As the events of the afternoon and evening unfolded Jonathan Kelly quickly realised he was going to have his hands full with this elf. She was naive, confused, suspicious, and worst of all, she was smart.

This whole operation had become a slow-motion car crash; I don’t recall a storyline going this dark this quickly. Was it me? I stuck to protocol, textbook non-interference until now.

After a wash in the river, ‘elf’ cleaned up rather well, those ears, twitching incessantly, were mighty distracting. Aside from that, she was rather attractive—main character of course—though her traumatised company was a tiny consolation. This was a horrible first contact. Sure, he’d seen far worse, but those weren’t going to be documented in his performance metrics. Not my fault, not my fault! HQ can eat a dick I did things by the book, except this book is just a little temperamental. Not my fault.

Whatever brainiacs decided to roster him for scouting were most assuredly pissing their pants at this very moment. Served them fucking right. At least it was isolated to one native, who was a solid ‘in’ to the main storyline.

He nearly broke her mind a second time when he opened a rift into his cold room. No good deed goes unpunished he supposed. After food and hydration, she was entirely out of it, didn’t even ask about night-watch. Fortunately, he could just put his assault rifle on a gimbal mount, and along with the sensor buoy, Evy was the best watchman around.

Avoiding friendly fire was not the AI’s strong suit, but so long as target distinction was minimal, they were good. She’d wake him with gunfire or an alarm whichever came first.

Slumming it with the natives did leave them a little exposed, but he couldn’t introduce Kay to the bunker just yet. With her reaction to the cold room alone, he’d have to take it slow and steady to keep her an asset. What would he do if he lost her, too; he had no idea.

“I’m a development specialist, not a trailblazer,” he mumbled. "What the donner were you thinking Dive Command!”

Lee replied in audio chat. “For better or worse they got you Kel. Work your angles. A lot of innocents suffer if this world is condemned. Let’s make sure your sorry ass isn’t the only one they get.”

“Copy that.”

He tried to get some rest, but fitful sleep carried Jon through the night. He was almost relieved when morning glared at them with its first sun rays, almost. The sleeping bags and bedrolls were cocooning them from the morning frost. Jon kicked the warmth off; he’d remained clothed underneath.

Despite the quizzical stares he got from the girl every time he retrieved something, there was basically only one thing in his bag, one essential thing. A silver ring about a forearm in diameter was contained within. Very similar to the broader rift he used yesterday, it departed in design by having an adjustable iris diaphragm. Its function was identical to camera apertures. It was motorised and automated, controlled mainly by Evy. A manual lever could also be engaged for non-standard retrieval and deposits. This allowed telescoping to various circular sizes, from a dinner plate down to a test tube or even pin-sized orifices. Jon mostly used it for handheld items.

It connected to another iris on moving horizontal and vertical rails back at base. Evy managed indexing the shelves for the most part. Through this Rift inventory, he retrieved and stowed everything he ever needed in the field. That’s where the bedrolls and sleeping bags came from and returned to. Compactly rolled up, he pushed them through the rift in his sack to their allocated shelves on the other side. The bag never swelled with contents because it was a portable door, not a storage device. He did this, all the while under the steely, but groggy, gaze of bright green eyes. You don’t wanna see another Rift, trust me, girl. Just misconstrue me as some kind of quirky wizard. Save your sanity for later.

He briefly checked Gavin’s gear but found nothing of interest: Some rations and flasks with liquid, ‘potions’ no doubt. Aside from his small canvas pack was the dull short sword in its scabbard and belt. They were all Kay’s by right; she was likely the next best main character he’d ever get.

The trek back to the village progressed without event. Jon stowed his rifle as they approached. It was a small hamlet he’d seen from far off. The tracker on Gavin’s pack had been placed before reaching this village, and Jon had shadowed him mostly out of sight through this part.

There was no fanfair as they approached. A rough-looking farmhand stared on, leaning on his hoe. And a wizened old lady scrutinized them from her porch as they passed. The looks they gave, mostly to Keya, were not friendly.

What was the word he was looking for, ah yes ‘unfriendly’. ‘Un-fucken-friendly’ was the technical term. Jon knew a plot flag when he saw one and loosened the concealed holster for his pistol under his jacket.

“So Kay, is there anything you’d like to mention at this point?”

“My name is Keya; ‘tis short enough a name already I should think.”

A sidelong glance revealed no mirth on her face. Thoughts occupied. Jon just waited for the information he knew was forthcoming.

“I have never been well-liked in this village.”

“Let me guess: you and Grandpa are the only elves in town. Moved here when you were young, parents died mysteriously, and you barely knew them.”

“That is exactly so! How did you know?” Her brow furrowed in suspicion at him once more. He was growing to like it, those thin kitted eyebrows and the way her ears twitched were kinda cute. Regarding her backstory, he had of course been listening in when Gavin set off on his quest to rescue the damsel.

“Only so many ways to write a supporting character. Especially one who’ll follow a complete stranger off on a dangerous adventure. Good thing you’re wearing that sword. You might need it.”

“What do you mean? Jon, speak clear! Your riddles are infuriating!”

He huffed. “How many people irrationally hate you or your kind in this town and are able-bodied enough to act on it?”

They moved through an eerily silent public square—a mostly hard-packed dirt expanse framed by decrepit wooden lodges—and were heading towards a lone hut on a small rise near the partly deforested woods. Jon removed a flashbang from his pack and hooked it on his belt.

“There are no—” even as she tried to deny his words, he saw inevitable recognition cross her face.

“I don’t need names, Ms Ces, just their leader’s appearance and numbers.”

“Four maybe five, Gillian has a freckled complexion with red hair,” said Kay, her face was grim.

“Is killing acceptable?”

“What!? No! They are but naive youths. With fathers drafted into the war, their frustration is understandable.”

“Fuck, there goes the easy way. Well, it’s your story, but my bruises.”

Jon retrieved his spiked shock gloves, and a taser gun. It could manage two shots at close range.

“Please say there are no magic users.”

“None.”

“Finally, some good news.” His tone was flat. “We confront them in the open, I need them drawn out. When I say the magic word ‘zebra’, you are to shut eyes, cover your ears and turn away. We can’t have those pretty little listeners damaged so early in the plot now can we.”

Keya’s cheeks reddened despite the grave situation.

“More of your magics no doubt.”

“You got that right princess! Your job is to keep them talking. Sanctimonious gloating would be best. I doubt they’ll need encouragement.”

“I am not royalty,” said Kay.

In a lower murmur as they moved closer, “Uh-huh, I’ll take you up on that bet. Drop packs here. Need to be mobile.”

Approaching the decrepit hut, he stuck his sensor buoy down again, having to force it into the hard ground with his foot.

“Signs of forced entry on the door latch.” Jon took off the safety on his various weapons.

Keya readied her hand on Gavin’s sword despite earlier comments.

Five silhouettes were approximately extrapolated via visualisation software inside the timeworn hut. He glanced around for ambushers and saw no one else nearby. One figure lay on the floor surrounded by the others.

They stopped about 10 metres away from the hut.

Keya announced herself. “Grandpa? Are you there?”

The figures started sharply toward the door, and one grabbed the prone body dragging it out the door and into the late morning sun.

“Well, that’s not good.”

Jon heard Keya’s breath shudder as she made to rush forward.

“Grandpa?!” she cried. Jon kindly but firmly grabbed her shoulder.

“Hold it, Kay, one hostage is enough. I need clear sightlines.” His voice the impassive tone reserved for combat.

“Ah, so the whore returns, and with a new man I see.” The lout dragging the elder elf was undoubtedly Gillian. His cronies were in tow as he stepped off the creaking porch onto boot hardened ground.

Keya was already sobbing uncontrollably, but she stood firm to her credit.

“Gillian! What have you done?!”

“What me?” His tone incredulous “Ralfen here is to blame.” He gestured to the unconscious elder. “With the war, food has become scarce in our village. We had become concerned that perhaps you and your grandfather were hoarding an unfair share. Just look at your complexion! You seem healthy and hale to me!”

Magnanimous innocence painted his features. “With you disappearing in the night. A supposed ‘goblin attack’. We took it upon ourselves to do a bit of ‘investigating’. Lo and behold, you return unscathed, and with such finespun clothing no less.” There was a smarmy undertone in his every word.

“He’s really well-spoken for a country bumpkin,” interjected Jon.

“And you sir, do you know of this wench’s lowly character. She’d plough just about anyone for a copper. Do yourself a favour, and leave before she tosses you aside too.”

Through all this, the group of young men had been approaching. Keya’s bony shoulder under his hand was also shaking. At first from weak sobbing to a far more familiar shudder as he saw clenched fists whitening her knuckles. She stood rigid now and said nothing.

The group was staring at him as if waiting for a response. Gillian dropped grandpa’s foot and walked closer with his gang hoping to surround the duo. Jon tried to reply when all of a sudden, the earth swallowed Gillian’s foot up to his knee.

Gillian made an awkward squawk looking incredulously at his leg. Then recovered enough to yell: “Get her!”

“Kak! Zebra! Fokken Zebra!” Jon drew the taser sequentially zapping two approaching youths, they collapsed and convulsed on the ground as he dropped the spent device trailing the conductive cables. Next, he angled to the last mobile member and dashed forward.

His shock gloves had two inconspicuous steel spikes protruding from the two front knuckles. They could pierce most fabrics and thinner leathers with enough force. The electrified pins would then find succulent flesh to conduct through below. This time, however, he opted for opening his palm, exposing another two steel plates on his index and middle finger.

The third lackey was somewhat flustered, seeing the state of his brethren. A perfectly reasonable response that slowed his reactions just enough for Jon to grab his wrist and execute a hip throw. The luckless sod no longer had to wonder at his comrades’ fates, instead, experiencing electrocution first-hand. Being thrown on the hard ground didn’t help either as he quickly succumbed to unconsciousness.

Gillian remained literally rooted with one limb in the ground. He had unsheathed a small dagger that he swung wildly but in vain. No one was in reach. Jon approached the idiot from behind as he saw Keya gesturing with a rather aggressive crushing motion, and Gillian gave a yelp.

Jon took the opportunity to kidney punch him in the back; the shock pins sunk in snugly through his shirt, and he struggled momentarily before going limp. Gillian fell backwards as Jon stepped away.

His elven cohort still stood rigid, boring her vision into the ring leader. “I said ‘Zebra’, twice! We’re gonna have to work on your listening skills.” Her actions made the flashbang moot, but he left that out.

The chastisement pulled her back to her senses. “Grandpa!” She rushed over to the prone elder ignoring everything else.

Jon disarmed and secured the men with heavy-duty cable ties on their hands and feet, save for Gillian whose lower leg was securely sealed in the hard dirt. His hands alone were restrained. Neutralizing threats came before triage.

Even so, he’d known of poor Ralfen’s condition for some time now. It was very stable though not in a favourable way. Moving over, he did the perfunctory pulse and breathing checks while Keya cradled him in her knees.

“Is he…?”

Jon gave a short, dismissive shake of his head.

The stricken girl gazed blankly at the ground, breaking down into wailing sobs.

It was not the kind of stoic scene one might see in a movie. There was no grace or dignity. She simply heaved and sputtered rocking the bleeding and swollen body of her last family member, and perhaps only friend.

Willing himself to feel her anguish, he dared not look away. For the sake of all the little people, I too will bear your pain elf girl.