#sithspawn au

Rhys was passed out in the bed of their apartment.  Technically, it wasn’t their apartment.  It belonged to someone who was out of town until two weeks from now, and upon finding this out by digging through the registries of the building, Arrika had figured it would be a good place to stay while they were on Corellia.  She had figured correctly - a semi-full fridge and plenty of food in the kitchen, plus a great extranet connection and a decent amount of space.

Faking entry cards was so easy these days.

They had been here for a few days already, continuing on their whirlwind tour of the galaxy so Rhys could avoid going back to Mandalore.  Arrika had been back twice now, and when she was back, she couldn’t wait until her duties to the clan could be put aside so she could pursue her own wants.

In this case, her main want was lying down about 6 feet away, fast asleep under the covers.  It was about 0320, if her chrono was correct, so it made sense that he was asleep, and no sense that she was not.

Then again, not much of this made sense.

She was sitting in a chair by the window.  The sun had set some time ago, and the lights of the city had sparked into being.  Thick curtains could block it from the bedroom, but she had slid one half open and was gazing out into the city.  Thick rain was falling against the window, dull taps against the class, casting strange distortions and oddly shadowed patterns of multicolored against Arrika’s white face.  A perfect canvas.

They were high up above the streets and air travel lanes to avoid the noise, and so all seemed quiet, save Rhys’ heavy, slow breathing and the splatter of rain against the glass.  Arrika herself was breathing slow as well, passing the time until sleep came to her once more by watching the night go by.

She looked over to Rhys.  Shirtless, under the sheet, on his side, dark hair fluffed out from his moving around.  He blended with the sheets on the bed, creating a slightly differently colored dark blur among the consistent dark blur of the sheets, but Arrika didn’t need to see him to know what was there.

Strong hands, ones with fingers as good as hers.  A dark expression, often clouded by thoughts of home, often caused him to furrow his brows.  When he smiled, it was a beautiful thing on a face that so often avoided doing so, a moment when the sun would break through the perpetual cloud cover.  His eyes would often find hers, inquisitive, accusatory on occasion, but softening the more time they spent together.

The quiet moments that she got to just sit back and think about this, about him, about how crazy all of this was, were the moments that she was divided the most.  He was running, and he knew it.  She was encouraging this, and she knew it.  She was deep into this, too deep.  She’d kissed him when she found him, and it had just gotten worse from there.  The terrible ache she felt in her chest when she thought he might be gone forever, the dull hurt when she was on Mandalore and he was not, the blending of all the days apart until she saw him...she was gone by now.

A song came unbidden to her lips, a soft melody, one of the better know Alderaanian songs.

Wise men say, she sang quietly, her wavering voice drowned out by the rain against the window, only fools rush in.

But I can’t help, she continued, thinking of the thrill of her hands wrapped in his larger ones, of his fingers on her bare skin, of his anger and his rage and his quiet and his concern, falling in love with you.

Her sister had burned him so much, and he had burned her, and the wound had festered for so long before he’d opened it up again to heal properly.  He would go back someday, she knew this.  He would speak with his former lover, he would speak with his mother, he would speak with everyone else he had left.  And what would happen then, she didn’t know.

Shall I stay, would it be a sin, and yet it was too late for her already, because she knew that she had to hold it in.  This relationship, whatever it was, that had formed between them was something she could never control, because if she tried, if she showed him how she felt, what she really wanted, he would run away from her as well.

But I can’t help falling in love with you.

Or maybe he would understand.  Maybe he would get it, he would know, maybe he would feel as she did, that she wanted more than anything to say that she loved him and not have him pull away from her.  Maybe he, too, was in too deep.  Maybe he wanted this as well.  Maybe he…

Maybe.

Like a river flows surely toward the sea, she knew it wouldn’t last forever.  She knew that this was temporary, that it had always only been temporary, that they were just two people with a relationship of convenience, and it tore open her heart to think of them as only that.  What she felt ran deeper, much deeper, than a simple fling.

He didn’t know how much she truly cared, and he probably never would.

Darling so it goes some things weren’t meant to be.

Rhys stirred, prompting a protesting squeak from the bed, and Arrika watched him adjust himself before turning back to look out the window.  She tried not to think about the oncoming end, but in these quiet moments, it was difficult to keep her thoughts away from the inevitable future.

Take my hand, take my whole life too.  She got up, closing the curtain to prevent the sun from leaking in in a few hours, and she climbed back into bed.  She slid under his arm and curled up around a pillow, resting on her side and cradled within his curved body.  She loved it here, as she loved him, and she snuggled back against his warm chest.  His arm instinctively tightened, drawing her close to him, and she felt his warm breath on the top of her head.

The last words of the song were whispered as a few tears slid down her face, temporarily staining the pillowcase.  She wished she could say them to him without being so afraid of what would happen next, but at the end of the day, she was a coward.

A coward who knew that the end was coming, and it would ruin her.

Stepping up and around the corner with her shotgun out and aimed, Ember was an obvious target.  Harkin nearly jumped out of his skin as he started backing away, grabbing hold of a datapad as he ran by it.  “You were close, Shepard, but not close en-”

  He was cut off as he opened the other door, only to find Rhia there, standing right in the way.  She smashed the butt of her rifle in his face, sending him staggering back and clutching his nose in pain.  Rhia casually holstered her rifle before following up, grabbing Harkin by the throat and slamming him against a wall.

  “Hello, Fade,” she growled.  “Guess you couldn’t make yourself disappear.”  That Harkin was Fade, and not just protecting him, had become clear thanks to MARIS digging up some files as Ember and Rhia had fought their way to him.

  “Rhia,” Harkin said, coughing slightly, trying to smile.  Ember could tell he was about to piss his pants.  “C’mon, man, we can work something out.  Whaddaya need?”

  Rhia let him go, taking a few steps back and turning around.  Ember couldn’t exactly tell what she was thinking, but it was either a trick to get Harkin to ease up, or Rhia was preparing to smack him again.  “I’m looking for someone,” she said casually.

  “Well, I guess we both have something the other one wants,” Harkin said, rubbing his throat, and seemingly doing his best to ease up the entire situation.  Shepard was, by this point, standing casually off to the side, shotgun long since holstered in favor of a heavy pistol that she wasn’t bothering to aim.  He couldn’t run.  Not anymore.

  With a sudden motion, Rhia whirled around, slamming her knee into Harkin’s stomach.  The man doubled over and dropped to the floor, groaning in pain.  “Not a good thing to start with,” Ember noted.  “Seems like it’d be easier to quit being a smartass and tell us what we want to know.”

  “Maybe,” Harkin coughed.  “You haven’t told me shit yet.”

  At that, Ember looked at Rhia.  “He has a point.”

  Rhia just shrugged.  Beating up on him was clearly something she was enjoying.  Her entire attitude had been more than a little off-putting to Ember - Rhia wasn’t always the nicest person, but this was more vindictive than she’d ever seen her friend be.  Beating up Harkin had been part of the plan from the start, but this could go very bad, very fast if Rhia went too far.

  “I’m looking for someone,” Rhia said.  “Someone you helped hide.”

  “I might need...a little more information...than that,” Harkin gasped as he slowly stood up, leaning on the wall for support.  Just two hits and he was already this bad?  His nose wasn’t even bleeding, which was a small miracle in Ember’s eyes.

  “Name’s Sevrath,” Rhia continued.  “Turian.  Came from th-”

  “I know who he is,” Harkin said with a dismissive wave.  “And I’m not telling you shit.”

  Ember sighed and shook her head, folding her arms. Rhia didn’t say anything - she just glared at the man.  “Harkin, this doesn’t have to be hard.”

  “Screw you,” Harkin spat at Ember, “I don’t give out client information.  It’s bad for business.”

  Rhia slammed a fist into the side of his face, sending Harkin back down to the ground with a yelp.  She placed a foot on his exposed neck, pressing down a bit to get her point across.  “You know what else is bad for business?”  She pressed in harder, and Harkin made a small, worried noise, struggling against the foot.  “A broken neck,” she hissed.

  “All right!  All right, get off me!” Harkin squealed.  Rhia showed no signs of relenting so soon.  Stepping up, Ember put a hand on her shoulder and made a gentle pull.  Rhia’s head whipped around to glare at Ember, but Ember glared right back and gave a little nudge.  There was a second, but Rhia backed off, stepping off of Harkin and letting the man stand up.  “Terminus really changed you, huh, Rhia?”

  “Shut up,” she growled.  “Now set up a meeting.  It’s high time we talked.”

  She motioned to a nearby terminal, the one Harkin likely always used for contacting his clients.  Harken gave her an incredulous look.  Rhia started to reach around for her rifle again.  Harkin put up two hands, backing up slightly.  “Okay, okay, I’m going.  Calm your...whatever you have instead of tits.”

  Rhia said nothing, but Ember heard a small hissing sound, air being pushed through her teeth and mandibles.  That usually happened right before she shot something she was annoyed at.  Harkin seemed to get the point and hobbled quickly over to the terminal.  “Hey, Sevrath.  It’s me.  There’s a chance your identity may be compromised.”

  A short pause.  Rhia casually pulled her pistol from her hip, expanding it to ready mode and giving it an inspecting glance.  Ember slightly arched an eyebrow.

  “That’s why I’m calling,” Harkin continued.  “I’m sending an agent.  Where do you want to meet?”

  “What, are you gonna kill him?” whispered Ember jokingly.

  “Can you give me a compelling reason not to?” Rhia whispered back, not joking.

  “All right, he’ll be there.  Don’t worry, I got it covered.”  Harkin limped back over to the two, shaking his head and staring at his feet.  With a sigh, he looked up at Rhia.  “All done.  He’ll meet you in front of the Orbital Lounge, middle of the day.”

  Again, a pause.  “So…” Harkin filled the void.  “If our business is done,” he said as he took a step back and started to turn, “I’ll be going.”

  Rhia reached out and grabbed Harkin by the shirt, yanking him back and grossly violating his personal space.  “Oh, I don’t think so, Harkin.  You’re a criminal now.”

  “So what are you gonna do,” Harkin spat out as he glared up at Rhia.  “Shoot me?  That’s not your style, Rhia.”

  Ember looked up at Rhia, who seemed to be strongly considering it.  Finally, she dropped him, and he fell to his knees.  “No.  It isn’t my style.  But I don’t mind slowing you down a little,” she said with a grin as she took aim with her pistol.

  Moving fast, Ember pushed Rhia’s pistol to the side, and the shot pinged into the floor a few inches away from Harkin’s foot.  The man shouted and fell back onto his ass, glaring wide-eyed at the two.  “Woah, he’s in bad enough shape as it is, Rhee!”  Rhia yanked her arm out of Ember’s grip, turning her firey eyes on Ember.  “C-Sec’s on their way, and he can’t run from them like this anyway.  Let him go.”

  There was another moment, one that Ember was half sure would end in Rhia shooting him anyway, but she folded up her pistol and stuck it back to her side.  “Guess it’s your lucky day, Harkin,” she hissed.

  “Yeah,” he said from the floor sardonically, “I hope we can do this again sometime.”

  Ember had already turned and started walking out when Rhia delivered one final, savage kick to Harkin’s chest, sending him flat on his back.  She then turned and walked out, leaving Harkin groaning in pain.  “I didn’t shoot him,” she said by way of explanation.

  “I’ll take what I can get,” Ember said with a shrug.  “Let’s go.”

  “If he’s not there,” Rhia called back to Harkin, “I’m coming back for you.  Let’s see how well you can really disappear.”

  -----

  Rhia parked the aircab not too far from the rendezvous.  The trip from the warehouse had been silent, Ember a little uncomfortable with the tension in the air, but she couldn’t do much to stem it.

  “Harkin’s a fucking menace,” Rhia finally blurted out after turning off the engine.  “We shouldn’t have just let him go.  He deserved to be shot.”

  “I’m not totally denying that, Rhee, but I’m getting worried about you.”  Ember turned to face her companion, unbuckling her seat belt.  “This just isn’t like you.”

  “What do you want from me, Ember?” Rhia finally rounded on Ember, her shouts filling the small car.  Ember didn’t even flinch, but she did look away, trying not to see the flames that burned behind Rhia’s eyes.  Ember had gone on this hoping that maybe she could change Rhia’s mind about this, but she’d gotten nowhere, and she was pretty sure the only reason she hadn’t gotten shot back there was because they’d gone through so much already.

  “What would you do if someone betrayed you?” Rhia asked, leaning back in her chair, frustrated with all of this.  “Would you do this?”

  Ember shook her head.  “I don’t know, Rhia, but I wouldn’t let it change me.”

  “Yeah,” Rhia said with a non-humorous chuckle, “I woulda said the same thing before it happened to me.”

  “You don’t have to go through with this,” Ember pleaded.  “We can walk away.  It isn’t too late.”

  “The hell it isn’t, Ember.”  Rhia’s hands were trembling on the steering wheel.  “Someone has to make him pay for his crimes.  No one else knows what he did.  No one else ever will.  No one except for me.  There are no other options.”  Her words rang with conviction, the conviction that Ember damn well knew she had in spades.  That same conviction is what made her such a good teammate, and it was that same conviction that attracted Ember to Rhia in the first place.

  “Then let me talk to him first,” Ember asked desperately, searching for an in.

  Rhia scoffed, shaking her head.  “Ah yes, Commander Shepard and her way with words.  Talk all you want, Ember.  It won’t change anything.  I don’t know what his reasons were, and I don’t care.  He screwed us.”  Her grip steadied and tightened on the wheel, and she was staring straight ahead now.  “He deserves what he’s getting.”

  “I get it, Rhia, I do, but do you really want...this?” Ember gestured to the rifle on Rhia’s back.

  “I’m not you, Shepard.  I don’t do things your way.”

  “Yeah, well, this isn’t you, either,” Shepard pointed out, as if Rhia wasn’t aware of that fact.

  “You sure about that?  I’ve always hated injustice, and the thought that Sevrath could get away with this makes me want to crush his skull.”  Rhia glanced over at Ember, then shook her head.  “Ten people, good people, lie in unmarked graves because of him, and he’s still living.  No, Shepard.”  Rhia stepped out of the aircab, looking around.  “I’m sorry, but words aren’t going to solve this problem.

  “Now, I need to set up.  I’ll be up there, I’ve got a clear shot.”  Rhia pointed to a corner not too far from them, looking out over the street below.  And just like that, back to business.  Planning.  Tactics.  The Rhia that Ember knew, except now they were talking about a revenge killing instead of a mission.

  “What do you need me to do?” Ember scooted over, taking Rhia’s place in the aircab.

  “Keep him talking and stay out of my line of fire.  I’ll line up a shot.  Signal me when you’re ready.”  Ember nodded, then gave Rhia one last look of concern.  “It’s never too late,” she said before closing the door.  Rhia ignored her and walked off, moving to her improvised nest as Ember took off with the cab, parking it a level below.

  Walking into the plaza, the streets were filled with the glow of many multicolored neon (maybe) lights.  Many people were browsing or walking the avenue, window shopping in the many outlets or talking about where to go next on the Citadel.  For everyone else, it was not an unusual or momentous night - just another day on the enourmous station.

  “Check,” said Ember as she strolled into the area.  “Rhia, can you hear me?”

  “I copy,” Rhia said.  “I see him on one of the benches.  Get him to you and keep him there.”

  Giving a small glance behind her, Ember could see Rhia more-or-less right behind her, up on the second level.  Sevrath was sitting on a bench, staring at the ground, glancing up every now and then.  He caught sight of Ember, who motioned him to come over to him.  He was short for a Turian, only an inch or two taller than Ember was.

  “Let’s get this over with,” Sevrath said when he approached.

  “You’re in my sight.  Step to the side,” came Rhia’s voice over the radio.

  Ember considered it.  It would be a small thing, move a few inches over.  A shot, that’s it.  They can both go home.  Mission accomplished.

  But this wasn’t a mission.  And this wasn’t Rhia.  This wasn’t right.  Ember had killed before, but they were always trying to kill her too.  She had never taken a life in revenge, never been wronged in such a way that she hunted down the offender and took everything they had.  She was a soldier, not an assassin, and Rhia was getting dangerously close to that line.

  Is that how she was going to react from now on?  What had happened to Rhia, to her team, was a terrible thing - but if Rhia did this, if she pulled this trigger now and killed Sevrath, would she try to solve her problems like this again?

  It was a chance Ember didn’t want to take, and she always believed that no matter what Rhia said, words could solve most problems - including this one.  So, she stayed put.  “Sevrath?  I’m here to help you.”

  Sevrath glared at Ember, then looked around hurriedly.  “Don’t ever say that name aloud.”

  “Don’t worry,” Ember said with a slight shake of her head.  “I’m a friend of Rhia’s.  She wants you dead.  I’m hoping that isn’t necessary.”

  “Rhia?” Sevrath looked at Ember, incredulous.  “What, is this some kind of joke?”

  A growl came over the radio.  “Move, Shepard!  Or, if he moves, I’m taking it anyway!”

  Ember glanced back at Rhia’s sniper spot.  Realization dawned on Sevrath.  “Oh, you’re not kidding, are you?  Screw this, I’m not sticking around to find out.”  He started to take a step back.  “Tell Rhia I had my own problems.”

  Panicking slightly, Ember stepped up, grabbing onto Sevrath’s arm.  “Don’t move!”

  “Get off of me!” he yelled, yanking his arm from Ember’s grip.

  “I’m the only thing standing between you and a bullet to the brain,” she hissed at Sevrath.  That got his attention.  He froze, looking around nervously before sighing and hanging his head.  

  “Fuck.  Look, I...I didn’t want to do it.”  He looked away from Ember, unwilling to make any kind of eye contact.  “I didn’t have a choice.”

  Rhia’s indignant laugh came over the comm.  “Everyone has a choice,” she hissed.

  “So do you,” Ember muttered back, low.

  “They got to me.”  Sevrath was still going on, seemingly not caring if Ember was even listening.  “Said they would kill me if I didn’t help.  What was I supposed to do?”  He was shifting his weight constantly, technically talking to Ember, but Ember was sure he was justifying it to himself as much as he was to her.  He was desperate, ragged, lost in his head.

  “Fuck him, Shepard, move!  He’s a damned coward!”

  Ember didn’t.  “That’s it?” She said.  “You just did it to save yourself?”  The longer she kept him talking, the longer he was alive, the more time Rhia had to think this over.  And possibly shoot Ember in the back of the head.  That was unlikely, though.

  Or so Ember hoped.

  Sevrath moved over a bit, leaning on a nearby railing surrounding a hole in the floor.  Ember moved with him, sure to keep herself between Rhia’s sights and Sevrath’s head.  “I know what I did,” Sevrath said, his voice hollow and far away.  “I have to live with that.  I know they died because of me.”  He lowered his head to his chest, staring down through the hole to the level below.

  “I wake up every night sick and...and sweating.”  His head fringe raised up slightly, a response to fear or alarm.  “Each of their faces, staring at me, accusing me.”  He shook his head, giving a hollow, lifeless laugh.  “I’m already a dead man.  I don’t sleep.  Food has no taste.  Some days, I just...I want it to be over.”

  “Just give me this chance,” Rhia said over the comm, her voice wavering just a little bit, some of that edge gone from it.

  Ember jumped on it.  “You’ve gotta let it go, Rhia.  He’s already paying for it, you didn’t have to do a damn thing.”

  “It’s not enough,” she growled, some of that anger coming back.  “He still has his life.”

  Ember scoffed, looking right at Rhia, who she knew could see her through the scope.  “For God’s sake, Rhee, look at him.  You call him alive?  There’s nothing left to kill.”

  Rhia said nothing.  “If she’s there...Rhia, I mean,” Sevrath began, “tell her...tell her I guess that nothing I can say to make this right  And I know that.”  Her words rang empty, but not due to lack of conviction in what he thought, Ember could tell.  He’d simply lost the will to be strong about it.  When he stopped running and hiding long enough to let it catch up with him, it overwhelmed him.

  “Just…” Rhia started, then cut off.  A sigh followed, and a mumbled continuation after that.  “Fuck.  Just tell him to go, before I change my mind.”

  Relief washed over Ember, a sense of fullness filling the pit that’d been in her stomach ever since they’d landed on the Citadel.  “She’s giving you a second chance, Sevrath,” she said quietly.  “Don’t waste it, okay?”

  Shocked, Sevrath straightened up, looking at Ember like he’d won the galactic lottery.  “I’ll...I’ll try, Rhia.  I promise that I’ll make this up to you somehow.”  He took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly.  “And thanks for talking to her.”

  Ember smiled and nodded.  “Good luck, Sevrath.”  Turning on her heel, she walked back to the aircab.  When she glanced up at Rhia’s hiding spot, Rhia was gone.

  The aircab landed back where she’d dropped Rhia off, and Ember opened the door, stepping out to find Rhia waiting for her.  She was looking off into space, lost in thought, but she turned when she heard Ember approaching.  Ember was smiling softly.  Rhia...well, Ember couldn’t tell what she was doing.

  “I could kill you,” Rhia said, but there was little force behind the words.  “I did very briefly consider it.”

  “I know it didn’t go how you planned,” Ember said, “but I think it’s for the best.”  Even if Rhia didn’t want to talk about this now, Ember was at least going to prompt her until she directly told Ember to shut up.

  Rhia started to pace slightly, walking away from Ember.  “I’m not so sure, Ember.”

  “Give it time,” she said, hoping to soothe the event.

  “Maybe that’ll be enough,” Rhia wondered.  “I just want to know that I did the right thing.  Not just for me, for my crew.  They deserve vengeance.”  She sighed and shook her head quickly, as if to clear it.  “They deserve a lot.  But when he was there, in my sights, I just...couldn’t do it.  He looked at me once, accidently, right at me.  I saw into his eyes, and there was nothing behind them.  No spark, no life.  Just...empty.”

  “What’s good and what’s evil gets a little blurred when we’re looking at people we know, Rhee.”  A little too philosophical for herself, Ember had to admit, but it sounded appropriate.

  Rhia paused for a moment, thinking.  “It’s so much easier to see the world in black and white, Ember.  I don’t know so much about gray, or what to do with it.”

  Ember smiled and put a hand on Rhia’s shoulder.  “You go with your instincts.”

  The turian chuckled and looked down at Ember.  “My instincts got us into this mess.”

  “And now they got you out of them,” Ember said.  “You’re too hard on yourself.”

“Only cause I have to be.  And thanks, Ember.  For everything.”  Finally turning back to face Ember, who smiled in reply, Ember saw those yellow eyes she’d fallen for back to normal.

“Thanks, Tari.  How’s the crew today?”  Ember stepped up to her terminal, tapping a few keys to bring up the message.  It was from the Illusive Man, which made her arch an eyebrow.

  Tarissa turne to face Ember, standing up a little bit straighter.  “Functioning fully, Commander, but I think Rhia wanted to see you down in the guns.  Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  Thinking, the Commander shook her head, then pushed off from the console.  Rhia wanted something.  The Illusive Man could wait.  After the whole debacle on the Collector ship yesterday, she figured she deserved some off time while the Cerberus team was investigating the dead Reaper a few systems over.  “No, that’s all for now, Tari.  Thanks for the update.”

  “Of course, Commander,” said Tari as she went back to her work.  Ember had started with a few doubts about the necessity of a psychologist, but Tarissa was a hell of a yeoman, too.  After all the paperwork and filing that she’d done in the Alliance Military, not having to bother with 90% of that was a blessing she could not fully appreciate.

  Glancing up towards the front of the ship, she changed her not-yet-fully-formed plans and decided to pay Fletcher a visit.  Maybe he and MARIS had stopped fighting over the desktop background.

  He swiveled around in his chair as she approached, grinning wide, which meant that he had some kind of smartass comment ready to deliver.  “Hey, Commander, the next time we decide to walk into a trap, I’d appreciate a warning first.  I’m thinking about starting to charge a fee every time I have to save your ass.”

  Ember smirked, folding her arms and leaning against the side of the entryway.  “Could always just bill the Illusive Man extra hazard pay, Fletcher,” she replied.  “I assume everything’s going well up here?”

  “It’d be better if you could bring me some more hand towels,” Fletcher said, as though a pilot asking his captain for towels was a perfectly ordinary thing to do.  “I’m running out.”

  Arching an eyebrow, Ember uttered a sigh.  “I know I’m going to regret asking this, but what do you need so many hand towels for?  I brought you two more last night.”

  “Mr. Achean is attempting to block all aural sources of my voice,” MARIS said, her voice distinctly muffled in several spots around the cabin.  Glancing about, Ember saw more than a few speakers that were covered with taped-on hand towels.  “Though his determination is impressive, I would appreciate it more if his efforts were spent on flying the ship.”

  Fletcher uttered a victorious “a ha!” and lunged, slapping a towel onto yet another speaker, this one out of the way and hidden from Shepard’s sight.  “She’s just jealous because I can do both at once,” Fletcher said, sounding as though this simple explanation was enough to excuse the bizarre motion he’d just made.

  “I have attempted to explain that his actions are fruitless, but his persistence is astounding.”  MARIS’ voice came from somewhere else within the cabin, and Fletcher’s head was turning fast, trying to locate the source of the noise.

  Ember just shook her head and pushed off, turning to leave.  “Just don’t break anything,” she said as her goodbye.

  “I won’t if I get enough towels!” came Fletcher from behind her.  She was already halfway down the hall, and she headed to the elevator soon after, heading down to the guns.  Rhia was waiting for her.

  ----

  “In the middle of some calibrations?”

  Rhia turned to find Shepard jogging into the forward battery, dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants.  “Ha ha,” Rhia replied, tone utterly flat.  She didn’t even bother to turn around.  “You laugh now, but when it comes time for these guns to fire, you’ll be thanking me.”

  “I’ll make a note of it,” Ember said.  “You wanted to see me?”

  At that, Rhia straightened.  She turned around and faced Ember, and Ember immediately dropped any pretense of this being a casual visit.  Those eyes were just a tiny bit wild.  “You okay, Rhia?” Ember asked, genuinely concerned for the Turian.  She hadn’t ever seen Rhia like this, and the pit of her stomach was telling her something was off.

  “No,” came the curt reply, “but I will be.  I’d like your help with something, Shepard.”  She nodded towards the hallway, striding past Ember and out of the batteries.  Curious, Ember followed, leaning on the railing across from where Rhia had stopped.  While Rhia was hardly a happy-go-lucky individual, she almost always had a wry comment or a curious insight to deliver.  The last time Ember had seen Rhia so off was when she was telling Ember about her mercenary squad back on Omega - and how they’d all been betrayed and killed, save the betrayer, a man named Sevrath.

  “What is it?”

  “Sevrath.  You remember, right?  The one who got my team killed?  I found a lead on him.”  Rhia was tight, wound up, her speech quick.  She was excited.  “There’s a man named Fade on the Citadel, he helps people vanish.  Word is that Sevrath was seen talking to him.”

  Ember nodded, seeing where this was going, but she wanted to know anyway.  She folded her arms, looking up at Rhia, concerned.  “What do you plan to do with him when you find him?”

  At that, Rhia’s mandibles flexed outward a bit, which Ember had by now learned was the Turian equivalent of a wide smile.  “Well, you humans have a saying.  ‘An eye for an eye.’  Sevrath took ten lives from me, ten good lives of good men.  I intend to pay him back in full.

  Ember frowned, taking in a breath and slowly exhaling it.  Rhia really had changed in the two years that Ember had been dead.  The Rhia she knew had been a good cop, worked for C-Sec, even applied to become a SPECTRE.  The Rhia she knew had done her best to work within the law, bring justice to criminals, fix things from the inside.  The Rhia she knew had been a vertiable paragon of righteousness.

  But the Rhia she knew had died along with her comrades, and now, here they were.

  Ember didn’t like it, but her own trail of blood carved across the galaxy was not exactly revenge free.  The tale of the sisters came to mind, where one had duped her into killing the other, and Ember had not-so-subtly killed the one who had duped her.  SPECTRE status had perks, and being above most of the law was one of them.  Ember rarely killed for personal reasons, but there, she had made an exception.

  And, much later, realized that she’d done something wrong.

  “You sure that’s how you want to play it?”  To anyone else, the question was loaded with subtext and doubt, but Ember had none of either in there.  Rhia had done her right so many times.  Rhia had flown through hell and back with her twice now.  Rhia had saved Ember’s life as much as Ember had saved hers, and there was no one that Ember trusted more in the galaxy - especially not their benefactor.

  “I’m sure.  I don’t expect you to agree with me, and I don’t need you to - but I’d like your help,” Rhia stated, the indication clear that she’d be going with or without Ember.

  Ember considered telling Rhia no, considered saying that revenge would do nothing to soothe the wound left by Sevrath’s betrayal.  She considered saying that such an undergoing would only lead to ruin or worse, but she didn’t.  This was Rhia’s choice, and it was Ember’s job to help her friend.  “All right.  How do we find Fade?”

  “Already done. He’s got contacts in Zakera Ward, and if we find one, we can find Fade..”  A short pause, then with a nod, “And thanks, Shepard.  I appreciate you taking the time to help.”

  Ember gave a small grin.  “For you, Rhia, anything.  I’ll let you know when we get in close.”

  Rhia turned and headed back into the batteries.  Ember watched her go, wondering if she’d made the right call in supporting Rhia in this.  The legal repercussions didn’t worry her, but the effect it had on Rhia sure did.  Seeing Rhia in any sort of pain set Ember off faster than anything.

  Rhia had been there at the start, when no one had believed Ember about Saren.  Ember was sure Rhia would be there at the end.

  And, maybe, Ember would tell her what she really felt.

  -----

  Zakera Ward was home to Captain Bailey of C-Sec, and MARIS had tipped Shepard and Rhia off to Fade’s name appearing in several C-Sec reports.  Given that they had no leads other than that to start with, they walked out of the entry checkpoint and right up to Bailey’s desk.

  “Shepard, good to see you alive” Bailey said with a nod to Ember as they approached.  “What can I do for you?”

  “I’m looking for a local forger.  Goes by the alias of Fade.  Know anything?”

  “Yeah, I know him,” Bailey said, his feelings about Fade crystal clear.  His eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward onto his elbows, voice dropping a bit.  “He’s been a thorn in the Network division’s side for the last year.  He works with the Blue Suns.”

  “Where can we find him?” Rhia asked, perhaps a bit too eagerly.

  Bailey gave a harsh chuckle, looking up at the turian.  “If I knew that, he’d be in a cell.  Best I can do is put you on the trail.”  He tapped a few keys, pulling up some reports.  “There’s a warehouse in the marketplace, some of his contacts work out of there.  Feel free to ask them some questions - or him, if you find him.  Gently.”  He glared up at Shepard and Rhia.  “I know how you can operate.”

  Ember gave a sheepish grin, but nodded all the same.  “All right.  Thanks, Bailey.  See you around.”

  “You need anything else, lemme know,” he said as he went back to his terminal.

  Ember jerked her head towards the travel station, and in a few moments, the two were standing in front of a clearly marked shipping warehouse.  “This look like the place?” Ember asked.

  “Looks right,” Rhia confirmed.  “Whoever’s here should have some thugs inside.  Be prepared.”

  Ember grinned.  “With a life as exciting as mine, I have to be.”  She tapped the entry panel, and the double doors slid apart, revealing the interior.  It was big in here, with crates and boxes stacked in disorganized piles.  A few light panels kept it decently illuminated, and most importantly, two large krogan were lounging about for no apparent reason.

  As Ember and Rhia stepped in, the krogan took a few steps towards them.  Neither of them really backed down, and Ember was getting all too close to punching one of them in the face.  A noise caused Ember and Rhia to glanced to their left, and from around the corner of a pile of boxes, a Volus emerged, his distinctive breathing noises startlingly apparent now.

  Ember arched an eyebrow and looked down at the volus.  “Fade?  You’re not quite what I expected.”

  “Looks can be deceiving,” the volus breathed.  “Which one of you needs to disappear?”  A stubby arm reached out, sweeping over the two in some kind of grand gesture.

  “Actually,” Rhia rasped, “I was hoping you could make someone reappear.”

  The volus thought for a moment.  “We don’t...offer that kind of service,” he said, tilting his hand claw things left and right.

  “Make an exception,” started Rhia threateningly, and her heavy pistol was in her hands and pointed at the Volus before she finished saying, “just this once.”

  “Damn it.   Shoot them!  Shoot them, you lumbering mountains!” The Volus was shouting at the krogan, who took the opportunity to look at each other.  By the time they looked back, Ember had her shotgun out and trained on the group.  With a jerk of his head to the door, one of them decided for both, and the krogan walked right on out of there.

  “So hard to find good help these days,” Ember quipped.  “Maybe you can, though.  We’re looking for a client of yours,” she said as she moved forward, cracking her knuckles.

  “Not mine!” protested the Volus, backing up until his back was against a crate.  “I’m not Fade!  I just work for him.  Sort of.”

  “Figures,” Rhia muttered.  “Maybe you’d like to tell us where to find him,” she said as she popped the heat sink off her pistol.

  “Y-yes!  Of course!  He’s in the factory district, in the old prefab foundry!”  The volus was nearly shaking, terrified by the two much-taller beings in front of him.  “He’s got a lot of mercs with him, all Blue Sun.  Harkin thinks they’re protecting him.”

  “Harken?  The C-Sec officer?” asked Ember.  “I remember that skeezeball.  He’s using C-Sec to help hide these people?”

  “No, no, no, no.  He got fired a while back.  He just knows how to use the systems,” the volus explained.

  Rhia frowned.  Or, her mandibles shifted down and forward a bit.  As close as she ever really got to a frown.  “Bastard.  Let’s go,” she said to Ember.  Ember nodded.

  “So, I’m...free to go?” The volus could hardly believe his luck.

  “Sure, but if Harkin’s not there, we’re coming back for you,” Rhia said as they headed through the doorway.

  The volus just sighed and trudged away.

"Think that was too mean?" Rhia asked innocently.

A flat “What?” was all the out-of-breath Shyla answered with, bringing the phone up to her ear.

  “Hello to you too,” Chaya nearly purred on the other end of the line.  Shyla was glad Chaya wasn’t here in person to see her blush.  “Are you busy?”

  Shyla glanced around her, eyes sliding over the weights on the rack and the few other people that were working out at midnight on a Friday.  She was panting and leaning on one of the machines, letting her burning muscles take a breather while she chatted on the phone.  “Nah, I’m good.  What is it?”

  “Are you sure, sweetheart?  You sound out of breath,” Chaya replied.

  “I just benched 300,” Shyla said, frustration creeping into her voice.  She knew how she was.  “Of course I’m a little worn out.”

  “Hmm, good.  I did say the new body would be just as good as the old one.”  There was a slight pause where Shyla suspected Chaya was smiling.  “I’ll be there to pick you up in a few minutes.  We’ve got a task.”

  “What is it?”

  “You’ll see,” she said before hanging up.  Shyla pulled the phone away from her ear, looking at it as though it had betrayed her before setting it down next to her water bottle.  Taking a swig from said bottle as she headed to the showers, she wondered just what Chaya had for her this time.  A few days ago, she’d helped guide a dragon back to the Library from whence it came.

  Dragons were peculiar creatures.  In the material world, they were massive beasts, often able to fully wrap themselves around a skyscraper.  In the Aether, they were apparently small furry beasts that only vaguely resembled the dragons of popular folklore, serving as librarians, archivists, and organizers for the chaotic swirl that was that dimension.  Of course, as all of the information they got from the Aether was from Aetherborn, it was of dubious veracity.  Even Morena had told more than her share of lies about the place, as was their custom.  It might even be a rule.

  The aforementioned dragon had wrapped itself around the Empire State Building, scared of the “crawlies” down on the city streets.  The crawlies had, by this point, summoned some high artillery to get rid of the creature, and Jarrek had called for backup upon arriving at the scene.  Shyla and Chaya had been said backup, and escorting the dragon back to one of the weak parts of the veil had been a relatively simple matter.

  She dropped her bag down by the sink and turned on the cold faucet, splashing some cold water on her face before glancing at herself in the mirror.  She looked the same as she had right before it had all changed - same dark hair, same straight eyebrows, same pointed chin, same large port-wine stain covering the right side of her face and neck with red splotches on her brown skin.  She’d used to try and hide it, growing her hair out to cover it and always wearing hoods or hats.  Now, she didn’t care as much if people saw her.  They usually didn’t remember her anyway.

  When she was sure no one else was in the showers, she stripped off her clothes and set them aside with her bag, shoving them into a locker.  Stepping into one of the stalls, she hung her towel over the door, then cranked on the water, soon filling the small stall with steam and hot water.  The warmth rolled over her, coaxing some relief out of her aching muscles and cooling her down after the strenuous workout.  Her hands were worn and red, her muscles weak from the exertion, and her short hair was clumped together from sweat and now shower water.

  Leaning against the wall of the stall, letting the water run over her skin, she briefly recalled three weeks ago, before she’d met Chaya and John and everyone.  Before she’d been aware of a thing called the Library and back when being an agnostic had seemed perfectly reasonable.  Before she’d been changed from a human being into something that was just pretending to be one.

  -----

  “Hello, love.”

  The searing fire that had comprised Shyla’s entire body for the past few seconds stopped suddenly, and her eyes snapped open.  She coughed out her held breath, gasping for air and rolling onto her stomach, nearly retching onto the white floor of wherever she was.  The return of sensation and breathing had thrown her for a loop, and she was working to reconcile the clashing signals from all of her senses, which were blurred into one giant neural mess.

  Her reflexes kicked in and she gave a small shout, scrambling onto her back.  There was a blurry figure in front of her that she wanted to get away from, at least until she could recover.  Her brain was desperately trying to resolve the events of the last few seconds with how she got her, and it was doing a very poor job of it.  Her muscles felt slow, clogged up with rust and dust and as though they were made out of lead.

  She’d been driving the humvee, the desert road stretching in front of her, the sun in her eyes as the mid-morning light did as best as it could to pierce through her sunglasses.  She’d been laughing at some joke Higgins had just made, something about a pineapple and a garden hose, and then there’d been a flash, and a boom, and scorching pain from her feet, and then nothing - until now.

  “Woah there, dear, calm down!  I’m not going to harm you!”

  She closed her eyes, forcing herself to calm down.  Deep breaths, splayed and contracted fingers, count up from 0, remember your name, remember your home, remember your life.  Force the thoughts into line, control your muscles, discipline discipline discipline.

  After a moment, Shyla opened her eyes.

  She was lying down on the floor of an all white room, with no entrance or exit in sight.  Nothing was in the room save for her and the still-blurry figure in front of her.

  “Who the f-” She croaked out the first few words before dissolving into coughing.  Her vocal cords felt the same as her muscles - unused for a logn time.  “Who the fuck are you?” Shyla croaked out before coughing again, her vocal cords also possessing that same rusty quality that her muscles had.  “Where am I?  What the hell happened?”

  “I’m Chaya,” the woman said as Shyla rubbed her eyes, finally getting the last bits of blur from them.  Straight blonde hair, almond-shaped green eyes, very pronounced eyebrows that were currently furrowed in concern.  Strong cheekbones and a full jawline, her pink lips curved into a slight smile.  The curves on her face were gorgeous, but Shyla suspected that a frown or grimace would use those curves to terrify rather than charm.

  Shyla just took a moment to stare at Chaya, admiring her, trying to look over and remember every inch of the beautiful woman that stood before her.  “I, uh, I’m just gonna stay down here for a little while,” she mumbled throatily, trying to avoid letting Chaya get a look at her own face.  Her Tennessee accent was coming through loud and clear, despite her vocal issues.

  “Take your time.  I’m here to help, and there’s a lot of things you have to get used to.”  Chaya’s voice was soothing, reaching deep in Shyla’s brain and calming her scattered thoughts.  It was like a familiar seat, somewhere that Shyla could use as a base to go from, somewhere safe and comforting.  It was also, she noted, something she could easily fall in love with.

  After a few more deep breaths, Shyla took stock of the area once more.  Nothing had changed - an endless expanse of white, two people.  Shyla was dressed in one of her tank tops and some jeans.  Chaya was in a white shirt and a short jacket, along with jeans and a belt.  “Chaya.  I’m Shyla.  Shyla Vantras, 1st Armored Division, United States Army.  Where am I?  What happened?”

  “You’re in Limbo,” Chaya replied, taking a seat as well and crossing her legs.  Shyla could hear the capital L.  “You won’t be here long.  This is just orientation.”

  That got Shyla’s attention.  “Orientation?” she repeated, mimicking Chaya’s sitting posture, keeping the right side of her face turned away from the woman.  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “Well, Shyla, you’re dead,” Chaya said as though she was giving Shyla the time of day.

  “I’m...wait, what?” Shyla was pretty sure she had misheard.  “I’m dead?”  Chaya nodded.  “How did…” And then it all made sense - the flash, the pain, the sound, the sudden darkness.  Forgetting about hiding her birthmark, she looked right at Chaya, horrified at what she’d remembered.  “Oh my God, it was an IED.”

  “Sorry, love,” Chaya said somberly.  “Not the best way to go, I’m afraid.”

  “No shit,” Shyla snapped back.  “What about the others?” She leaned forward, crawling closer to Chaya, her eyes pleading with the woman.  “Higgins, Williams, Diaz!  What happened to them?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?  You brought me here, right?!  What the fuck happened to my team?!” Shyla’s confusing quickly gave way to anger, and she leaned forward to get right in Chaya’s perfectly sculpted face.  “Where are they?!”

  “I don’t know, dear,” Chaya admitted, not budging.  “I wasn’t there.  You’ll have to speak with Charon.”

  “Who the fuck is Charon?” Shyla demanded, staring into Chaya’s eyes as her own face twisted in anger.  Mystery after mystery, and Shyla hated puzzles.

  “The ferryman,” Chaya answered, as though Shyla should know that.  She didn’t seem to notice or care that Shyla was about two seconds from punching her.   “I’m someone rather different, and I can’t answer all of your questions - but I can answer most of them.”

  Glaring up at Chaya, Shyla said nothing for a few moments, breathing hard to try and contain the rage that threatened to bubble over.  Apparently, she was dead.  She was dead and gone and she didn’t know what had happened to her buddies or her life or anything.  She was furious with this, with this entire situation, with everything going right now.  With this woman, this startlingly beautiful woman who was acting so superior, with her muscles that felt weighed down as they did in her dreams, with the sudden change and this white room.

  She decided that she wasn’t going to take it anymore, and she lashed out at the only person she could.  Would it do anything?  Probably not.  Would it make her feel better?  It always did.

  With a sudden lunge and a yell, she reared back her right fist to smash it into Chaya’s jaw.  Her movements were slow and choppy, though - whatever rust was still there was hindering her.   Chaya was either much better at this or expecting it, as she leaned handily to the side and deflected Shyla’s blow, grabbing her by the shoulder with her other hand and pressing her down to the ground.  She followed up by twisting Shyla’s other arm around her back, pinning her down before Shyla even had time to react.

  Shyla struggled against Chaya’s startlingly secure grip, but Chaya held fast and tight, immobilizing Shyla.  “Are you done, sweetheart?” Chaya said in a saccharinely sweet tone, honey dripping from her words.  Shyla merely growled, fire clouding her head, the desire to smash in Chaya’s nose growing exponentially with every word that the woman said.  “We have a lot to discuss, and your desire to bash in my skull won’t get you anywhere.”

  “Shut up!” Shyla managed to get words out this time, and she practically spat them into Chaya’s face.  She struggled against the hold, attempting to throw Chaya off, to no avail.  Her struggling got worse, harder, and she could feel pain in her held arm as she pulled.  She didn’t care too much, the pain was just validation that this was screwed up, that she needed to break free.

  As she struggled, unable to keep the anger going from physical violence, the pain in her arm gave way to the pain in her chest, a deep ache that was tearing at her inside.  They were gone.  Her comrades, her brothers and sisters, her dear friends that were the only people she really trusted, were gone.

  Higgins’ stupid jokes and the way he smiled that cocked smile after delivering a pun.  William’s voice, her guitar, her beautiful singing when they had nothing else to do out in the desert. Diaz, sweet Diaz, with his four siblings and outbursts in Spanish and their long discussions of if Han or Luke would make a better Jedi Master.

  And now, they were all gone.

  Hot tears formed as she remembered them, as the desperate pain in her chest grew louder and larger and all consuming.  Holding it in was not an option, not anymore, and her struggles against her captor only intensified as her friends came to her mind.  “Just...shut up!  Fuck you, Chaya!  What the fuck do you know?!”

  “Everyone gets here by dying, and some of us,” Chaya whispered quietly, steadfastly holding on to Shyla’s arm, “have to watch their loved ones go right before.”

  The words pierced through her veil of anger, though it didn’t make Shyla stop, it did make her slow down.  She was silently crying now, the occasional sob shaking her, and she finally ceased her movement, unwilling to fight in this state - not when the fighting didn’t matter.  Chaya let her go and slid off of her, sitting down next to the newly deceased woman, waiting patiently for her to clean up.

  Eventually, Shyla rolled over onto her back, drying her face with her tank top.  She looked up to Chaya, who was staring off into the distance.  “I’m sorry,” Shyla said as she sat up.

  “It’s all right, dear,” Chaya said with a sigh.  “It’s all in the past.  You got lucky,” she continued with a sad, gentle smile, “you died quickly.”

  There was a second’s pause, then Shyla pushed herself up and moved into Chaya, wrapping her arms around the other woman’s torso in a tight hug.  Chaya stiffened for a second, surprised by the contact, before she relaxed and slid her hands up to gently rub Shyla’s arms.  Shyla only tightened her embrace at that sign, rubbing her nose into Chaya’s neck.  Like it or not, Chaya was now the only person she knew, and the only one who could help.  Could be worse.  A lot worse.

  She smelled a little spicy, Shyla discovered.

  Eventually, Shyla’s grip loosened, and she went back to sitting on her own feet.  “Okay,” she began.  “What do I need to know?”  She didn’t bother to hide her birthmark anymore.  Chaya seemed like the kind of person who didn’t care about it.

  “Let’s start at the beginning,” Chaya replied.  “Do you believe in God?”

  -----

  With a burst of flame, Shyla’s wings vanished.  Chaya’s did the same, with a flash of light, and the two of them were standing outside of the local branch.  “You still haven’t told me what we’re doing,” Shyla said as they ascended the steps and walked in through the front door.

  “I figured the surprise would be more fun.”  Chaya made a beeline for John’s office.  Shyla decided to hang back and enjoy the space.

  The local branch of the Department of Morality, subset of the Library of Babel, was much larger on the inside than the outside.  A brilliant blue sky dotted with fluffy clouds served as the ceiling, and a thick sheet of glass was the floor.  Below was an endless abyss into the earth, skillfully carved statues and rock formations lined the sides and ledges.  The middle ground was an office building in most appearances, but the interior decoration was a strange mix between a marble castle and a supervillain lair.

  The room was filled with dozens of people walking about, all of them possessing a pair of either feathered or scaly wings.  As Shyla had learned, the angels and demons of the modern times did rather resemble the ones usually portrayed - human beings with wings and maybe a tail - but their function was rather different.  Dying had opened her eyes to the existence of the Library, and had oddly enough given her a bit of a promotion - from soldier to demon.

  Far from being representatives of ultimate good and ultimate evil, angels and demons tended more to order and chaos.  The material universe was the only place of balance, where the magic of the Aether was filtered through laws and rules into a useable form.  Sometimes, it went a little wrong, and that’s when the Library sent for the bigger guns.  Though obfuscators could handle the occasional outbreak of knowledge or void creatures, larger groups required more firepower and expertise.

  That’s where the Department of Morality came in.  With resources and training to deal with almost any situation that didn’t require a seraphim or archon, the angels and demons fought as one unit, going after rogue members of their own orders or agents of void or aether as the mission demanded.

  Chaya was an archangel, leader of her own little squad.  Turns out that the military structure wasn’t just made for humans.  Shyla did a short jog, bringing her up behind Chaya as the woman took flight, soaring up a few floors to John’s office.  Shyla followed, landing a bit rougher.

  John’s office was a bit sparser in terms of decoration from the rest of the place.  A wooden desk sat near the back with a holographic computer set atop it.  No pictures or plants were around, but there were a few framed photographs sitting on the des.  John was in one or two, with others containing family members.  Or, Shyla presumed they were family.  They didn’t really look like him, though.

  The man himself carried one hell of an air of authority.  He was a tall man, built like an ox, with short-cut brown hair and a variety of interesting scars dotting his body.  His square face was chisel-cut, with thick, dark eyebrows and a mouth that looked far more used to a frown over a smile.  Chaya had anecdotally mentioned to Shyla that she had only ever seen him smile once.  After seeing him only once, Shyla believed her, but the pictures showed off a different side - someone who had a gentler side.  Shyla hadn’t seen it yet, but she’d heard some stories of the archangel in action.  They were both terrifying and inspiring.

  John glanced up from his typing as the women walked in, looking over the edge of the ‘screen’ at Chaya, who was smiling wide.  Shyla was in her usual frown.

  “Sorry, John.  Had to pick up the new recruit,” Chaya replied to the unspoken accusation of lateness, nodding slightly towards Shyla.

  “I’m not that new,” Shyla protested, crossing her arms as her frown got lower.

  “Compared to the rest of us, love, you’re practically a baby.  Even Tamzin’s got a bit on you.  Speaking of which…?” Chaya said as she turned back to face John.

  “She’s on her way,” he replied, leaning back a bit in his chair.  “I sent her a message after I sent you one.  Please, have a seat.” He gestured to the empty space in front of his desk.  Two comfortable looking chairs materialized out of thin air to accommodate the women as they sat down.  “There’s been a void breach.”

  “I feared as much,” Chaya said.  “Where and how big?”

  “5th Ward, cordoned off a two block diameter, four block square area.  Obfuscators are in play with local authorities, arcanists have blocked off the area from non-Librarians.  Go in, suppress the void, close the breach.”  He spun his monitor around to show them an unfolding schematic of the area.  The affected zone was darkened and outlined in red.

  Frowning, Shyla leaned forward.  “What about the void makes them unable to handle by standard SWAT response?”

  Tapping a few keys, John changed the few, bringing up pictures of known void monsters.  “This is why.”  Looking at them, Shyla could understand why the request got bumped up to the Morality agents.  Bristling with sharp points and strangely bent joints, large parts of them were also either missing or oddly invisible.  In their places were angular, jutting extensions of...nothing.  Pure black, darker than black even, and Shyla had trouble focusing on the ends - her eyes kept trying to resolve them into a point, but no matter how much she focused, it always seemed to go smaller and smaller and smaller until she lost it.

  Blinking several times, she squinted to try and find it, but it never got there.  She finally looked away, rubbing her eyes and trying to clear them.  “Okay, woah, that’s not...yeah, I get it.  The Void is nothing, right?”

  John nodded.  “It goes beyond nothing.  Nothing is the absence of anything, or nonexistence.  The Void is something - it is distinctly something, and that something is the complete lack of anything.  If a thing is, this is not.”

  Shyla frowned, tilting her head.  “I’m having a little trouble with that concept.”

  “Don’t break your brain on it, love,” Chaya said.  “We’ll need that for the fight.”

  A knock sounded, causing everyone to turn around.  Tamzin walked in, taking a seat in a third chair that materialized in.  She was taller than Shyla by a few inches, with her usual neutral expression set beneath fierce eyes and a small nose.  An unkempt mop of platinum blonde hair sat on top of her head.  She was dressed in what appeared to be army fatigues, though Shyla didn’t know if she’d been in the military when she’d died.  She didn’t look dangerous, but Shyla had seen enough of her to know that she was a foolish assumption to make.

  “Tamzin,” said John simply.  Shyla gave her a small nod, which Tamzin returned.

  “Tamzin!” Chaya said joyfully, standing up quickly and moving to embrace her friend - an embrace Tamzin returned with a smile.  “Good to see you, dear,”

  “And you, Chaya,” Tamzin replied, her Russian accent coming in thick.  “Shyla, John, good to see you.  What did I miss?”

  John indicated her empty chair, and she and Chaya sat back down.  “Void breach, two block square area.  We’ll be going in as soon as you’re done arming up and we have word from the Obfuscators that the area is clear.  We’ve got sightings of the usual monsters: carnages, all-eaters, and entropics.  Make sure you’ve got some remaker.”

  Shyla had never gotten a part of her taken by the Void, so being remade was not something she was looking forward to experiencing.  Hopefully, she’d never have to.

  “Any questions?” John asked as Tamzin was looking over the area.

  Shyla half-raised her hand.  “How do we close it?”

  “Void breaches happen when enough matter is taken from somewhere to elevate a consciousness inside the void itself,” John continued.  “They have the strength and intelligence to open up a rift in the wall and hold it open so they can send their monsters out to feed.  You need to literally enter the rift, destroy whatever is holding it open, and get out before the collapse locks you in.”

  “Is not very common,” Tamzin said, “and so requires special team.  We have done this many times before.”

  Chaya nodded, crossing one of her legs and smirking at the map.  “Always a treat when we get to bring out the big guns.  You have experience with artillery, correct?”  Shyla nodded.  “Sometimes it gets that bad, but this one shouldn’t, provided we close it fast enough.”

  “So, what do we get to use?  What kind of big guns are we talking about?” Shyla asked, confused.

  Chaya and Tamzin just smiled.  John gave a slight sigh.

  -----

  "You've gotta be shitting me."

  Shyla's eyes were desperately trying to take everything in.  Rows of weapons, each one elaborately decorated and covered with strange symbols that seemed to resemble complex mathematics.  

  “Is not trick,” Tamzin said as she stood near the edge of the door.  She was armed with what appeared to be a glowing, mother-of-pearl pistol.  “Is part of job.  Fighting monsters requires special gear.”

  “This is...this is incredible,” Shyla said as she examined a solid black revolver sitting on a stand by her.  “What’s up with all these weapons?”

  “Arcanists, darling, are the Library’s greatest gift to man,” Chaya said as she put a white futuristic-looking chestpiece on.  It adjusted itself, resizing to her fantastic musculature and body shape, and then it started to slide armor plates out.  After a few seconds and plenty of metal clicking, Chaya was fully clad in a suite of pure white armor.  “And this is why.”

  John picked up a minigun that looked like it had come right off the roof of a humvee. The gun itself was pulsating, and every now and then, a jolt of pure white electricity would spark across the gun’s barrels.  The gun itself looked rugged and beat up, but the sigils told a different story.  “Every weapon here has been specially worked on by top Arcanists to work against the Void creatures, along with anything else we encounter.  This one is named The Big Stick.”

  With a motion, he twisted the handle, and the gun itself folded in upon itself, the parts compacting and compressing and defying many known laws of physics until it was approximately the size of a paper towel roll, which John hung in a little holster on his waist.  The whole process took less than a half-second.

  Shyla just goggled.  “...holy shit.”

  Chaya smiled.  “Pick what you like.  You’ll have to return it when we’re done, but you can take anything you can handle.”

  Shyla had been eyeing one of the miniguns herself since she walked in, and she walked over to a different one - one that seemed to be made out of a highly polished black metal.  It was accented with lapis lazuli lines and symbols, little carvings all over the weapon.  Take it in her hands, she hefted it experimentally, holding it in front of her and doing a few quick swings with it.

  John didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow.  Chaya did.  “You wish to start with World Eater?” John asked.  Shyla nodded, sure.  “Very well.  Be sure to grab spare ammunition and be sure you can control your trigger finger.”

  “I know what I’m doing,” she said as she mimicked John’s action, twisting the handle.  It, however, didn’t respond.  Curious, she tried again.  No result.  Frustrated, she twisted her other hand, and that’s when it started to shrink.  The barrels retracted, the assembly shrank, and soon Shyla found herself holding a rather heavy cylinder.  She too set that in a pouch on her side, then moved over to the sidearms, deciding to strap on two unnaturally large caliber pistols, named Ascent and Descent.  Ascent appeared to be a pure white with thin golden spiderweb lines throughout the entire body.  Descent was pure black, with red lines doing the same thing.

  “What’s with the names?” Shyla asked, reading a small placard next to a shotgun that appeared to be randomly fading in and out of existence.  Apparently this one was called ‘Incisor’.

  “These weapons are works of art, Shyla,” Chaya said as she pulled a gauntlet attached via a small, thin hose to a battery-like pack from the wall.  “Each one took well over several years to create and perfect, and so each one has a history.  Taking a normal weapon is sometimes a good base, but many of these have some kind of tale to tell from well before the Arcanists got to them.”

  She fastened the Walkman-sized pack to her belt, then slid the gauntlet on, taking off her existing one.  Nodding in satisfaction, she lowered her hand and started looking at some of the other weapons.  “Use one enough, listen well to how it works, and you may yet learn it.”

  Nodding slightly, but more concerned in what was around, Shyla continued to look at the racks.  Not all of the weapons were modern - there was what looked like a plain wooden bow, a decorated longsword, even an ordinary leather sling.  Some older-styled armor, a few other chestplates like the one Chaya had grabbed, even some bulletproof vests.

  “And I can’t take everything?” Shyla asked, only sort of kidding.

  Chaya and Tamzin shared a smile.  Even John seemed to slightly grin, maybe by a millimeter.  “We all want to,” Tamzin said from the door.  “But, no.  Take just what you know.”

Now, though, he was surrounded by flowers in every color of the rainbow, along with some that he was weirdly sure he’d never seen before.  Gigantic blue and green trees with trunks as thick as his mount’s body dotted the grove around him, stretching up into infinity.  Daylight was completely obscured down on the forest floor, but the glowing moss bathed the entire area in a soft blue light.  Flashes of green and red from the fireflies created a spectacular light show, and the rainplants that slowly floated about added a soothing pitter-patter of falling droplets.

  Crowe could almost fall asleep here, and on several occasions, he had.  But not today.  Today, Ember was supposed to report back on the other nations.  The spirit girl had been gathering intelligence from her counterparts in Syfalia, Arenrae, and the Soaring Hills.  There was much to discuss.

  Which was also why he was a little annoyed that she was late.  He’d been standing here, in this small clearing, for over 20 minutes.  She was supposed to be here by now, and he was tapping his foot impatiently.  He had a date with Ciaphas that he had no intention to miss, and he was damned if some eyeless, confounding, flirty nature woman was going to stop him.

  “Late as usual, Em,” he muttered to himself.

  “Careful, Crowe,” came a sultry voice from behind him.  “Impatience in this forest makes the trees suspicious.”

  Whirling with a shout, Crowe almost fell backwards.  Ember was sitting on a low-hanging tree branch next to her winged cat, who was gazing at him with whirling amber eyes.  She was clad in her usual collection of leaves and skins, her midriff and shoulders exposed.  Her skin was the color of grass at dusk, blending in quite well to the overall color of the forest, and covering her eyes was her ever-present blindfold, fashioned out of clinging ivy.  Her oak brown hair was cut short all around, and her smile was dangerously wide.

  “Did I scare you?” She asked, innocently kicking her legs.  Crowe nodded.  Her smile grew offputtingly wider.  “Good.  It’s been too long since you’ve visited, I’d nearly forgotten how good you smell.”  She inhaled deeply, her cat slowly circling Crowe, who merely folded his arms and frowned.

  “Come on, Em, I’ve got somewhere to be,” Crowe protested.  Typical Ember.  Head in the clouds.

  With a smooth motion, Ember dropped to the forest floor, approaching Crowe with entirely too much sway in her hips.  Crowe towered over Ember by over a foot, but she didn’t seem intimidated.  “I’m sorry, Crowe,” she murmured her right hand gently brushed Crowe’s cheek.  She was close, uncomfortably close, but this was all part of the game that the two played.  “I don’t mean to keep you from your duties.  Or the ones as a lover,” she added with a smirk.

  “You just want to keep me here,” he said with a smirk just as confident as hers.  “Can’t stand to watch me go, can you?”

  Ember grinned, then took a step back and turned around, hair flashing to the color of autumn leaves.  “On the contrary, I enjoy watching you go very much.  It shows off your best feature.”  Her cat finished the circle, arriving next to Ember, who gently laid a hand on Eden’s back.  “But as much as I would love to kidnap you, we have things to discuss.  Sit down.”

  Brushing some dirt off a fallen log, Crowe sat, arms refolding after he got comfortable.  “How did the convocation go?”

  “The black winds howl,” she whispered, every syllable still reaching his ear, carried by the wind.  “Arenrae’s aggression has peaked, and Weave’s words have fallen on deaf ears.”  Turning to face Crowe, she stopped in place, and Eden’s eyes found Crowe’s.  The amber color was gone, replaced with a swirling sunset red.  “War is coming, Crowe.”

  Sighing, Crowe let his chin fall to his chest for a second, picking it back up when he was finished.  “I was afraid you’d say that.”

  “The King of Swords has begun massing his armies.  Syfalia stands to fall, unless they call on you for support or marshal some other great defense in their time of need.”

  “They’re going to call on us,” Crowe said, remembering something from his Sageport history classes.  “We have a treaty that dates back centuries.  We’ll have no choice but to help.”

  “So Seafoam told me, but Zephyr raised a new point.  Arenrae is not the only one preparing for conquest.  The Soaring Hills have begun their own schemes, and Zephyr has been watching, waiting, listening.  She is silent, but always present, and she has seen that the Hills are marshalling a garrison - a garrison they intend to send to Sageport.”

  Crowe suddenly sat up straight, unfolding his arms and now fully invested.  “What?  Why?  Who’s leading them?”

  “Peace, perhaps against Arenrae’s ambitions should Syfalia fall.  Or to raze the city, should that be deemed necessary.  A country in the sky has great need for a corps that has flying beasts as mounts - and perhaps a great need to see them dead.”

  “Hey now, Marley’s a hell of a lot more than a beast,” Crowe protested.  Marley, somewhere far off, roared his agreement.  “And we’re no threat to the Hills.”

  “Yet your dragons are tempting none the less.  Should anyone take Sageport, your dragons fall under their command - and they are a force to be reckoned with,” she said simply.

  “Then we won’t accept the garrison.  Too risky.  We can hold the city ourselves.”  Crowe stood up and paced, impatient to get back and report this to Ciaphas.  She needed to know.  The horizon was getting increasingly dark.

  “Refusing aid in a potential time of need may cause undue ire,” Ember noted.  “Your knowledge makes you dangerous, love, and these Hills forces are not to be underestimated.”

  “Who leads them?”

“A woman named Chaya,” Ember said as she once more approached Crowe.  “Her soul burns hotter than a forge, and her passion for war knows no limits.  If Syfalia falls, they will prove invaluable to the defense of Sageport against Arenrae’s newfound navy.  If Syfalia lives due to your intervention, they may take the city while your forces are spread thin - or, they may attack Syfalia while the city is weak from the conflict.”

  Crowe considered this, rubbing his head in his hands.  Ember’s words sent shivers through his spine, and the more he thought of it, the more right she was.  There was no simple solution to this - refusing aid when an aggressor was knocking on their door was foolish, but if the Hills forces attacked from within, it could devastate Sageport - unless the mage guards managed to hold it.

  He had to talk to Ciaphas.

  With a sigh, Crowe stood up, stretching.  Ember stood in front of him, leaning slightly on her cat, and he watched him rise to his full height.  “Aw, leaving so soon?” she purred.

  “Sorry, Em.  I’ve got to head back and talk to Ciaphas.  There’s a lot we gotta do before Arenrae starts to march.”  He reached out and rubbed her head.  She frowned, then grabbed his hand and pulled him down with a “woah!”, getting him face to face with her.  She was unnaturally strong for someone of her size and build.  He was gazing into her blindfold, but he felt as though they were looking right into each other’s eyes.

  “War is coming, Crowe.  I love you, and I need you to stay safe, okay?  You have to come back here.  You have to.”  She was almost pleading with him now, her grip on his cheeks firm, and her fingers shaking slightly.  “I haven’t kissed you yet, and I’m going to before you die.”

  “I look forward to it,” he said with a smile, taking her smaller hands into his and squeezing them.  “I’ll be fine, Em.  I’ll come back soon.”  He let go of her hands, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a tight embrace - a move that caused her to stiffen, then slowly relax in the embrace.

  They finally parted, and Ember took a few steps back before turning around.  Eden came up behind her after nuzzling Crowe’s leg.  “Now go, Crowe.  Have good sex, okay?”

  “You know me.  I always do,” he said while flashing a grin.

  “I don’t.  But I’d like to find out for myself soon,” she replied with her own grin before vanishing into the trees.

  Crowe just shook his head slightly.  That’d be a hell of a question to ask Ciaphas.  “Marley!” he called out, and a roar echoed through the forest in reply.

“You still look stupid.”

  Despite being close to letting go anyway, Arken nearly lost his grip in surprise.  Turning, he spotted Impact next to him, perched on the smooth glass as he was.  Clad in her usual armor and helmet, Arken couldn’t be completely sure she wasn’t smirking under there.

  “Says the woman dressed up like a street fighting ninja thing,” Arken countered, his helmet disguising his voice as it flowed out through the speaker.  His HUD immediately outlined her with a thin blue line - the same color that police and other friendlies had.  “At least I have style.”

  “Style that you ripped off from Iron Man,” Impact shot back.  “Is your theme song also Back In Black?”

  “No,” Arken said pointedly as he quietly cycled that song out of his playlist.  “Something by Daft Punk is more my style anyway.”

  “Whatever you say, red head.  You ready?  We’ve got work to do,” she said as she adjusted herself on the glass, leaning back against it and tightening her gloves.

  “All green,” he said as a portion of his arm guard slid back and he examined the wiring within.  “You pick first.”  Riverside, he thought to himself.

  “Riverside,” she said, no hesitation.

  He silently paid himself $5.  “Central for me.”

  “Damn, you would.  All right, I’ll grab Underside.”

  “And I’ll take Gate Ends, which leaves Southside and Shinedocks for the cops.”

  Impact nodded.  “Sounds good.”  She glanced him up and over once, the nodded once more, satisfied at her observations and/or his efforts.  Arken wasn’t sure which.  “Be safe, Zee.”

  Arken gave her a thumbs up.  “You too.  See you next week,” he called as he dropped from the observation deck.  Glancing back, he saw her diving as well, streaking through the air to the street level.

  How she managed to do things like stick to glass, he didn’t really know, and he didn’t particularly feel like thinking on it at the moment.

------

  “You have a problem.”

  Rhia’s voice caused Arken to jump in his chair and quickly alt-tab away from the subreddit devoted to the local vigilante called Impact.  Whirling around and slightly red, he gazed upon his friend. She was standing there with folded arms and slightly to one side, tanned skin occasionally dotted with a small bead of sweat and dressed in a tank top and bike shorts.  A duffel bag with a big water bottle was set down next to her.

  Her dark eyes shone, seeming to pierce him, as they always did.  Her smirk caught onto his heart and pulled it along, as it had been doing since the first time.  Dark hair was currently tied up into a tight bun, the better to keep it out of her eyes.  Her arms and legs with very toned, and Arken was pretty sure she could snap him like a twig if she ever really wanted to.

  They’d met a few months ago over their mutual interest in not failing pre-calculus.  They’d bonded over a continued mutual interest in not failing pre-calculus, so regular study meetings had turned into conversations on the best PC games and agreements to play some TF 2 together.  From there it spiraled into which Avenger was the best (Iron Man, obviously, but she prefered Black Widow) and movie recs.

  “It’s not a problem!” he finally got out, momentarily taken aback by her sudden appearance.  Words sometimes took a bit to come out around her.  “It’s a...hobby.  Thing.  Come on, a costumed hero?  How is that not awesome?”

  “Sure it isn’t,” she said with disbelief as she pulled out a rolling chair and sat down next to him.  He could smell the workout on her, a heady scent tinged with a slight sweetness.  “The first step is admitting you have one.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered as he brought the tab back up.

  “And I thought you’d be more interested in Zero Point, with his suit thing,” she said as she leaned back in the chair.  Arken felt a little sorry for whoever would sit down next in it.

  Arken chuckled, then shook his head.  “I could build a suit like that in my sleep.  The construction is shoddy and the design is terrible.  Who gave him that idea anyway?”

  Rhia shrugged, absentmindedly checking her pulse as they were talking.  “Maybe he decided the city needed more than Fletcher.  One guy with a bow and arrow can’t cover everything, so more decided to join up.  What’s the word on your lady hero?”

  “Nothing big since she foiled that hostage deal a few weeks ago.  A few sightings, the occasional stopped mugging, that’s about it.”  He turned back around and brought up the browser window as he spoke, scrolling through the entries.  He was pretty quiet on the Fletcher and Impact subreddits, but he had an official account for the Zero Point one, as Zero Point.  People liked asking him questions and for pictures.  Reporting crimes came next, but his stock answer was to talk to the police.  He was enough legal hot water.

  “See, I don’t get her outfit,” Rhia said as Arken pulled up a candid shot of Impact.  She pointed to parts of her armor.  “It doesn’t look very comfortable, and what kind of visor is that?  Wouldn’t that just block vision?”  The visor in question was T-shaped, clearly inspired by a certain space opera culture.  The rest of her outfit was armored, sticking close to her skin but seeming like an odd cross between a ninja, a pro skater, and an army commando.  Her joints were unarmored, but covered up with black fabric.

  “Hey, she’s a fighter, not a tailor.  Maybe it isn’t her number one priority,” Arken suggested.  He remembered the trouble he’d had with Zero Point’s outfit.  Padding on the inside of a metal suit was hardly an easy thing to figure out.

  “If I was in that costume, it’d be number one,” Rhia countered.  “You think she’s doing good?”

  “Who, Impact?  She’s doing amazing good,” he said excitedly.  He had a bit more personal experience with this, which he couldn’t tell her.  “She cleans up this city, she keeps it safe, she’s...she’s fantastic.  Plus she saved my life that one time,” he finished nonchalantly, trying to brush it off.

  Rhia didn’t buy it.  She grinned and gave him a light punch on the arm.  “Aww, someone’s got a crush.”

  “I do not have...oh, yeah, no point in hiding it,” he said with a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his head.  “I do have one.  Who wouldn’t?”

  “You don’t even know what she looks like!”

  “Do I have to?  She obviously cares about the city.  I hope I get to meet her again.”

  With a small smile, Rhia clapped Arken on the shoulder as she stood up.  “Go fight a gang or something.  Maybe she’ll show up to save your ass.”  Hoisting her bag onto her shoulder, she stretched as she finished standing.  “Gotta run.  I’ll see you tonight for study.”

  With a small wave, Arken turned back to the screen.  “Your turn to buy the pizza!”

  ----

  Zero Point and Impact were sitting on top of a roof, waiting.  The night was cool, and it was still early - the last few bits of pink and orange were still visible on the horizon.  Red and white lights were crawling below them like ants, the occasional sound of a car horn piercing the otherwise comfortable silence.

  “Any news on Reactor?” Arken said.

  Impact shook her head.  “Nothing since the escape.  Better for him if he keeps his head low, anyway.”

  “Didn’t you break in through the wall last time?”

  At that, Impact laughed, then shook her head.  “Actually, no - I put an explosive tag there so he’d be focused on that while I sneaked in through the back door.  I’m not that obvious.”

  Arken nodded approvingly.  “Nice tactic, I’ll have to remember it.  The wall thing, I mean.  I’m not sure stealth is part of my playbook.”

  “With a suit like that,” a voice behind them said, “I couldn’t imagine why.”

  The duo turned to spot a man in a purple-and-black outfit behind them, sporting a mask.  He was carrying a bow and a quiver full of arrows.  With a simultaneous sigh, Impact and Arken relaxed, putting down their respective weapons.

  “How did you get up here?” Arken asked.

  “Grappling reel arrow,” Fletcher said.  “Had to take out my noisemaker arrow to fit it, but it’s become surprisingly handy.”

  “Do you still have the boomerang one?” Impact asked, amusement clear in her voice.

  “Hey now,” Fletcher warned, “respect the boomerang arrow, and respect comes back to you.”

  Silence.

  “You know,” he continued, unable to keep his smile.  “Like a boo-”

  “We get it,” the others said in unison.

  “Yeah, yeah.  What’d you call me up here for, shell head?”

  Impact spoke up.  “Got a tip.  Bank robbery, tonight, First National.  Rumor is the Queen’s behind it.  Think you can lend a hand?”

  “I’ve got two, so chances are good,” Fletcher said as he twirled around an arrow shaft between his fingers.  “Any more details?”

  “Aside from that she’s hired Breaker, Edge Guard, and Cynic to help her,” Arken added, “not really.  We did some fact checking, and this isn’t a wild goose chase.  The cops know too, but this is above their pay grade.”

  Fletcher laughed derisively.  “It’s way the hell above my pay grade.  Which is nothing.  But, sure, I’ll help out.  When does it go down?”

  “About a half-hour,” Impact said as she stood up and stretched.  “Ready to go?”

  Reaching back, Fletcher put the shaft back into the quiver and pulled out one with what appeared to be steel cable attached to it.  “I am now.  Here’s hoping we don’t all die!”

  “Cheers to that,” muttered Arken as he tapped a few keys on his wrist computer.  “Patch in, comm 140.85.  Check.”

  “Read you,” came Impact though his ears and his headset.  “Check.”

  “I love threeways,” said Fletcher, also through both.  “Check.”

  “Let’s go!” called Impact as she jumped off the roof.

  Arken and Fletcher stared at her, then at each other.  Finally, Fletcher gestured.  “Thought you had nerves of steel, Ironfist.”

  “Just the shell, man.  And stop calling me that.”

----

“Impact!”

  Arken’s call went out as bullets pinged against the wall behind him.  A laser swept overhead, turning the drywall into scorched dust, and the sharp stinging scent of ozone reached Arken’s nose through his helmet.  The bank lobby had been turned into a warzone as Impact, Zero Point, and Fletcher fought against the Queen and her so-called Pawns.  Debris filled the place as bullets, blasts, and lasers were flying all over the place.  To his left, Impact was ducked down behind a marble pillar.  Fletcher was nowhere to be seen, but he was up to something.

  He’d told them to keep Queen and the others occupied.  Cynic had been taken out early, Arken having thrown him through one of the walls and into the vault door.  Breaker was zipping around the area, firing electric blasts as Queen commanded her robotic gatling guns to fire on the pair.  Edge Guard was waiting for a command to strike, energy sword at the ready.

  This looked bad.

  “Little busy right now!” she said, glancing out only to duck back quickly as a lightning bolt shot past her face.  “Shit!”

  Breaker’s cackle echoed throughout the lobby.  “Come on, Fletch,” Arken muttered into his comm.  “We don’t have all day!”

  “I said keep ‘em busy!” Fletcher’s frustrated whisper came in over the radio.  As far as they;d seen, he’d shot off one arrow at the start in a random direction, then vanished in the chaos that followed.  “Blow something up!  Can’t Impact make her fists explode or something?”

  “I need something to hit!  There’s no openings!” she shot back, looking to Arken.  “Zee!  Do something!”

  With a sigh, Arken flipped up his wrist computer, typing in a short command.  “I can’t fly after this, so if we gotta run fast, I really hope you can carry me up those walls.  Get ready!  I’m gonna knock out her bots!”

  Impact nodded.  “Just do it fast!”

  With a silent count to three, Arken confirmed the power transfer.  The lights on his feet and arms sputtered and died.  A whirring noise began to sound as his suit stored up the power, building it and building it up, ready to release it all in one burst.  The lights on his suit began to glow brighter, brighter, and electricity began to spark across the exterior.  “Go!” he yelled, a split-second before the wave.

  A dome of blue light swept out, enveloping the bank’s bottom two floors and a good portion of the outside.  As the wave hit an electronic, it sputtered and died - or, in the case of the lights, exploded in a shower of glass.  The bank was plunged into darkness as all lights, including those outside, went out at once.

  The robots spun to a stop, their gatling guns falling silent.  “What the fuck was that?!” came Breaker’s voice in the darkness.  “Zero!  I’m gonna rip that generator out of your spine if I ha-”

  Her sudden protests were silenced as Impact’s kiya echoed throughout the lobby.  At the same time, Arken’s shield and blaster materialized, and he rolled out from behind the building.  Red light bathed the area, his weapons sending constantly shifting shadows and light patterns onto the walls - and right onto the Queen’s wide, angry eyes.

  “Edge!” she cried, pointing her finger at Arken.  Without waiting to see why, Arken jumped back - and the space he occupied was filled with the blue slash of Edge’s blade.  A follow-up slice was deflected by Arken’s shield, purple sparks flying from the contact point as Arken braced against the hit.

  With a pump of his right arm, Arken’s blaster transformed, the hard light folding in on itself dozens of times and unfolding into a long broadsword.  He shoved back against Edge, sending the man back with a grunt, and Arken brought his weapon around in a follow up strike.

  Edge blocked it handily, surging inwards and slamming an elbow into Arken’s armored chest, making Arken cough and stagger back.  The swordsman wasted no time in pressing his offense, powerful blows coming at Arken left and right, and it was taking Arken’s full effort just to stay alive.  Block left, block high, sidestep a thrust, hold fast against a smash, parry a slice, an-

  Shit.

  Arken cried out, the burning sensation in his leg from Edge’s blade sending him to one knee.  A savage kick from Edge sent him down onto his back, his shield and sword shattering to pieces that vanished when they fell apart.  Edge’s booted foot slammed into Arken’s chest, holding him down.  He followed it up with his eyes, focusing on the bright blue tip of the sword hovering just over his helmet.

  “Any last words?” Edge said, computerized voice ringing clearly in Arken’s earpiece.

  “Yeah,” Arken grunted.  “D-”

  He didn’t even get a chance to finish the line before Edge was swept off of his feet and sent flying, slamming into and demolishing one of the marble pillars.  Chunks of it crashed to the ground around Edge’s unconscious body, and Arken followed the fist that sent Edge flying to see Impact as the owner, her hand pulsing with a bright green energy - along with the rest of her arm.

  “Nice save,” Arken said as he took Impact’s offered hand and was pulled up.  “What about Breaker?”

  That question was answered as he saw a sudden spark of lightning in the corner, and a harsh scream came from Breaker.  “Eat it, bitches!” she yelled as she threw her hands out, sending a massive bolt of lightning at the pair.

  With a small shift, Arken pulled Impact back, throwing himself in the path of the bolt.  It struck his chest, sending a gigantic surge of power into his suit - a surge that flowed through a system built for just such an occasion, as capacitors and switches worked to send the electricity into his formerly dormant systems.

  “Impact!” Arken yelled again, and she squeezed his hand to let him know she was there.  Breaker’s laugh started to slow as she realized that neither Zero Point nor Impact were twitching from her blast, and that laugh turned to a shout of panic as Arken finished his superpowered throw.

  Impact soared through the air, leaving a colored green silhouette of herself behind every few inches.  Her knees were tucked in, turning her into a human cannonball.  A few feet from Breaker’s face, she unfolded herself, and Breaker got the hardest kick in the teeth she’d ever gotten.

  Impact landed feet first on the adjacent wall, hitting a three-point stance on the vertical surface.  There she stood, glancing down to admire their handiwork.  “Nice toss, Zee.”

  Arken flashed her a grin she couldn’t see and a thumbs up that she could.  “Nice hit.  Now where’s the-”

  “QUEEN?!?” came a bellow from behind them.  Said Queen was standing tall, spotlights shining on her - ones that she appeared to have tossed out herself.  “You fools have ignored me for the last time!”

  There was a whoosh and a thunk, and the Queen suddenly flew forward, falling face down against the floor.  A second of silence, and she moaned, out like one of the other lights.

  Mystified, Arken and Impact looked at each other.  Fletcher swung down from a duct, then strolled over and picked up what looked like an arrow shaft, grinning.  “Told you.  Boomerang arrow.  Respect it.”

  ----

  The mop-up was done fast.  The three costumed ones had fled the scene after Queen was down, finding solace on their original rooftop.  The night was a bit quieter, the streets a bit safer, and four dangerous criminals were now behind bars - or, would be.

  “I still can’t believe your arrow hit,” Arken said incredulously.  “How did you even...just...how?”

  “Trade secret,” Fletcher said.  “You two enjoy the night.  I’ve got other business to take care of.”

  “Like what?” Impact asked.

  “Oh, you know.  Stuff,” was all he said before firing off an arrow and riding the zipline down, whooping all the while.  Arken and Impact watched him go, then glanced at each other, then back out at the city.

  “So…now what?” Arken asked as they looked out over the shining lights.

  “What we always do.  See you next week?” she said as she stood up, ready to leave herself.

  “Sure thing,” he replied.  “Your turn to buy the pizza.”

  Impact froze.  “What did you say?” she said slowly.

  “Uh...your turn to buy the pizza?” he repeated, turning to face her.  “Why?  Do you not like pizza?”

  “Oh my God,” she gasped, taking a step back.  “A...Arken?”

  Arken’s head whipped to face her, and he scampered to his feet.  “W-what?  No.  No, I’m not...how do you know?”

  “You idiot,” she said with a laugh, folding her arms and standing slightly to one side.  “I brought the pizza last time.”

  It clicked.  He reached up with trembling hands and popping the snaps on his helmet, pulling it off and holding it under his arms.  His hair whipped around in the wind, and he was almost shaking as he said the name.  “Rhia?”

  Impact reached up, pulling off her faceplate.  Brown hair rolled out as her helmet’s back flipped down, and her smile was wider than he’d ever seen it.  There was a moment of silence, and then Arken started to laugh.  It spread to Rhia, and for a short time, both of them could do nothing but laugh, the tension of the moment and of the night melting away.

  When Arken could finally breathe again, he took a few slow steps forward before breaking into a run, nearly tackling Rhia as he embraced her.  Armor clashed against armor, but he refused to let go, holding her in a tight hug.  After a second, she raised her arms and wrapped them around him.  “We have a lot to talk about, you know,” he said.

  “Yeah, we do,” she said as they separated, their arms still resting on the other’s shoulder.  “You said something about a crush?”