she’s   been   nursing   a   beer,   propping   up   her   chin   with   her   elbow   on   the   bar.   keeping   to   herself,   until   she   hears   a   familiar   voice   beside   her.   when   she   looks   to   mirage—   or   elliott,   she   supposes,   outside   of   king’s   canyon—   there’s   something   of   a   warm   smile   that   curls   at   her   lips.   it’s   easy   to   blame   the   alcohol   for   that.

          “   flattering   for   you   to   think   so,   but   no.   “   deidre   hums,   fingers   curling   ‘round   the   neck   of   her   beer.   “   and   you?   come   alone?   “

�� wheres drifter on this list punk

           “   SPEAK   FOR   YOURSELF.   “   the   jackal   broods,   its   metal   ‘eyes’   cold,   hollow,   as   they  turn   to   their   agitated   companion.   an   air   strike   falls   around   them,   sputtering   armament   and  shrapnel   against   the   rooftops.   in   her   hand   she   holds   a   grenade,   prepared   to   fight   fire   with—well,   significantly   less   fire,   when   the   artillery   ceases.   the   drifter   doesn’t   do   quiet.   always   better  to   shoot   first   and   think   later,   in   her   opinion.   “   if   you   do   not   trust   me,   please,   feel   free  to  walk   out   that   door.   “

Unlike some of the others among the drop ship, Crypto was familiar with picking his fights. He knew his limits, and he knew when to push them. He knew which legends he was strong against, and which he might fold easily under due to difference in strength or something unobtainable. 

Drifter was someone he preferred to avoid, if he could help it.

But it would show nothing more than cowardice to turn down to her offer to train together, especially after he had only just arrived, not a drop of sweat on him. The pros were that it was only training and that he was sure to learn a thing or two from her. Information was endless and could be obtained at any time — it was best not to turn down an opportunity that would provide it.

The cons? Her knee pressed into the small of his back, and her calloused hands twisting his arm behind his back at an odd angle.

“Try again.”

She released him as quickly as she had grabbed him, leaving Crypto to push himself up on slightly shaky arms. He already knew that her words held little more than a simple statement, but that hardly stopped the frustration from bubbling up. 

He sucks in a breath.

“How?”

Crypto watches her cock her head in curiosity, allowing him to continue.

“You keep beating me when I least expect it. Tell me how.” 

Hunkered down in one of the Geyser’s never-ending buildings, there’s not much to do other than wait. Wait for the ring to close in around them, wait for the other teams to pick each other off, wait. 

It was the smartest move, and Crypto was patient.

His drone hovered above their building, emitting a soft hum as it steadily searched for incoming opponents. All in all, they had a good set-up. With the drone above them, Wattson’s fences blocking all entrances, and Drifter balancing a sniper against the window’s sill, they should be prepared for anything.

Of course, things were never so easy.

A few minutes after they were settled, Drifter began coughing, the force of it shaking her frame. When she pulled her hand away from her mouth, it was splattered in blood. She wiped it against the sleeve of her jacket without another thought.

The gaze Crypto had fixed her with, and the fact that he was inching towards her, had not gone unnoticed. 

“Let me be.”

His gaze didn’t stray.

“You’ll be all right, then?”

He was met with silence as Drifter adjusted her scope, seemingly unbothered by the tension that Wattson was currently attempting to dissipate. 

“You should be careful. We can’t leave them any openings.”