Mhaieiyu

Arc 1, Chapter 10

Left Behind

The younger Brigadier's words were sharp as a knife; crystal clear. The tiniest amount of white-hot resentment carried through that sentence, baring a disheartening reality that anybody aware of the situation at hand, and those held responsible, could attest for.

Dropping his shoulders as he fell silent, the intruder suddenly felt powerless at the reach of his audience’s troubled gazes. Xavier, whose poison had just seeped from his lips, sat down once more, finding comfort in his seat. Such confrontation was highly unusual coming from the man that currently held highest in command among the Brigadiers. It was so shocking to witness, that even the mumbles from those unrelated to the discussion ceased, as all eyes focused on the two militaries — their reputations so distinguished from one another. One man commended by title, having lost much of his fame as his old life wore him thin, and the second a legend by effort, his younger years sparing him still.

Bringing a glass to his lips, Xavier took a more tremulous sip, his superiority betrayed by his core personality. While it did him no pleasure to mouth off to a fellow veteran—one that had seen many more years of experience, at that—the matter at hand outweighed his deepest feelings of insecurity. Even with unease, Xavier opened his eyes to face Emris.

Feeling the weight of his leer, Emris broke eye contact as he struggled to find a response.

"Oy..."

His brazen, irritable self wanted to slam Xavier's words, disproving them with demands and statements of pride and merit-worthy accomplishments. He was no small fry. He had pulled his weight tenfold and beyond when compared to common men, even if it didn't seem it. But if he did speak, Emris knew he would only worsen the already terrible ambience in the room, as well as corrode his honour even further. The reason for the younger Brig's frustration was also a good motivation not to butt in his own feelings. For even if Xavier's spite boiled Emris' blood on a superficial level, deep down he understood the soldier's motives.

Closing his eyes, Xavier broke the deafening silence, saying, "What did you accomplish, trying to invade Yanksee?"

"I killed a few of 'em, I guess. Didn't go exactly as planned——"

"You had a purpose. Beyond harassment," Xavier interrupted.

Grimacing, Emris scratched his head.

"Aye, intel."

"And gear, Emris. And gear. They've been on lockdown ever since. Getting anything out of there will be nothing short of a miracle. Why didn't you follow the plans? You explicitly said you would keep quiet!"

"In all fairness, was I really the best choice?" Emris squeezed in, raising a hand.

Ignoring his question, Xavier went on to make a rather alarming accusation.

"...For all we know, you might've been the cause for the enemy’s proposition."

"Oi, what are ye tryin' to——?!"

"And now, we won't have enough time to remove the residents of Zwaarstrich before the Crimsons arrive!" Xavier shouted, raising his voice as he sprung back to his feet.

Staying silent, Emris watched the young man seethe. A heartbreaking sight, considering just how important this all was to the lad. And yet, the Guardian’s stubbornness naturally bubbled its way to the surface, breaking through his sympathy.

"Maybe instead of wastin' time mopin' we can send a ship over to get the job done," Emris said with a canine’s growl.

Shooting him a deathly glare, Xavier slammed the desk in anger, the other members of the group wincing at the impact.

"We can't. Yanksee's blocked off our route, and we don't have time to take the long way around. Even if we could collect the residents in time, we would have no guarantee of bringing them back safely. Their lives are not a gamble."

Scratching his head, Emris clacked his teeth.

"I know it sounds scary as shit, but we either take the shot or give 'em up. And I'm sure ye don't want that," Emris shrugged, trying to quell the Brigadier's fury rather inappropriately. Of course, his word choice didn't exactly soothe the room.

"It wouldn't have had to be a gamble had you not gotten drunk on a very important mission and fucked everything up!" Xavier yelled, raising his volume to an utmost peak before pausing, taking a moment to breathe as he tried to calm his nerves.

"Our only hope is to strike earlier than planned. If we can deteriorate their approach, we might have a chance to move the residents in time. They've been warned, but there's little they can do either. Their ships are too rudimentary. They won’t survive the treacherousness of the lower seas. They are effectively isolated so long as Yanksies remain in between."

While he did feel shame for his useless behaviour, Emris couldn't help but react with hostility at such defeatism. Such was his violent nature.

"...The way ye’re speakin' is makin' me think you've given up already."

"Unlike you, I despise risks. Especially with such stakes," Xavier sighed, pressing his fingers into his temples as he thought.

Emris raised a reluctant hand.

"We uh... We can't strike earlier. Troops are already squeezin’ time to train. Honestly, we all need some greasin' up too.”

With a heavy head, Xavier looked at Emris with an almost unreadable expression.

"You once claimed to be the type of man to put his head on the line to save people."

"We both know that's not an option no more..."

"That you would save anybody worth saving. Isn't that what you said?" Xavier pressed on, his nervousness slipping through his anger as he took a step towards the veteran.

"The way ye’re speakin' is makin' it look like their deaths would be my fault," Emris growled.

"The people in Zwaarstrich are worth saving. Innocent. The children still need to bloom," Xavier added, his eyes wide and pupils shrunk.

"Don't fuckin' talk to me about children," Emris warned, grinding his teeth.

"You claim the fault wouldn't lie at your shoulders, and yet you're the same man hurling boulders on our only path?! You said you'd do anything to save them, damn it. My little brother is twelve years old, and he's trapped in that damn country cutting wood as death draws near——!"

"I told you not to fuckin' remind me!" Emris bellowed, throwing a wind-crushing punch towards the Brigadier, blocked only by the intervention of a caster within the room.

"That's enough," the mage demanded, his words falling on deaf ears as Xavier destroyed Emris' leg with a near instant swipe of his thin war hammer; his weapon of choice.

Emris let out a distorted, pained grunt as he fell to the floor, propping himself up as Xavier broke down in front of him.

Grabbing the older soldier’s lapel and hoisting him up, Xavier shouted, "My very own brother is stuck on that condemned island, you bastard!"

Throwing Emris' body up into the air, a profoundly strong gust of wind blasted him out of the room like a cannonball, sending him crashing through a window only to plummet down several stories below.

Within the room, a plethora of documents and papers had been lifted into the air, scattering their work as the planners simply stared distraught and in awe. With a few deep breaths, the Brigadier left standing had calmed himself down enough to talk, facing the group with a look of embarrassment.

"Forgive me, that was so unprofessional of me," Xavier apologised, feeling the gravity of his actions as Willow, the Fifth and eldest Brigadier, simply shook his head.

"By the Goddess, you have developed into a fine serviceman. I’d rather not see another one of these outbursts. I've never seen you like this, boy... I understand that place means a lot to you."

With a low sigh, Xavier raised his head once more, putting on his courageous facade.

"Yes," he said, "It's my home town. I put it above any other district this world has to offer."

With a humoured chuckle, Willow nodded, acknowledging Xavier's passions. His words were filled with nervous conviction, and his motives were far from malicious. Every man, woman and child had one place they held close to their heart.

"I have a question," Xavier said, giving the room’s inhabitants a look. "Why didn't you stop me?"

With lowered heads, the strategists fell silent as they scrambled to find a suitable explanation. The mage, whose efforts impeded Emris' assault, spoke.

"It's quite logical. Emris has regenerative abilities, whilst you do not."

"That doesn't mean he doesn't feel pain, correct?" Xavier inquired.

Shaking his head, Willow stepped forward, saying, "Yes, you're absolutely correct. However, not many of us hold him in high regard. It's never a displeasure to see him put in his place every once in a while."

♦ ♥ ♣ ♠

With a short sequence of abrupt knocks, the Celestial was forced from his already awry slumber. It had been a long session so far and, with an already present lack of sleep from the previous night, Corvus felt exhausted. Despite this, he was quick to answer the door, rubbing his eyes of rest and shaking any loose feathers from his heavenly-yet-unkempt wings.

Seeing the awfully cheerful individual behind the door, Corvus couldn't hide his smile.

"Good afternoon, Erica. I assume you're on stagnaphamine again?" he joked.

"It was a one-time thing, okay! I'm just not such a drowsy bird as you are," she reprimanded noisily, showing her displeasure with a pout. "It's nice to see you too, by the way."

Shaking his hand in disregard, Corvus chuckled. "Yes, of course."

At the very least, her lack of volume control aided in waking his body up, as unpleasant as it could be.

"Did you need something?" Corvus asked.

"Not really, but I am kind of pissed off. Kind of really pissed off. I'm pissed off," Erica admitted, clutching the halberd buckled to her back.

"Should I be concerned about that?" Corvus said, raising a brow.

"Yes, very."

"...Is this about Minnota?"

"Yes, very."

"That... isn't applicable there."

"That isn't applicable there— hush up, computer. C'mon, we're kicking ass today," Erica ushered, grabbing the freshly awakened angel’s arm before trying to drag him out of his room.

"Hey— hold on, damn it!" Corvus demanded, clinging to the door frame. Her impatience was often tedious to deal with, but he had at least become accustomed to it. Erica had a bad habit of wanting and needing as though her very soul demanded such. Must be a tiresome existence. For whom? Throw a coin.

Feeling the need to put on something more decent, as well as grab something to eat, and perhaps, maybe take a weapon, Corvus shook his hand free of her grasp before retreating back into his lair, shutting the door behind him as quickly as possible.

"Woah, hold on there mister. I'm two ranks above you, so you have to follow my orders. Got that, Corvee?" Erica ordered, mocking his name through the closed door of his dormitory. "I don't want to have to blast this door down, but I will!"

"Victus' sake, woman! I'm getting dressed, calm down," Corvus pleaded from within, hurrying his pace as he felt his salary had just been threatened. "And for the love of all that is holy, stop calling me that!"

Resting her back against his door, Erica hummed. "What? I think it's cute."

"Repulsively so, I'd say," Corvus spat, wafting his wings into shape.

"Sugary sweet, just how you like it!"

"Are we talking about the same person?"

"Nope!"

"Victus help me..."

After checking his appearance for the thousandth time this last minute, the Lieutenant finally opened his door, sending a distracted warrior crashing down to the floor immediately after. It was a rather comedic sight, and far from the first occasion. Corvus knew to step aside the moment the handle was turned, leaving him unscathed and hardly suppressing his laughter as she rubbed her armour-plated back in pain.

"Such a distracted maiden in a world so perilous..." the winged male pointed out, emphasising his false concern with an air of mischief.

While the lass already bared her teeth in displeasure, she simply couldn't utter a complaint as she watched her robotic companion smile. It was progress, at least. There was no need to taint it.

Standing back up, Erica sniggered.

"So, are we ready yet? Or do we need to grab your spare monocle from home? Or maybe Lienna, if you fancy the extra few hours of flight?"

"Ah, blast! It seems I forgot my crystal shoes somewhere in the Badlands! Care to help?" Corvus jested, adding to her tease.

The two continued to throw this back-and-forth as they proceeded through the sunlit hallways, passing by countless soldiers on their way. Of course, Erica greeted every innocent mongrel that crossed her, having grown a knack for knowing everyone's name.

Corvus felt silent sympathy towards them. It was likely she freaked them out, and their plans to avoid her were foiled, even through their masked guises. Of course, to wear such breath-taking gear within the Facility while off duty served entirely to avoid certain individuals, but their guises would've long since been discovered by the keen Celestial before their visors could lock into place.

“It’s titles, by the way,” Corvus added.

“Huh?”

“You’re two titles above me. You’re superior to me by four ranks, not two.”

“Damn, dude. I didn’t know you wanted your grave buried that deep.”

"Agh, forget it! About this... expedition. Please don't tell me you're really considering a two-man invasion," Corvus pleaded, already cupping his face at the mere possibility.

While he would love to deny her such a demand were it the case, their positions within the Syndicate’s hierarchy simply wouldn't allow it.

"While I do have a strange feeling that I won't be satisfied if I don't break that little bitch's fangs in by tonight..."

"She's a little girl——!"

"I do have something else in mind," Erica finished, casting a glance towards her counterpart.

"Even Victus cowers when she hears someone like you say that..." Corvus chuckled.

"Hah! Victus cowers before anyone with quirks. But no, it's nothing crazy," Erica said, turning to the male with conviction. "We're outgunned and outmanned for this mess. Let's recruit people."

"Say again?"

"We're outgunned and outmanned for this mess——"

"Gah, no! What do you mean 'let's recruit people'? Who in this world would voluntarily get into this mess?"

Blinking as if her next statement was evident, Erica tilted her head. "Who said anything about volunteers? We can't just expect decent fighters to step forward. We have to nudge them in the right direction, y'know?"

"...Never mind Victus, I think even Mortos would learn to fear you," the winged man winced, muttering those words with the look of a tormented bird.

"Oh, get a hold of yourself. They would be fighting for a good cause, right? I think it's their moral obligation to help us!"

"You know, I can't take that cute attitude of yours to heart when I'm hearing such blasphemy... Who are we looking to recruit, exactly?" Corvus asked, giving in to the lass's ideas.

"Whoever we find that looks competent!" Erica exclaimed with a playful grin.

♦ ♥ ♣ ♠

Tokken wasn't exactly in the best of moods, all things considered. He had been woken up abruptly after a god-awful rest, demanded to straighten up and walk for several minutes without a bite to eat, only to be subjected to the most visually disturbing thing he had seen in his life... All with the guilty conscience of leaving Chloe behind once again. While he understood she was no dog and had a life of her own, he still felt compelled to keep her close at all times. Although he couldn't speak for her ability to take care of herself, he had at least picked up on some of her weaknesses. Based on what he knew, leaving her all to herself seemed much too cruel and spoke volumes of just how she might see the boy.

And yet, even after all this heft, a bigger weight had just been haphazardly placed upon his back. Upon peering into his dark bedroom, Tokken found himself apologising feverishly to nothing in particular. It seemed, that in his absence, Chloe had disappeared.

Now, Tokken could think or say whatever he assumed was true of others, but he knew more than anyone else just how hopeless he was. Paranoia clashed in his brain as he relentlessly scoured for an answer, while his more logical-thinking mind tried to soothe his irrational concerns, countering these invasive, worst-case-scenario thoughts with reason and simplicity.

She just went for a walk, he tried. She's her own person, he kept on.

You can leave her be. She'll be fine, he hoped. But, no matter how much he tried to dig these thoughts into his head, his personality, his corrupt way of thinking, his disturbed mind... All pointed towards the worst.

"Ey, Tokken!" a voice whistled out, snapping the boy of his thoughts. Hearing this voice in his clogged state of mind, he couldn't quite piece who had just spoken. He merely heard the monotonous words of a calling person.

"Chloe...?" the boy called back, turning to the source of the noise.

Of course, it wasn't Chloe. That'd be too convenient, and Victus, after all that, quite anticlimactic. Instead, standing before him was a familiar yet intimidating bulk of muscle, hide and fur.

"Do I look like a 'Chloe' to you, buck-o?" the Mynotaur, Norman, said. "You must be hanging with some brutal-ass girls if you thought I sounded like a 'Chloe'."

"No... she couldn't be sweeter," Tokken said, despondently.

Raising a bushy brow, Norman looked away with an awkward expression.

"You know, every time I see you, you look worse."

"We've only met... twice?"

"Twice, a hundred times, a million! Makes no difference, right?" the proud—yet somewhat dim—Cryptid boomed, showing his smooth teeth with a large smile.

A small grin peeking through his anxiousness, Tokken took a deep breath, looking up at the beast.

"Yes, yes it does. Haven't you heard the whole, meet you in an hour, love you in a week, need you in a month thing?"

"Not once!" Norman chuckled, putting a claw up to his lips in thought. "Unless my daughter slipped it while I was half asleep."

"You have a daughter...?" Tokken mumbled, surprised. "How old are you again?"

"Of course I do! I'm a proud family man, remember? I ain't fresh, but I ain't rusty either," Norman cackled, his laughter backed with a low bellow that his species naturally emitted. Which was great, considering the boy's impressively uncourageous demeanour.

Massaging the bridge of his nose, the tired lad sighed, hiding his smile. It was far too early for this and he was already messed up enough.

"Well, look, I have to find this Howler, so——"

"Have you had anything to eat yet?" Norman interrupted, eyeing the boy curiously. "I mean, you look like you've seen a ghost."

"Not a crumb, no," Tokken rubbed his face, trying to remove his exhaustion somehow. "Close, but not quite. I saw what should've been a ghost."

Tilting his head, Norman simply stared at the kid for an answer.

"I saw Emris get all... messed up with guns. And then walk it off. Not a great start for my morning routine."

"Oh! Ahah! You should've asked the man!" Norman said, giving Tokken a look that made it seem all too obvious somehow.

"...Hey, Norman? You don't happen to have mind-bending regenerative tendencies, do you?" Tokken asked, taunting his pointless advice. With a dumbfounded expression, Norman looked at the teen with misplaced pity.

"No? What kind of question is that?"

He’s dim, Tokken thought, staring sheepishly while pondering the fragility of Cryptid life.

"Let's get a bite to eat, then! I'm sure Miss Whatsit can wait a bit longer, don't you think?" the two-legged bovine offered, showing his teeth again with his 'charming' smile.

"Uh, no? I've postponed this long enough. I seriously need to look for her; she might scream in a few seconds for all I know."

"Great! Then you'll hear her."

"Hopeless!"

With a pat on the boy's back, Norman shoved Tokken in the direction of the kitchen, urging him to walk with force.

"Victus, dude," Tokken complained, having nearly fallen to the floor.

"It'll get your blood pumping! Reflexes are useful in many ways, don't you think?"

A bizarre, yet not entirely flawed logic. His heightened awareness did reduce his dreariness. While he couldn't say he appreciated being tossed around, at least he wouldn't have to resort to dragging himself around the carpet for at least another five minutes. Props!

The Mynotaur's steps thumped against the ground loudly; he baring enough heft and strength to lift an inconvenient boulder. Such was the raw strength of their species. That said, their skulls seemed as dense as their bones. And yet, past their appearances lied a gap in which any kind of personality could lie. It struck the teen odd to think that there might be a beastly bull shyer than Chloe out there somewhere. While it was unusual, the fact did help humanise them, facilitating Tokken’s comfort around them. Of course, there were other Cryptids that bore characteristics that seemed unapproachable too, and such was likely the source of much isolation, were they not with their own kind.

While the city did seem rather perturbed, it was nice to think that to a certain extent, many of the land-dwellers likely found refuge and comfort among other races, setting aside their differences for the good of society. Of course, such were the naive hopes of a naive teenager. Racism was, by all means, still in effect, even in such a crowded place like this. Wonderful as it was to be sapient, it also brought along a tidal wave of imperfections, which soiled the core beliefs of rationalisation. To say society was irrational would be fitting, and in a place as densely packed as this, the odds of such becoming reality were simply too high to realistically anticipate perpetual peace.

The only reason those within the Facility seemed so at ease with each other, even if in such brutish and violent displays of affection, was because of the simple fact that there wasn't enough mental energy at the end of the day to start any kind of discord. Not that such was entirely impossible here, of course. There's always one self-loving lackey that needs to fulfil their superiority quota. And there were always consequences.

After taking a meal, the boy choosing something light so as to not upset his already struggling body, the pair of incomparable beings sat down by a nearby table, the boy feeling the seconds pass like drop torture as he ate.

"Hey, buck-o. What's got you so on edge? Worried she'll find another man or something?" Norman teased.

Flailing his arms in disgust, Tokken exclaimed, "Victus, no! She doesn't even stand on two legs!"

With a brazen chuckle, Norman shrugged. "Hey, it happens sometimes. Kinda weird, though."

"No thank you! It's this place, dude. It freaks me out, and I bet it freaks her out too."

"Hah! We're a bunch of funny folks, yeah. Relax, she can't get hurt here so long as she doesn't do anything too dumb. We're pretty chill in here," the Cryptid persuaded, calming the lad.

Tokken raised a doubtful hand.

"Just to get an idea, what exactly would that entail?"

"Huh? Oh, ya know. Breaking rules on purpose, trying to steal things, harming people... the likes," Norman explained, taking a gigantic bite out of his sandwich.

"Oh, wow. You guys aren't entirely amoral, I guess," Tokken sighed to himself in amusement, raising his gaze so as to make eye contact with Norman. "So, where are you from?"

"You're asking that like I'm in serious trouble or something," the Mynotaur mumbled, huffing. "I'm from the northeastern mountains; born and raised. Our kind dominates a little patch up by the border. I remember the days when we'd get paid to harass either side. That uh... That stopped when the Syndicate started getting crafty with their gear. Guess that's when I figured that if I couldn't beat 'em, I'd join them. So here I am today."

"So cool!" Tokken exclaimed, mockingly. Earning a laugh from Norman, the boy rolled his eyes. Norman returned his attention to the barely-adult man, giving him a curiois look.

“We keep talkin’ about us and myself. What about you, buck-o? Spill the beans!”

"Me…? I spent most of my days in the city, in a fancy corner Goddess knows where. Then some... stuff happened, and I ended up in a cabin I can’t hazard a guess from. I was pretty young during the move. I am pretty surprised at how different the city looked. I guess it's bigger than I thought, huh...?"

"Oh, it's massive, buck-o. Stretches for miles!" Norman confirmed, nodding. "If it was during your infancy, you wouldn't have been able to recognise shit, trust me."

Tokken didn't say more, trapped in his thoughts once again. Whenever his past was brought up, he became webbed in blurry memories, trying in vain to piece together and work out all the doubts in his mind. He never did figure out the purpose for the assassination, though the motivation itself could be assumed with a bit of logical thinking. Judging by the people he was made aware of these last days, he at least understood that there were some truly sick people out there. People are willing to do anything just to make a penny. And if that penny happened to be hefty, well...

"Ay, kid. Remind me: what's this Howler look like?" Norman abruptly asked, raising his voice to break the teen from his self-imposed trance.

Stammering at the sudden interruption, Tokken shook his head, tapping his skull as he processed the question.

"Right, Chloe. She's white as snow. Puffy fur... oh, she's short compared to her kin. I think she's a pup?"

"Woah there, buck-o. I ain't letting it slip if you're dating a minor," Norman said, rising to his feet with folded arms. His dumb grin betrayed his act.

"Oh, will you stop that already!" Tokken complained, stomping his healthy foot.

With a low chuckle, Norman eased the lad to his feet before making way for the hallways once again. With a clearer head and a hint of optimism to his step, Tokken found himself livelier than before, encouraged by the company of one of his newest friends. While Norman wasn't particularly soothing to be around, the comfort of his capable protection helped calm his nerves.

♦ ♥ ♣ ♠

Flying through the tall skies with an air of relief brushing through their job-worn bodies, Erica and Corvus watched the land of their country, both hoping to find any possible candidates wandering around. They didn't have to be necessarily in great shape; or at least Erica said so. A meat shield always did come in handy. Such a disturbing idea was not within Corvus' grasp, which led to a more fair search. They'd find people who looked at least moderately capable and hope they wouldn't end up dead trying to recruit them. A flawed plan during a dire time.

Slicing the wind with a range of twirls and gracious flaps, Corvus found himself navigating the atmosphere smoothly, slowing down so as to allow the heftier avian to keep up. While they were both natural fliers, Corvus was renown for his agility; Erica being more of a juggernaut among her kind. That, and she was wearing a bit too much armour.

"Don't you think flying without such baggage would do you miracles, Erica?" Corvus asked, flaring a teasing smile towards the lass.

"Well, obviously! What happens if we run into someone, though?" Erica countered, puffing her cheeks at him before nearly losing her balance mid-air.

With a wind-silenced chuckle, Corvus faced forward once more. "I still think this is ridiculous. Don't you think the scouts would've snagged any good choices off the rug by now?"

"Probably! But if we're lucky, we might catch a sneakier batch," Erica assumed, shrugging.

With a cold sweat and an awkward smile, Corvus yielded.

This poor woman...

Interrupting the fluidity of their aerial travels, a whistling object sped by, faster than eyes could perceive. This same whistling immediately set off alarm signals in both of their heads, recognising the noise perfectly. A sniper rifle round.

"Shit! Enemy fire. We're too close to Yanksee!" Corvus warned, starting to pull back, only to remain stunned as Erica didn't cease her direction.

"Not now, Corvee! We need recruits! I can see the glint from here, just move quickly——"

Twish!

Another whirring bullet passed just above her shoulder, cutting through her hair. Erica yelped as she lost control of her flying, spiralling downwards towards her target.

"Shit! Erica!" Corvus yelled, zooming down to assist her. While she would likely regain control before hitting the ground, the fact that she came closer to the enemy left her at significantly greater risk of being picked off, diminishing any hopes of evasion. When close enough, Corvus threw his sword flying, it spinning rapidly as it travelled near and past her. Once it sped ahead of the lass, Corvus reappeared next to the handle, managing within a fraction of a second to parry the next coming bullet with a skilful swipe of the blade.

Just as he proclaimed his success, the spinning female angel crashed into him, sending the pair spiralling down, both hopeless to react against the force of the wind, coupled with the impact the two of them withstood. With all hope of regaining flight lost, the two braced for contact — Corvus managing to wave his wings to at least soften the final collision against the grassy earth.