings for his lane before standing straight, fingers lingering near that holster. A loud buzz went off, and immediately that target began to move rapidly on the tracks forward, backward, side to side. Another buzz and a flash of red, Damien immediately pulled out the pistol.

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG!

He shot them all before I could even blink. Five bullets were lodged cleanly into the target’s head, one just a tad lower into the chin and neck area. 

“Show off,” I scoffed, although admittedly I was impressed. He made it look so damn fucking easy…and also a little bit attractive. My eyes flickered to his bicep as he dislodged the gun and locked the slide before placing it down. 

“Your turn,” he ignored my comment, getting a new dummy set up.

I sighed, walking back over to grab a new magazine before loading the pistol. I pulled the slide hatch down, hearing it fully load before turning behind me. I don’t think Damien expected it, because his eyes were immediately down towards my lower hips before flashing up to mine with embarrassment. 

“I was just…trying to figure out the fabric of your pants,” he replied coolly. 

“Nylon,” I answered for him, turning back away from him to focus on my shot. I didn’t feel his same presence as before, gently pressed against me or holding my arms up. And I also didn’t feel his eyes staring at my ass any longer. 

BANG BANG BANG…BANG…BANG !

The last shot I hesitated, arms shaking slightly out of anger knowing I had again, missed most of my first shots. I soon felt Damien’s hand rest firmly on my lower back, trailing up slightly.

“Relax,” he demanded softly to me, “take more breaths.”

I took a deep breath, letting each inhale and exhale burn my lungs, quell the nervous energy bouncing around in my muscles. I took his advice, wait until I felt ready. 

BANG!

With my sights lined up in the chest, a calm breath, and slight adjustment, the bullet went right where I wanted. 

“Did you see that? I did it!” I exhaled with a smile, although I knew he couldn’t see it. I hoped he could at least hear the slide pride in my voice. Yet when I craned my head, I could see his own proud smirk. 

It didn’t feel so awful before. Yes, I knew the implications of what learning to shoot implied, but I was growing comfortable with the idea of mere training. Learning to handle firearms did increase the fear for them, at least when the gun was in my hand and not pointed at me. 

“You killed it, no pun intended,” he laughed, making me snicker as well at his oddly horrible humor. 

“Thank you,” I set the gun down, turning to look at him, “I know I’m a handful and this day hasn’t been the best but, you’ve been remarkably patient with me.”

“So have you,” he brought up, “After everything that happened with Cole and…everything else, kissing you rather unprovoked, you’ve been patient with me too. Patient and understanding.”

“Well, I still can’t quite understand why you kissed me,” I retorted playfully.

“I know a remarkable woman when I see one. I knew that from the first day I met you,” he replied earnestly, “and that only increases with each day that I know you. Not to mention…you’re very brave, determined, intelligent, and very very beautiful.”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” I scoffed gently, although I felt bad immediately for dismissing his compliments so easily. I just certainly wasn’t used to it by any means. 

Yet he still smiled, “Am I not allowed to behold you?”

I stared at his gray eyes, seeing a hint of a challenge in them, “I don’t think any answer I give would change your mind. Allowed to or not, you’re not one for following the rules, Rok.”

“So, why did you kiss me then?” He returned the challenging question to me.

I blinked, looking away for the moment. I wanted to shrug and be hesitant but I knew I had been confident in my decision. I didn’t want to appear as if I regretted the kiss or what came after. Far from it, actually.

“You look rather handsome when you’re begging for an apology,” I teased, before taking a deep breath, “Usually I run away from people. It’s just easier that way. After what happened with Alala, I wanted to be alone with my work even at the cost of my life. Even after hitting you, I couldn’t live with my guilt and shame and…I didn’t expect you to arrive at my door that night. I always run away…and you were the first to follow me.”

I moved to brush by him, yet his hand gently rested on my hip, pulling me even closer to him. He always did it with such ease, leaving me breathless at how my feet could feel so light with his touch. 

“And…I don’t want that to be the norm. I don’t want to keep running away expecting you to follow. It’s not fair, nor right. I don’t know what any of this is,” I added.

“I don’t either,” he admitted, “but jumping into the unknown is kind of our territory, is it not? I don’t think it is anything a soldier and biological anthropologist can’t handle together.”

“Together,” I repeated, nodding slowly.

How badly I wanted him tonight, but I had plans for tomorrow. And they couldn’t be squandered by not getting a good night’s rest.

“Thank you, Damien. We should go, get a good night’s rest. You’ll need it for tomorrow,” I let my hand brush his arm, squeezing as much of it as I could gently before moving towards my gear.

“I will?” he asked with surprise.

“Yeah, I’ll send you coordinates tomorrow, if you have access to the Sioc. Is 0900 a good time?”

I could see his face light up, “Yeah, yeah that’s all good.”

I placed the ear and eye protection on the side tables, seeing him begin to grab his rifle to probably run a few more practice rounds. Seemed like he wasn’t going straight to sleep, unlike myself. I was more than exhausted. Yet it seemed so wrong to just say goodnight like this. I removed my mask, holding it in my left hand before approaching Damien. 

His lips mine just as eagerly as I met his, the one free hand cupping his freshly shaved cheek. I could feel that smile he had possessed all evening across my own lips, his hand snaking around my bodice to rest comfortably at my backside. Yet I had to pull myself away, only due to my own temptation.

“Don’t be late,” I joked, securing my mask back on as I could see that fire in his eyes from a mere kiss alone.

“Yes ma’am,” he exhaled, looking like a parched man where water was far from his reach. If he had the patience to wait until tomorrow, maybe I’d be able to quench that. 

Fucking hell, this man was going to be the death of me.

-

The storm was beginning to approach from the east, thunder echoing in the distance with flashes of lightning. But we still had a good hour or so before it reached our location, only a few miles west of the main base. I didn’t mind riding in the rain if I had to. In fact I loved the rain, there was something pure about it, a cleansing of the ground and sky around us.

I used to hate the idea of riding with someone behind me, holding the weight down, prohibiting that fast speed I liked travelling at to get wherever I was going. There was no rush to go anywhere on Colony Negative, though. I wouldn’t deny I liked the feeling of Damien's grip across my stomach, or the occasional large hand of his resting on the front of my thigh. 

He had listened intently to my instructions and demonstrations, never once interrupting and always paying attention. It seemed he was genuine about learning how to ride.

“Okay, your turn,” my feet pulled at the kickstand before attempting to get off. I could feel Damien’s nervous hands still wanting to cling to my hips.

“Wait, I…are you sure?” he asked. 

I removed my helmet to get a smell of that ‘fresh’ air, which was an aroma of nothing. Colony Negative smelled like nothing. No pine trees, no salt from oceans or lakes, not even the clay of broken homes and dreams had a scent. Everything about this place felt like a clean, blank slate, yet there were still the lingerings of a forgotten civilization written all over. 

Clean slates meant a new start, though, even if still scratched up from the previous life. 

“I’m sure. Do you want me to sit behind you? I can help you out,” I offered, drinking some water through my mask.

“No,” he shook his head, “That might make this worse.”

“Make what worse?” I asked, soon handing him my canteen if he wanted some water too.

He took it without complaint, soon sighing after taking a few sips, “I’m afraid of bashing this thing up and crashing. And it would be even worse if you were on here and got hurt too.”

“Damien, you deliberately crashed a Sioc into the back of this bike a few months ago,” I laughed, crossing my arms.

“That’s different,” he laughed softly with me, “I suppose I just want to impress you. Crashing isn’t very attractive, is it?”

“Well, don’t be reckless,” I teased, but then changed my tone, “The only thing that wouldn’t impress me is if you didn’t try. And as far as I know, Supervisory Agent Damein Rok would never deny a challenge like this. You’ll be fine. Unless you spent the last hour and a half of demonstrations focused on touching me and not what I was doing.”

“I paid attention, Doctor,” he assured me, soon sliding forward into the main seat with somewhat of a shaky confidence.

“Remember, two fingers on the clutch when you’re moving. It won’t take a lot of pressure to keep a consistent speed. Keep your groin as close as possible to the gas tank in front of you. Straddle that like a woman, alright? Engage your core, but remain loose everywhere else,” I encouraged, “Once you feel comfortable going in a straight line, practice turning in circles.”

“Okay,” he nodded with a nervous breath, slowly kicking up the stand before balancing it with his boots. 

I had to admit, even I was a bit nervous for him. Damien Rok was a quick learner. He was intuitive and his greatest skill was picking up on the minor, small details that most might overlook. Intelligence work suited him, maybe even better than being a soldier. I returned to our gear by the Sioc, sifting through my bag before pulling out my camera. With the weather and a fine subject to act as a minor muse, why not take a few shots?

And also, Damien did look good in motorcycle gear, even if it was just scraps of his armor and helmet with a leather jacket on top of it. 

He eased the engine into a steady purr before the wheels carried him forward. It swayed slightly due to his balance, but he was quick to get the hang of it. Within a minute I could see his demeanor and body language relax, eventually going forward over two hundred yards before turning at an obtuse angle to slowly make his way back. 

Three years ago, I didn’t think I’d be here. I didn’t think I would be leading a scientific team on an unknown colony filled with assholes and biological aliens. I didn’t think I’d be out here in the midst of a beautiful dark storm, the sound of thunder drowning out the beloved sound of a motorcycle engine whirring. Most of all, with someone who seemed…

I couldn’t put one word to him. He was still fairly enigmatic. He was still dangerous. He was broken, but wasn’t everyone? I think both of us had grown up not really given a chance, feeling trapped, our paths laid out before us before we could even divert from it. I spent my whole life studying the simple fact people weren’t perfect. I thought if I was, or rather strived to be, that would protect me.

I was wrong. Just as I found myself trying to be softer on Damien, I was trying to do the same for myself.

“How’s it looking, Jack?” Damien chimed in over comms, his voice light and happy. Seems like riding gave him a bit of a rush.

“You’re looking great,” I complimented, “Your turns aren’t smooth but you’ll get there.”

He laughed at that, “I’ll be doing figure eights in no time.”

There was his little cheeky confidence, but if it had gotten him this far and away from Sabbath, he could have all that false confidence he wanted. Sometimes we had to do whatever it took to protect ourselves, even if it turned us away from our morality. I understood that aspect of him now. 

“Why don’t you try the brakes? Remember, the mechanics said they’re sensitive,” I pointed out, hearing him hum in agreement. 

I could hear him increasing speed back to my position, the dust kicking up behind him as he sped faster and faster. Testing the brakes were always important when riding, they were the difference between life and death, not speed. But, he was going a little too fast than I would like. Who was I to demand him to slow down? 

Still, it set up a nice action shot to take some photos.

Within several yards from me, his fingers left the clutch and reached for the brake. But perhaps he didn’t take my words for warning and pulled too hard. The bike lurched to the side as the tires lost some traction, throwing Damien forward and off the bike into the gray dust followed by several grunts and groans.

And I got an entire photo sequence of the entire mishap.

“What a fucking idiot…” I laughed, seeing the bike remain well intact and checked the recent photos of him completely falling off it. Yet when I looked up, he hadn’t moved.

“Damien? Are you alright?” I asked, not getting a response, “Fuck.”

I dropped the camera down, jogging over to him before picking up the pace as he laid face down in the ground. My heart raced, knowing he couldn’t be too hurt right? Hopefully it had just been his pride, but if he wasn’t moving, it was possible he knocked himself out cold. Yet when I got inches closer…

“Boo!” he laughed, scaring me immediately.

“Oh go fuck yourself!” I shouted, my boot attempting to kick playfully at his leg. Yet he had turned to get up as I did so, the tip of my boot slamming into his groin. He let out a yell of pain, and I withheld a slight ‘oops’ of amusement. I didn’t exactly mean to do that.

But he sort of deserved it. 

“Ow,” he wheezed, his voice not as deep as it usually was before he began laughing, “I suppose I deserve that.”

“Damn right you did,” I laughed with him, extending my hand out to him. His fingers intertwined with mine before pulling me into the dirt alongside him. We laughed together, feeling a lightness around us despite the heavy storm beginning to darken the sky directly above us. 

The laughter faded, but it didn’t disappear into a silence of awkwardness. It merely lingered like a sun would, despite being covered by clouds. 

“Surprised you ran to me first instead of the bike,” Damien finally spoke, both of us laid on our backs, his hand resting on mine as we watched the atmosphere above us alter.

“The bike is fine, unlike you. You looked like some deceased, slumped over seal. I was worried you hit your head,” I rolled my eyes.

“That’s what helmets are for. Thought you would have learned that by now,” he teased.

“Not this again,” I scowled slightly, “But again, it’s all thanks to your exemplary driving. I told you the brakes were sensitive.”

He snickered softly, slowly rising to sit up but still turned to look at me, letting that helmet collapse into the armor, “I didn’t think it’d be that sensitive.”

The rain began to fall with a few droplets, already cooling the weather surrounding us. Thunder boomed louder, almost sending shockwaves on the surface but there was nothing terrifying about it. Thunder could always be terrifying at a young age, until you learn about the weather phenomenon it was. 

A spark, heat igniting from a passionate strike of lightning creating an explosion of sound waves. 

When the rain began to pour harder and the flashes of light blue lightning grew closer, a weird color for a planet like this, I eventually stopped looking up with admiration at the colony around me. It was then that I had noticed Damien had his eyes remaining on me the entire time.

“Oh fuck, the camera,” I scrambled to my feet. Damien was already quicker than me though, jogging ahead to immediately stash the camera in my bag. I’m sure a bit of water on it would be fine, but I didn’t want it to get swallowed up in the ground when this dirt would turn into mush.

Instead I went for the bike, lifting it off the side before pushing it towards the Sioc. Damien was already quick enough to open the backside, helping me push from the other side into the safe and warm utility vehicle. 

“Ugh, thanks for grabbing that,” I thanked him, shaking the slight wetness in my hair before seeing him nod.

“Sure, just delete the photos of me getting knocked off the bike and I’ll call it even,” he smirked.

“Not happening,” I laughed, making sure the bike was secure before walking over to him, “I’ve got blackmail should you ever decide to cross me. Your Milithreat men will probably get a kick out of it.”

“I’m sure they would,” he laughed again. It was a sound I was really growing used to, “Fine, let’s call it even for kicking me.”

My arms crossed in front of him, but my eyes remained playful, “Oh but that was getting even with you scaring me.”

“Oh! So you were scared for me…?” 

“I was worried. Not scared,” I clarified, but even then I knew he could see right through me. He approached me, cutting the very narrow space between us as his one hand gently fixed the wet strands of my hair, probably now flat compared to the waviness of yesterday due to the rain. I could see remnants of rain on his face, the droplets reflecting my own green eyes against his skin. I knew what he wanted. And worst of all, I wanted it too.

“Damien, we shouldn’t…” I whispered, although there was no conviction in the words. 

“Why not?” he asked softly, not challenging me, but rather challenging the system District Five had seemingly thrown us into.

“It’s not right,” I clarified, “I’m supposed to hate you, you know.”

His finger trailed from my hair to my mask, and even though I couldn’t feel it across the thin metallic material, I could only imagine the soft calluses caressing the scars beneath it. I could feel my heart race once more, betraying my senses and my words. I was right. This wasn’t right. But fuck, it felt right. My own hand moved to his chest, but it wasn’t to stop him and push him away. It was just to feel the place where his heart might be. All I felt were cold droplets against cold thin armor, and that only made me want more. I wanted to feel the warmth of his skin, the hair between his pecs or down his stomach. 

“Who says I don’t hate you?” he asked me, his eyes and demeanor betraying him this time, “I’d like to think I do.”

We should be magnets that repelled one another. Instead, all it took was the right angle, the moment after we had saved each other alone on this gods forsaken colony full of anathemas that it clicked. That repelling turned opposite, a force of attraction that couldn’t be stopped. 

“I hate soldiers…you hate scientists…” I mumbled, feeling my limbs grow weak, the tingle between my legs spark as he stepped closer. My fingers moved from his chest to lower, at his waist before intertwining with his belt. 

His own body was melting like this clay sand in the rain just as much as mine. I didn’t think I could ever have that effect on a man, especially if he held the same power over me. Our lips weren’t on each other. It was only our words and the small touches of the soft pads of our fingers that were making us shiver for each other. I loved the sensation of shivers down my spine that he gave me, lightning striking a metallic rod. 

“I have this great feeling that you and I are not going to get along…” his words turned into a whisper, a copy of the same sentence he spoke to me so spitefully during that ‘interrogation’ of each other. 

“On that, Agent Rok…” I whispered in return, slowly unbuckling his belt, “On that, we certainly agree.”

Chapter Text

Our labored breaths synced together, one of pure and raw surprise and the other raspy, artificial, and fucking hot. 

I could feel her fingers caressing the scar on my neck, leading all the way from the top thoracic to cervical, the cut ending just at the base of my skull. Her touch provided great comfort in a scar that I forever had as a child of Sabbath. Such a long, thick scar for something as miniscule as an implant the size of my indexes. The original scar had healed well under Sabbath. It was when I decided to cut into my own neck and spine with only a mirror and a knife to find that behavior monitoring chip and rip it out. 

That’s why the scar looked as ugly and painful as it was. But in pain, I felt truly free from Sabbath. 

Her skin was soft and gleaming with sweat from our activities. I couldn’t help but let my hands glide across the side of her thighs or bare spine, across scars and smooth skin. Every part of her body was heavenly, and I hoped I provided comfort as equally as she gave me. 

Before coming to Colony Negative, I never once regretted my decisions as Sabbath. There was never any accountability, soul searching, or anything like that until I met Jacqueline. Perhaps it always laid there in my consciousness, in my bias, and I merely disregarded it. A man was taught to never regret his actions, to merely own his choices and continue forward. 

Regret meant I had a choice, which meant I had free will. With Sabbath, I didn’t have that in terms of my survival. What I did regret was not leaving sooner. If I had left earlier, I could have done less damage, less harm to colonies not deserving of my wrath. 

Here, with Milithreat and protecting Doctor Devereaux, I felt like I had a purpose, a choice. 

Jack removed her mask, those hard breaths of hers leaving that slightly robotic tone and turning more natural. The instant that barrier shielding her scars was gone, her lips were planted on mine softly, as if she had wished that the entire time. I would admit, though, her moans sounded absolutely delightful with her mask. 

I didn’t know if it was worth the cost of not being able to kiss her lips, though. It just allowed my lips to kiss other parts of her body, marking her with bruises like temporary tattoos.

“Are all biologists like this?” I asked, my own breathing not recovered given her delightful kiss.

“Like what?” she whispered, her voice soft despite the sore, dry nature of her throat. She had pulled back, stroking those nails through my hair, a sensation that itched a beautiful part of my brain from the outside. 

“I mean, who better to teach me about the human body like this than a biological anthropologist?” I laughed softly.

She groaned out of annoyance but I could feel that smile against my skin as she tried to hide it, “Don’t ever say something like that again. Anthropology has nothing to do with sex.”

“Not true,” I refuted, “Biology studies life, all the physicality about it. It’s everything you can see, whether with those beautiful eyes of yours or with a microscope. You know what a brain looks like, what all the little gaps and ridges represent, the chemicals that compose us. Anthropology, now, I can’t say I knew much at all before I met you. But to me, that’s the study of the soul.”

“Agent Rok, what does sex have to do with souls?” she asked, straightening her posture slightly as she glanced down at me, only having a slight height advantage due to straddling my thighs. 

“Maybe nothing during the act of it. But the after…” I trailed off for a moment, getting lost in the physicality of her, “something just unravels like a ball of yarn. I feel more open, more alive, more alert. It’s like the soul is awakened, linked together with this imaginary bond between humans.”

“Oh, I suppose that’s normal,” she shrugged, “merely hormones after an orgasm. Sex is often known as an impulse control, so the aftermath is your mind having a moment of clarity. It’s that prefrontal cortex going back to its normal state, given it goes rather mute during intercourse, so your decision making process just gets reawakened. Oxytocin is the hormone that takes over and it's the main reason why sex is a great stress relief.”

I loved her fucking scientific ramblings, especially more now with her naked bodice on mine, her skin lathered in soft bruises I’ve left or just that foggy look in her eyes.

I hummed, “But what if that only happens with you? That sensation only exists when provided by you.”

She blinked slightly, almost a bit surprised by that, “Not sure if I should be flattered or worried by that statement.”

“How so?”

“Could be Sabbath steroids and hormone therapy that has ruined your sense of oxytocin,” she answered, but not before pausing for a long moment, “But…I suppose I would be lying if this whole experiment hasn’t affected me too.”

“Experiment?” I could hear my voice alter with the question, my heart stopping.

She immediately realized the weight of her words, “No. I didn’t mean it like that, Damien. You’re not…what we’re doing right now isn’t some experiment. I suppose life itself is, right? Life is one big grand experiment with no hypothesis or trial to guide us. This , even though I don’t know what it is, and it’s best I don’t put words to it, isn’t some trial and error. I’m not using you to find myself…and I hope you aren’t doing the same either.”

“No,” I shook my head, “Sorry if my reaction was a bit…”

“You have every right to be worried about that,” her voice softened, “You’ve been used your whole life. You’ve always been someone else’s experiment. Not here. At least, not by me. This Colony, though, might have other ideas.”

Crazy to think months ago I thought Jack to be the last person to understand me. And maybe that was because at the time we truly didn’t know each other. I knew my first day meeting her I was a bit of an asshole. I could have handled things better but I felt like I needed to make an aggressive, strong first impression with my team. A team I felt no purpose to lead. And her, well, she had to keep to her thesis. Whatever that still was. 

“I mean, say this was an experiment,” I grinned slowly, “On that first day meeting me, what were the chances for a hypothesis of sleeping with the Supervisory Special Agent that interrupted your wonderful briefing?” 

She laughed at that, “Impossible, surely. I would have revolted at such an unfathomable hypothesis. I wouldn’t have even entertained the idea of testing it. That’s the terrifying thing about experiments.”

“Terrifying?” 

“Yeah, terrifying,” she repeated, swallowing slightly, “We are the products of our environment, the world, the people, the monsters around us. It’s what makes us adapt. The scariest thing about transforming isn’t the action itself, it’s the fact we will never truly realize how gradual it is. We don’t realize it at all until one day we blink and suddenly the way we think, act, talk…things we didn’t do before now feel much more real.” 

“That can be a good thing, can it not?” I leaned closer, letting my hands wrap around her hips to rest on the back of her spine, across the smooth curves or ridges of her scars, “we are products of evolution. We change for the better.”

“Evolution is the change to adapt and survive in our society. Why should we be forced to change? Why can’t we create a society that adapts to us, that way we don’t have to change? You’re right, evolution is trial by error. Most of the time, the success gets passed along. But what about the failures? It dies, becomes extinct and irrelevant.”

“It can’t be irrelevant with people like you continuing to study such…” I whispered, watching her demeanor change as if she never thought of it that way before.

She was right about not really being able to pinpoint change. I couldn’t really speculate the moment it really clicked for me. But I knew it had really blossomed from such a minor discussion still above ground, adjusting her rappelling ropes and she had mentioned what her parents had stated.

Deveraux’s weren’t allowed to be nobodies. That had been ingrained in her mind from a young girl, and clearly the pressure from it was altering, like carbon pressured into becoming diamonds. Even if she now believed nobody was a ‘nobody’, I knew this weight of glory was her drive for perseverance. Whatever happened with her accident, she could have left everything behind and resided in her own shadows. Just like me with Sabbath. Instead, we searched for something different, something we thought greater than our past or ourselves. 

Yet, people like her would always examine the past, oddly enough a contradiction to her own thought process. While things and people alike weren’t admired when alive, everything they’ve done, their legacy or just kindness still lives on. 

It looked like she was going to make a statement about whatever epiphany I awoke in that smart brain of hers, but the sound of distant alarms pulled us away.

I glanced over at the control panel in the distance, given we had chosen a random seat in this Sioc to fuck on. But the sound of alarms was…alarming to say the least.

I stood up, still holding her with one arm even though I could have reasonably placed her down. I was just worried that I’d miss that warmth of hers if I did so. She didn’t seem to complain, just as curious as I was and probably after the pounding I just gave her…she didn’t like the idea of walking just yet. Her hands still clutched to my arms, flexed from carrying her and I had a feeling she secretly liked that. 

An object was coming from the South on the radar, before immediately speeding past us through the storm in a blink, riding back to Station Evolutionary.

“Who the hell is out in this storm?” Jack asked.

“Well, I mean we are…unregistered,” I added, soon going to the logs to see who had passed by us.

“Shit, you think they saw us?” 

“No. They were going way too fast,” I mumbled, hoping the radar was quick enough to register. Even if they had a piece of electronics on, it should have picked it up to give us some type of identification. Same with us. Of course, we already had an alibi.

I was out doing recon. Jack was out on a joyride, we just happened to meet up during the storm and being the delightful gentleman I am, I offered a dry ride back.

Excise - 019 Owen Nestel.

“What is he doing out?” I asked myself aloud.

“I guess you could ask the Excise supervisor?” Jack was just as curious as I was as to why Owen was out and about. And speeding rather quickly in this storm.

I sighed at that, “Not really supposed to. He reports directly to Milithreat instead of me. If I start poking around, I’ll get in trouble.”

“To be fair, you broke multiple bones in the man’s face…” Jack hummed, adding a bit of a smirk despite the violent aspect of it.

“True. I don’t regret that. It just means I’ll have to do his own digging into what he’s doing.”

“Clearly trying to ‘win the hearts and minds’ to mutiny against you,” she snorted softly, slowly unhooking her legs around me to place them on the ground. I assisted her in the process, still holding her steady as she took a few sturdy steps. “I can walk just fine, Rok. We should get going before this storm gets worse.”

I glanced back at the information momentarily before walking back over to my clothes, luckily mostly in one place. 

“Shit, is your back and shoulders alright?” she asked, and upon doing so I could feel what she was talking about. I could feel the soft stings from every slight movement of just slipping my shirt on and then the light armor on top. She had clawed the shit out of me.

“Yeah, looks like we both left marks on each other,” I grinned, looking at her as she began to cover up the soft bruises and marks I left on her skin with her undergarments and biking attire. 

“Mm, you’re lucky I don’t wear anything that won’t cover my neck,” she smiled in return, struggling slightly with her pants, “at least in the lab where people are more attentive.”

“Guess that means I’ll have to avoid wearing tanks in the gym, then,” I laughed, figuring it would be for the best.

“Like your boneheaded men even know what sex marks look like,” she teased, “could just say an anathema got you pretty good with those claws. Or maybe Alala-”

“Let’s not talk about her,” I interrupted, perhaps a little bit too quickly or harshly. Jack blinked, remaining silent as she finished getting dressed. But she could tell the topic of her seemed to catch me off guard. I could see hesitance fill those eyes of hers, especially as she averted my gaze.

“You didn’t fuck her, did you?” Jack asked me, her voice soft and quiet as if she was afraid of the answer.

“What?” I shook my head in disbelief, “No. No, of course not Jack.”

“You just…acted differently after that night with me and around her. I just…sorry, I get a little insecure and-” I approached her at that, cupping her cheek gently which made her stop in her words.

“I know we don’t discuss value or worth about people…especially in front of a biological anthropologist. But, Jacqueline, you are a greater, far greater and extraordinary woman compared to her. You are far superior compared to her…to me. It’s not you…” I took a deep breath, hesitating, “She’s a Sabbatical.”

Jack felt relieved at my words, as I could see her relax at them followed by my touch. But I could also sense her surprise at the truth. I wanted to keep this a secret, after all, I didn’t know how much I trusted Jack. She had ties with her mother, and even if their relationship was far from perfect, it still made her connected to the one thing I despised. And, Alala had told me her father was involved in the very machine I hated, hated more than anything and wished to destroy.

Trusting her still was still not solidified, blurred by my affection for her, and the facts of her parents. 

“You mean she was?”

“No. Is. She appears to be doing their bidding. She is more loyal to them than her own mother-”

“Wait, the Magistrate is her mother?” Jack gasped.

I always said way too much around her. It was probably just because I felt comfortable around her, I felt like I could share what bothered me, and find a solution in this together. But I also knew intelligence was on a need to know basis. 

“Yeah…” I sighed, “It’s a bigger mess than I thought. But, the good news is that they promised to not hunt you down. It’s another District off your back, one step closer to coming back once the dust settles.”

I thought she’d be relieved by that, but still remained worried, “Damien, you know she targeted you right?”

“I can see that now,” I sighed, knowing all the lies I made up about my past, my homelife or background story had all been for naught. She knew I had been lying this entire time. “I still don’t know what her plan was.”

“Probably still intended on using you as a kunst,” Jack teased to try and lighten the mood, “if she couldn’t connect with you on post sex, using oxytocin to get information through bonding, I suppose now she’s trying to get inside your head.”

“Yeah…I think she did,” I moved to ignite the Sioc engine, sitting in the main seat. Jack moved beside me, tightening that seatbelt of hers. She was more than welcome to drive, given she still criticized my lack of a proper license. But maybe she thought with more practice I wouldn’t cause as many vehicular accidents. 

“You know who you are Damien, don’t let her tell you otherwise. Whatever happens, I know you’ll make the right call…” Jack assured me. 

Funny. She was just talking about change, how Colony Negative seemed to be doing that to a lot of people here. And that included me. I knew it had. 

But was it change for the better, an adaptation for evolution, or extinction?

-

I adjusted the sight of the scope to align the crosshair with the target. My target. Marhwanda was still on my list and nothing changed that. I was the Saboteur for a reason, to protect District Five and their interests. Clearly, the head of District Seven was a direct threat in ways I didn’t know or exactly understand. Perhaps she was just as Sabbath riddled as her daughter, a real possibility. 

With the location of their main base, District Seven’s location was out in the open in the right spot. I settled on top of a plateau, using all the technology I had at my disposal. I even stole the idea of Crowe, laying on a thermal blanket along with my minor illusionary armor camouflage to blend in with the rocks. Even my rifle had adjusted its color to that bland mix of brown and grey to mesh with the dirt. 

I was an invisible god watching over my subjects, with even their communication at my disposal.

It wasn’t just physical tools at my disposal. Jacqueline had given me a few papers and dissertations regarding Seven’s way of thinking. Intelligence was able to gather training manuals to help. Tradition and culture were oddly enough interesting pieces of information that could be exploited. The first of every month, District Seven trained in old tribal armor in respect to their ancestors, with the Magistrate spearheading it all.

So, I was overlooking over a hundred Seven women soldiers practicing spear fighting routines in the middle of nowhere, about half a mile from their main base. 

A Magistrate, according to Jack’s findings, was chosen amongst them by acts in battle. Brave, brash actions were qualifying to lead this fragmented District. It seemed like Marhwanda wanted to make her mark, prove herself, by landing on Colony Negative. 

I was no politician, but I thought that seemed like a very brash, idiotic decision. Sometimes there was the mindset people just mind their own business. If I knew what had awaited us in Colony Negative, I wouldn’t have come. Then again, they were orders and I was never inclined to reject them. 

I wasn’t allowed to fail. The issue with that, though, is who determined my success or failure? Given I didn’t know the answer, I was determined to do everything I could in my power to do things right.

Marhwanda led the training in the front, my crosshair on her but I didn’t have any intentions of pulling the trigger yet. This was mainly reconnaissance, but it could turn into an assassination if needed. 

Afrikaans talk and words came through my comms, picking up on their communications although I hardly understood it. Occasionally though, Alala would be the one to speak what I could interpret, giving me insight into their conversations.

The women had taken a slight break under the morning Colony Negative sun, allowing the perfect time for discussion.

“District Three has not taken kindly to our siding with Five,” Alala sighed to her mother, “Communications leaked that they know of our deal with them, all about that Doctor they’re hunting. We should not have made such a deal. They’ve threatened to take actions and at the moment we are barely handling the influx of these monsters”

I knew exactly what they were talking about. 

District Three, as far as I knew, had no idea about the deal made between us. And that was fine. But I wanted Seven to think Three did know about it. Because when I did pull this trigger eventually, who better to blame the District that made a threat?

Even though it was myself falsifying the threat under the guise of District Three. They didn’t need to know that, and neither did my own intelligence team. Grimes didn’t even need to know. All they knew right now was that I was assisting in perimeter recon to take a break.

Jack’s science team still didn’t get along with me after the little spat we had, so I used that to my advantage to get ‘some air’ away from them.

They should be thanking me, because if all went well, I’d be making their lives easier once their boss was allowed to return to her work.

“You met this Doctor, what do you think of her?” Wanda asked her daughter.

“A problem. She’s a real problem. But, I have leverage against her if needed.”

I enhanced the comm volume, hoping to get a clearer audio about what this leverage could be.

“Should we be as concerned as the other Districts about her?”

“No,” Alala shook her head, those curls bouncing slightly as she did so from what I could see, “I think we need to do the opposite. We need to let her do her work. Her team believes in her, even Agent Rok. That means she must know something to unlock a few secrets here. She unlocks them, then we kill her.”

My crosshair slowly hovered to Alala at that comment, my finger slowly resting on the trigger but I couldn’t. If I was to shoot, I only got one chance before the rest of their soldiers would swarm the area as bodyguards. I kill Alala, there goes any attempt at Wanda. Alala was more deserving of a bullet to the brain, but that wasn’t my mission. 

Some missions, I felt as though there was always someone more deserving of my wrath. This was one of them, and yet there was nothing I could do.

“I take it your mission with Rok was unsuccessful?” Wanda inquired.

“Yes. Behavioral statistics concluded Rok would be sexually deviant and thirsting for lust, especially in an environment like this. That was false. He has an interesting dynamic with that Doctor, unrequited at that. That might work in our favor, have him crawling on his knees back to me if he can’t get what he wants from her.”

I was not sexually deviant. I had just the right sexual libido as probably any man my age and nothing about Sabbath changed that. Of course, I wouldn’t lie and say that increased the closer I got to Jacqueline. She was a very beautiful woman and I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Nothing deviant about that, though. It was rather normal to be infatuated with a woman who seemed to challenge my very existence.

“One way or another, I will get what I want,” Alala insisted, her words sinister and almost sending a shiver down my spine.

I couldn’t give her what she wanted…even though if I went through my mission I’d give her everything on a silver platter. 

“You are determined Alala, but you have far to go. Patience and wisdom are needed, not everything requires action,” Wanda advised her.

Alala scoffed at that, “It’s not going quick enough. These other Districts are slow. They stole from us, and now we are going to steal from them. But their scientists are too slow, and their soldiers are getting picked off by these monsters one by one. Five is the only one that appears successful.”

Alala and Wanda had their differences, and not just in age. But in age, it also showcased experience and wisdom, which Wanda seemed to possess. Alala was still young, her talents and plethora of information stemming from Sabbath. That made her dangerous and impulsive. Sabbath created actions out of impulse, often because they were the most shocking of choices, the most deliberating and chaotic. 

Alala was clearly the dangerous one here. Not Marhwanda. 

“Well, if you want Rok, would he exchange his services if we managed to capture his Doctor?” Wanda planned, “We capture her, despite our little agreement, will he take her place?”

“Most certainly,” a hint of a smirk, barely visible on my scope, formed on her lips, “She’s locked up tight, though. They’re smart in keeping her at bay. But…if we’re patient enough, she’ll go stir crazy. She already hit Rok in a fury about going back. It won’t take long before she gets impatient again.” 

“Humans can never sit still, can they? We always want more. We will use Doctor Deveraux’s own knowledge against her.”

My crosshair moved back to Wanda, just angled a tick above her head.

“The worst form of inequality is to try and make unequal things equal…we will make her regret coming here thinking she can make a difference.”

“And in doing so,” Wanda smirked, “Rok is yours.”

Not on my watch. Not on my fucking watch. How complacent and egotistical their words were, whispering to each other like their devious plans would actually work. No. I wasn’t anyone’s to control. 

No no no no NO . 

I was in control. I was not going to crawl and beg at Alala’s feet. Instead, I’d make her come to mine, and even then I wouldn’t give her what she wanted, what she truly wanted.

District Five needed Marhwanda dead. Jacqueline’s life depended on it. My life depended on it. 

Wanda might have taught patience to her daughter, but at this moment, I lacked none.

I pulled the trigger. The laser penetrated the skull through Wanda’s own curls of hair, her blood splattering on impact all over. Alala stood there frozen in the moment, perhaps tasting the blood of her own mother as it had sprayed upon her bodice like a work of art. Immediately that fright disappeared as the other District Seven warriors surrounded the body of their dead Magistrate with fright and worry. 

They looked everywhere and anywhere for movement, a sign of their assassin. They wouldn’t find me. They’d never find me, never know it was me. 

I enjoyed the panic in their voices, Afrikaan shrieks of words I couldn’t understand. But I knew fear. It didn’t matter the language, fear was rather a universal one that gave me joy. 

I watched Alala’s composure crumble in front of me at the loss of her mother, but it didn’t take long to see that resolve. The Machine told her it would give her power, and it was by my hands that was granted to her. As much as I wished to take another shot on Alala, she was too closely surrounded by her fellow compatriots I never had a clear shot. An innocent could get hurt, which never stopped me before.

But that was my Sabbath past that allowed that. I had to be better, right?

Good soldiers follow orders . The best soldiers were the ones that began questioning them.

-

I awoke to the sensation of gentle fingers tracing the lines of my tattooed snake, all the way from the shoulder and collarbone to the beginning of my midriff. Across various hairs or scars, her fingers followed the path of something I once considered an honor to wear. Now, it was a symbol of remembrance, remembrance of someone I couldn’t be any longer. 

Snakes could shed their skin, which meant I could too.

“Mm, Jack, it’s too early,” I groaned, curling up against her. 

“All the more reason for you to get up, less chance of getting caught,” she retorted, but did place a soft good morning kiss on my lips.

I knew I was overstaying my welcome too much in her room when I lingered around Station Evolutionary. But I couldn’t help it. After all, she was stressed so much! If I could provide even an ounce of relief to her, I was her humble servant. 

“I need you in top shape, soldier, you’re my only chance of going back out in the field,” she reminded me.

“You know, that means less time for mornings like this…” I retorted, leaning back close to kiss her deeply. She melted into it, definitely much easier than she had with the first unwanted kiss I had placed against her lips. 

“My work will always come first, sorry Rok,” she teased, although I knew she was partially serious about that. She was quick to return more soft, delightful kisses, tempting me into savoring her for breakfast. 

My work came before her as well. That was the price we paid for being good at our areas of subject. But I wouldn’t lie and say I was growing increasingly comfortable with the nights of her warm embrace. She must be too if she was the one sending me messages if I was available at night. 

For her, I’d always try to be available.

Funny how this whole stick for using this as a means of stress relief was clearly turning into something greater. I didn’t mind it at all. 

But our work, again, would always be a priority.

Soft alarms over the intercom went off, awakening both of us from our attempts for possible lazy morning sex. Jack was the first to perk up, climbing out of bed.

Team Leads and Supervisors, please report to the main bridge. All others, stay online for an emergency broadcast .

“That’s not good,” Jack whispered, now quickly getting dressed.

“Yeah, I wonder what the fuck this could be about,” I hummed, getting out with equal fervor. With those minor alarms going off and everyone’s communication devices going off with a buzz, this place would be awake soon.

And I didn’t like the idea of anyone seeing me leaving Doctor Deveraux’s room. 

“I’ll meet you at the bridge,” I whispered once fully dressed, giving her hip a gentle squeeze before sneaking my way out. Luckily everyone else was slow to rise.

Whatever got Ruenova worried, it was written all over her face upon entering the large meeting room. Every team lead from security to finances was there, and of course me from intelligence. In a few minutes, Jack had entered with the rest of the lingering tired souls. She moved to stand beside me, fingers briefly touching luckily underneath the height of the table blocking everyone’s view. 

With everyone present, Ruenova took a long, deep sigh.

“I am sorry to intrude so early in the morning, but an unprecedented new event has occurred that will make our work increasingly difficult…” Kylie spoke, her tone grave and almost irritated. 

She turned on the large display in front of us, showcasing a news report from earlier this morning from 5’News, District Five’s best ‘unbiased’ media source. It displayed Five’s Magistrate Cain in front of numerous cameras and other media outlets in front of our main capitol.

“Earlier this morning, we were alerted by our allies in District Seven of the horrific assassination of their Magistrate Marhwanda. Their sources indicated the attack happened in the middle of the night in her royal quarters, killed by a single bullet to the head. The assassin is still at large. This is the first time in over a century a Magistrate has been assassinated. It is an attack on the Galactic Federation’s democracy, an attack on not just Seven’s ideals, but our own. District Five has vowed to assist Seven with any resources and guidance they might need, including hunting this assassin down. We will provide more information when we are given it. I ask you all to pray and-”

Ruenova paused the broadcast. Everyone in the meeting room stood with nervous energy, even Jacqueline who didn’t expect this. Everyone was surprised…but me. The assassin was me, from days ago. Seven was scrambling and no doubt hid this death for as long as they could to get their ducks in a row. 

“He didn’t mention anything that this happened on Colony Negative. It must have happened here, right?” A worried financial operative spoke.

“Why would he? This entire project, experiment…whatever we want to call this operation is secret. If the Galactic Federation and all its citizens knew the Districts were on some unknown, foreign planet killing each other for the sake of glory, at the cost of taxpayers…” I shrugged.

“Rok, do we know who this suspected assassin may be?” Ruenova asked me.

How ironic.

“District Three, most likely. Our counter intelligence had been monitoring their messages ever since we installed that virus in their system. A week ago, a message was made concerning Seven’s so-called alliance with us, followed by a threat that Seven will regret that decision,” I explained, not wanting to add that it wasn't Three. That was me, writing that message under Three’s communication leakage. They could deny it all they wanted, but their open source information would all revert back to their data, their location, and most of all, their servers. 

“Nobody would be that stupid to actually kill a Magistrate,” another voice rose up, “This could cause galactic war.”

“There are no rules here,” Jack chimed in, “There is no law or order in a place like this, and this assassin used that to their advantage. It means nobody is exactly safe . While it would be nice to only have to focus on anathemas as our main problem, it’s not, nor will it ever be the main problem.”

“Magistrate Cain has ordered us to find this assassin, or at least assist in the search. We find them, we can prevent a potential war, even if it means lying about what’s going on in Colony Negative,” Ruenova ordered, “However, that will still be a secondary objective to our priorities. The only good news about this, it has alleviated the desire for Doctor Deveraux’s capture. Jack, you should be free to return to your work in the field, obviously under the wisdom and guidance of Agent Rok.”

She glanced at me with softness, as if hating that her return to her work was at the cost of someone’s life. Someone important, for that matter.

“If this assassin can kill a Magistrate and not be even spotted by elite soldiers on this Colony, then maybe finding them should be our priority,” Jack pointed out. I could see that worry in her eyes. If someone could eliminate a fucking Magistrate, they could eliminate anyone, even someone like her. 

Unbeknownst to her, this assassin was on her side.

My fingers slowly intertwined with hers, feeling her grip tighten at the sensation. She was scared. If only I could tell her, tell her it was me, that I did this for her. She could now continue her work with all the attention removed from her, and she wouldn’t have to worry about this assassin targeting her if she found something she shouldn’t. 

“We will let Milithreat deal with that,” Ruenova agreed with her, “but let this be a lesson to always be on our guard. Keep your cards and information close. I’m making an executive rule to not share any information, scientific or intelligence, to any other District without my approval. Is that clear?”

“Yes ma’am,” I agreed, seeing everyone else nod as well. 

The room continued to murmur numerous suggestions throughout the morning. Jacqueline herself, as much as she disliked Alala, Seven’s new magistrate, wanted to offer condolences and also give any support they might need. Despite differences, Jack still sought to do the best for humanity. Her words earlier rang true, though. Nobody was safe here, and anathemas weren’t exactly the problem. 

If anything, to her they might be a solution.

My mind ran back to when she was nervous in that Sioc, awaiting when we’d get boots on the ground in this colony. I remembered me trying to relieve her worries and stress at the time. Even though we knew nothing of anathemas…oddly enough her words still rang true:

What will we run into out here?

Nothing more dangerous than ourselves.

Chapter Text

I’m losing all sense of control. 

A Magistrate is dead, from a District I could care less about politically. But I knew the minute CSO Ruenova disclosed the news, a single assassination like that could result in the death of thousands. 

If not millions.

There was a bitterness as I jostled around in the Sioc on the way to Camp Green, knowing that my freedom to return to my work came at the cost of someone else. District Three took their crosshair off me and transferred it to the highest authority in another District.

But why?

Why would District Three, already limited due to the wreckage Damien and I accidentally caused, assassinate a powerful figure to spark an all out war?

A motive hidden in Damien’s case work he had left out in his room gave me some sort of hint. It wasn’t like him to keep top secret, heavily classified, information, so ready for snooping eyes. He was a heavy sleeper, making it all the more easier. Or he just didn’t think I had the obnoxious itch to obtain such information. 

District Three had thousands upon thousands of refugee bodies at their disposal to use as contract soldiers, aka cannon fodder, to sell to other Districts should war break out.

Money. It was always about fucking money. Who was I to talk? I grew up rich, but that greed didn’t seem to attach itself to me either. I was selfish in other ways. War was profit. Profit for everyone except the soldiers.

A heaviness laid in my heart at that thought. If war was to be conducted on Colony Negative, my first thoughts weren’t on what the bombs would do to these tunnel structures or all the technology at our fingertips. It was on if Damien Rok would have to fight in this war as well? 

I hated him. No. I hated that I cared for him. 

He had his rough edges. He could be stern, aggressive, egotistical and immature. A lot of that immaturity stemmed from lack of his confidence in a new role for Milithreat. That waned greatly nowadays, as he seemed to coast into the leadership position despite the issues with Owen. 

He was a good listener, even if he could never have any clue about what I talked about. It was more than just letting me talk, since most men in the past just let their brains tune me out. He actively listened, and most of all, asked questions. What I liked most about him was his smile. He had this cocky, unoriginal smile. But sometimes, I could catch a glimpse of his real smile, a slightly boyish, contagious grin that didn’t stem from cockiness or tomfoolery.

It was just pure happiness.

When the Sioc slowed and the back doors opened, I wasn’t surprised to be greeted by Grimes. I was, however, surprised at the numerous scientific personnel seemingly retiring for the week.

“Doctor,” a few of them greeted with their packed supplies and equipment, brushing past me. A lot of them avoided my gaze, as if worried I would berate them for leaving, despite not knowing the reason. Yet given their slightly quick feet and trembling fingers, I knew it wasn’t without reason.

“Grimes,” I greeted him, seeing him extend his hand out to help with my things, “It’s quite alright. I can handle it.”

“Good morning, Doctor. Long time no see. Hopefully this little escort won’t be as swift as the last,” he gave me his charming smile.

“Yes, that did end with a horrible swipe at your boss…” I sighed, knowing that was now water under the bridge, according to Damien. I had spoken to my scientific team about the hostility, and Damien cleared it up with his team. While I would have liked to, and should have made a public apology, it seems as if the audience wasn’t granted to me.

Grimes laughed at my comment, “He did deserve that, though.”

“Yes, he did,” I waited, not wanting to go down the tunnel until the Sioc took off again back to main base. It didn’t take long, leaving Grimes, two other Milithreat soldiers, and myself to be standing there in the dust. “Care to explain what’s got my people so spooked?”

“Mhm, figured you’d pick up on that. Surprised they didn’t warn you themselves,” Grimes hummed, handling the rappel rope to attach to the automatic magnet on our belt lines. We traversed down quietly, Grimes and I sandwiched between the two soldiers.

“I think they knew whatever it was wouldn’t have stopped me from coming down here,” I pointed out.

He nodded at that, “Very true. Damien thought the same. If anything, he said it would only propel you to rush over here first thing this morning instead of following our very strict patrolling measures. We had a breach in our perimeter.”

“A breach?” I perked up, “How bad? How many dead or injured?”

“None.”

“So, what seems to be the problem?”

“Let me leave that to the boss to show you,” Grimes answered. 

Camp Green held this anxious energy inside it. A few looked like they were ignoring whatever news they learned this morning, yet they knew the second they closed their eyes, it would haunt them. Plenty looked around anxiously, as if worried there was a very anathema in this camp lurking in the dark corners. And then there were those holed up into their tents, hiding under the blankets. 

Damien Rok didn’t look phased, standing there smoking a cigar.

“Smoking kills, you know…” I pointed out upon my approach, lacing my voice with a bit of animosity. It was a tad rude of him to smoke in an unventilated area, but it didn’t seem like anyone had the guts to confront him about that. I didn’t want to admit he did look rather handsome smoking, even if it was just meant to destress himself. 

He should know we had other means of doing that…but probably not possible in Camp Green.

“Thanks for the reminder, Doctor,” he let out a puff, offering the burning log to me. 

I crossed my arms, knowing he was clearly joking given the mask that covered up such capabilities to smoke. And also the fact I told him that smoking was capable of turning his lungs black. Just as black as his figurative heart. 

“You didn’t let Grimes take your bags. He was in need of a workout this morning,” Damien retorted.

“She wouldn’t let me,” Grimes laughed.

Damien sighed at that, giving me a disapproving glare as he took another huff, “A true gentleman wouldn’t let a stubborn woman-”

“In that, you are correct, Rok. Hence why I was waiting for you to take my bags,” I dropped them at my feet, “These two go to my tent, and this to my lab. Go on, don’t keep me waiting.”

I could tell he was a bit astounded by my words, but I could see that little grin forming. As much as he always belittled my stubbornness, I knew he liked it. And as much as I liked bossing him around, he knew it was all rhetorical. I couldn’t boss him when it truly mattered in the bedroom. 

He handed Grimes the rest of his cigar, picking up my bags and taking them away without complaint. 

It didn’t take him long, soon returning before nudging me towards his tent this time, leaving Grimes to finish up that cigar for him. Whatever he wanted to show me was private, which was fine. Given the camp's reaction, they had seen whatever I was about to see.

“Perimeter sector 62: a good mile north of here. Sensors of unauthorized movement went off at around 0113 this morning,” Damien handed me his datapad.

“Wouldn’t our flashing floodlights do the trick?” I asked, seeing him remain silent. I figured the video footage would answer my question. The floodlights weren’t on constantly. Originally whenever they sensed movement, they would flash but that had to be changed since they kept blinding anyone returning to camp. And it consumed a lot of our energy resources. The electronic engineers developed a program for them to detect movement by only walking on two legs, so that it wouldn’t activate. 

Given an anathema didn’t walk on two legs, any time one got close, the lights would scare them away.

Except this one.

Footage showed the anathema slowly approaching on its four limbs, the movement lanky and almost uncontrolled. Yet it stopped a few feet from the lights before they could go off. There was hesitancy, its own claws tapping nervously into the ground before it slowly lurched up on its hind feet, standing on its own. The alien’s movement wobbled slightly, before gaining composure and walking on two feet.

It had learned to walk on two feet to avoid setting off lights.

“Fucking hell…” I whispered.

“Sensors still went off, alerting us. I went out to personally dispatch it. We were lucky my team was paying attention. If this thing got into camp…” Damien explained, “I did my work, now we need yours.” 

I sighed, already feeling that shiver fade from my spine. I could see why a lot of my team was eager to leave even if the threat was conquered.

“Humans themselves observe movements with repetition. Think about breaking the rules, like this anathema is doing. You’re much more confident if you can watch someone else break the rules first. Climbing over a wall, learning a new battle maneuver, or using a new scientific database for the first time. We learn the best with constant repetition.”

“What are you saying?”

“How often is this sector crossed?” I asked.

“Daily,” he answered, seeing my point, “You’re saying it watched us.”

“Yes,” I nodded, soon taking a deep breath, “But that’s not what frightens me. If these monsters, anathemas, whatever they are, are merely mutations of us, our cognitive abilities might transfer over as well. Critical thinking, observation techniques, the studying of patterns could come naturally to them all. What is frightening is that it observed the patrols without bothering to attack. It knew attacking would give the position away or even get itself killed.”

“What it didn’t account for was the sensors…but it wouldn’t have known that,” Damien crossed his arms, “If only we could ask these fuckers some questions. I want to know why we’re being stalked. I don’t mind fighting them but..I don’t like being watched.”

“I’m working on a thesis…” I trailed off.

“Are you now?” he teased. After all, the reason I was here was to build and answer a few of those, “Do tell, Doctor.”

“I think these things only attack when violence is thrust upon them,” I reasoned, “Think about our first encounter, Owen had a gun to my torso and I had a knife to his neck. Then with District Three, they threatened to kill you, and the anathema escaped. Then more appear when you have a skirmish with District Seven…”

“Okay, but about that day you got bit? The District One bodies were there for days, we didn’t fire a bullet or draw weapons until they were already coming,” he questioned. A valid question at that.

“That is a bit of an outlier…” I sadly replied, “I reviewed the footage from everyone’s point of view and weapons weren’t drawn until after the anathemas. It doesn’t align into the theory that violence had been enacted. But what if someone was thinking it?”

“You’re losing me here, Jack,” Damien rubbed his head, “What, you think these things are like…old horror movie vampires that smell fear?”

“Exactly!” I shouted slightly, glad at his observation, “Chemical signals are created typically at high levels of emotional response. Violence is categorized as an extremely high risk level. It’s not just thought or acted by just anyone at any random time. Humans are capable of emitting body odor upon intention of harm, a multistep process that ultimately leads to aggressive violence.”

He could see I was somewhat excited about this revelation. I think after he took a moment to even piece it all together, there was another part of him that realized I had shared all of this with him, and not my team. Damien and I had both experienced it first hand, where my team only got second hand reports or videos. I didn’t exactly know how my team would feel about that.

Given they were so eager to leave this forward operating base, I figured it was something I could share with the only person not afraid here. 

“Okay,” he nodded slowly, “So, someone was thinking about committing violence that day? How strong must this emotion be to be some smoke signal for the anathemas to come crawling?”

“I think that depends on how sensitive they are to it. But, you and I have gotten in a few spats before, maybe even shoving each other once or twice. None of those emotions attracted a swarm of anathemas. If my gut is telling me anything, it has to be strong, a potent malodor of unadulterated, manic violence.” 

“Impressive,” he complimented, “so you’re saying that if we see a hoard of anathemas to just not shoot them?”

I shook my head at that, “Too risky. Anyone on your team could be building up with anxious adrenaline to kill them, which could alter into the lines of aggression and violence even if just to protect oneself. Even if just one person in a crowd of a hundred feels that way, the swarm will come for them all. You still do what you have to in order to protect yourself, and us.”

“But if an all out war was meant to spiral chaotically onto Colony Negative with all Districts fighting to the death…” Damien trailed off.

Yes, that also frightened me. Instead of joining forces together to figure out these anathemas and what happened here, we would end up fighting amongst each other. In doing so, we’d step away from any chances of knowing what happened here. Maybe Damien was right, that this place should just be eviscerated with a nuclear explosion if it meant not going to war, if it meant not knowing any answers here. 

But, perhaps the talk of war was just political games or fear mongering. It wasn’t going to stop me. 

“Come on, let’s go out in the field,” I encouraged, seeing his slight hesitance. There was no hesitance in him suiting up to go out beyond the perimeter. I could tell after our conversation he was much more nervous about me going beyond that perimeter. 

Cute of him to be a little protective. Cute of him also to think he could ever fucking stop me.

-

It was just Grimes, Damien, David, and myself. Four was a good, solid number to traverse these halls with. Small enough to remain quiet and hopefully avoid any of those violent odors. David was the only one remaining who seemed remotely intrigued in working past the perimeter, against Damien’s dismay. The two still haven’t really seen eye to eye after the smashing of my datapad and my fist laying into Damien Rok’s cheek. 

There was a part of me, though, that wondered if David only went on this little adventure to impress me. He was highly anxious, despite nobody detecting any anathema movement or expecting trouble. The slightest of sounds unnerved him. I couldn’t necessarily blame him. If he didn’t trust the two Milithreat men guarding us, nor the anathemas who wouldn’t attack ‘unprovoked’ (all theory of course) then he had a right to be afraid. 

If anyone would display any odors to attract these creatures, it would be Damien. 

Grimes was rather a soft spoken soul. Even when giving orders around, he spoke with a gentle authority. I couldn’t even pinpoint a moment in these months knowing him that I had seen him even remotely angry.

David might have visions of grand heroic endeavors, but was limited in his thin physicality and lack of actual bravery. His motives seemed to be skewed, but it still gave me data so I didn’t care. The thought of him instilling violence were as delusional as whatever imaginations he had of impressing me. 

No. We’d have to leave the magnificent aroma of Damien’s testosterone filled sweat to the hands of the anathemas. He did give off a very attractive scent, blending of sweat and his cologne. Or that awful pine scented soap he had in his shower. 

We still wanted to navigate some uncharted territory, knowing the anathema presence could vary, but so far all was quiet. 

“This way looks like there’s a pretty sizable chamber up ahead,” Damien glanced at his datapad from behind me, picking up the pace to show me.

“Sure, nothing like a big open chamber of nothing to gather more data,” David sighed. I rolled my eyes at that, unnoticeable with my helmet, but I gave a thumbs up to Damien. Anything could be useful, even empty rooms. 

Of course, the chamber was blocked with a locked door and plenty of modules. I now took these little combinations as a bit of a game. Each time, I only became quicker at recognizing the sound patterns to unlock them. Three minutes, with help from my datapad at establishing the code, was all I needed.

Damien whistled, “Should just have you as the designated door opener. You are officially an expert.”

“She’s much more than that,” David barked back, surprising all of us.

“I was giving her a compliment,” Damien explained, glaring at David, “What’s got your panties in a twist? They’d scrunch up into your asshole?”

“Boys…let’s not,” I scowled, looking at Damien to keep his cool. I knew David was the instigator, but Damien and his little witty responses would not help this tension. 

The door opened, revealing a room with walls covered in coagulated, bronze colored ooze. The squelching from the door opening made us all take a step back as a few thick drops splattered into the ground.

“What the fuck?” Grimes poked his head in. 

The floor looked like it had once been covered with the ooze itself, but was wiped away with movement, smeared with less congealment. At least it made the ground safe to walk across in terms of not covering our boots with it. Safe in terms of how slippery this floor was…well, we’d have to avoid such clumsiness. 

“Looks like we’re all taking decontamination showers when we get back…” Damien sighed, the first brave soul to step in. He flashed his light around, attached to his rifle before grabbing a few glowsticks to light up the place. He holstered his rifle for now to do so, wanting the freedom of two hands and give his sore arms a break. The hue of his red sticks with the bronze ooze radiated lights like a glowing explosion. 

“So, we know it’s not blood since theirs is black,” David noted, being careful to watch his step, before finding a nice pile to observe, “but what is this shit?”

“Only one way to find out,” I muttered quietly, taking the moment to just observe. It wasn’t until I heard the clicking of Damien’s firearm, the sound of the laser priming all too familiar to me now, that I glanced his way. He didn’t draw the pistol from his thigh holster, but kept his hand steady there. 

When I stepped closer, I could see immediately why he acted so cautiously. Within the gel were clear, distinct dark figures of human bodies. Six were on display right in front of us, only one of them with his head exposed. When Damien flashed his light at him, he looked already decomposed.

“Hey…wait a minute,” Damien muttered, stepping closer, “This fucker looks familiar.”

“How familiar?”

“As in, he was a District Three guard under Doctor Wueh who had his gun drawn in my direction during our little…kidnapping,” Damien explained.

“Well, it’s possible that he survived that little happening-”

“No. I remember the anathema going for him first once it escaped. He wouldn’t have survived that,” Damien shook his head.

I sighed, ignoring another chill, “That’s miles away from here though.”

“I know,” he nodded, but despite that revelation, still seemed sure. Damien wasn’t a man who was wrong about these kinds of things. He remembered faces well, given his genetic makeup and overall training with photographic memory. It would be foolish to question his judgement on this matter. 

But how the fuck did a body get here?

I pulled my datapad out, grabbing my bag with my other arm to rustle through a few instruments. I didn’t want to let my bag touch the ground, not knowing what this shit was made of. But eventually I found the probe I was looking for, attaching it to my datapad to begin biological swabbing.

“Here comes Doctor Jacqueline Deveraux with her giant Q-Tip…” Damien muttered with amusement. I found it utterly insane how he could look at dead bodies and still joke around, but I had to admit he was really good at ebbing some uneasiness. 

“Quiet, or I’ll shove this thing up your ass,” I joked back, stepping closer. He moved too, his hand grabbing my arm to make sure when I leaned close to swab that none of my physical armor or digits would be touching the mess. 

My datapad began trying to decipher the data, scanning all numerous reports my scientific team had made. Negative results. 

Organic material composition: unknown. Yet, DNA was still showing in the initial information. I didn’t know if that was just because of the six bodies stuck in this portion or if this thing was somehow alive .

“Nothing, so far…” I grunted with annoyance.

“What if it’s that enzyme? Like a physical manifestation of it?” David asked as he approached, “The cells on a molecular level gave off a similar color.”

“You’re right that physically it looks rather similar, but that’s not organically possible. It can’t manifest in some physical form for the eye to see. They only exist on a molecular level like you suggested,” I hummed.

“Well, if it is that enzyme, we probably shouldn’t be messing around with the very thing that can transform us into anathemas,” Damien noted. Good point. 

Okay, well, what if I scanned beyond what information we had? It could take some time, but I could scan across various medical or biological databases to see if we get a hit. Maybe someone, somewhere, on some remote colony in another universe found some sort of similar bronze sticky goo. 

Ten minutes went by of relative silence, David going to one corner, Grimes drinking his protein shake somewhere else, and Damien staying by my side but kept his gaze on the bodies. He never kept his eyes off them, as if waiting for one of them to wake up from their eternal slumber.

It wasn’t until the results came in that my eyes glanced down.

One hit, one possible similarity somehow found in the genetic makeup of whatever this thing was.

Annihilation of Humans, or the Annihilation of Cancer? How Doctor Jacqueline Deveraux’s Discovery of an Extinct Colony Led to the Genetic…

“That’s not fucking possible…” I whispered, panic in my voice.

Panic. Anger. Frustration. Fear. 

An unknown ooze somehow held genetics to a cure that had been years in the making, on a Colony thousands of years old. It could just be the bodies. It had to be the bodies. After all, they probably had the scientifically crafted genome to annihilate cancer. I moved away from that batch to find another one not littered in bodies, separated from the rest. 

When probing that, the organic structure still remained the same.

“No, no no….” I whispered.

“Jack, what’s wrong?” Damien asked, concern laced in his tone as he approached me.

Everything was wrong. Maybe that was a bit melodramatic. But if everything about Colony Negative was true, that this was the place of our origin that led to the diaspora throughout the colonies of our people…then the cure had been here this entire time. If it had been here, surely it could have gone just about anywhere. 

I had spent years on that fucking Colony studying the ever perfect civilization ruined by jealous rage for resources, to find the answer was here all along. In an imperfect, violently blemished SHITHOLE that was our planet of fucking origin. Everything that came after Colony 599, all the hard work I had done and was ordered to not release…

SBH must have known. Surely someone there must have known there was a cure all this time. If it was on some colony like this, it had to have been elsewhere too. Maybe the others weren’t so diligent. Maybe they didn’t know what they had stumbled upon. No. I was making fucking excuses. 

You cannot publish this, Doctor Deveraux. This needs serious peer review and…

Oh, how I almost fell for that bullshit. Instead, I found two other doctors willing to review and accept publication. From there, the rest was history. Those two doctors took the credit for manipulating the gene, and I was the one for discovering it with a little title and small footnote. Yet, only one out of the three of us seemed to be punished for it.

In my anxious panic attack, I dropped my datapad to the floor.

“Hey! Hey hey hey…” Damien’s voice softened as he approached me, one hand grabbing the datapad as the other held the side of my helmet, almost as if caressing my cheek, “Jack, what’s going on?”

“She’s having a panic attack,” David noted, approaching as well with urgency.

“No shit,” Damien retorted, not helping my case.

David didn’t seem to like that response. Instead of helping me overcome this blind, headache pounding, sweat inducing fear in my system like Damien was, he was quick to try and grab that datapad to get a look. The action immediately snapped me out of it, my fingers clutching it away from him.

“It’s nothing. It’s nothing ,” I insisted, trying to calm my breathing, “Sorry, I just…”

“It’s okay, take deep breaths,” Damien assured, his hand still resting on my shoulder. He didn’t even seem to care about whatever was on that datapad, unlike David. My reaction piqued his interest. 

He reached for it again, although my own impulses weren’t as quick as Damien’s. He was very quick to step between us, turning around to tower over David.

“What are you doing? She told you it was nothing. She’s having a panic attack for fuck’s sake!” Damien scowled.

“And whatever is on that datapad gave her a fucking panic attack. Jack, what did you find?” David insisted. 

“What the hell is going on…?” Grimes asked, walking over confused.

Tensions were rising. Fear in myself. Confusion with Grimes. Burning curiosity with David. And protectiveness from the man I adored.

“H-help….he-l-l-p m-me…” a voice croaked over the period of silence. We all froze in our steps, necks craning towards the direction of the voice. 

The body of the man Damien was so sure was a District Three soldier killed in the mishap was alive, eyes blinking, lips twitching, and throat throbbing. Damien slowly moved back over to me, shielding me slightly as his hand drifted back to his pistol. David was the only one curious enough to take a step forward.

“Remarkable…this enzyme is keeping him alive,” David whispered.

HELP ME .

The voice sounded like it wanted to be a shout, but given his frail state and limited energy, the words only came out like a soft whispered plea. If he had possessed the strength, the words would have been a complete crying scream. 

“Please, help me,” the man begged again.

“How can we help you?” I asked, finally brave enough to take a few steps forward. I was unsure if I would have been able to do it without Damien at my side. 

“Mercy, please…”

“Did the anathemas, I mean, the aliens do this to you?” Damien asked, his own voice taut with a bit of fear. Damien wasn’t afraid of much. Fear of being alone and unknown just about did it for him. 

“Big one…the Collector,” he answered.

Big one? 

David moved closer with a small lab mortar grinder to begin scraping enzyme for study. Yet as the very miniscule and sharp blade glided across the ooze, the man began to scream in pain.

“Stop. David stop, you’re hurting him!” I ordered, seeing him pull away slightly. 

“What does it matter? He’s already dead, if your braindead Agent is correct…” David muttered under his breath.

“Damien, please, give him what he wants,” I turned my attention to him. I couldn’t watch this man suffer any longer, begging for something he wouldn’t get without us intervening. Even if Damien was right, that this man should be dead or even turned into an anathema. He wasn’t. His head wasn’t severed which meant whatever this ooze was doing to him could still be controlling him. 

Damien drew his pistol at my command, David tensing up.

“What if he’s keeping this organic material alive? What if he is the host? Killing him would diminish any studying this can tell us. We might be able to find a cure-”

“This man is suffering and using his dying breaths to ask for mercy, David. Our work goes beyond that. If our experiments result in the harm of others, that’s unethical. We can’t afford to work that way. We have to be better than that. We are better than that!” I shouted.

“Or…you want whatever you found from that datapad gone forever…” David slowly noted, turning his attention back to me. His eyes glanced at my datapad which was now turned off. Any chance of him getting access to it would have to be over my dead body. 

“I wouldn’t hide anything from you, from any of you,” I lied, “David, step aside and let Damien do his job.”

Damien leveled his pistol, but hands suddenly moved to clutch his arms out of desperation. David wanted the truth at any cost, and he didn’t give a shit about any District Three undead man’s pain. To get the truth, it sometimes meant going beyond morales, betraying integrity to get the gritty, unfiltered bucket of knowledge. 

Stupid of him to think going toe to toe with Damien and grabbing the man’s gun would get him that truth.

“David, David stop!” Damien shouted as the two struggled. Damien was clearly the stronger one, but didn’t want to overpower him too much in fear of hurting him. 

“David, listen to him!” I demanded, yet David was blind by this hunger. Whatever truth he thought he would find, it wouldn’t satiate him. No. It would disgust him, just as it had disgusted me.

Grimes moved to step in before David weakly kicked at him. In doing so, his finger slipped into the loop of the trigger. It squeezed against Damien’s finger already residing there, enough tension to pull. The laser went off, blasting a thin, hot line of boiling energy through David’s skull, killing him instantly. 

My stomach dropped at the sight, Damien’s ragged voice full of panic. Grimes was the only cognisant one to try and attend to David’s wounds, as if there was any possibility of saving him. The laser had killed him quicker than his own stupidity.

“I didn’t…I didn’t mean to…” Damien whispered, clearly still shellshocked. While I knew he could kill without blinking an eye, or losing a wink of sleep…that was when he chose to kill. This? This was an accident. And I knew the last day he had probably had a misfire incident was that day with his brother. 

“ He’s the one that gave no choice, Rok ,” Ruenova’s voice spoke over comms, clearly frustrated, “ fucking goddamn idiot .” 

This place was a fucking nightmare sometimes. There were small glimpses of hope, of some sort of ethereal revelation this place could offer. Yet that always seemed overwhelmed by some form of death. 

David’s limp body seeped into the ooze at the floor, Grimes stepping away carefully.

“We can’t bring him back. He’ll be covered in that mess,” I looked at the two men, “That’s a biohazard waiting to happen.”

As much as I wanted to bring his body back, it would do no good. It wouldn’t give anyone comfort. If anything, I knew Damien being the one to fire the gun would only add to my team’s hatred for him. 

A voice that had once been begs of mercy were now soft chuckles of laughter. The District Three corpse laughed with defeated wheezes of pain.

“The Collector adds to its collection…” the man cackled.

“This Collector, who is he?” Damien asked, removing himself from his own trauma to get some truth himself.

“You d-don’t know? Surely you’ve felt it. The vibrations, the movements…the giant in these tunnels….”

My mind went back to after the incident with District Three itself, Damien waking me up with his hand collapsed around my mouth. The sound of something dragging across the halls with force and friction was enough to pause any thoughts of returning to base at the time. We had never come face to face with it then.

And now, I don’t think I wanted to. 

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

Damien shot two bullets through the cranium of the undead man, one at the middle of the brain and the other angled from his nose, right where the brain connected with the spine. He did the same soon after with David’s dead body, his corpse flinching still at the shots. 

I didn’t know if what Damien did would make a difference. I didn’t know if those shots would attract any anathemas and I don’t think any of us were waiting to find out. David had been right about one thing, though. When I accessed my datapad once more with the swab of ooze, the organic material was no longer there. It was just dead…dead nothing. Dead enzyme. Dead cells with no specific genetic makeup.

All that data had, and may be forever lost. If…if I hadn’t taken and saved it beforehand. 

Nobody needed to know that, though.

-

All three of us were dead silent upon our return to Camp Green, our comms just as quiet. I think all of us didn't know what to say to one another. There could be no words of comfort. Damien’s shot had been a complete accident. David, well, he had just been so fucking stupid. I don’t know why he reacted that way, why he thought trying to reach for a primed laser pistol could change anything.

Nothing could change here. That, I felt was certain. This place would always be a fucking deathtrap.

Our day worsened upon entering Camp Green with an unwanted presence. Excise Team had arrived, Owen’s obnoxiously bleached blonde hair standing out amongst the group.

“Excise Team got stuck in a storm, sir. Figured they could stay here for the night,” one of the soldiers approached Damien.

“That’s fine,” Damien nodded, although I could tell he was not happy either. 

Most faces and expressions were undecipherable. I could tell a few felt pity, knowing the situation we had placed ourselves in didn’t really have a solution. Perhaps some thought Damien should have handled it better. Perhaps some even thought if I had shared what I found, which was nothing, could have changed the situation.

I had found nothing. Nothing.

“Wheew,” Owen laughed, “They should name a graveyard after you, Deveraux, with all the corpses you leave behind every time you’re out there.”

Nobody laughed. 

Damien lurched forward slightly but I immediately gripped his hand.

“Ignore him,” I sent to his comms alone, “He’s clearly trying to aggravate you.”

I wouldn’t admit his comment also pissed me off. But maybe that was because he was right. Everywhere I went, collateral damage followed me as if I was my very own hurricane. I, myself, was the eye of the storm and everyone else around me got hurt. Everyone. Even…even her.

And I was going to be damned if I let it happen to Damien. 

The next hours I spent in silence after all the decontamination. A few words of encouragement were sent to me from my team, and even Ruenova who also gave the wise words of wisdom to ignore Owen’s instigating words. There was nothing they could do even provide an ounce of comfort.

Stupid of me to think I could escape, leave my past and try to tackle this new challenge without facing what I left behind. What had been taken from me, all because I did what I thought was right. And now I did the same here, I was making decisions I thought were best, not just best for me but for everyone . 

Yet everywhere I went, someone tried to stop me. 

My eyes were heavy as the night came, yet I was too lazy and depressed to get out and dampen the small light in my tent. It wasn’t until I heard footsteps approach and open very softly the electric lock of my tent did I tense. Yet, the smell of annoyingly strong cologne to cover the musk of his regret let me know it was Damien.

I also had grown familiar with his footsteps, always as if walking with a military cadence stuck in his head. But his gait wasn’t heavy or overwhelming. He walked rather lightly for a man his size. 

Damien turned off the light quietly before moving over to me. I could feel his fingers thread through my hair gently, the soothing motion giving me flashbacks to that District Three kidnapping, when I awoke slightly to the same motion. It had been him. I knew that. But his touch was even more gentle now than it was then. 

He did a few more strokes before stopping, perhaps assuming I was asleep. But I felt the soft warmth of his lips soon pressed to my cheek, right across the scars.

“Goodnight, Jacqueline,” he whispered ever so quietly, “Don’t let anything stop you. Sweet dreams…”

One final kiss, and he was gone just like that, perhaps worried someone would catch him leaving my tent. I wished I could tell him. I wished I could disclose everything that happened, why I reacted the way I did. He never once showed any indication of wanting to know what I found, what I tried to hide. 

Telling him anything wouldn’t make much of a difference other than getting a weight lifted off my chest. And that was all theoretical. There was no guarantee that guilt would just be taken away from a mere confession.

Would he think I had been lying to him? That I deceived him? I hoped not. I knew our missions weren’t exactly aligned. I knew eventually the crossroads would come and we’d crash into each other in some magnificent accident we couldn’t forsee happening.

We could see it coming miles and miles away. Yet I still wanted it.

I won’t, Damien. I won’t let them stop me. Not even you.

Chapter Text

Communications sent between 2103 and 0532

I don’t want her to get hurt…

She is lying to you, Doctor. Do you need the money or not? 

It’s too risky. Rok won’t let her out of his sight.

If you stop reporting her movement, we will send this chat to Rok’s team.

Okay, okay. We’re working on tackling a stretch of corridors in our South East sector.

Our men won’t touch that territory. Report to us when her movement changes. Otherwise those three million credits will never enter your account…

Doctor David Johnson was not the mole. At least, not the specific one I had been trying to find since the leakage of information for Sabbath to get their greedy hands on. But going through his secure communications earlier this morning confirmed he was attempting to disclose Jacqueline’s objectives. 

David had gotten himself into a rut with his decisions. They had found out about his closeness with Jack, and his financial strain with gambling debts. Oddly enough, those were the two reasons why he came to Colony Negative: to work alongside Doctor Deveraux, and to use the extra hazard pay as means to pay off his debt. District Three found out about both and used that to their advantage. 

Instead of disclosing the contact with us, which could have given us an advantage had my intel team know about it, he decided to handle it alone. And look where that got him. 

I didn’t feel so bad about accidentally killing him just twelve hours ago.

He was a cockroach, for sure. But he wasn’t the specific one I needed to terminate, for both our sakes. The Sabbath report of anathemas came days before David’s arrival to Colony Negative, which meant it couldn’t have been him. He wasn’t briefed on much until his boots were on the ground. 

Still, David was vague in his responses. He knew he had dug himself into a hole. He could have easily given them coordinates more specific than just general location but he didn’t. Which meant he still believed in Jack. Or, he was worried about his comeuppance. Either way, Jack was safe, he was dead…to me that’s all that mattered. I suppose this was something I could overlook most of the details on. 

Yet they mentioned Jack was lying to him. About what? And why were District Three afraid of that sector? The Collector. 

Today’s objective was to find this monster, and eventually kill the fucker. 

I finished my morning run above ground with Grimes, both of us descending down drenched in sweat. What I wouldn’t give for a nice warm shower…especially with even warmer company. How I’d love to gently thrust into her from behind, caress her skin and kiss up and down her neck. And if her noises got too loud, that’s what the extra hand was for. 

Not possible here, not with too many eyes. I knew my desire for her was distracting. I knew the more I lingered around her, the more I lost myself. Or was I learning more about myself? Was I drifting away from the man I thought I was, or becoming the man I should be? I suppose it could be both. 

All I knew was that Jacqueline inspired me to be better. Rare for a woman to do that. Even rarer for a man like me to become vulnerable to the idea of it. 

We settled at the little cafeteria set up with a plate loaded with eggs and toast, positioning myself to keep an eye on camp. I was taking a few large bites of toast before noticing Owen sitting outside his makeshift tent, pretending to clean his rifle but he was merely having his eyes on a tent. One tent in particular: Jack’s. 

“Are you going to tell Jack about David?” Grimes asked out of curiosity.

“Yeah, eventually. Still want her to grieve over the idiot…but I will tell her. If she asks, I won’t hide it. I learned my lesson from last time,” I nodded. I owed it to her to try and tell the truth. It was all I could do. 

“I guess District Three is still a subtle threat. It wouldn’t hurt to continue that partnership with District Seven,” Grimes noted.

I remained silent at that. Alala was still trying to remain in contact with us, me specifically. I let my team answer her questions or concerns, not having the heart or bravery to talk to her myself. She clearly wanted to find the killer, whom she too believed was from District Three. Because she felt our interests were so aligned, she wanted to make this alliance permanent and firm. 

Foolish of her to think it hadn’t been me. 

“We can handle District Three. They have other things to worry about, especially their reputation,” I shut down the thought quickly. “We don’t need any partnership with Alala.”

“Was she that bad of a fuck?”

“What?!” I glanced at him with surprised eyes, “I didn’t fuck her.”

“Good,” Grimes smiled slightly as if impressed, “She looked like trouble.”

“She is trouble. Bad trouble…” I muttered, going back to my coffee. I didn’t like thinking about her, about the way she made my stomach churn and turn inside out. In truth, I was slightly afraid of her. She knew my vulnerabilities, even if she had been wrong in thinking I would eagerly succumb to her. She didn’t take any account of various outliers or extrapolar influences. That influence being a woman I didn’t think (at the time) felt the same way I thought of her.

I had been wrong about that too.

“Ever since you two talked when dropping her off, you’ve acted differently. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah yeah, it’s fine. I’m fine,” I assured him.

He definitely seemed skeptical, “Garcia told me you were on the verge of a panic attack. You haven’t had those lately…not in two years, actually. Was it Sabbath?”

Grimes knew by now that was always the key stressor, the main ingredient in the recipe of my post traumatic stress. I couldn’t hide that from him, especially with all the panic attacks he had helped me with after my de-transitioning. 

“She’s with them. Accused Jack of being part of it as well…” I trailed off, keeping my voice low.

“Jack? Jacqueline? That woman wouldn’t hurt a fly. Okay, that’s a lie, she’d punch you in the face all day if she could,” Grimes teased slightly, “Scientists like that aren’t so capable of-”

“Her parents were,” I politely interrupted, “her mother designed physical weapons with chemistry and physics for them. Her father…well, he enhanced the greatest artificial weapon at their disposal.” 

“You’re shitting me,” Grimes blinked with surprise, “So…is Alala right about that?”

I fervently shook my head at that, “No. No, she’s not. Jack hates her parents more than anything. She’d avoid Sabbath simply out of spite for them alone. Most of all, she would never join them with the vision she wants for the future. Jacqueline is a good woman, a great woman actually. If more people were like her, she’d be right that this galaxy would be a better place.”

Grimes paused for a moment, finishing a section of his plate of food.

“What do you think she found on that tablet of hers yesterday?” He finally asked.

“Nothing, just like she said,” I shrugged. 

There was a part of me that was dying to know too. But I trusted Jack. I trusted her more than most people here. Grimes was probably the only one who seemed on that same level of trust, maybe Ruenova too. I knew that trust was only increasing; it wouldn't take long for Jack’s level to rise above the rest. 

“Come on, you don’t really believe that…” 

“It doesn’t matter what I believe, if she’s telling the truth or not. I trust her. We keep secrets for a reason. Maybe she doesn’t want to jump the gun with whatever she found. Maybe she wants to do her due diligence first. I trust her , Grimes. With my life,” I affirmed, “A lot of her theories have been saving lives. Without her, we wouldn’t know shit about these anathemas, so therefore she doesn’t owe us shit either.”

At that, Jack’s tent opened. I was expecting her to be wearing lab equipment or just casual attire to begin her morning. But she was already equipped with her slight armor. Our eyes met, Jack giving a subtle nod before moving across towards Garcia’s medical tent. She probably wanted to check in after her little panic attack. Upon doing so, she walked in front of Owen.

His eyes had followed her the entire time, but his stupid mouth didn’t seem to open. A protective shell encased my heart at the sight, wishing nothing more than to rip the man’s eyeballs out. 

“Holy shit!” Grimes laughed, breaking my concentration as I reached for my coffee, “You two are fucking…”

At that, the hot stream of liquified caffeine went down the wrong pipe. I immediately coughed out of surprise at his words, at the audacity of such an accusation. Me? Fucking Jacqueline Deveraux?! 

Fuck yeah I was. But that was between me and her, and nobody else. 

I continued to cough violently until I could force a few words out, “Don’t be ridiculous. You just made me waste half my coffee with such a disgusting thought.”

I pretended to lose appetite with my food too, but I would need all the energy I’d need this morning to go on a monster hunt. 

“Oh come on…she’s not that bad looking. Everyone’s eyes here lit up when they saw her in riding gear. Even you,” Grimes rolled his eyes.

“You were the one that ranked her on the bottom of your list…” I pointed out, trying to change the conversation.

“Well yeah, I ranked all the women down there because I have zero interest in their sex. Regardless of sexuality, anyone with two eyes can see Jacqueline is a very decent, intelligent, elegant woman. Once she’s out of lab equipment, of course.”

I, personally, actually liked it when she wore a lab coat. That turtleneck sweater, nice freshly ironed pants of hers…a lab coat and boots. Yeah. Never thought that could turn me on, but it wasn’t just the attire and rather just the woman herself.

“She’s just alright…” I relieved my coughing, finally able to drink coffee once more without feeling that tickle in my throat. Jacqueline was more than alright. She was wonderful. She inspired, she questioned, she challenged…the only flaw I could see her having is the hate she held for herself. I knew she hated her own disfigurement, hated the way her body looked or hated her own stubbornness. If only she could see how great she was through my eyes.

I turned my gaze up and saw Grimes still observing me, his teasing manner completely withered away as he could see the truth, my truth written across the blueness in my eyes. I wasn’t just fucking Jacqueline Deveraux. I was…well, you know what I mean. He knew what I felt too, more than just moments of oxytocin or satisfying orgasms. It was the fluttering of my heart, my hesitation to damage it further with acts of violence, and most of all just the way the mere sight of her seemed to lighten all the heaviness burdened deep inside me. 

“Damien, be careful with her, will you?” he quietly demanded of me.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. She’s not fragile,” I poked at my eggs.

“You are though…” he added. He wasn’t worried about Jack, that I’d do something stupid to put this into jeopardy. He was worried about her hurting me. He wasn’t wrong to think that. Jack was impulsive, sometimes insecure, but those were things she improved on. Just as I improved on my immaturity, on my brashness and eagerness to cause violence…that was crazy of me to work on flaws I didn’t think were flaws at the time. 

The same was probably true for her. 

Jack finally exited the medical tent, contemplating on her next move.

“If she’s geared up like that, she’s not going to be hiding in her lab today,” Grimes mused slightly.

“Nope,” I agreed. Sure enough, Jack made her way over, making herself a cup of coffee first. She glanced over gently, as if subtly asking if she could join our little table. I slowly made room for her on the same bench, Jack taking the invitation but still kept her distance. 

“Morning,” she kept her voice flat, “When are we leaving to go out?”

“Well, you probably shouldn’t be going out with us-” Grimes trailed off before seeing the two of us glare at him.

It probably wasn’t wise to tell Jack what she could or couldn’t do. I learned that the hard way. Besides, she was making strides in and outside her lab. There was only so much her instruments and tools could tell her within that lab. She needed more than that. She needed the physicality of it all, and that’s why she needed to be out here. Not just needed, but deserved. She had been patient in letting things die down. 

“We’re planning on finding this Collector,” I let her know, “Find it, stalk it, and kill it.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she raised her eyebrow.

“It’s not,” I laughed softly, “but this giant monster is a nuisance. Not just to us but to the other Districts as well. Taking this thing as a war trophy will certainly prove ourselves. And give you some answers, hopefully.” 

Jack sighed at that, as if disapproving but who was she to stop us?

“Can I join or is it too dangerous?” she asked politely, almost as if pleading with her eyes. 

How could I say no when she looked at me like that?

It was nice of her to ask though, rather than barge her way in. She was playing it as safe as she could. To be honest, I did think about saying no. But I also knew Owen might be lingering around today in the Camp. I didn’t really want the two of them alone, without backup. With David gone, there weren't many here who would try to protect her. 

I, however, would always protect her. Always. 

-

The walk back to the same room last night was quiet, despite the extra bodies. I had ordered Regina to come with, in case her drones were needed in this newer sector, along with six other agents. Regina seemed more than happy to oblige. She believed now these anathemas were, oddly enough, trying to help. I didn’t think that was true given they still wanted to bite into our necks at any violent chance they got. 

Jack lingered in the back with me, before soon dwindling in her steps to walk alongside me.

“Are you doing okay?” I asked in our favorite private chat. 

“Not really,” she admitted, her truth surprising me. She wasn’t always this vulnerable with me, especially if she wanted to come out and join this little monster hunt escapade. Some would assume a clear conscious and mind would be needed for what we wanted to do. I wished I could comfort her with more than just words. But any little touch could be seen by the agent at the back of the formation and it wasn’t worth the risk.

“I’m sorry about David. I should have-”

“If you’re going to blame someone, blame me for having that panic attack,” she retorted gently.

“Absolutely not, Jacqueline. I won’t blame you for something that was out of your control,” I shook my head.

“Then don’t blame yourself either…”

I didn’t, not exactly. I still felt minorly sorry for him, but he was indeed better off dead. And lucky enough, it was only him that got hurt in that entire nonsensical debacle. I just wish maybe I could have hurt him to prevent his death. I would have liked to ask him some questions, given what I knew now. 

“There’s something not right with this place…” she muttered under her breath, but her comms still picked it up. 

“Yeah, I knew that from the start,” I agreed.

“No. There’s something seriously fucked up. There’s…” she paused for a moment, her voice wavering, “there’s something dangerously purposeful about this place. Something designed. It’s one thing to stumble upon a mystery. That’s what I like about my work, solving these bits and pieces of a grand design. I’m always going to find organic roadblocks, complications in finishing only the foundations of the grand design. This is different. They’re not organic, they’re man made.”

My head spun at her little rambling, trying to figure out the gist of her words, “What are you saying Jack?”

“We’re getting close. Too close for everyone’s taste. Think about it, we made it to that library. With all that literature, we are that much closer to unlocking the language. If we can unlock the language, maybe we can start talking to these anathemas=”

“Hold your horses, Jack,” I laughed, “You’re starting to sound like Regina a bit.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. You said yourself yesterday you wish you could talk to these fuckers. Maybe we can make it possible.”

“And then what?”

“Unlock the truth. Again, we’re growing closer. The other Districts know it. We’re not only dominating geographically or militarily. We don’t just have the most land control, holding strategic positions or avenues of exploration. We now have data. A shit load of data, and we are only getting more,” Jack insisted, “And now a Magistrate is dead with talks of war looming. It’s too great of a coincidence.”

“Jack, don’t think too highly of yourself. Marhwanda’s death has nothing to do with that, to do with you,” I shook my head.

Jack was not the reason. She couldn’t be. I wouldn’t let that be possible. She held power on a scientific level, not political. Everyone just wanted that data first. It was fine if people were jealous of the glory she would get, that she would finally get the recognition she deserved. People could try killing her for such pettiness, they had already tried before.

But she was wrong to think someone was deliberately trying to prevent her from getting answers. 

Well, not entirely…since the main reason I had pulled the trigger that day was because Marhwanda had threatened Jack. 

Jack had remained silent and I felt bad, “I didn’t mean it like that, Jack. You’re really important. Important to this mission, to District Five…to me. You’re an excellent scientist the entire scientific community and SBH can be envious of. I just think maybe you’re overcomplicating this, slightly.”

She laughed softly at that, maybe taking it as a compliment, “How so, Rok?”

“Your data and theories are great. They really are. But what do you think that data is really going to tell us when it’s translated? I think at the end of the day, we are going to get the same answer to the question you want solved, the same answer that could be easily observed. Humans are just awful. Really awful. We’re selfish, insane individuals who let greed and fear control us. There’s no improving that.”

That was a bit of a pessimistic outlook, but it was true. Humans are just fucking shitty organisms. We have so much brainpower and potential, yet we’d rather just blow our fucking brains out with lasers, fight wars over meaningless resources and materials, kill each other for someone else’s profit. 

“I’ve seen such improvement with my very own eyes…” Jacqueline whispered.

“Oh yeah? On Colony 599?” I asked, keeping my eyes forward. She remained silent after that, but kept close. I felt a bit horrible for maybe shooting her idea down. But again, I was doing it to protect her. To protect…us, really. The less important she remained, the easier my job would be. But then she might not get the answers she wanted.

I didn’t know how to succeed here. I didn’t know how to help her succeed here either. If she felt that all of this was to try and stop the truth from being revealed, from her or someone else…they’d all target her. Whomever was hiding this secret would stop at nothing. A scientist wouldn’t stop them. Maybe a murderous, psychopathic soldier could. 

Jacqueline opened the door back into the room of David’s demise. Yet as the doors raised downward, the place we had last seen David’s corpse was left with only a silhouette. The orange mess of goop his corpse had rested on was only just dragged slime on cold black floors. Jack was quick to brisk towards it, despite my want to investigate this slowly.

His body was gone. It wasn’t anywhere on the vertical walls with the other silent bodies. The body of the District Three bastard I killed remained there, his skin tone even paler than yesterday. That indicated to me he was dead-dead, gone forever without some enzyme to keep him alive. He should have been dead the first time, but I didn’t want to hurt the minimal brain cells I had in questioning why he wasn’t.

But now David’s physical body was gone, which was a bit of a problem now that I thought about it. 

“He didn’t get up on his own, which means he’s most likely not an anathema,” Jack pointed out, noticing that his body had been dragged, not contorted from the biological change.

“Well, what’s worse: changing or not?” I asked her, seeing her shrug.

“Worse for him or worse for us?” She answered with a question of her own.

And that was a question even I didn’t want to answer. Because I didn’t fucking know. 

“Grimes, Miles, and Luke, I need you three to begin connecting surveillance cameras to the power lines. We will have to make sure they route back to our own power supply. Regina, start getting these drones online. Let’s try mapping more of the tunnels east of us that we didn’t get to last time. Jack, you do…whatever it is you do,” I smiled behind my helmet, “the rest and I will begin planting sonic sensors in this room amongst all this mess. Try to not let it touch you. Surveillance cameras should be hidden, I don’t care about the sensors. Just avoid this goop as much as possible.”

The plan was, since I didn’t think we’d be stumbling across this Collector today, was to begin tracking its movement. The thing was big and shook these tunnels as it traversed, meaning we could try and pick up on the movements returning to and from this little nest of it. The cameras could pick up a good look of the monster, just so we knew what we were getting into. 

I didn’t like the idea of meeting it head on without prior knowledge.

Time passed in a blur. Whether it had been half an hour or a full one, we were able to get all the surveillance cameras established. Sensors were placed on all corners of the room before being placed closest to the doors. The technology was cheap, so even if another District made their way here, highly unlikely due to it being our territory, it wouldn’t matter too much if they stole them. The best thing we could do was establish a pattern.

The one singular thought that kept creeping its way into my mind was what happened to David’s body. I had shot his corpse perfectly to disconnect the spine, which according to Jack’s theory would prevent any transformation. We didn’t burn the body of course…maybe we should have.

“Darling?” I called out to Jack over comms.

“Did you seriously just call me that?” she asked, her tone undecipherable before she chuckled softly, “Did you mean Doctor?”

“Yeah, yeah I did,” I lied, wanting to smack myself in the head, “Sorry. Do you think this shit is contagious?”

“That’s a great question. Can’t know more until we run more tests and take a deeper look at the molecular bonds. The main thing I found yesterday did show small amounts of carbon-hydrogen combinations which means it’s possibly flammable. We’d need to take samples if we want to do that,” she suggested, “and if we want samples, I’ll have to contain this as carefully as I can.”

She grabbed her supply pack before handing it to me. I already knew by now that was her asking if I could hold it while she went digging through her equipment. I held her pack nice and wide as she perused. Funny. The simple motion just gave me the most basic thought of what it would be like shopping with her. Having to sift through her purse or bag for whatever she wanted, enough credits to buy whatever she wanted. I’d buy whatever she wanted, even if she wasn’t the most materialistic woman…such mundane things I suppose most couples would take for granted.

We weren’t a couple, of course. But was it wrong to think we could be?

Finally, she pulled out a small biohazard container, tools and gloves. She let the latex spread over her armored gloves as best as she could before finding a nice layer of this sludge to observe. With a small scalpel, she just wanted to extract a bit and secure it in this fancy tube.

“Container should match the temperature in this room, to maintain consistency,” Jack mumbled to herself.

“Yeah, it is warmer here than the rest of the hallways,” I added. Fluctuating temperatures could probably alter the organic material, or that’s what I was assuming. I didn’t really know shit about this. 

As she proceeded to cut gently, a very low groan was heard. At least, only between us. Jack had stopped and looked at me. The rest of the room was filled with idle military chatter, none of them stopping to notice the sound either. She looked like she was just about to ask about it, just as I was. Yet we remained silent, both of us thinking it was probably just our imagination.

Yet as she cut another chunk out again and contained the specimen, that groan was heard again. This time louder and with echoing fervor. A large amount of the sticky slime fell on top of my helmet, oozing and soon falling down my spine and backside.

“What the fuck?” I patted at it, trying to wipe it away.

“Damien, stop touching it-”

Another large amount fell between us. I could feel the ooze on my back seep into my armor, infuriating me as I couldn’t really reach it. Most of it had fallen to my heels, thankfully. But if it came from above…

Now thinking in hindsight, being in this room twice, none of us had never really looked up . It was certainly a failure on my part, given half of this room was just a giant mess. We certainly looked up now. I let the light attached to my pistol shine up, showcasing a monstrosity like it was a damn spotlight. 

The Collector was just as coined by that District Three nobody, a collector. Collector of bodies and various anathemas. Its bodice was large like an oversized, enormous caterpillar. It was bulbous, various holes and spores being the source of this orange organic mess, oozing out in spurts. The coagulated skin was just made up of other bodies. Limbs were attached near the hind and chest area, which was just legs and arms attached of various deceased. The thing didn't care if a leg went where an arm should be, or vice versa.

I was starting to think it didn’t care about anything.

One thing was for certain, whether it was dormant atop the darkness of the ceiling or merely watching us…it was wide awake now.

Several eyes fluttered from the many heads within it. Whatever this enzyme or fucking disgusting thing was made of, it certainly postponed decomposition. It was as if a pile of bodies had melted together, welded together by this sticky liquid. 

“What…the…fuck…” Jack whispered aloud for everyone to hear. The room had gone completely silent at the sight. My own hand trembled slightly when holding the light, shining it at all the various body parts and finally the parts of what I assumed to be was the Collector’s head. 

“What do we do?!” Grimes asked, trying to get some orders yelled out. 

Fucking hell, I didn’t know what to do! Except let our fight or flight response kick in. The limbs dug deeply into the ceiling grime that the Collector held itself too were slowly pulling away, the monster beginning to move. And it wasn’t going to move across the ceiling. It would let gravity do its thing, just as it had allowed whatever excretion it let off.

I immediately clutched Jack’s bag with one hand before moving my body forward into her. We collided instantly, the momentum sending us crashing away as the Collector slammed down where we were just standing prior. I could hear Jack’s helmet slam into the floor at the collision, making me wince. I didn’t want to hurt her, but it was better than getting crushed by that thing. 

“Sorry,” I apologized quickly before getting off her, pulling her up to her feet.