Arms outstretched, Thirteen’s voice echoed into the shadows as a power conduit in the distance crackled to life.

“Behold…” He began as the louver lights trickled into the expansive chamber.

“An inheritor of Lilith... The first Creator.... Zephyr. My partner, and one of my dearest friends."

The apex of the Golden Era... Incredible firepower, bleeding edge nano-weave armor, eight-teen meters of death.

All lost to ruin...

Waterfalls of wire flowed from the shadows, pulsating with lights to where the mechanical nightmare had chosen its grave upon a pile of rubble. Thanks to an inattentive query from Logic, a diagram of the Golden Age Battle Mech overlaid and contrasted against the armored husk rotting before us. Notably, the once massive war machine had been severed at the waist, cutting its height to under eight meters, a pool of ancient oil congealed beneath dripping over the busted concrete.

Bound like an enormous insect trapped in a spider’s web, its arm had been raised over its head as if it had undergone maintenance, but against the notion, its body was encased in dust and its crimson paint heavy corroded.

And its eyes… two foreboding cavernous pits both marred and twisted… extinguished, void of any sign of life.

“Nice toy you got there!” Slate laughed fretfully in an attempt to break the tension. “D-Does it still work?”

Resisting the jolt of a peeved nerve running down my spine, I turned to Thirteen with interest rivaling Slate’s abstraction.

“Since one of you possesses the ability to forge organic compounds, I’ll need your assistance alone, Creator SL-8.”

“Huh?” Slate and I cocked our heads in unison. “Why HIM/ME!?”

“You’ll need to synthesize... a catalyst... in order to ignite the auxiliary reactor.”

“Okay, even I have to admit; firing up a Mech Reactor is well out of my realm of possibility. I thought I explained to you that I lost my original N-Drive along with my memories of the Golden Age- If I knew anything about Reactor-whatevers, it’s long gone!”

“Y-Yeah...” I chimed in. “Even if we had the means of direct particle injection, I doubt all three of our Cores would be able to reignite a reactor of such scale.”

In his fingers, Thirteen revealed a small note before offering it to Slate whose face scrunched in vivid confusion.

“The hell am I supposed to do with this? Did you just hand me your grocery list? Corn Syrup!?”

“Something like that... You are to reconstitute the ingredients and offer them as tribute. Simply toss the finished product towards the sensor cluster at the head and wait for a miracle to happen.”

When Slate turned to me with a hapless expression of concern, he would find that I could offer a little more than encouragement to follow the instructions despite the improbability that anything would happen.

While rolling his eyes with a heavy sigh, he quashed down on his palms and in the process, forged what looked to be bars of ice, but on closer inspection; they were crystal clear bars of sugar.

*GONG!!*

Like a hand grenade, the crystalline sugar burst on impact with the Mech’s dense armor surrounding its sensor cluster. As expected, the Mech remained lifeless, devoid of any motion save for the rattling of sugar shrapnel tumbling down its metal exterior.

“Aim a bit lower next try.” Thirteen suggested as he directed a finger towards an auspicious line drawn across the Mech’s faceplate, vaguely shaped to the likeness of a lion’s fanged maw.

In one moment, the glittery bar sailed through the air and in the next, it disappeared down a gaping hole just moments before impact.

“Your guests are the ones who come offering me sweets, Darling? Here, after all this time… why now? Oh, but first allow me to guess; you need something from me?”

“Z-Zeppy!” Thirteen stuttered uncharacteristically.

“Spare me your mushy drivel!” The Mech’s voice boomed as the depths of its eyes burned alight. “You’ve lost all those privileges when you chose that air-headed Star Sailor over me!”

[ɪɴᴛᴇʀɴᴀʟ sʜᴏʀᴛ-ᴡᴀᴠᴇ ʀᴀᴅɪᴏ: ᴇɴᴀʙʟᴇᴅ]

[ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ʀᴇᴏ̨ᴜᴇsᴛ - ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠᴇᴅ - ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴇsᴛᴀʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ!]

[ɪsᴡʀ – ᴄʜ 2.7: ɪᴅ – ꜰʀᴀɢɪʟᴇ: ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴡᴇ'ʀᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪᴅᴅʟᴇ ᴏғ... ᴇʀʀ... ᴡʜᴀᴛ's ɪᴛ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ...? ᴏʜ, ᴀ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ's ᴏ̨ᴜᴀʀʀᴇʟ!’”

[ɪsᴡʀ – ᴄʜ 2.7: ɪᴅ – sʟᴀᴛᴇ: ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs ꜰᴀᴄɪʟɪᴛʏ ʜᴀs ʟɪᴛᴇʀᴀʟ ʙᴏᴅʏ-ᴘᴀʀᴛs ᴍɪssɪɴɢ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴏʙᴠɪᴏᴜsʟʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴀ sᴄʀᴇᴡ ʟᴏᴏsᴇ.]

*PSHHHHHH!!!*

Amid our internal conversation, a surge of steam plumed outward from the backside of the Mech followed by the sound of a mechanical latch creaking open.

“Wsshw…” Slate whistled as a body righted itself from beneath the Mech’s dangling spinal column like that of a corpse rising from a grave.

Once the shadowy figure stepped into the light, we were left with a sickly pale woman whose jet-black hair flowed along the ground. Despite her relatively youthful appearance, her split-ends, faded red, with age.

“Z-Zep, where’s your clothes!?” Thirteen stammered as he quickly moved to conceal his mistress. “Idiot, show some decency!”

“Only these two could understand the effort it takes to generate a functional Lilim body from memory… and you lot have just stirred me from such blissful slumber- so pardon me for not giving a rat’s ass in going the extra lengths required to forge myself pajamas!”

[ɪsᴡʀ – ᴄʜ 2.7: ɪᴅ – ꜰʀᴀɢɪʟᴇ: ɪ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜᴇʀ, sʜᴇ’s ᴀ sᴘɪᴛꜰɪʀᴇ.]

[ɪsᴡʀ – ᴄʜ 2.7: ɪᴅ – sʟᴀᴛᴇ: ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ… sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴡᴇ sʟɪᴘ ᴏɴ ᴏᴜᴛᴀ’ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ’ʀᴇ ᴅɪsᴛʀᴀᴄᴛᴇᴅ?]

[ɪsᴡʀ – ᴄʜ 2.7: ɪᴅ – ꜰʀᴀɢɪʟᴇ: ʟ-ʟᴇᴛ’s sᴇᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜɪs ɢᴏᴇs. ɪꜰ ᴛʜɪs ɢᴇᴛs ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇɪʀᴅᴇʀ, ɪ’ʟʟ ʙᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ.]

[ɪsᴡʀ – ᴄʜ 2.7: ɪᴅ – sʟᴀᴛᴇ: ᴛᴏᴏ ʟᴀᴛᴇ, sʜᴇ’s sᴛᴀʀɪɴɢ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ᴀᴛ ᴍᴇ... ᴅᴏ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ!!]

Unaware of our internal dialog, Zephyr eyed Slate suspiciously before taking his hand into her own.

“This one smells of Seven. Is that right?” She mumbled towards Thirteen who nodded in affirmation. “Oh? Then I was right in assuming who these two belong to. Can’t say that I’m impressed.”

In an attempt to retrieve his hand, Slate jerked back to no avail.

“I didn't know this was a beauty pageant, and far as first impressions go, I find it ironic to be judged by a corpse. A-Anyways, if my forging wasn't impressive, why do you still have a sugar rock wedged in your cheek. Let's see you forge something!”

With a snort of dismissal, Zephyr seemingly began to yawn only to sink her teeth into Slate’s palm and did not release until I motioned to intervene.

“You should watch your mouth, boy.”

“YEOW! Watch your own damn mouth! Who the hell bites people!? Ugh! I'm going to catch a disease!”

“You’re the one who asked to see my abilities, so let’s have it. Forge yourself a weapon. A little bird told me you're in need of vehicle, but I'm not feeling very appreciated right now. Impress me, and you'll get your ticket out of here. ”

“Pfft, you’ serious, in your condition? Whatcha’ gonna do? Bite me to death!?”

In the blink of an eye, a red marble shot out from the girl's thumb, and with inhuman reflexes, Slate brought his hands to his chest just in time to absorb the incredible impact.

“It is amazing what happens when you hyper-compress liquids. Do you like the taste of your own blood, boy?” The girl laughed dryly as a crimson blade had been seemingly drawn from the air.

“Ah, so that’s your deal.” Slate groaned as he clambered to his feet, wiping the crimson stain on his vest to no avail. “You’re EPCM is in your mouth! You literally eat the materials to forge them… out of somewhere…”

“Heh, not even close... hopefully you'll wise up before you're, you know; dead.”

From the sidelines, I watched as Slate parried a blow from the crimson saber with only the use of his forearms, and then moved to counter only to receive a small foot to the chest with an audible thump.

“Are you not going to raise a blade to me? This body of mine is a dime a dozen… well, I’m just about out of materials to make them, but I don’t mind if you break this one. It’s been ages since I’ve tasted combat.”

[ɪsᴡʀ – ᴄʜ 2.7: ɪᴅ – ꜰʀᴀɢɪʟᴇ: sʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʙᴇ ᴀɴ ɪᴅɪᴏᴛ! ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴏᴘ ᴘᴏᴏʀ ʟᴏᴛᴛᴇ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ sᴏ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʙᴜʟʟsʜɪᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜɪᴛ ᴀ ɢɪʀʟ!]

[ɪsᴡʀ – ᴄʜ 2.7: ɪᴅ – sʟᴀᴛᴇ: ᴅᴏᴇs…]

[ɪsᴡʀ – ᴄʜ 2.7: ɪᴅ – sʟᴀᴛᴇ: ɪᴛ…]

[ɪsᴡʀ – ᴄʜ 2.7: ɪᴅ – sʟᴀᴛᴇ: ɴᴏᴛ…]

[ɪsᴡʀ – ᴄʜ 2.7: ɪᴅ – sʟᴀᴛᴇ: ʟᴏᴏᴋ ʟɪᴋᴇ…]

[ɪsᴡʀ – ᴄʜ 2.7: ɪᴅ – sʟᴀᴛᴇ: ɪ’ᴍ…]

[ɪsᴡʀ – ᴄʜ 2.7: ɪᴅ – sʟᴀᴛᴇ: ᴛʀʏɪɴɢɢɢɢᴀsᴅꜰɢʜᴊᴋʟ!]

Between his rapid burst of transmissions, Slate ducked, dodged and rolled out of harm’s way until the split-second inattentiveness gave pause long enough for the girl’s heel to bury itself in his skull.

“Fhor fhuck's shake yhou're rheally thrying to khill mhe?!” Slate jolted as he shook his jowls making it painfully apparent the cause of his slurring had actually been from biting his tongue. “Can’t yoush shee I’m bhusy talking to shtoopid ohver there!”

“Hmm? Would you like to join us, Dear?” Zephyr jeered in a saccharine tone, ducking moments before Slate’s left hook appeared overhead. “You’re Boyfriend is a bit sluggish not to be able to hit the body of a Lost! Is this how he is in bed? How droll. Surely he's holding back?”

Piping red, I had half the notion to stop the both of them, but before I could so much as draw a silver-tongued riposte, Thirteen intervened with his arm barring me from doing anything rash.

“Do not involve yourself with Zep’s rhetoric. It is merely a test for the Boy… I think…”

Wincing, I sat down upon my rear. “You don’t sound too sure of yourself either…”

“Karma is the only thing in this world that I am certain of. That, and Zephyr’s insatiable hunger for sweets.”

[ɪsᴡʀ – ᴄʜ 2.7: ɪᴅ – ꜰʀᴀɢɪʟᴇ: ᴇɴᴅ ᴛʜɪs ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ. ᴀᴄᴛɪᴠᴀᴛᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏʀᴇ.]

[ɪsᴡʀ – ᴄʜ 2.7: ɪᴅ – sʟᴀᴛᴇ: ɴᴏᴛ ɴᴏᴡ ʙᴇᴀʀᴄᴀᴛ! ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ sᴇᴇ ɪ ɢᴏᴛ ᴍʏ ʜᴀɴᴅs ꜰᴜʟʟ!]

With the sound of Slate’s shoulder crackling out of its socket and his cries of agony echoing far into the chamber, I couldn’t help but to feel a sliver of pity for the man responsible for nearly half my grievances.

[ɪsᴡʀ – ᴄʜ 2.7: ɪᴅ – ꜰʀᴀɢɪʟᴇ: ᴛʜɪʀᴛᴇᴇɴ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴢᴇᴘʜʏʀ ʜᴀs ᴀ ᴡᴇᴀᴋɴᴇss ғᴏʀ sᴡᴇᴇᴛs. ᴘᴇʀʜᴀᴘs ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ᴜsᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴛᴀɢᴇ?]

[ɪsᴡʀ – ᴄʜ 2.7: ɪᴅ – sʟᴀᴛᴇ: ʜᴏᴡ ᴀᴍ ɪ sᴜᴘᴘᴏsᴇᴇɪɪɪᴀꜰᴏᴘᴊᴀꜰᴘ!]

Spun like a child swinging a rag-doll by its arm, Slate had been sent flailing into the air and just when he thought the impact of the floor would bring him a moment’s reprieve; the girl quickly capitalized with a heavy foot upon the back of his neck, standing proud as if she had crowned herself the victor.

[[ɪsᴡʀ – ᴄʜ 2.7: ɪᴅ – ꜰʀᴀɢɪʟᴇ: ɴᴏᴡ sʟᴀᴛᴇ! ʜɪᴛ ʜᴇʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ-!]

Before I could finish, Slate had pounded the floor with a curled fist; sending a wooden board into the air like a cantilever directly into Zephyr’s chest.

“Oofh!” She grunted, teetering off balance as Slate swung his leg low, hooking her heel and ultimately sending her backside careening with the cold hard floor.

Nearly howling; “Now that’s enough of this bullshit!”, Slate held out his now glowing EPCMs in both palms, willing the wooden planks to form a straight-jacket of sorts; effectively binding the girl in place leavening nothing but an inch for her to wriggle.

[ɪsᴡʀ – ᴄʜ 2.7: ɪᴅ – ꜰʀᴀɢɪʟᴇ: ᴏᴏʜ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ’s ɢᴏᴛᴛᴀ ʜᴜʀᴛ. ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴏɴᴇ… ɪ ᴀʟᴍᴏsᴛ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ᴀ ᴛᴀᴅ ʙɪᴛ ʙᴀᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ.]

[ɪsᴡʀ – ᴄʜ 2.7: ɪᴅ – sʟᴀᴛᴇ: ʜᴇʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ᴍᴇᴇᴇᴇᴀᴀᴀᴀᴘᴅꜰᴊᴀᴘᴏꜰɴᴄ!]

Just when victory appeared to be within Slate's grasps, Zephyr pulled off the same cantilever maneuver but this time, with the use of her heel striking the floorboard sending the dusty plank directly into Slate’s groin.

In that moment, I felt the whole room wince and then I realized; we were not alone. Forming a ring of ethereal spectators, the Lost from the mock-wedding lined the far walls, quietly cheering for their preferences.

“The only way you’ll win this battle is if you break me, Boy!” Zephyr laughed as she broke free from her wooden binds.

“As much as I’d like to right now- I’m not the kind of person to kill for fun, so call this off!”

“Oh, but I want to see if it’s true; I want to see if you really are the son of the Seventh Child! Go on now- pop your Core, let’s see if you’re anything like your Father!”

“How many times are you going to make me say it; I’m not going to- *Oof*!!”

Another direct blow to Slate’s gut and a spray of mist as a result. As much as I desired to see the Slate’s abilities just as much as the reasoning behind why he wanted to keep them hidden, the fight was noticeably becoming one-sided.

[ɪsᴡʀ – ᴄʜ 2.7: ɪᴅ – ꜰʀᴀɢɪʟᴇ: sʟᴀᴛᴇ, sʜᴇ’s ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ sᴇʀɪᴏᴜs! ᴛʜɪʀᴛᴇᴇɴ ᴛᴇsᴛᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ʀᴇsᴏʟᴠᴇ, ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ sʜᴇ's ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴛʜᴇ sᴀᴍᴇ!]

[ɪsᴡʀ – ᴄʜ 2.7: ɪᴅ – sʟᴀᴛᴇ: ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ɪᴛ! ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴠᴀᴛᴇ ᴍʏ ᴄᴏʀᴇ!]

[ɪsᴡʀ – ᴄʜ 2.7: ɪᴅ – ꜰʀᴀɢɪʟᴇ: sʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴀ ᴛᴇsᴛ, ɪ'ᴍ sᴜʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ɪᴛ!]

Zephyr’s strikes were intended to be less than lethal, even so; the rate at which Slate reopened his lacerations was alarming. It appeared that the battle had been decided as Slate made no intention to counter, only resorting to side stepping and parrying the crimson blade with his arms. That is, until he ran himself down the length of the sword in order to hoist Zephyr into the air by a firm grip to her feeble neck.

“Oh, that was foolish of you, Boy.”

“Call it a bit of forceful luck. I’ve already sutured that sword into myself, after all; you said it is my blood! Now it’s about time we end this!”

Braced against Slate’s forearm, Zephyr could do nothing but kick against her capture to no avail. Then, when it seemed that Slate would go for a vicious takedown, he took her long lengths hair into his other hand and looped it around her limbs until they were tightly bound.

“You don’t think I wouldn’t sacrifice a bit of hair in order to break free?”

“No, I don’t think you will.”

Like a magician pulling a card from his sleeve, Slate produced the crystalline sugar from before, except this time, it had been rectified on a small wooden stick. In an instant, Zephyr’s eyes went wide as Slate then forcefully crammed the sucker into her mouth.

“Piece of cake… kinda…” Slate scoffed patting down his tattered uniform. “Now where’s our ride?”

Unbeknown to us at the time, Miri and her merry band of ghouls had been transferring parts and packages towards the upper level where we had originated. It was only when she thought to show me an aviation steering-wheel did I realize that Zephyr had been slowly Nanoforging a production line from the backside of the dormant Mech.

On the level just below the surface where a majority of the installation lay in ruin, Thirteen had guided us towards a garage. Just above the door, a macabre “Good-bye” freshly painted in oil dripped down all the way to the floor. But the effigy in itself wasn’t cause for alarm. It was what it had been painted on.

“Elysian Gardens… this installation is a shell of the Collection Agency. A place where Lilims eventually come to be recycled.”

“You mean euthanized, we're talking about the C.A here.” Slate added callously as he held the door open for Miri who giddily skipped inside. “Now I know what this place is, it all makes sense now. Why there’s so many Lost. Why you chose this place as a hide out. Yup, ten out of ten on the spook factor. No one would even think about spelunking in this god forsaken hell hole.”

“Slate!” I leered with a quick jab to his shoulder.

“What!? I’m just making an observation! Anyway; Thirteen, what’s the deal with you? Couldn't you have the sugar cretin make you a coat of skin?”

As we maneuvered inside the garage with a convoy of Lost at our rear, Thirteen pulled a large toggle switch to no avail.

“What you see here is my Core. Designation; ‘Psycho’ – the Unbreakable Body.”

“WHAT!?” Slate and I bolstered in unison. “You’ve had your Core activated all this time?”

“Yes. That is also a part of the reason why we chose this location as our home. Since Lilims give off a detectable frequency through their Core, both civilian and military models, we chose a graveyard as to mitigate the likeliness of being found.”

“Found by who?” Slate asked as Thirteen continued to wrangle the large fuse. “You’ve proven you can fight, so why not just go on the offensive?”

“It is not just my life at stake here. Zephyr and I have chosen to act as the Shepards of Purgatory, to guide the Lost peacefully into their final days… to a rest they deserve.”

“Shepards of Purgatory… Huh, that’s sorta cool I guess. A tad edgy, but I like it.”

Growling Slate’s name between my teeth, I let his rudeness be known through another jab to the kidney.

“Mah~knock it off ya idiot! I was just asking!”

“Your Father left years ago in search of any Synthetic Life that remained after the height of their persecution. Alas he has yet to return. Had it not been for the damage to your Neural Drive, perhaps we may have found a clue.”

With a forceful yank on a level seated in a heavy fuse box, a massive arc of bright blue sparks shot out, and as a direct result; the lights in the musty garage began to quiver to life.

“All we can do is remain hopeful that one day, he will return.”

“Well when he does, have my old Man phone me on channel 2.7. He’s got a lot of explaining to do for being absent in my adolescence.”

[ʟᴏɢɪᴄ: ʜᴏᴡ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴇ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪꜰ ʜɪs ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴀs ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ɪꜰ ʜᴇ ʟᴏsᴛ ᴍᴏsᴛ ᴏꜰ ʜɪs ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀɪᴇs ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʟᴀᴄᴇᴅ ʜɪs ɴ-ᴅʀɪᴠᴇ?]

[ᴏᴘᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀ: ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ʜᴇ’s ꜰᴀᴋɪɴɢ ɪᴛ, ʀɪɢʜᴛ? ᴡʜᴀᴛ’s ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇʟɪɴᴇss ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴀ sʟɪᴘ-ᴜᴘ ᴊᴜsᴛ ɴᴏᴡ?]

“You talking to yourself again, Bearcat?” Slate spat directly in my face, pulling me from my inner monologue. “What about her parents, Thirteen? Where are they?”

“Yes, Darling, did you think you’d be able to send them off without telling the poor girl about her absolutely droll Mother and her idiotic Father who thought he could drink and fuck his way through all his problems?”

Just as her name might imply, it was as if the wind had carried Zephyr to us. Her tone, though saccharine beneath a half-cocked smile held a tangible irritability towards Thirteen.

“What is there to say…” Thirteen scratched his skullcap to the brief squeak of fingernails on a chalkboard.

“I don’t need to know about my upbringing, it’s okay. It’s obviously mired in bitter emotions. I’d rather not impose-.”

“Nonsense!” Zephyr laughed dryly as she slung her arm over my shoulder. “I’ll tell you all about the good times while I finish Forging the rest of your ride!”

“I don’t think-!” Thirteen motioned to interject only to have Zephyr pivot our backsides towards his outstretched arm.

“Let’s see. Your Mother- no wait, let’s start with your Father, that’s a far more interesting story!”

*THUMP*

With the force of a brick, a large book struck the top of Zephyr’s crown, knocking her flat onto her face.

“You’ll be needing this before you go.” Thirteen stated as he held out what appeared to be an immense instruction manual to a… Lancaster Bomber!?

Helplessly, I tripped over my tongue finding myself at a loss for words towards both the sudden assembly of a large four-engine propeller aircraft and how Zephyr had yet to move an inch, presumably; knocked out cold.

“If you’re willing to return, I’ll promise to give you the entire history of your parents. Of course, we would always welcome you with open arms if you decide to return to our little slice of gloomy paradise."

Just then, I found myself in a powerful embrace, one I fretfully returned as a ball of heavy emotions swelled from my chest into my throat.

“I’ll return... some day... you have my word. I need to know the story behind why it is you saved me in the first place…” I hushed my voice to just above a whisper. “After knowing for what purpose I had been made… what that Project Lazarus had said… and for saving me despite all of it.”

Abruptly, Thirteen had separated us with his eye-rings almost wider than their sockets.

“Oh-ho, Telsa really did get to you now did she? Of course! Of course I will tell you anything you want to know as far back as I can remember. Now get along now, good karma rewards those undeniably!”

Pushing and shoving, Thirteen all but tossed me into the small entry hole in the fuselage of the dormant Bomber before sealing the hatch. There inside, I found Lotte at the helm sporting a loose fitting leather flight cap and Slate who I could only identify by his boots sticking out from the seat of the nose turret.

*GONG-GONG!*

Thirteen slapped the Aircraft’s metallic skin signaling for the scampering Lost to clear the makeshift runway.

“W-Wait, Slate, we’re letting Lotte fly?! Where’s Owen!?”

“They’re escorting him home on a direct flight or something… that’s what the Skull Man said. I don’t think Thirteen really cares for our Mayor, but he does care for our people, so I'm sure Owen will be fine. Now can I go back to sleep?”

“No!” I pouted, tossing the thick manual off the narrow passage past the cockpit and into the ball-turret with great accuracy. “I thought I was flying!”

“Can you fly? Can you even read Bolze!?” Slate growled, waving the open manual by the corner, revealing it had been completely printed in a language entirely foreign to me. “Butter, don’t you wreck this ship- you hear?! I haven’t got my beauty sleep, so keep it steady and the interior lights OFF!”

As always, Lotte looked to me with a great sense of longing in her eyes before nodding towards Slate and proceeding with start-up procedures.

“Oui… Bitte… System Check: Fuel Mixture - Check. Avionic Sensors - Check. Oil Pressure - Check. Ignition Primer - Check… Alle Systeme Gehen.”

Through the screen of segmented glass at the front of the plane, the world opened into a gloomy atmosphere overflowing with massive grey clouds as result of the garage doors parting from either side.

Memories of my fight alongside the Commonwealth flooded my mind and, in that moment, I brushed past the seats lining the wall next to the stack of radio instruments and into the tail gunner’s frail glass blister. There, I saw Miri waving with a smile on her face alongside Thirteen and Zephyr as the piston-pounding engines sputtered to life.

.

..

*BLINK*

..

.

[ᴏᴘᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀ: ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴊᴜsᴛ ɴᴏᴡ, ʟᴏɢɪᴄ?]

[ʟᴏɢɪᴄ: ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴍɪɴᴅ, ɪ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ᴀ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴘᴛɪᴄs ɪɴ ᴄᴀsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴇɴᴅ ᴜᴘ ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ, ɪ sᴀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴘᴏʀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ʀᴀᴍ.]

With my face and hands pressed against the translucent membrane, their stature grew smaller as we taxied outside the garage and into a windswept world of gentle rain.

“Buh-bye!” Miri cheered at the top of her lungs, leaping into the air giving a broad wave. “Come back and visit us soon!”

All I could do was nod in response as I felt a tear roll down my cheek, and pray that by the time I return, it would not be too late. Given the uncertain nature of A.I degeneration, there may be nothing left to return to- then again; there may be nothing left of me.

Then, out of nowhere I saw something incredibly peculiar. It was a woman, veiled in the same white dress I had worn and ultimately ruined. At my Optic’s fullest zoom, I could denote some of her odd features.

‘Angel’s Tears’; a pair of black seams ran from the bottom of her eyes down the length of her face paired with the blade antennas in place of her ears, confirmed the woman to be of Synthetic origin, but that is not where the oddities ended. An unusual piece of apparel dating back to the Golden Era; a Digi-Clip; a hair pin that projected a digital halo formed of Hardlight, flickering and sputtering, cambered slightly off center, showed signs of damage, but did not detract from her elven appearance.

.

..

*BLINK*

..

.

For a second, the Spectral Bride stood aside Thirteen, and in the next, she had disappeared without a trace.

[ᴏᴘᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀ: ᴅɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ-?]

[ʟᴏɢɪᴄ: ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ? ʏᴇs, ɪ ᴅɪᴅ. ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪʙᴇʀᴛʏ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴘʀɪᴏʀ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ.]

[ᴏᴘᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀ: ɢᴏᴏᴅ. ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ sᴜʀᴇ-.]

[ʟᴏɢɪᴄ: ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ʟᴏsɪɴɢ ɪᴛ. ɢʜᴏsᴛs ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ sʜᴏᴡ ᴜᴘ ɪɴ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇs.]

[ᴏᴘᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀ: ʏᴇᴀʜ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴍᴇ, ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ?]

[ʟᴏɢɪᴄ: ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪs ᴘʟᴀɴᴇ ʀɪᴅᴇ ɪs ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛᴜʀʙᴜʟᴇɴᴄᴇ.]

[ᴏᴘᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀ: ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴀ ᴡᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀᴍᴀɴ ɴᴏᴡ?]

Laughing quietly to myself in the tail gunner's seat, the engines gradually spooled to full power, drowning out my thoughts with powerful vibrations.

[ʟᴏɢɪᴄ: ɴᴏ, ɪ’ᴍ ꜰᴀʀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʟᴇᴇʀʏ ᴏꜰ ᴏᴜʀ ᴘɪʟᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀ.]