▽　▽　▽

Sam took her helmet off once the simulator had been properly powered down, pulling the cable to trigger the retractor and draw it back upward. Her forehead was plastered with strands of hair stuck with sweat, and her eyes squeezed shut a few times to ease some of the stress. Letting out a big exhausted breath, however, drew a reaction that startled her.

“’Bout time you finished up.” Kaylen was seated within the cockpit’s open hatch frame, back against one end and feet propped up against the other, looking as if she just awoke from a nap.

Sam wiped her forehead in an attempt to look less sloppy as if her presentation mattered. “You were there the whole time?!” she asked before reaching for her water bottle that was almost empty.

“No, not really,” Kaylen answered as she stretched. “Maybe about thirty minutes, but you’ve been at that for over four hours. Do you never take a break?”

Sam grimaced, shocked herself that much time had passed. “Well, I guess I got more absorbed than I realized.” Her eyes then widened as they had earlier at the start of the process as she spoke in a more upbeat tone: “Hey, this thing has the sickest turn speed with the ability to block AND lay down follow-up shots- all at once!” And even though Kaylen was obviously disinterested all the while, Sam continued one-sidedly as she brought up a voice log she kept up running on her mobile. “I couldn’t do much outside of dry runs without knowing how sensitive Antares inputs will be or what difference it’ll make in the end, but I did realize one big thing. Am I crazy, or would it really be better to move forward with me being a hit-and-run for you and the others?”

That last line caught Kaylen’s attention as her listening fully keyed in.

Sam’s eyes kept panning over her logs while going on: “Formations don’t allow flexibility for neither you nor I… I set up a bot that ran the Galatine’s basic motions for me to follow, so then I mimicked those myself for a few runs and-”

“-Wait,” Kaylen interrupted with a confused frown. “You uploaded the Galatine’s information?! How?!”

“Oh,” Sam thought aloud, remembering what pertinent information it was she skipped over. “So, the files you got from Hexa were, well, garnished if you could say by someone- but I didn’t care who did it. It was the-”

“-No, no,” Kaylen interrupted again with hands up and a shake of her head. “They said Arondight and Ap50 files, nothing about the Galatine. What are you suggesting here- and I of all people would’ve noticed while installing!”

Sam shrugged. “It was just installed within a subfolder I found looking through enemy bot programs. I know it made no sense at first, but I bet it’s something my Dad may have had a hand in, directly or not.” She then sighed after looking at the time, feeling her stomach growl. “Anyway, if I may continue? I really want your opinion.”

“Ah… Sure, go ahead,” Kaylen calmed down albeit with a roll of her eyes.

“So, after figuring your Galatine can fly that far away for that long and with that level of firing accuracy, it really makes me question why anyone Hexa hired ever pushed formations in the first place because I’m seeing a better look with me as a hit-and-run, two Ap50’s as flank protection and spotters, and you from up top to pick based on whatever priority variable. No formation, just jobs to do in different places and different times.” Her voice then lowered into a more serious tone as Kaylen subconsciously started listening in the same manner. “The Cloaks never ran formations. They just did what each had to, all in different ways and places, yet their efficiency was always peak. I think that’s what we need to do, and everything I laid out is my best conclusion thus far. No more wasting time group practicing, no more anything in tandem, just knowing our individual duties and responsibilities and focusing 100% on those more than anything.” She then looked over to Kaylen to surprisingly see her listening intently. “What do you think?”

Kaylen incidentally let out a chuckle, then paused to think of a response. “Thanks for reminding me why I wanted to hang around in the first place.”

“Pardon?”

“The book. Everyone likes to push things according to the book. Everything has one, too, including formations and even formation busting- which I had to study up on for hours last war.” She folded her arms and placed her hands behind her head as she leaned back against the frame. “Remember our talk back in Manila?” She asked, now looking back up at Sam.

Sam did recall a sizeable portion of their talks of improvisational tactics. “Kind of, yeah, you kept talking about that Lance Vrey guy.”

“So, that’s why I said what I said. And now that I heard the gist of your findings, let me spend some time to mull over some of my own takes on it and we can run those ideas together tomorrow. How’s that sound?”

“Fine with me,” Sam shrugged as she spoke in a more relaxed tone. “Hey,” she then spoke with a switch back to a more serious tone. “I was about to ask what your style is, yadda yadda, but it just hit me.” She noted Kaylen’s bothered expression meant she knew where the conversation was going, but Sam kept on anyway, feeling she had a right to know by this point. “Everyone only speaks negative of that label they keep using in reference to the Apollyon, but what’s your real story? I really feel like if we’re to be chasing down Reaper together sometime soon, I might need to know some details- and feel free to just tell me the parts you choose. I don’t have to know your life story.”

“Fair enough, like you say,” Kaylen finally replied after hesitating, letting her guard down once more. “Here,” she then added as she reached for her bag she had placed just beside her at the catwalk’s ledge. From her bag came a packaged snack she had tossed Sam’s way.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Sam caught the small, neatly wrapped thing, figuring it to be some cookie or something of the sort. “Oh, thanks, what is it?” She then saw the titling “Savannah” written across the foil covering.

“An alfajor from the market- has to be this brand or they’re not any good in my opinion. Had a few on hand and thought you could try one at some point. Anyway, I can try to give you the short version of…” Kaylen noticed Sam’s attention rapidly drop, assuming it must be her hunger being the source of distraction. “Um…”

Sam was already halfway done with the alfajor, completely mesmerized by the combination of chocolate, cookie, and dulce de leche. Mouth full and chewing away, she declined to respond out of manners, instead using her finger to point approvingly at it repeatedly. Finally after swallowing the last bits inside her mouth, words erupted as if freed from capture: “What is this thing again?!”

“You really are a by-definition, standard sardine,” Kaylen flatly replied with an embarrassed shake of her head. “Look, anyway, as I was saying…”

.

▽　▽　▽

.

A quick explanation of Kaylen’s story turned into a half hour, but it did fill in a lot of unknowns and understanding gaps Sam had about the war that happened just over a decade prior. “Damn. I end the end really don’t know what to say,” Sam breathed out a long, troubled sigh as she tried to sympathize for something she had no experience to stand upon. “But thanks for taking all that time to bring up so many terrible memories.”

“No, like I said, it might be helpful to talk more about it since I kinda really don’t… ever,” Kaylen replied with a suppressed yawn, still fighting her exhaustion. “Other than those who helped me like I was saying, it’s only you and your old buddy over there who I’ve felt open to speak to about it. Most here have no clue and I liked to keep it that way, you know?”

“Oh, wait- sorry, I did mean to ask this la~ast question,” she asked with a grimace and wince, remembering a huge detail she wanted but realized how selfish it made her look.

Kaylen felt she had brought it on herself, however, defeatedly shrugging with a huff. “No, no, go ahead.”

Damn, I really need to make this my last one for real. “If that Reign OS requires your fully integrated consciousness to work, does that mean all that talk of collaborating may be for nothing? I mean, I clearly don’t quite understand the system without knowing the fine print.”

“Oh, alright,” Kaylen’s brow rose as she stood up. “That’s actually a good point to make.” She then faced the opposite wall with hands on her hips. “I’d have to see what Hexa has in mind for supplying me personnel-wise, but whoever it is, I’d have to get permission to alter the command source to fit our plans.” She then fished a notebook from her bag she now slung over her shoulder. She then looked back at Sam as she held the notebook up as if to hand it to her. “You use these? If not, whatever imp- …” She almost reacted in offense to Sam’s nods. “Yes?”

“Sorry,” Sam awkwardly held her hands up in realization of her ill-timed expression. “I did just start using them, though, thanks. I figured anything important we come up with has to go down on paper without being spoken to anyone. Isn’t that how the Underground works?”

Kaylen smirked as she let her arm fall to her side. “So, you did do some thinking before. Exactly.”

Sam didn’t know whether to feel offended herself or take it as an at-face-value compliment. I mean, I had to think about something since the last crash-and-burn… “Well,” she then spoke, declining her chance to retort. “I need a break. Are you alright to go get some real rest? Because I will be fine if I’m allowed free passage between here and wherever it is I’m being held for my stay.”

“I was about to take you to the group in charge of that,” She responded with her hand out to help Sam stand up and hop out of the cockpit. “And yes, I’ll be gone for the rest of the day after that.”

.

.

▽　▽　▽

.

That night, Sam retired to her room the local Underground had set aside for her, using a small, privately owned efficiency motel for her stay. It was fortunate to avoid the stress of speaking to the check-in desk as Kaylen had passed it to her prior, and her long phone call with Sebastian gave her reprieve as usual, but after lying there in bed facing the ceiling, it was like she faced the return of her steadily ongoing night terrors. And to make matters worse, she was drained from her extended simulation hours after the near-death experience the night prior.

I wish he was here right now.

She gripped her extra pillow tightly with her eyes squeezed shut, lamenting the thought she would have to last two or more days without him by her side. The fight with her sleep, however, was to be a short one. It was one thing to fear what would likely come, but still it felt so good to just give in and vegetate, especially with a stomach full from snacking away her anxiety from earlier. The return to one of her few remaining safe spaces, the cockpit, helped with that job, and her newfound love for dulce de leche did the other.

.

▽　▽　▽

.

▽　▽　▽

.

*~BZZT-BZZT~*

Sam shot up in a snap from her tense slumber in a cold sweat, huffing to catch her breath. Delirious from the shock of the rude awakening, it was as if she could still smell the stench of smoke and burning equipment, and the acrid smell of nitrogen oxides unique to LTACs of the enemy had seemingly left its burn in her nostrils. But her right hand still quivered as if it still held a knife with an intent to stab.

*~BZZT-BZZT~*

Shouted the device from somewhere in the room, and Sam still confused it for the rumbling of steel frame pounding the asphalt. Reaching to rip off her helmet finally revealed she was no longer out in the streets of an unknown urban hellhole but back in the safety of her hotel room, allowing her to steadily catch her breath and cool down.

*~BZZT-BZZT~*

Now it hit her at last.

What!? What is that- where is that coming from?!

Her eyes darted across the dark room after a quick check that it wasn’t her mobile making the racket. Feet on the floor, she felt well enough to get up and make her way towards the source. Hitting the light switch along the way, she noticed the culprit had to be inside her bag on the sofa. Her eyes lit up upon realizing the only possibility: “That- that thing!”

She reached in for both of her transmitters to see that the newer one was now buzzing in her hand, triggering to toss the other back into the bag’s inner pocket and rush over to her bedside while scooping up her earpiece.

*~Click~*

…

Well?!

She knew she wasn’t crazy.

Did I click the wrong button?! Or maybe-

“-Hello, Samantha,” spoke the most spine-chillingly discomforting voice she’d ever heard from a digital mask, sounding nothing like what Tyrus used. Her heart began to tighten and her stomach began to clench up, feeling immediate regret for answering.