Shiny Things

Tex circled around her double, searching for an opening. Unfortunately, every move she made was copied in a mirror image stance by the imposter Veroni. As if sensing the blonde’s growing frustration and unease, her counterpart smirked in the dim, waning light.

“Can’t keep up, Tex?” Tex’s doppelganger mocked in a voice that sounded somewhat like her own, but also like she was talking through a filter, “Maybe that’s because, deep down, you know.”

Tex narrowed her dark eyes, throwing a kick that the imposter blocked with one of her own. They were back at the starting point again. Damn.

The fake Tex’s smirk only widened, “Deep down you know that you are nothing but a shadow of a shadow. Of a dead woman, no less. Ouch.”

The imposter attacked this time. Tex blocked, but barely. Black’s pilot was obviously more affected by the fake Veroni’s words than she’d care to admit.

As if sensing her doubt, Texas pressed her advantage by kicking the real Tex back in the dirt a few meters, “The only reason Church keeps you around is because you are a reminder of the first Tex.”

Tex gritted her teeth, standing upright. “Shut. Up.” She stated dangerously, emphatically.

Her copy seemed more amused than anything else, and that only served to piss off the Veroni more. The black lines on Tex’s body positively glowed in the night air. “I’ve made my own path.” She informed her clone matter-of-factly.

“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.”

Tex didn’t wait to swing a punch with her full force behind it at the other woman… Only the satisfying impact that she was looking for never came. Instead, much to her growing frustration, her blow was once again blocked.

Except that, this time, it wasn’t her double who had done so. It was none other than Carolina. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The redhead demanded, her arms still up to block Tex’s fist from her face.

Tex was impressed at the half-Veroni’s strength. She could punch back tanks, after all. Tex instantly relaxed her guard but not her fist, glancing around. There was no one else there, save for the two of them. Texas had apparently left the building, if the imposter had ever really been there in the first place.

“It’s nothing.” Tex finally replied to Carolina, unclenching the fist at her side.

Carolina’s green eyes regarded her disbelievingly, “It didn’t feel like nothing just then.” The cyan-armored soldier shook her hands in an attempt to recover from the impact of Tex’s fist.

In the silence that followed, the two women regarded one another. Tex’s expression remained guarded and neutral while Carolina’s was openly suspicious and searching. Leave it to the two of them to make this whole situation even more awkward than it needed to be. Church would be laughing his head off at the moment, or ducking for cover in case things got violent. One could never tell which way interactions between Carolina and Tex would go.

They both stayed in their silent regard until they heard what sounded like a gunshot off in the distance. The two women turned as one in the direction of the Elvari ruins. It took them no time at all to reach them and find the source of the noise.

Inside the closest ruin to the parked mechs, they found Doc trying to apply pressure to a bleeding Donut’s wound. The purple-wearing Elvari’s medical scanner was on the ground by his side next to a carton of spilled orange juice, as if he had discarded both in a hurry.

“What happened?” Carolina demanded, instantly dropping down to be at eye level with the two men.

Donut winced, “H—hey, Carolina! Tex!” He tried getting out cheerily through gritted teeth, as if being injured wasn’t a valid excuse for skipping pleasantries.

“He’s been shot!” Doc said with a voice that was a bit more frantic than the other Elvari’s, his tone urgent.

“We can see that.” Tex muttered, “Are you doing okay?”

“Oh, just dandy!” Donut said, trying to play off his injury as if it was no big deal, “It’s just a shoulder wound! Doc’s patching me up just fine.”

Doc said nothing in reply, but he seemed touched at the confidence Donut expressed in his skills. With that little bit of reassurance, he was blushing under his glasses and even seemed more focused. Tex watched him work. While she would never say that she had any confidence in Doc’s skills as a medic, she was glad that at least someone did. Perhaps bringing him along wasn’t the worst idea.

“That’s good to know. But. What. Happened?” Carolina tried asking again, her voice both gentle and terrifying all at once.

Tex recognized the tone. Someone had hurt the former Freelancer’s family. They were going to be in a world of pain when she found them. …It was a sentiment that the mech pilot could relate to. No one hurt her idiots and got away with it.

Doc and Donut both looked at one another for a second, uncertainty flashing across both of their faces. Finally, Doc responded, “Washington shot Donut.”

Both women shared a surprised look, and Donut bit his lip and reached out to grip Carolina’s shoulder with his good arm. “B—but it wasn’t his fault, I think!” He told her urgently, “He seemed really freaked out.”

Doc nodded his head in agreement, “He was definitely confused and out of sorts. I would have offered him some orange juice to calm down, but I needed to help Donut first.”

Carolina turned her head upwards to fix Tex with a pointed stare, who quickly looked away. Obviously, the redhead was thinking back to Tex’s “out of sorts” moment. Tex frowned at the thought that all of these bizarre incidents were connected.

Carolina scowled as she processed what they had just been told. At length, the former Freelancer turned her attention to Doc, “Can you treat him while on the move?” She asked, “We need to get back to the others as soon as possible.”

Doc turned to stare at Donut, who smiled once more in a reassuring manner. The medic nodded then, and together he and Carolina helped the pink-wearing pilot get up on his feet.

“Good.” Carolina patted Donut’s uninjured shoulder awkwardly before getting back to business, “Now, which way did Washington go?”

Both men pointed in the direction of the Trocadero colony, and Tex couldn’t help swearing under her breath, “Mother fucker.”

Charles Palomo and Katie Jensen were walking together through Armonia’s military facility. They were traversing through one of the facility’s corridors, chatting about various non-work related topics as they were both now technically off the clock. Those who happened to walk by were greeted to conversation snippets about superhero stories or driving skills.

“This is great!” Palomo noted cheerfully after their talk had veered into recently released comic book issues territory, “I love that I can talk about stuff like this with you and the other guys.”

“Really?” Jensen blinked in surprise at the half-Veroni’s comment, “What do you mean?”

“Um,” the normally talkative young man suddenly became oddly sheepish, a blush suffusing his dark-skinned features and brightening his aqua-colored Veroni lines, “Okay, just don’t laugh, all right? But, my only real friend here on Chorus growing up was Matthews.”

Right. Jensen had vaguely remembered hearing how the half-human and the Elvari had been childhood friends of sorts. She nodded her brown-haired head in affirmation that he should continue, a sign he instantly picked up on.

Palomo smiled nostalgically, “I guess we were both awkward enough that we kind of bonded.” He gave her his trademark goofy grin, “Hard to believe now given how awesome I am, am I right?”

Maybe a bit more believable than you think. Jensen couldn’t help but think, though she smiled warmly at him all the same, “I can kind of relate, in a way.” She told the dark-skinned rookie, “I didn’t really have too many friends myself before arriving on Chorus.” …For reasons that she definitely did not want to dwell on. She hoped her expression hadn’t darkened too much.

The Strassian girl realized it probably had because Palomo was regarding her with open curiosity then, “How come…?” He began, almost at a loss for how to continue his questioning.

Thankfully, before Palomo had the chance to inquire further, Jensen noticed movement in the corridor out of the corner of her eye. The Strassian moved forward, surprised at seeing someone so close to a secure area. She narrowed her eyes as she recognized the steel-colored armor belonging to Chorus’ newest recruit.

“Miller!” Jensen called out in greeting, “What are you doing over by Records?”

The sealed Records room, in particular. The lieutenants didn’t even have full access to this area.

Zachary Miller scratched his head and let out a nervous laugh, “Oh, uh, just lost my way! This place is huge.” He glanced over at the locked door behind him, “Records, huh. Just what kind of records are stored here, I wonder?” He asked out of cheerful curiosity.

It was a question that all rookies asked at one point or another, so Jensen saw no reason not to tell him: “Classified intel on Chorus military operations and the like.”

Palomo had trotted over to the two by this point, nodding his head in agreement, “Yeah, we aren’t really allowed to enter the room without a good reason.”

“Or without permission.” Jensen further clarified, indicating that its contents were not intended for lower ranked soldiers like themselves.

“Right.” Miller nodded his head in understanding, glancing at the door one last time before grinning sheepishly, “If you guys don’t mind, could you show me the way back to the residential district? Maybe we could run into Matthews and the others there.”

“No problem!” Palomo replied, returning the human’s grin with one of his own.

The conversation then turned back to comic books as the trio moved down the hall, their laughter resounding off the corridor’s walls as they headed out of the military facility.

Lavernius Tucker was walking through the mostly quiet, darkened streets of Trocadero. He had just finished his call to Junior and was in high spirits. The kid was doing great, even with Church babysitting him. Junior had happily ended the communication by cheerily asking Tucker to bring him back a souvenir, and Tucker promised he would if he could find something in this shithole of a colony.

Aqua’s pilot figured that going out for a bit would help him relax enough to get some sleep, though he wasn’t too keen on returning to his room just yet. He tried to ignore the part of his brain that oh-so-helpfully wanted to say it was because Washington wasn’t there yet.

Instead, Tucker focused on the fact that as he had been leaving for his walk he had heard a bit of a commotion in their resting area. Something about said commotion told him that he probably didn’t want to go back, even though it had piqued his curiosity a bit. But, fuck it, he was on a break. That commotion seemed like bad news of the Caboose had accidentally set something on fire again variety. He didn’t need to deal with that shit on his off hours.

“Tucker.”

The dark-skinned man stopped pacing abruptly when he heard a haggard, familiar voice say his name from behind him. Much to his growing surprise, he spotted David Washington standing there out of the corner of his eye. The former pilot of Steel had a strangely intense look crossing over his features, but, then again, this was Washington they were talking about. When did the blond ever not look serious?

Tucker turned around fully to face him, a grin splitting his face, “Hey, man! How’d your patrol or whatever it was…go?” The last part of his question became a trailed-off mess once he saw the gun that Washington was holding tightly and as he really took in the stricken expression in the Freelancer’s gray eyes.

“What…what the fuck is going on?!?” Tucker couldn’t keep his voice from rising slightly in panic as he took a step towards the full-blooded Strassian, “Washington?”

Washington blinked at the urgent way that Tucker called his name, as if he was being snapped out of a dream. Well, more like a nightmare given the older man’s state. Washington’s fingers went limp and the gun he was holding suddenly dropped to the dusty ground.

In three long strides, Washington was at Tucker’s side and pulling the half-human into a crushing, desperate embrace that left Tucker’s lungs screaming for air. “I’m…I’m sorry.” He was muttering into Tucker’s ear, “Tucker, I—I’m…!”

Tucker returned the embrace tightly as Washington’s voice shakily trailed off, his heart pounding in his chest. He had no idea what the fuck was going on, so naturally Aqua’s pilot was more than just a tad unnerved despite the close contact from Washington.

Richard “Dick” Simmons was lying in a pool of blood and Dexter Grif wasn’t sure what to do to help him. The orange-armored human could still hardly believe that he had somehow stabbed his fellow pilot in the throes of a nightmare.

Grif was going to be sick. Orange’s pilot suddenly regretted all of the meals he had indulged in recently, as he could feel the partially digested food already building up in his stomach. Damn it, why did he like to eat so much if he reacted to shitty things by puking? He was about to upchuck. But, then he realized that wouldn’t help Simmons any, so he managed to force the bile back down.

Grif gritted his teeth, all issues regarding possibly regurgitated food becoming a distant memory in the face of Simmons needing his help then and there. He could do the other shit later.

The tan-skinned man bent down over the grimacing, unconscious Strassian. He gripped the lankier man’s shoulders in a tight but altogether shaky grip as his mind started trying to process what the fuck he needed to do next.

Damn it. Through raising Kai, he had been well-prepared for things like skinned knees and unplanned pregnancies, but he didn’t know what the fuck he was supposed to do for stab wounds. In the past on Rat’s Nest, if he had stabbed people he didn’t attempt to patch them up afterwards. Survival instinct and all that shit.

Briefly, Grif couldn’t help but wonder where everyone else was. If he could just find Doc then maybe he could still save Simmons. The chubby human hoped that maybe he could speedily make his way to the Elvari ruins that Doc had gone to with Washington and Donut, but his eyes wandered to the blood spilling from Simmons’ wound and he realized he didn’t have that kind of fucking time.

At that exact moment, the door to the room opened. Aiden Price and four other colony residents stepped inside. Before Grif’s brain could even formulate asking the question about what they were fucking doing there, Price gazed down at the scene of Maroon’s pilot bleeding out with an oddly detached, clinical sort of interest.

“It seems things have escalated rather quickly.” Price muttered before turning to a still panicking and not-in-his-right-mind Grif, “We will need to move quickly if we are to save him.”

The four colony residents who had come with Price moved forward then, and Grif’s hands tightened their hold on Simmons. “N—no…!” He began, wanting to do nothing more than to pull the redhead closer to him in that moment to keep him away from the strangers.

Then a searing, sharp pain shot through his skull and Grif couldn’t fight the urge to reel back violently from it. While he was distracted, one of the colonists gently pried Simmons from Grif’s grip as the other three hauled the pale, redheaded Strassian’s body off of the bloodied floor.

Price looked down at Grif with that same clinical look in his brown eyes he had moments earlier, “This is all for the best. We want to ensure that your friend will be all right.”

The colonists carried Simmons out of the room, and Price cast one final look at a grimacing, pain-stricken Grif before he took his leave as well.

As soon as he was left alone in the room, Grif curled up on the floor right next to the spot of Simmons’ quickly congealing blood. The human’s brain was still reeling from whatever the hell it was that had struck him.

Left all alone, Grif’s panicked mind began cursing himself over what he had just done.