In the mixture of the oppressive intensity of the rainfall combined with the subduction of the walls that separated the space from that very storm, the shower hissed long and constant, a hiss that could be interpreted as threatening in that the storm was unkind to guests who sought to step in its space. However its interpretation did not need to be so hostile, for the hissing was simultaneously soothing, like the shushing of a gentle parent calming and nurturing their child, blanketing them in safety. The world did not determine which interpretation was correct, as while there was one that dominated given the atmosphere leading to a pessimistic viewpoint, either direction could be taken depending on who’d walk the path.

Those hisses came from the same source of the luminescent spring that alighted the interior, that being the window that sat beside two tall wardrobes made of dark wood, each with two doors closed shut, closed by knobs one of which held up the hood of a black sweater. The wood itself wasn’t in the most pristine condition however, as there were visible splinters along the sides. Similarly the walls between the wardrobes weren’t perfectly smooth but rather showed patterns of erosion, even if the walls were substantially covered up. While subtle, there were scratch marks on the hard surface of the windows, marks that were emphasized from the bright yellow light on the other side.

Beneath the windowsill, there laid a puffy mattress sitting directly on the hard wooden floor whose boards weren’t perfectly aligned but rather had some uneven separations, with some boards also jutting higher up than others. The mattress was also aged, scratches and tears along the sides, puffs being held by sheer luck alone.

Despite the decaying state of the room though, on that very mattress laid a body, one who was in a deeply serene slumber unaffected by the environment. Over it was a single thick sheet functioning as a warm blanket, which may have tears visible and cuts allowing air to circulate through, yet that made no impact on the sleeper who wrapped themselves in it blissfully.

In fact, most of their body was covered underneath the blanket, and the head was subtly elevated as though there were pillows for support. There were minor movements in the body, slight nudges of the head to deter fear of the body being devoid of life, for there most definitely was, just one in a state of tranquility such that perhaps it wasn’t part of this world to begin with.

Furthermore, those nudges were hardly irritated from the distant sound of heavy footsteps, ones that creaked in a hazy echo afar. Regardless of their gradually inclining volume and thus the perceived intensity of the creaking, the sleeper remained in their trance, seemingly oblivious to the world around them.

With the growing clarity of the creaking footsteps given its reducing proximity, there was one action warranted, yet it was just the simple turn of the body away from the direction of noise, facing away from the sound but with what looked to be indifference to all but its subconscious irritation. The body shuffled slightly in the turn, readjusting the blanket with grabs, almost silent with no human grunts or groans. Leaning on its shoulder, the sleeper just faced away from the approaching steps just as it abruptly suspended, returning moments of silence as the long amber hairs sat freely on the pillow revealed to be a genuine cushion.

That naive complacency continued even when the door to the small closet room swung open, allowing a creepy shadow to emerge from the floor emitting from the feet of a silhouette who stood in the opening, its body clad in the darkness of the unknowing. It was tall, shoulders broad, the body still at first as though there was no soul to drive it, just an image frozen in time.

Drenched in darkness, one foot of the silhouette stepped forth, its body partially alit, the boot with torn fabrics held down by metal buckles beneath the baggy jeans riddled with holes that exposed the leathery wrinkled skin underneath, pale like a ghost, and ghostly too was the footstep it took which sprung up the floorboards just about an inch, creaking eerily.

From every creaking step, the shadow crept ever closer to the sleeping body who was turned the other way, the bright hair down the neck with a full head, bangs lazily spread over the sheets and the black hoodie being worn which had vaguely shiny trims.

Ultimately the intruder came to a stop, now directly towering over the mattress, over the one asleep turned the other way whose face couldn’t even be discerned as it was nearly buried in the bed. The silhouette stalked for a few moments in silence, the dark navy blue ripped jeans of the lower half shedding the skin underneath, skin the same tone as the two hands that lingered by the hips.

One of those hands, wrinkled and pale, clenched into a light fist before opening again, and then was extended by the arm as it reached for the sleeper, the hand opening up to grab towards the shoulder in a manner quiet and unnerving.

In an instant, that hand was covered by a white sheet, one that fully wrapped around it so quick the process wasn’t perceived.

Bending down to reach for the bed, the intruder paused with their hand wrapped in the same sheet that wrapped around themselves including over their whole face, covering their identity from the veil controlled with the grip of the other end of the blanket, that grip being one tight and sharp from the black silhouette airborne behind the man, green glimmers in its eyes, amber bangs waving in the air as the former sleeper pounced onto the back of the intruder.

With a pained shout, the man’s arm was tugged upwards from the jerk of the woman as his body crashed onto the bed with a creak louder than any of the prior footsteps, although his voice was muffled under the sheet with only the desperate tone passing through to the one now kneeling over the body with one hand on the blanket and the other hand raised up.

Fingers bent and articulated sharply as though the humanly pale hand was a monstrous claw, the homeowner glared straight at the back of the man’s head, that being one devoid of hair which only exposed the wrinkles on the neck.

The homeowner’s face was obscured mostly as the amber hair draped over the lowered head, and in a voice human and more specifically feminine, late in teenage years and approaching adulthood around the age of 18, she demanded in a tone harsh and threatening, “Who are you?!”

Keeping all her weight on the man as a means of holding him down as he cried in a voice muffled by the thick blanket and thus incomprehensible, the girl’s raised her free hand higher as the cuff of her black hoodie which upon closer inspection had a metallic texture lit up between the folds, a glow green as though charging up just as visible through the open door down the wooden hallway appeared another figure from up a ramp who turned her way before hoarsely shouting, “WAIT DANA!”

From fearlessly feral, the girl’s enraged expression morphed from two blinks into bewildered blinding as she turned towards the man who rampaged down the hallway, his steps also creaking the floorboards, but she didn’t seem as aggressive towards the one who approached in the few seconds it took for him to reach the room given the ultimately short length of the hall.

Grabbing onto the door frame for support and panting in fatigue from the sprint, the second man stood in front of the paused fight as the intruder remained on the bed, restrained and masked by the girl who continued to grip the blanket although relinquishing the lights in her cuffs.

This second man was dressed in a black half shirt, although one that was struggling to maintain form as there were fabrics peeling off visible from just a glance, and wrapped around his neck was a gray chain. His hair was receded but still present, white and wavy although short, approaching balding but still clenching on.

That man wore cargo pants but ones that were nearly a rainbow from the sheer quantity of patches that lacked the same exact tones of the original fabrics, instead leading to a design almost patchwork as though by intention when in truth it was a design that grew over time. Yet not only was his clothing damaged, the lack of long sleeves revealed his wrinkled arms to be battered in scars, some in the shapes of circles and others in longer slashes. Most of them were dry and dark, but a few were redder thus fresher.

Towering now over the girl who held down the intruder, the man looked down aghast, his pacific blue eyes wide in disbelief above his white stubble of a beard and the gray chain around the neck which held a disk-shaped ornament about the size of a pocket watch, dangling over his chest.

Astounded but still panicking, he then urged desperately in that voice weathered and dried, “Dana that’s Harry! You’re going to choke him out!”

Immediately the girl’s eyes lit up but rather in terror as she hastily turned focus to the man she was holding down, quick to throw herself off his back and pull the blanket off, beginning to unravel it as the man just groaned in defeat.

Injured but alive, the old man identified as Harry groaned before beginning to push himself up with his hands, struggling to do so before being aided by the other man who ran in at the next second, dropping a knee to help roll Harry on his back.

In doing so, Harry’s face was finally revealed to be that of another old man but one clearly older than the other, immediately panting desperate for breath after having been robbed of nearly all his inventory.

Watching the old man battle for breath while rolling up the blanket, the girl identified as Dana just lowered her head and dimly apologized in a voice soft in shame, “Sorry Harry…I swear I didn’t know it was you-.”

“I mean I did tell him what’d happen if he tried waking you up so it’s sort of your fault here Harry,” remarked the man with a smirk, still kneeling.

Defeated and ashamed, Harry just managed to push out, “You were busy loading-,” before coughing where he then managed to assert, “I was just trying to help!”

Sighing while his friend continued to struggle for wind, the man just faced Dana and in a tone more genuine and warm he asked, “How’d you sleep? Sorry it got ruined so bad.”

Finally pulling the full blanket off of Harry as she had managed to wrap its entirety around him instantaneously without even identifying him, Dana sighed and tossed the blanket back on the bed mattress beside Harry whilst assuring although in a tone slightly attitudinal whether it be irritation from the misunderstanding or merely from having just awoke, “Fine, dad. I didn’t think Harry’d be here so early, I’m surprised he’s even here at all.”

She then however paused herself before raising her head up to meet the man she referred to as her father to which she inquired in a voice more curious, perhaps suspicious even, “Wait, what does he mean you were ‘busy loading?’ Since when did we have a job today? You weren’t skipping me out of it were you?!”

Sighing but more from the distress of being immediately antagonized, the father shook his head before assuring earnestly, “No I wasn’t doing that, this job just came an hour ago and to be honest I was so busy with the prep that I forgot to get you up. I guess I should thank Harry for doing that,” which he glanced at his friend for, finding his breathing to finally begin calming down.

After the assurance, he then returned his gaze back to his daughter to explain, “I wasn’t going to leave you out, actually this is the most important job we need you there for. It wouldn’t really even be a job if you didn’t come,” before then standing up.

Smirking from the immediate implication of the comment, Dana sneered in a sarcastically triumphest voice, “Oh ho ho, you really need me that bad for this one? What’s it, we’re going for the Black Stars again? I’ve been working on something new so I can’t say this isn’t sweet timing!”

At the same time, the father offered his hand to his friend, Harry, who grabbed it thus helping himself be pulled up to his feet from the bed. After helping his friend to stand upright, the father let go of the hold and let him slightly stumble before catching his footing as the father then turned to the girl who was quick to fantasize a great battle.

Instead of feeding that imagination however, the man more delicately diverted, “How about we first get downstairs and then we can talk about it,” as he extended his arm to her next in an offer.

That diversion did little to damage her excitement as she gleamed brightly while taking his hand and letting him boost her up to her feet, swaying to the side subtly before standing straight and jesting, “Must be something special then,” while walking on ahead out of the room as the man turned around and followed too.

At the bottom of the spiral staircase stepped down Dana, dressed in her black hoodie and samely colored joggers, her hands in her pockets and her hood down to let free her thick amber hair, not so long that it ran down her back but not particularly short as it covered her neck.

While from first glance her clothing was casual, nothing unusual for a person to wear regardless of gender or age, there did seem to be metallic lining on both the hoodie and the joggers, subtle as it’s matte yet it’s clear the apparel wasn’t strictly made of regular fabrics.

She walked down the living room which had multiple sofas covered in patches to hide the tears that came over time, decent as only in a few patches were fluffs managing to squeeze through. The sofas surrounded coffee tables, ones that had wood aged and chipped but the surface was surprisingly well furnished, being used to hold two shiny metal bottles and an empty clear bag.

She approached the hallway as both Harry and the father reached the bottom of the stairwell, following behind her as the father followed in front, catching up to the enthusiastic daughter excited for adventure.

Walking down the narrow corridor, Dana passed one of the open doorways into another room which she took a peek into, that room being the kitchen about the size of a closet with a countertop above cabinets along the walls opposite from a wooden table. The table had changed, now with thicker legs and ones that only had minimal degradation from erosion but was otherwise well kept. There was one door missing in the cabinet, revealing the interior to have a stack of plates, but there were white doors on all the other cabinets, ones equipped with handles painted the same color. The table had a few plates on it, sitting next to cups that had opaque bodies. The plates had pills sitting on them, ones in various colors as there were a few brown ones but also a couple red and yellow ones among other tones, diverse rather than a single plain color albeit some were white though with a beige tone.

In the moment of her peek, Dana was offered by the father who spoke from behind her: “Oh right, you should have firsts. I left you some of the egg tosses and I was able to get my hands on these strange ones I heard people call ‘cinnamon buns,’ they’re way too sweet for my taste but I thought the name sounds..nice. You might like them.”

To that offer however Dana shook her head and, while smiling brightly, instead formulated as she continued onward: “I’ll eat later, I want to hear this plan first! But that sounds interesting, ‘cinnamon buns’...huh.”

Through the other end of the corridor stepped out Dana, turning her head to face forward as she stepped into the entrance lobby composed majorly of the dining room, but more strangely it seemed to double as a whole armory given the vast amount of crates littering the floor, some of them open given the lids are rotated out. Next to some of those crates was an open black vest, a few bandoliers with slots that were partially filled with canisters, and two duffle bags both of which were open and with enough containment that they each stood on their own with defined structure. To the sudden sight Dana stopped, instead gazing around at the many crates, some small enough for her to hold in one hand and others large enough for her to fit inside, all covering the room from one end to another.

On the dining table there were scattered items with a few handguns and pouches among canisters. Sitting on one of the chairs, specifically the one closest to Dana was the black vest whose structure was solid despite not being currently worn on a body, and slung over that chair’s back was the brown leather biker coat under the long belt full of pouches with some soft and others rigid and hard.

Behind the furthest chair was the window that shed in the strong golden light into the room, rays that didn’t softly fill the room in balance but rather provided harshly sharp beams that casted darker shadows around itself.

Stuck in awe to the mess of the room, Dana just gazed in a daze as both Harry and her father stepped out from the same corridor, both of them continuing ahead with the father approaching the dining table and Harry walking over to some of the crates on the floor where he bent down to one of those which were already open.

Astonished with flaring parakeet eyes, the teenage girl murmured in a tone almost in disbelief despite the sight being right before her: “I’ve never…seen you guys this prepared for just some job…it’s like you brought everything you have….”

Kneeling on the ground in front of the crate beside a pile of detached gun cylinders one of which was in his hand specifically housing three bullets in the seven slots, Harry used his other hand to cautiously pick up a small golden bullet, one with a fat body and rounded tip, although one which strangely had a ring in the center with a divot as the bullet was not perfectly smooth.

He examined the bullet while offhandedly mentioning, “Well, that’s not exactly wrong…. But I guess it’s really all or nothing here isn’t it?”

As he then slotted the bullet into one of the empty slots of the cylinder, behind him Dana raised her eyebrows in confuddlement before then seeking, “I mean…it shouldn’t be…right? Like I mean I guess I don’t know the job but this is a bit much, I mean if we use everything now I’m not sure what we’re going to do for the next job…-.”

“That’s because there won’t be a next job,” coldly answered the father at the table, immediately grabbing Dana’s attention as her expression fell to utter bewilderment, her jaw dropping as she could only ask, “Huh-?”

On the table was a vast array of various pistols, each of which the father picked up before inspecting, from large revolvers to small Colts able to be fit inside his palm. For the Colts he cocked back the slide to test its state, releasing some of their magazines to inspect them keenly. He kept his eyes and a substantial portion of his attention on the examinations but after the question arose he had to complete his last inspection with a bookmark, for he then turned around to face Dana to provide her his full attention.

With that attention he then reiterated: “This is the final job, Dana. This is it.”

Blinking twice to try understanding the statement only to fall under deeper perplexion, Dana just admitted in a voice wavering anxiously, “I feel like I’m missing some context here…I mean I just woke up so what are you talking about exactly-?”

After placing one of the filled cylinders in a pouch inside the black vest beside him. Harry stood up and turned around to face Dana to which he then briefed in a more formal voice, “A couple hours ago, we spotted something enter the atmosphere. We thought it was a meteor or a defunct satellite but actually we believe it’s an aerial vehicle from offworld. We were able to track its destination to an old automobile factory, and after some reconnaissance we believe that the factory is guarded by some unknown number of people but we counted seven from outside alone. We don’t know what it’s doing there and for how long, but we knew what we had to do. This is the first chance since we were born that we can snag us something that can take us off this planet, clearly it’s capable of travel between worlds.”

From bewildered to almost terrified from the hefty explanation, Dana stumbled back and threw her hands up before assessing, “Wait wait wait, slow down, what?? I mean wait this just happened? I’ve never seen anything like that, but I mean like do we even know it’s a vehicle like can it fit us I mean even if it was none of us would know how to use it-.”

“I’ve heard of this type of vehicle, term I’ve heard used around is ‘pod,’” interrupted the father suddenly, silencing Dana and pushing her focus onto him as he continued inspecting the surprisingly large firearm shaped similarly to a Mini Uzi with a longer magazine jutting out from below the handle.

He glanced back to Dana after placing the weapon down to then elaborate, “If the information I’ve gotten around this city means anything, they should be able to fly themselves, so if we can somehow set the course we shouldn’t need to know anything else.”

He then lowered his head and more consciously admitted, “But that’s just word of mouth from people who say a lot of things…. And from our scans of the factory’s guards, we can’t recognize their weaponry, I’m not even sure if they have firearms or not. It’s…alien really…so we need to assume the worst and use all we have.”

However he raised his head and more optimistically explained with a step towards Dana and his hands out, “But if we can secure this mission…if we can reach this ‘pod’ and use it…I mean Dana, that’s it. We can get out of here. We’ll never need to do another mission, we’ll never need to fire a gun ever again. I mean this is the end of the lives we’ve lived all this time, we can finally go somewhere else. I told you one day it’d happen, one day we’d make it happen, and well…this is the day.”

Forcing out a response in a desperate yet passionate voice, Dana exclaimed: “Wait so-,” before suddenly suspending herself, her mouth open but silent. She then slowly closed her mouth and lowered her head, visibly distraught, lost, confused. Her eyes stuck to the floor beneath her feet, her only grounding to a reality that seemed to be leveling every second, every word spoken.

“So…this is really happening…like…we’re actually doing this…?” whispered Dana almost as though just to herself, although caught by the other two given the room was entirely silent other than the three, with those other two diverting their focus from the preparations and instead straight to her.

Silent in contemplation with a frown, the father scrunched his eyebrows and gently answered, “Well yeah…I mean this is everything we wanted, and now it’s here. I’ve been waiting for this day since…well…since you were born, Dana. And here it is. And we’re not going to mess it up.”

“On that note,” mentioned the voice of Harry, diverting both Dana and her father’s attention towards him.

After closing the crate he was previously reaching from and standing up, Harry glanced back at the door before returning his gaze to his friend and then Dana to announce, “We should leave soon, maybe ten or so minutes. I’m on the last crate so it shouldn’t take too long,” to which he turned to her father to mention, “Hey Leo, we should start packing some of those arms. Oh also I found some of those old incendiary rounds and I think they’ll still work, I got us an even split.”

“Huh, I thought we used all of those,” remarked the father with gentle surprise, surprise but relief, before he then faced Dana and nodded his head, shifting to a more earnest stern voice used to suggest, “Looks like we’re going soon, and you’re going to need to be with us since we plan to take our leave once we get this vehicle. Eat your firsts if you can, but also you should pack up everything you need.”

Stunned from the somewhat vague request, Dana just blinked and asked, “Wait…like…everything…? Everything for now or-.”

“Everything you need, for now or for the future,” hastily elaborated her father before then again boldly stating in a voice stern and driven, “We’re not coming back here, Dana. This is it.”

In a voice calmer and more casual he conclusively advised, “We’ll probably need some more time to finish up here, so you have time. If you need more space just holler, we should have one or two extra bags lying around after this. Sorry I really should’ve woken you up sooner, here once I finish up I can come and help.”

Yet Dana was already steadily backing away, whether it be in compliance to the suggestion or rather a repulsion from it, yet her shivering body and shaky hands suggested the latter.

“I- I’ll be fine dad, but I’ll let you know I-...guess…,” softly assured Dana, her voice hardly reaching out as a whisper, the words meant to instill resolve but with no tone as reinforcement, her eyes not even meeting the audience as her head was instead lowered with a frown.

To that shaky albeit genuine response, the father softly smiled sincerely and promised, “This is our big day Dana, this is our moment and we’re going to take it! One last mission, we’re going to get this.”

Before allowing for a response to be returned, he immediately turned away back to the table to resume inspection of the arsenal, accounting in a more sternly stoic voice: “This Volks 16 has a faulty bolt, maybe if we’re lucky it can survive but I think it’s better we abandon it.”

Although those words were no longer to his child, but instead his similarly aged friend who replied also with that more formal voice although audibly disappointed, “Ah that’s a shame, those ones can pierce just about anything. Well you said the Lodges worked so I guess that’ll be good enough.”

Standing at the end of the makeshift armory as the two soldiers geared up for war, the young girl just watched with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. The situation was spectacular, miraculous even, for she truly never expected this day to come. She hid her desire for years, forcing herself to confront the idea that she would live and die on this world, that she’d never be able to explore elsewhere, to experience another life free from the neverending violence that plagued this world into a fogged darkness.

In that moment she should’ve felt pure joy, bliss, excitement, relief that a dream she thought to be impossible had manifested before her. She knew her father had spent longer than her lifetime seeking an escape for her, and yet nearly two decades of life had already passed, decades where she had to endure a heartless world that nearly turned her cruel too, a world that demanded her to become something beyond human simply to survive. However that was only two decades, for in truth she understood she still had a great span of life remaining, a span that could be spent far from this nightmare incarnate. She had her whole life ahead of her, a life that she used to acknowledge begrudgingly but could now seek to optimistically. This should’ve been nothing but great news to her.

Yet in that moment, there was no such joy on her face. There was no smile, no twinkle of fascination in her eyes, as her former enthusiasm towards the mission had long ceased. Instead there was the stark contrast of that expression, a wavering frown, empty eyes, an expression conveying not elation but rather dread. For even though in the back of her mind she anticipated this moment for her whole life, it had come too suddenly, so abruptly, and she struggled to react, to judge and determine how to process the event.

This was her life.

She didn’t think it’d be gone so swiftly.

While the two men commented to one another while each individually preparing their weaponry, the girl took slow steps backwards, her hands at her sides, her cool composure gone. Continuing to face her home rendered a fortress, she paced backwards until her back struck against the frame of the corridor, causing her a brief grunt and instinctual grabbing of her shoulder as her body stumbled aimlessly.

Although her grunt was not perceived by either of the two men who continued their work, their path set forward and thus so were their gazes, their attention.

She would need to do the same.

In between the narrow walls of the hallway, the girl turned around and started pacing back down to the living room where the stairwell was, her steps heavy and uneven, her breathing the same. Her amber hair flapped in her strides as she passed the kitchen without giving it even a thought, unable to afford a stomach at the moment.

Further from the distant voices incoherent past the cloud in her mind, the girl entered the living room on a path straight for the stairwell, passing the couches and tables all of which were battered from age but held together nonetheless from patches and maintenance. Even if the couches could not pass as being in perfect condition, it was clear there was passion in their survival, a force keeping them together despite their nature pushing themselves apart.

Passing those artifacts of history without a glance, the girl began up the flight of stairs, her steps growing louder as a result.

Inside the claustrophobically tight staircase the girl spiraled upwards, each step mistimed from the last, her breathing heavy as were her eyes which darted around desperate for a sight to latch to, to cling to. Every next step the light touching her grew dimmer, abandoning her in the bleak void without direction, only able to move onward based on her current orientation as there was no indication to turn.

That was until she reached the top of the staircase, turning first to the right before then quickly spinning the other way, nearly walking down the wrong end but swiftly correcting her course. Still it was clear she lacked a solid road, or perhaps the proper tires, as she ambled her way down the hallway towards the distant door.

Through the force of her shoulder, the girl swung open the door by bashing herself into it, stumbling due to the abrupt collision but able to stabilize herself quickly to then hold still and make a keen panoramic gaze of the room in front of her.

By her feet was the well cushioned mattress she was just resting in minutes ago, warmed with a sheet layer over it underneath the balled up thick blanket that’d keep her from the chills during rest as the soft pillow supported her head. Beyond that was the pair of wardrobes separated by the window that shed the main source of luminescence for the room which beamed straight at her, also doubling as the source of the hissing showers that grew louder from near proximity.

Instead she sighed as she stepped over the mattress to approach the right wardrobe, grabbing the black hoodie off the knob and tossing it next to her before then grabbing both knobs and pulling back, enforcing her pull with a sharp jerk that instantly opened the doors with a fast swing, as the hinges seemed somewhat stuck and required greater force just to interact.

Regardless, with the swinging of the wardrobe doors revealed the contents of the main storage portion, which rather than being filled with clothing traditionally instead had a pile of metal scraps and components scattered over, some of which resembling the pieces of firearms, batteries, but also large metal gauntlets and boots with various designs as some were slimmer than others. On top of the heap though was a black backpack and a distinct box shaped like a toolbox, the latter of which she interacted with first as she grabbed the lid and pulled it up, letting the box open.

Inside the box was a disorganized pile of small metal tools from ones that had rods and sharp tips similar to screwdrivers, but also scissors and what looked closest to a taser just to name a few. She began rummaging through the box, pulling out what resembled toothpaste tubes and small cans with nozzles at the top, assessing the inventory.

It only took a few seconds before she receded her hands out of the box and closed the lid back shut, satisfied as she then picked up the box and slipped it through the opening in the backpack.

Next she stepped over to the other wardrobe and pulled their doors, which also required additional force given the degradation of the hinges, but upon opening them it revealed that unlike the first wardrobe, this one had a more appropriate inventory of clothing with a mix of black shirts, pants, a raincoat, and undergarments. The inventory however was substantially reduced comparatively as there were only a few of each type of article, backups but nothing that’d even last a single week without requiring immediate reuse.

At the very least the limited set allowed her to swiftly snatch the backpack off the other wardrobe and hold it underneath the surface of clothing that she began shoving into the bag, able to dump all of her clothing fairly quickly as it rained into the compartment with hardly any fill at first.

The shoving of the raincoat did cause the backpack to appear significantly more packed simply given its thicker materials that didn’t ball as tightly, though ultimately all the clothing was stored.

After placing the bag down on the mattress and stuffing the black hoodie inside, she stood up and closed the doors to the left wardrobe before then darting to the right wardrobe which was still pretty much full, as all of the scraps and pieces were inside.

She turned back to the bag and bent down to pick it up, holding it with one hand and peeking inside as her foot repetitively tapped the floor impatient to her own thought process.

Especially now with the hoodie, the backpack was nearly filled to the brim, not particularly because of the density of items within its volume but instead the unfortunate composition of the inventory in that the clothing took up a great deal of space and was unable to compress enough to make any significant room.

There was perhaps enough space for some smaller miscellaneous items, definitely not a second toolbox but there was some remaining capacity before the bag would be unable to close.

Raising her head, the girl stared at her wardrobe full of the metal parts, her pile of gold that she accumulated over the years. Pieces of handguns ranging from all models were scattered about, barrels that could either sit on a finger or could be gripped like a baton. Not only that, but there were components of other devices, electronics given the litter of batteries and wires, red circuit boards and cables. She reached into the pile with her free hand, rummaging through it to search for what she could take, pushing aside disassembled motors with visible gears and shoving heavy metal gloves with sharp fingertips, designed with a plating pattern resembling scales like a dragon.

She continued to search, although she did not have an exact item in interest, instead she hoped she’d find one from the hasty dig. Her hand deep in the heap, her eyes suddenly widened in intrigue and she finally pulled her hand out, and with it a large metal black mask made of a single piece of metal curved smoothly.

On closer inspection, the plate did have visible bumps as it wasn’t perfectly smooth, but with a design so simple it lacked rough edges amongst the body, shaped to a reasonable fit for a face. It did lack any mechanism to hold onto a head however, and it wasn’t exactly the best organized as from where the eyes would be placed dangled green wires connected to small disks like monocle lenses.

Still, the girl gazed at the mask with admiration, a subtle smile creeping up on her from nostalgic memories, reminiscing about a past plagued with suffering and turbulation yet one she could somehow find solace within.

She held the mask to have the exterior side facing her, the blank featureless plate lacking any detailed facial sculpture, allowing the metal texture to reflect her own face off the surface, as while the plate itself had no structure it instead absorbed that of the one who once wore it.

Yet the reflection of the girl showed that smile slowly collapse to a frown, the temporary glimmer in the eyes fade, and ultimately the mask was carefully placed back on the top of the pile over the metal sneakers.

Another sigh to herself, the girl gave one last examination of the pile, one that functioned as a capsule in many moments in time, a short but personal history. Yet with the many pieces right before her, she couldn’t find anything complete that’d fit inside the backpack, for all of the armor was just too large.

Frowning from that very fact that she ultimately couldn’t bring any of her former inventions, the creations she had poured her soul into and the ones who kept her alive for years, she lowered her head back to the bag for a last assessment to confirm that fact again even after acknowledging its truth.

Unable to bring along any complete devices of hers regardless of the intimate significance it may have, she instead lifted the backpack up by the wardrobe and began picking up miscellaneous parts off the pile, small motors and batteries, dropping that into the bag despite them not being purposeful on their own. Yet that was the most she could do, dropping in disassembled cylinders and pistons, all of them small enough to fit in the hand and able to be stored inside the bag, although even then it took only a few drops before it finally reached its full capacity to which the girl noticed with a groan in disappointment.

Grunting from the weight of the bag, she lifted it higher to have it sit on the wardrobe itself, allowing her to grab the metal zipper on one end and run it over the opening. She struggled at the top though, needing her other hand to tug the fabrics up in order to gain more space for a clean zip until she could then bring it back down and fully close the compartment.

At least the bag was finally closed, her packing was complete albeit brief, it had concluded as there was no space left. She lowered her head in contemplation of the offer for an additional bag, noting that she could potentially bring the entire pile with her if she had access to a fully empty duffle bag, however from the tightening of her glare she arrived to the reluctant conclusion that those bags had greater purposes, holding the tools that’d allow them to succeed in the mission which ultimately mattered more than bringing obsolete souvenirs.

Ideally she’d be able to afford the leisurely storage, but even in these final moments back on this world she found herself faced with sacrifices. Determining that sacrifice, she bitterly slung the bag around her arms, wearing it on her back and raising her head to take one final glance at the wardrobe, at the heap of parts and the devices she managed to build out of them.

She lived in a world dominated by few devices, weapons that were dangerous but ultimately bounded people, limiting them to the power they alone could achieve. She had surpassed those bounds, creating her own weapons out of those devices, weapons that could provide her power that no ordinary firearm could, power that grew her a reputation superseding mortal humans. Even if the initial prototypes were rough, there was a great achievement in what she managed to accomplish, a child able to stand against an army of grown adults. Perhaps she had once accidentally terrorized those she loved, and ultimately the bonds she grew strengthened her not just in her armor but herself, yet nevertheless the history of that monster developed who she had become.

Thus after capturing a satisfactory image even if it needed to be brief, she grabbed the doors and swung them shut with a slam, dumping that history in darkness.

“That’s the last one,” announced the man in the patched cargo pants, sliding back the bolt of a pistol with a long barrel, shaped almost like a small sniper given that there’s iron sights and a small reticle propped up. After letting the bolt go, it automatically slid forward with a click before the man then turned around, bent down, and placed it inside the duffle bag sitting on the floor by the dining table, exercising care as it was being placed on a pile of other firearms and weapons.

“Nice, I’m on the last mag, looks like we’re on schedule,” replied back the voice of his partner as the man grabbed the zipper dangling on one end of the bag and dragged it over, pulling up the fabrics of the bag to provide more space for the zipper to glide across such that it was able to reach the other side.

With the bag closed, the man stood up and faced his partner who was on the other side of the room, sitting down and sliding small bronze bullets inside a small metal magazine, one with the square-like width of a typical Colt-styled magazine, although about double the length.

As the man picked up the black vest off the chair and drove his arms through the sleeveless openings to equip it on his body, he glanced at his partner’s own vest but furthermore assessed, “You got your personal equipment set, right?”

After zipping the vest up and grabbing the belt off the chair’s back, he listened to Harry confirm although with a quieter voice given his focus on the final magazine: “Of course, once I get this finished we can get moving. Hopefully we’re not too late….”

Slinging the belt around his hips and attaching the two ends together with a satisfactory click, the man sighed and in a tone that acknowledged such fears given the reluctance, he nonetheless eased, “We should be fine, I guess there’s no precedent for this but I assume that if someone took a trip all out here, they’d at least stay for half the day.”

The next bullet placed in the magazine was still visible from the top given it was nearly poking out, signifying its capacity was met. Smiling softly in relief, Harry placed the magazine inside the duffle bag beside him, zipping the bag up as the man beside him grabbed the brown leather coat off the seat’s back.

Simultaneously, Harry closed the lid of the final crate now emptied, grabbing his vest off the floor and driving his arms through to dress himself in it too as he remarked, “You’re not going to wear that jacket, right?”

Chuckling from the sneering question, the man remarked back sarcastically with a voice withered in age yet fueled with enough subtle enthusiasm that it negated such senility: “I’ve been using it for all the other missions, of course I’m bringing it to this one.”

Sarcastically groaning from the response, Harry retorted back while zipping up his vest: “You know, the quality of that jacket is nice, you should stop trying to put bullet holes inside it.”

Shaking his head from the comment, the man rebelled in that he threw the leather coat on himself, slipping his arms through the sleeves with aching grunts but managing to pass through, “Well I can’t admire it if I don’t wear it,” before then rolling his shoulders to let the coat settle on his body, unzipped but left such.

Before another remark could be tossed, a third voice spoke, a feminine one and one that was far younger given it lacked any of the rasp of senility, although it had maturity given the deepness which was further amplified by the confidence of the assertion: “I’m ready.”

That statement was made by the one who both the men turned their attentions towards, the young woman who stepped out of the corridor into the dining room, dressed in all black yet in various materials given the matte metal strips on the hoodie and joggers, carrying the black backpack slung on both shoulders. Her parakeet eyes shimmered, perhaps in a true anxiety being suppressed by the veil of boldness, her amber hair let down with some of the ends sitting on the hood. Her hands were closed in fists, assertive perhaps forcefully so, clenching herself in anticipation but in such a way that it primed her.

Gazing at the prepared warrior, the father’s eyes sharpened keenly and he gave a respectful nod, turning to Harry and announcing sternly: “Let’s get moving,” before he then picked up his duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder with the long strap.

Nodding his head back to his partner, Harry picked up his duffle bag and also slung it over his shoulder, verbally verifying with a voice sobered up: “Ready, I’ll lead the way.”

Communication set, Harry was first to turn around and approach the closed door as the father glanced at Dana, and in a voice more soothing and gentle he asked earnestly, “You’re ready, right? One last hurdle and we’re home free.”

A subtle but present smile stretched across Dana’s face, and she nodded her head as she began strolling forward at least until reaching her father’s side while she answered more optimistically, “I’m ready to give everything I got!”

After a brief chuckle, Harry remarked while at the front: “Whoever these people are, they’ll be lucky to meet our resident celebrity. Only so many people get to meet The Marauder up close.”

He then stopped in front of the door, ready to open it as he turned around towards his partner for the signal. However, upon turning around he found his two partners both divergent from the path, instead both of them by the dining table with the man by the chair he previously had his coat on and the daughter beside him, the two facing the third chair which stood in front of the window that casted golden light.

In pause of the deployment, the father and the daughter stood in silence, staring at the chair with sentimental gazes. The daughter clutched to the straps of her backpack as the father gently held the disk over his chest held by the chain, his pacific blue eyes longing.

He took a deep breath in, and then he slowly let it out as the daughter closed her eyes softly and meditated.

As she did, the man murmured a simple promise in a volume only audible to himself and barely the daughter beside him, but his audience was someone else: “I’ll make sure our daughter has a bright future. Goodbye, my love.”

With that, he then turned towards the door and slowly began pacing towards it. The daughter’s eyes then opened, and she dropped her hands to her side and gently wished, “Love you, mom,” before she turned to the door and followed her father.

In front of the table occupied by the other two chairs, the wooden chair with tall sturdy legs stood before the great golden window, the almost holy light embellishing its textures, casting sharp shadows separating it from the rest of the world. Given the natural brown of the chair, the light gave the appearance that the chair’s natural color was gold, like a throne of a great power beyond a world so dark and grim. The chair would shine eternally under the golden light, even as the two family members walked up to the door as their partner swung it open, allowing the hiss of the rain to reach its climax as the shower was exposed straight ahead, hostile like the whole world.

Yet despite that hostility, as the partner exited the home and trekked into that world, the two family members glanced at each other before doing the same, stepping out of the warm comfort of the home, out of the shelter protecting them from the rain, away from the walls protecting them from assault. They were leaving a comfort they’ve had all their lives, a comfort that perhaps wasn’t pure but one that protected them and allowed them to grow together, at least in preparation for this pivotal moment.

Thus even if it meant leaving the chair behind, the two members walked in the rain, out of the home and off on a journey to find their new. Even if it meant facing a danger beyond their world, they still kept on straight forward, strolling down the rainy roads as the door began to swing the other way.

And so as the chair continued to glow bright under the golden light, the door shut, indicating the last time the family would be under that very roof. For the house would never not be their home, but they would find another, and wherever one went, they’d all follow.

Even to the infinite void of the cosmos.