#fatespirals

No3 was too easily distracted by his remark, the arm of a machine nearly crashing into them both. He averted the hit, of course, as he should if he was playing his role as a defender correctly, his movements swift, able to avoid most of the damage. 

“You should learn to take friendly criticism!” he chimed, and came to a stand next to him again, drawing his sword. Too hot headed, the guy. 

“You’re ought to fight behind me, not beside me, No3.” he remarked, a tiny smile tugging at one corners of his lips. “I appreciate that you’re brave, but there is a fine line between being brave and stepping out of the pre-planned battle formation. What is it? Do you think that if you’re letting yourself be killed you can just be revived by H9?”

No2 looks at him, and frowns. “How can you say that you were useless? If it was not for your work, this unit might have been dead for good.” he says softly, and watches him work over the physical wounds on him. He did not blame H9 for the damage he took. And it seemed strange that H9 would blame himself.

He is too kind. He too... He will have to end him, too, doesn’t he? 

No2 briefly looks away, but then the other’s arm around him forces him to look at the healer’s face. A young face, like all of theirs, but his is more boyish. He wants to reach up, touch the side of his cheek, but does not. 

“Fight...” he repeats in disbelief. “No. You’re meant to stay back. You’re too weak on the battlefield. A direct assault might take you out, and then, what are we left with...” What were they left with, anyway? Why did he want to cheer him up if he was going to.............................