-Matthew Reaper P.O.V.-

I found my way back to the Ogre, time having slipped away from me. Adira was nothing if not a great conversationalist, though it helped that we shared an obsession in biotics.

In our meandering, I’d seen much of the vessel, and I had to admit that I’d vastly underestimated the capabilities of the brigades. The Destroyer had been heavily modified, I knew that, but what I didn’t expect to see was an observation deck below the water. The prow of the ship - also part of the aft and starboard hull - bore a transparent material that I was informed was a type of metal. It offered a tremendous view of a vibrant coral reef, a rainbow assortment of colors that shimmered and virtually writhed in the waters of the bay.

That wasn’t something a pre-apocalyptic world had, and I’d been informed that, contrary to what happened in our neck of the woods, the hive cores seemed to be increasing the volume of life in the oceans. Something to consider in the future, but on another note I had to be impressed by the Leviathan Brigade. The fact that they’d accomplished a transparent metal construction was impressive, but what truly shocked me was when Adira informed me that each vessel was nuclear.

Not just nuclear, but enhanced nuclear. I wasn’t presently educated on what a standard nuclear reactor could have done, only that no such option was presented to be fabricated directly from the Obelisks. Information was available, however, which meant that engineers with proper understanding and clearance were able to enhance the power sources to a truly mind-numbing degree.

If we could secure our own source of components as Basilisk had, I could already tell that the Legion would enter a new phase of engineering. For the first time, I also felt an itch to create things myself. Since the beginning I’d stayed away from actually constructing my own gear, aside from creating the blue prints and theorycrafting their end product with my augmented cognitive functions. As I listened to Adira enthusiastically explain how everything worked, I wondered if perhaps I was missing out on something. If nothing else, I could use a hobby, and given that I required distinctly less sleep than others, I may as well become more involved in every production step that I could.

Granted, most of the time I sorted out the future of the Legion in my supposed downtime. I shouldn’t have had to be focusing on that, however, as I had plenty of people around to do that for me. I could stand to step back a bit, let the people that I’d appointed have a bit more free reign.

Doug had, after all, proven more than capable as a diplomat and our political wing. But, he was also our treasurer, of a sorts, and had been expressing recent discomfort about the conflict of interest. Not that he applied too much funding to his own department, but perhaps a little of the opposite. Attempting to ensure no problems would arise, he directed significant ME usage to other ventures.

That would have to stop. And as I analyzed and learned more about the power structure in the Brigade alone, I had to admit that I hadn’t taken a close enough look at our organizational structure.

I never wanted the Legion to become weighed down by bureaucracy, but that didn’t mean I didn’t need some measure of hard separation.

Still, that would be a topic to fully consider later. Currently, back in the cargo bay rife with Ogre’s and Legionnaires modifying their gear, I felt my chest loosen from tension I didn’t know I’d had. Hesitantly I paused to examine the sensation, feeling oddly… perturbed?

Anxious perhaps was the better word.

Shaking my head, I pushed the consideration away. Being with the Legion was calming to me, surrounded by familiar sights and people. If I didn’t relax in that situation, then I’d truly have to consider taking a vacation.

I passed by teams working on their mechs, making liberal use of the generously provided mech-bays that the crew of The Wendigo provided. Some of said crew worked on their own gear, their general maintenance much lighter than what we were up to, and curiously watched on as exotic mechs became outfitted for more amphibious warfare. My teams had received information from me, compliments of the Brigade, on what designs they used and suggested parameters that we should employ as a baseline for water combat. It was fairly comprehensive, but didn’t stop a few of my teams from engaging other mech-workers from our host company for advice.

To no great surprise, we mixed fairly well, the wariness of our initial arrival was dulled by the similarities between our groups and the tenacity with which the Legion worked and retrofitted gear. We knew that at any minute we could end up needing these mechs, rather than relying on our host to do all of the work.

Quite in fact, I’m sure I wasn’t alone in hoping that we’d get to stretch our legs. The third day of our journey was coming to a close, and not a single one of us had fought a new biotic. That was a record, considering how literally every other expansion we’d headed had us fighting a veritable carnival of horrors.

As I approached my team, I couldn’t help but pause.

“Alright, hold it there,” I heard Domino call out from a metal module, fresh to Eric’s four armed mech. Beneath him, though the module was held up with straps, I watched as Harold, Daniel, and Eric pushed hard against the device, shoving it flush against the mech.

Daniel groaned, “Just one more after this?”

“Yeah,” Domino called back down, snapping a bracket into place while a loud power tool whirred to life, conversation dying beneath its shrill call. This repeated four times on the corners with a newly practiced precision, and the object fixed itself sturdily to the mech.

“There, that should do it.” Domino stretched, eyes settling on the next mech in the line with dread lingering in their depths.

And then happened to see me, a flicker of hope beginning to light his grinning, oil covered face. “Hey! Backup arrived!”

“Good timing!” Daniel rounded on me, crossing the distance faster than I’d expected to see him move, clapping large hands on my shoulders like he expected me to run.

Which, considering the modules I saw laying around The Dauntless, I very well might have considered doing anything else.

“My arms feel like jello,” Harold complained, “why is it that we’re the only ones doing the outfitting, here?”

A loud clang resounded as Rachel howled in triumph, stunning us into silence as she stepped up over another of the mechs. She was smudged with oil, and in the t-shirt she wore I could very clearly see the straining muscles of her arms, and the scrapes that she bore on them.

Flanking her, on either side were two more tired looking women, along with Richard, who climbed out of the guts of the Ogre.

“I retract my statement,” Harold said, “mech work isn’t that bad.”

For a few seconds I just breathed, and then arched an eyebrow, “Give me the quick version. What’re you doing?”

Domino answered before Daniel could, “Still outfitting the mechs. We came up with a few other ideas thanks to Terry, but he had another plan for the Ogre’s.”

“So we split labor,” Daniel nodded, “we’re almost done with the mech’s, thank the gods, but the Ogre’s are a bit more work.”

Rachel moved towards us, a wrench resting over her shoulder much like I’d imagine an axe would, and for a moment I envisioned the woman as a viking in a past life.

“The godforsaken things are too modifiable,” she grumped, “I never thought I’d complain about that. But, if nothing else, they’ll be more adapted to sea than land soon. Terry sh-”

And in that moment, from the next Ogre other, I heard a rattling and a sudden fizzle like Ozone, followed immediately by bellowed cursing.

“-yeah, he’s still working on that one.” She nodded solemnly.

I took in a deep breath and moved into the Ogre while stripping out of my nice clothes, still wearing the skin-tight black suit beneath. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the beaming eyes of Daniel and the other guys, glad to have another hand.

As I stepped back out, they settled an appraising stare on me. Usually I didn’t notice the glances that my suit attracted - the fact that it traced my outline very closely the main reason- but I did have a moment of appreciation for having perhaps the best figure I’d ever had.

You could even say I was built.

‘Ugh…’ I heard Wolvey writhe at the pun, bringing a cheery smile to my face.

“Alright, let's get to it,” I walked with Daniel, who clapped me on the back as I approached.

“So, how’s that Adira chick?” He asked lower, “Seems to be your type.”

I settled a glare at him as we moved, and he blinked in surprise.

“Joke’s getting old, Danny.”

“No, no, no, I mean it,” he leaned in, “how is she, for real?”

The other three shook their heads, and Domino spoke up, “I mean, she does seem very nice. But it’s not really our business, really.”

“Pfft, not with me around,” Daniel waved it off, “right?”

“Yes, he’s always managed to stick his nose in stuff like this.” I stated, trying and failing to maintain annoyance at the man. Mostly, because the statement felt utterly true. While some memory might be gone, that one seemed fairly ingrained.

“I think she likes you,” Harold shrugged, “you might not know this, but the Brigade guys and gals are talkin’ about it too.”

Domino interrupted again, “Lets focus on the multi-ton module we have to install, first, yeah?”

‘Wolvey, remind me to give Domino a raise, or something,’ I thought to the lurking part of me that wriggled in amusement. It’d been suspiciously quiet of late, but I didn’t sense anything particular about it.

Hopefully, that just meant it was bored, or hibernating. A month of doing the same thing over and over again had made even me bored out of my wits.

The module itself was resting on the ground, straps connected to it from two cranes nearby. The Dauntless was partially upright from within the modified command vehicle, and I noted that we would be installing this on the back of the mech. A few others appeared to have been placed already, and I frowned at the sight of that.

“Why didn’t this one get installed at the same time?” I gestured to the other limbs, and turned my attention to Daniel.

“Wanted to see if you’d be back for it.” He nodded shamelessly, “Honestly, these things are heavier than I expected.”

I sighed, “We’re going to need to have some other vehicle for retrofitting now.”

There was a wordless agreement to that, but it wouldn’t help us right now. Domino moved over to the first crane, Harold to the second. Eric, Daniel, and myself moved heavy duty scaffolding into place as closely as we could get it.

A minute later, we were pushing the module into position, and I eyed the straps to the cranes warily, hearing the metal of one of them groan forlornly.

“How did you guys even get this thing on the crane?” I pushed my augmented muscles, doing far better than Daniel and Eric, who heaved, red-faced, to push with the crane's assistance to be flush against The Dauntless.

“Didn’t,” Daniel gritted out, “spawned it right into the straps.”

I blinked at that, a sinking feeling in my gut, “And you checked that these cranes were rated for this weight, right?”

Daniel met my gaze, frustration at my question rapidly spinning to concern. Eric, too late, looked up, “Wait, what?”

We were mere inches away from The Dauntless, lowering the piece into place when the groaning of metal resounded through the hull.

“Shit! Down, down!” I heard Harold shout as the crane on his side bent fractionally, and then with a resounding snap released its side of the load.

By some small miracle, the other crane held, the module clanging loudly and - remarkably - exactly into the slot and resting in place.

The broken crane, however, snapped to the side, towards us. Some of its momentum seized, swung by the straps still connected to the module.

Reaper’s Eye brought all of this to a standstill, my mind calming even as I considered the events. Obviously, this was one step away from going from a minor accident to a catastrophic accident. I could easily roll off of the scaffolding here, and the top of the steel crane about to hit my position would harmlessly clatter to the ground.

If Daniel and Eric weren’t on the heavy scaffolding with me, that’d be a viable option.

‘We are going to hurt,’ Wolvey roused fully, a sort of half laugh coming from it, ‘better us, though.’

‘Better us,’ I mentally nodded in assent.

Then the steel came down, and I felt my body heat up instantly, muscles ripple as biosteel flexed, densely packed tissue straining in anticipation.

Behind me, Daniel started to shout for me, reflex taking over as he moved to protect Eric.

The moment of impact I blurred into motion. I didn’t bother trying to actually catch the thing, given that I just didn’t have the mass to even begin to believe I could actually halt that kind of momentum, or the leverage. What I could do, though, was deflect it.

I swung and pressed against the steel as it came, hefting my mass with a bellow, cracking my right arm hard against the beam. There was nothing clean about the deflection, bio-steel was, after all, somewhat analogous with flesh. That came with the territory of being softer, too.

And, as I pushed, the shearing sound of not-flesh rang out, and I stifled a gasp of sharp agony. It was just a second of contact, a hard push that pressed my bare feet hard down into the metal grill of the scaffolding we stood on. The metal bones of my feet clicked against the grating, drowned out by the cacophony of the crane hitting the deck behind us.

Our scaffolding bent ever so slightly, but held, and by now every set of eyes around the hull were focused on us, the noise having filled the cargo bay. An alarm sounded as crews, Legion and otherwise, launched themselves at a dead sprint towards us.

I took in the sight calmly, my honed sense of meditation giving me a few precious moments of clarity in spite of pain.

But, even as the coldness rose to pull more of my mind down, it halted.

‘This is going to hurt like hell,’ I sighed, allowing that other part of me to retreat, acknowledging that it wasn’t needed any longer. It was strange, to feel another part of myself, distanced from anything that wasn’t the mission or any objectives I needed done.

That musing vanishing in the haze of spine-tingling pain that wracked my body.

“Fuck,” I hissed, pulling my feet up, dark red blood with streaks of metallic silver vigorously dripping from both of them, nevermind the hefty pump coming from my shredded right arm.

Idly, I brought my arm up, able to work through pain like no living organism should, and observed the damage.

“Yup, that’s pretty giga fucked,” I groaned, the outside part of the flesh ground down to bone, dull grey in the light. I maintained tendon function, barely, but I could feel the weakness in the limb acutely.

“Daniel, Eric, you okay?” I turned my attention to them, Daniel breathing heavily, and meeting my eyes.

“Fuck. Yeah, we’re fine. You?” His eyes hot down to my arm, and then to my feet with a wince, “how bad is that for you now?”

Eric, on the other hand, looked firmly mortified at looking at me, “Fucking shit, Matt, what about you?”

I nodded, “Yeah, pretty bad. Functional, though,” I grit my teeth, both feet extremely tender. Even as they watched, though, the blood flow slowed to nothing from my feet, and a mere trickle from my arm. Coagulation occured before their eyes, hardened like silver in the presence of air.

Mistakenly, though, I reached out with my right arm and felt the new ‘scab’ tear with significantly more pain than a moment before and hissed through clenched teeth. “Oh, oh that hurts like a-”

Fran was below me in her armor before I could finish the sentence, the scaffolding straightening enough to make navigation easier, and before any of us could complain, had metal feathers pressing us into makeshift braces to carry us down.

“Medic!” Fran called out, sorting us out as those with actual medical training came forward.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Daniel grumped at the medics that moved to him, “check Matthew, he’s the one that’s hurt.”

Fran gave him a look that could freeze an ocean, and he instead graciously allowed the medical team to check him out.

Eric, on the other hand, was too out of sorts to have put up much more than a token resistance. His eyes kept finding me, and the trail of blood that led to where I was sitting on a bench.

“No,” I gestured at the few medics approaching me warily, “I’m fine. Not strictly human biology, anyways.”

And it was true. My body was built to survive damage like this now. I could take a fair amount more of a beating, too, as the pain had dulled to nothing more than a low ache.

I did, however, note how a strange tingle raced up and down my spine, the Obelisk shard that had been in my head reacting with my computer brain, assessing damage and plotting out repairs. Slow repairs, I hoped, given that the quick stuff was almost more harm than good.

Fran huffed and moved over to me, “You should let someone take a look at you.”

I rolled my eyes, but held my tongue. We were in the middle of a blend between Legion and Brigade. As much as I wanted to point out that no one could possibly hope to have the expertise for helping me, I also understood that, diplomatically, that could be taken the wrong way.

And, admittedly, I was getting enough freaked out stares that I was beginning to get much more annoyed.

“Clear the way!” I heard a familiar voice shout, “Move out of the way if you’re not helping!”

The path towards the voice cleared very quickly, the crew moving out of the way like a bee just buzzed in their ears.

Adira had been moving through the crowd even before a path opened, but as her eyes settled on me and the abundance of blood still clinging to my body her movement became faster. Wide-eyed, she glanced me over, before kneeling beside me on the bench.

“Matt? You okay?” Her face twitched with a frown, and I let out a mild sigh.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m already beginning to heal-”

“Has anyone checked you out yet?” She stared straight at the wound, not shying away at the strangeness of the biosteel and the visible rate at which new tissue seemed to generate.

“No,” I said slowly, “I didn’t let them.”

She met my gaze with confusion, “And why in the hell is that?”

“Well…” I started, having a few reasons, not the least of which was that it was enough for people to be freaked out at how I was still alive, let alone at what was going on right before their eyes. And the question of how they could possibly be of any help in the situation in the first place.

She seemed to parse something from my hesitation, and shot a glance over her shoulder, “Kit. Now.”

A medical kit found its way into her outstretched hand as she turned back to me, “My rig. Now.”

I blinked at her tone, one that brooked no argument. I technically could just ignore that, but I was surprised to find that I didn’t actually want to disappoint her.

And Fran sealed the deal, “Thank you, he’s very stubborn when it comes to his own well-being. It’s gotten him in trouble before,” she smiled sheepishly, “we’ll take care of the mess out here.”

Adira gave her a reaffirming smile, and I found myself being partly dragged from my sitting position. “I’ll take care of him.”

Fran waved to me as I mouthed ‘Traitor’ at her, before I moved under my own direction.

The crowd watched after us, and I noted that Adira had stiffened at the extra attention. My own mind was uneasy with the focus, and I could only imagine what they were thinking now.

“That’ll get them talking,” Adira sighed, skin a touch pinker, as she pulled me into the crawler, still guiding me to the med bay.

“Yours too?” I chuckled, at which she turned to me questioningly.

Then abruptly realized what I was referring to, and turned a shade redder. Yet, she didn’t withdraw her hand, still seized around my left wrist, and guided me into a well lit, clean space. It was fairly high tech, if a little cramped. I imagined basic surgery could be performed here in a pinch. She let me go as I sat on the table.

“So,” she started, “are you feeling lightheaded? Anything out of the ordinary?”

I settled a blank stare at her for a moment as she shifted on her feet.

“Right. Maybe a little bit of a silly question.”

With a chuckle, I rested back, “Well, if I wasn’t a freak of nature I’d be dead right now, so I’d say out of the ordinary is a good thing.”

She frowned at that, “I wouldn’t go so far as to call you a freak of nature, though.”

“No, it’s fine,” I waved her off, “it’s impossible not to notice. It’s the first thing most people think when I walk into the room. Especially the first time.”

Adira opened her mouth to retort before taking another moment in thought. Deliberately, she pulled up a chair beside the medical bed, “Okay, so, maybe people would think you’re weird, or odd. But I still wouldn’t say freak.”

“Well, I appreciate that,” I said honestly, “that means something to me.”

And I found that, yes, actually, that did mean something to me. Normally I didn’t give much of a damn about what people thought about me in general, aside from my close friends.

We sat in some silence for a while, one that I found deeply calming after the cacophony outside. Adira’s focus drifted fascinatedly to my arm, and I studied her eyes. Two sea-green orbs peered forth from silvery-white locks of hair framing a decidedly not-delicate face, but one that I found was very pretty.

Her eyes drifted, from my arm and the slow growth of tissue there, and then studied the rest of me, intense in focus, and I found that the attention wasn’t unwelcome.

Even so, I broke her focus, “Thanks for dragging me out of there, though. There’s a difference between leading a charge and being the focus of a crowd.”

She blinked and dragged her eyes up to my face, “uh, yeah. No problem!” She blurted out, pitch slightly higher than usual, “I’m generally the same way, at least with anyone not part of the Brigade.”

Then silence fell again, this time more awkward as we searched for something to talk about.

I swept the room, hitting upon a picture mounted on the wall of Adira’s team.

“So, Morrison was a part of your crew?” I asked, her attention back on me before she followed my gaze.

“Yeah,” she chuckled, “she’s always been reliable. Used to be a lot more crazy, too.”

I chuckled, seeing the others on the crew, except one person. “Hmm, I haven’t met that one yet,” I gestured to the one on the far right, a young man wearing a lot of white and blue, “Have I?”

Adira’s gaze softened into sadness for a moment before she shook her head, “No, he’s… he passed away when we attempted to raid the Red Zone a long time ago. He was a good friend. I think you’d have liked him.”

For a moment we sat in silence at that, and I suppose most people would have wanted some consolation at that. Somehow, though, I doubted that was the case with Adira.

I rested a hand on her shoulder in comfort, surprising her, “I probably would have, if he was a friend of yours.”

She smiled at that, a bit of the loss ebbing in her eyes. A moment later, and I would have pulled my hand away. Instead, she rested her own hand over mine, “Thanks.”