Then:

Not sure what spurred her on to do this, but Laila has been working with that mercenary, Juniper Sladek. She’s… not so bad, once you get to know her. At least not like the other mercs, she’s stuck around, seems to find new excuses. First was that she was waiting on repairs, which, yeah, Ixion took a beating during one of their ops, required parts shipped in, but then came “I’m still waiting on that drinks, Lails,” with that idiotic laugh of hers.

Oh, Laila gave her that drink, but they then shared a few more, up until… they kissed. Turns out hard liquor after an op probably isn’t the greatest idea, because gods she made herself look like an idiot. Honestly, Juniper is not that bad? Rough around the edges, but she’s decent company.

Still think Eris set them up, because she kept saying how Laila should “offer an olive branch.” Well, now look at them. She’s definitely not crushing hard on the merc, nah, Juniper’s a merc, there’s no point in that. You sleep with a merc a couple of times and— Whatever.

Point is, the merc isn’t all that bad, sure she’s full of excuses, but the rebels did also copy her homework.

Mora Boscht, a mech engineer like no other, ex-Imperial, and easily one of the best minds those bastards squandered, got her hands on parts meant for Ixion. And what does she do with them? Oh, just create another flying mech.

Gods only know why.

Turns out when you’ve got funding from a “mysterious benefactor” and too much time on your hands, you can build almost anything.

Argos flies now. How? It’s very complicated, but as a result, Laila has spent weeks learning how to fly. Rigged up a sim using the cockpit monitors, so she could get a feel for everything. Surprisingly Juniper didn’t blow a gasket at the sight of the new and improved Argos, she was—

‘C’mon Lails, if you can’t keep up, I’ll leave you behind’

Well, Juniper is still annoying.

“Yeah, yeah,” Laila says, redlining the throttle to send Argos into the skies above. Aside from the sims, this is the first time Argos has actually taken flight. To say the least? It’s incredible. Her baby actually flies!

Her heart is racing, realizing that she’s actually airborne. It’s incredible, but also very, very terrifying. Fuck, is this how Juniper feels every time she takes off in Ixion? It’s exhilarating, but also so damn distracting from every little thing that needs to be watched. Especially how much time before the flight system overheats and sends this flying brick headfirst into the ground.

Oh, but right now, that’s not what Laila is worried about. She’s big game hunting today. And her prey? Why it’s Ixion of course. It’s some stupid idea Juniper cooked up and the brass approved of.

Land a hit on it and they’ll clear Laila for active duty with the new and improved Argos. So far she’s yet to land any hits, because she’s spent more time trying to manage the heat on this thing. Mechs run hot, but Argos? It runs extremely hot.

It’s all good, though, her time is coming. For the last while she’s been toying with Ixion, waiting for Juniper to slip up and make a mistake.

‘Y’know, I’m beginning to think you want me to win.’ And there’s the other reason Laila is training against Ixion. It’s not just that Juniper wanted her to train against another flying mech. She proposed a bet: Land a good hit on Ixion and she’ll do one favor.

“Please, if I wanted you to win, I wouldn’t already be closing the gap.” Laila laughs, sending Argos higher into the sunny skies above. “Better watch it Sladek, I’ve got you right where I want you!”

Ixion barrels right, avoiding incoming fire from Argos with ease, which is where her opening comes in. Juniper is prone to overcorrection, which leaves her flank unguarded for about oh, five or so seconds. It’s minuscule, but the moment the twin head-mounted autocannons light up, Ixion takes damage!

She can the the sound of audible groaning over the comms, but has to suppress her own laughter. ‘Shit, how’d you pull that one off?’ Maybe this will humble the merc.

“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell. Now are we done? Or do I need to—” Ixion barrels through, pulling into a tight bank, so that it can hover mere inches from Argos’ flight path. Collision alarms sound, but with seconds to spare, Laila pulls down on the controls, sending Argos into a head-first dive. Despite the massive Gs being pulled, there’s just enough room to aim its assault rifle at Ixion and fire into its blind spot.

‘How the fuck did you do that!?’

“Oh, Junie, I think we’re done here, RTB,” Laila says, laughing hysterically, almost as soon as she cuts comms. She can breath a sigh of relief once Argos is back down onto solid ground. Fucking hell, one more minute and she would have puked up her lunch. Not sure the mess crew would appreciate that, let alone the mechanics.

‘Yeah, yeah.’

Argos settles into its bay, powering down at long last. Once she’s exited the cockpit, the most surprising thing is that Eris is waiting for her. Adama keeps saying she should lead her own squad, that Wardog could build itself back up without her. And every damn time, Eris turns him down for some reason.

She tosses Laila a bottle of a water, to which she greedily downs. “Hey, great work out there,” Eris says, leaning against the railing. “Just got word from the bossman, apparently he wants to talk to you. If it’s another push for me to lead my own squad, think you could please tell him to fuck himself?” Offering her oh so charming smile in return, she laughs.

“Meh.” Laila rolls her eyes. “Probably just wants us to babysit a bunch of nuggets on their first deployments again.”

“Gods, again? At least he’s not trying to assign them to Wardog.” Eris sighs, watching personnel come and go below.

Ixion settles into the bay directly across from Argos. Once that pulse reactor is quieted, ground crews rush over to plug in cooling hoses. Nothing quite like watching that silver fucker come in.

“Hold that thought, Eris?” Laila says, descending the ladder. “Gonna go talk to the merc.”

Eris laughs, watching from afar. Never understood why she’s so insistent on sticking around. She’s got skill and a tactical acumen some pilots would kill for. Shack up in a new squad, make a name for yourself girl!

Laila walks across the busy hangar bay, grinning from ear to ear at the sight of the pouting merc. “Aww, what’s the matter merc?”

“Fuck off.” Juniper gives her the finger.

“Uhuh, you owe me one favor, remember?” Oh, it’s going to be fun to see her face in a minute.

Juniper sighs, leaning back against the ladder. “Okay, what do you want? Sex? I’m down for that, especially with that cock of yours.” She bursts out laughing, failing to get more laughs.

“Maybe later,” Laila replies smugly, putting a hand on the merc’s shoulder. “I’ve got a proposition for you: Join the rebellion, June. Join Wardog. We could use you, and you? You could do something besides make shitty excuses for why you’re staying.” She’s had this on her mind for months now, but every time she thought to bring it up, June showed her entire ass.

Not this time, though.

Loudly sighing, Juniper composes herself, standing up straight. “Yeah, yeah, fine.”

“Fine?” Laila blinks a few times, taking a step back. “You mean—”

“Yeah, I’ll join up. Why not? Least if I die out here, someone will probably mourn me, right?” Juniper shrugs. “Just, go easy on me, okay? I get it, I’m the asshole mercenary joining up.”

Laila fights back all of her sarcasm, giving Juniper a warm, welcoming smile instead. “Just stick with me, Sladek, I’ll make you into a fine pilot.”

***

Now:

In the corner of the quiet locker room, Laila gives herself one final lookover in the mirror. She’s in a purple flight suit that has a black block running the centerline, starting at the knees and moving up towards the stomach. The black stops when it reaches the sternum, flaring outward along the biceps and down to hug along the triceps and forearms. It’s essentially her old one, just with Imperial Black instead. Her coat—the mark of a Handler—rests snugly over her flight suit.

Her fire red hair has been tied tightly, leaving just enough bangs to cover the scar under her left eye. Growing up, she always wanted to dance, even learned to waltz one day. Mom always said it was improper for men to dance with each other, but she’s dead, and Laila’s found herself a lovely partner. Muzzle or not, Juniper is the perfect one to share today’s dance with.

Clad in a black tank top, a similarly black bomber jacket and green fatigues, it’s impossible to ask for a better looking dance partner. They’ve danced so many times before, but today’s is a special occasion: The combat exercise that Alpha so desired is upon the two pilots of Kérberos.

But Laila isn’t worried, no. Rather, she sits down onto the bench and begins to tape up her fists. It’s improper for a lady to tape up her fists, especially before a dance such as this. Proper etiquette is overrated, however.

It’s certainly not a dance with death, but old habits die hard. Be it in a mech suit, or in a cage, she fights. That’s how the world works for people like her. But she doesn’t fight for the pleasure of others anymore. She fights for herself, and for that hound sitting on the bench, quietly piecing herself together.

Light jabs are thrown into the air and Laila grins, satisfied with the tight feeling of the wraps against her knuckles. The tape is stashed back into the locker, and she grabs her neurohelmet, placing it down onto the bench. Painted in the same black and purple as her flight suit, this lovely piece of equipment is designed to assist her with targeting.

Looks like it’s time.

She walks over to Juniper, lifting the hound’s chin to stare into those dim hazel eyes. “My love, it’s time for our dance. The eyes will be upon us, are you ready?”

“Yes, Sir, I’m ready,” Juniper quietly says, nodding in response. “Stryx and I will perform our greatest dance for you.”

Laila smiles warmly, releasing her chin. “Good girl, how’s your muzzle? Tight enough?”

“It’s perfect, Sir,” Juniper says, a soft and gentle smile forming underneath the muzzle.

That smile is a perfect reminder of why their path in life was the correct one. She could never have smiled this gently when they were rebels, it was always a facade. But now? It’s warm and genuine. Because she’s truly happy.

Laila pulls her into a quiet embrace, listening to the gentle pitter patter of her partner’s heartbeat. “I love you June, don’t forget that,” She says it quietly, resting her head against her wife.

“I know, Lails, I love you too,” June responds, not wanting to spoil the moment.

After a long embrace, Laila finally pulls away, nodding to her hound. “Let’s not keep our audience waiting, shall we?” She grabs her neurohelmet from the bench, ushering Juniper to follow.

Normally home to a training squadron, this small backwater base brings back memories of the rebellion. Cramped corridors, narrow hallways, the works. Probably requestioned from the Aurelian forces after the surrender.

Their walk is quiet, allowing Laila a precious few minutes to finalize her mental preparations. Theaboros Archon and its pilot will prove to be a challenge. Not only is there a hound to contend with, but the mech itself is anything but a pushover. But these two have faced worse before. It won’t be easy, but with the right amount of strategy, they’ll pull it off.

Walking across a large catwalk, they pass rows upon rows of empty mech bays, coming to two familiar machines: Ixion Stryx and Argus. Juniper’s mech has been fully repaired, no more spare parts fashioned from a Doru. Unfortunately being as today is only an exercise, there’s no linear rifle equipped.

Ahh, such a fearsome machine, but it’s nothing compared to Argus.

Following the operation in Tarsus, it was in terrible shape. So many little flaws exposed. Exactly why this ground-up rebuild happened. No longer the same machine that tragically danced in Tarsus, it’s been rebuilt into something more befitting a handler.

The thick and heavy armor sheeting of a retrofitted Doru replaced with carefully shaped ceramic plating, making it lighter, more agile and resilient. It was the sort of protection that the rebels had always longed for. It also gives the humanoid machine a leaner, more agile appearance.

Electronic warfare systems integrated into the horns; no more bulky radar dish. Two large thruster cowls overhang the machine’s upper body, furthering emphasizing speed and stability. Less flight time, but it takes much less power and fuel to take flight, and there are the new ways to have fun.

A twin-pronged bident with long spines shimmer, its metallic surface reflecting ghostly traces of light. Superhardened and treated, there is no way it’s breaking or melting down in the face of anything short of a reactor meltdown.

Then there’s the new rifle. Robust but still sleek, a thin body with a long ported-barrel and oversized compensator. Loaded with specialized breaching rounds designed for hardened targets, it’s the closest thing to a true mech-sized anti-materiel rifle that they could produce. And now it’s tied into the finest suite of scanners and cams they could fit on-board.

Argus has been reborn.

And today, it makes its debut.

“Heard there was another flying mech, but two others?” A voice across the way laughs.

Laila turns her head to stare at a dark skinned woman wearing a red flight suit, a black heavy coat covering much of it. Behind her is what looks like an asylum patient, arms tightly bound in a straitjacket, a feral look in their eyes and a muzzle. “Like what you see, Monax?”

“Oh, it’s fine. Mines better, though.” Kione Monax, the pilot of Theaboros Archon. Was beginning to wonder if they’d meet in-person or not. “Funny, you know my name, but I don’t seem to know yours.”

Laila grins smugly, staring down Monax. “It’s Iota. Handler Iota. You’d best remember it, because I won’t repeat myself twice.”

Locked in a stare down, neither handler makes the first move, choosing instead to remain still, so as to not show the slightest hint of weakness.

“Cute.”

Laila shows no reaction to the clear taunt. She stands there, arms folded, waiting for her opponent to slip up. Just like in the cage, you want your first move to matter. Not just throw out some weak shit.

“Cute?”

Seconds tick away, neither opponent moving an inch, only staring the other down. It’s all calculated down to the cold expressions. Of course this extends to the hounds, glaring at the other, waiting for the order to strike

Monax strikes first, offering a hand. “It’s cute how you wrap your hands. What, are you going to beat me up? Make me run home crying? Maybe take my pocket money? That’s fucking adorable.”

Ah, so that’s her game, shit-talking, easy to deal with.

With a roll of the eyes, Laila says, “Oh, perish the thought.” She grabs Monax’s hand, giving a firm handshake. “It’s just an old habit is all, think nothing of it.”

“I’ll give you style points though,” Monax says with a mocking laugh. “When I heard there was another flying mech, I expected a Theaboros copycat. So I suppose the question is: Are these two legit? Or just cheap imitations?”

“Dunno.” Laila shrugs. “Guess that depends on if your mech is up to snuff or not.”

“Got a mouth to you,” Monax says with a cocky grin. “Always refreshing to know not all of us are trying to be the scary bitch twenty-four seven.”

There’s no point in taking the bait, she’s every bit as brash and overconfident as Epsilon said. Easy to see why Alpha took on this ex-merc, more than meets the eye after all.

Laila turns her attention back to her hound. “June, it’s time, get Ixion Stryx prepped, we ship out in ten.” It’s about time the pleasantries conclude and they get on with the dance. After all, it’s impatient to keep a lady waiting.

“Yes, Sir,” Juniper says, with a salute.

Monax does similar, motioning for her hound. “Funny, you treat your mutt so lovingly, almost like you two were in love. Yeah, I can see it written all over you two, you’re fucking in love!”

“And?” Laila raises an eyebrow, narrowing her eyes. “Juniper is my wife, and my hound. I’ll forever love her, but I don’t fuck dogs. Though, I guess an ex-mercenary wouldn’t know love, just the disrespect that comes from being a soldier of fortune.” Her opening move. It’s not flashy, but it’ll hurt.

Boredly yawning, Monax unbuckles the straitjacket of her hound. Charming, she must have raided the insane asylum. It certainly explains the mutt. More than likely she simply lacks the finesse to break someone down, and used a sledgehammer in lieu of that. “Puppy, get going,” She says, snapping a finger. “Love, huh? Well, don’t forget what she is.”

“I treat Juniper as a weapon first and foremost. Good weapon maintenance is important, though I guess you wouldn’t know about that either.” Laila can only hope she’s getting under her opponent’s skin. Because frankly, she already hates this woman. “Unless you want to settle this now, I’d suggest we leave it at that.”

“Please, we’re all friends here, right? We’re just having friendly banter, nothing more.” Friends? What is Monax on about now?

Laila boards Argus, staring down her opponent one last time. “Talk is cheap, we’ll settle this on the battlefield.”

***

A half-built city with no name, overlooking a dry lake bed. What was meant to be part of a new wave of building projects in Aurelia was turned into an Imperial testing ground. No better way to give rookies their first taste of urban operations. Argus and Ixion Stryx stand at one end of the city, overlooked by a half-finished skyscraper. The ground is muddy from recent rainfall, a thick fog surrounding them. Conditions aren’t ideal, but such is combat.

The oh so familiar cockpit of Argus is full of console extensions and sub windows on her monitors. Conversion cords, nonstandard cables, affixed wherever possible with duct tape. It’s a little more cramped than usual as a result. Maintenance teams worked overtime on the rebuild, but this final step just couldn’t be completed in time. An entirely new ECM suite has been added, as well as the fire control system to the anti-materiel rifle.

Assurances were made that these minor issues will be fixed before the first combat sortie. It’s not that big an issue, all it means is that Laila has some fine tuning to do and that the cockpit is slightly more cramped than normal. Big deal, she’s been in worse.

All that’s left is to wait for the signal to begin.

Monax will prove to be a tough opponent, and that asylum patient? Gods willing they go down easy. Strategizing around that thing is complicated, despite it’s relatively simple loadout. Something about the entire thing just bugs Laila.

Of course it’s rude to speculate on other dance partners, when hers is feet away, but what girl doesn’t fantasize about beating the absolute living shit out of another? Well, probably ones who didn’t spend their lives fighting.

‘All units, begin operation.’

The maestro signals for the first piece: the start of combat. Through the steel plating of the cockpit a rhythmic whir of servos, much like the string section before the clash of cymbals, begins their dance. Ahh, Laila just loves to dance, even in these conditions, it’s just such fun.

Unfortunately this is not a dance with death. Pulled punches are to be expected here, no corpses today. Damage can be repaired, pilots cannot. What’s the purpose of this all? Thought it was simply to placate Alpha or possibly something with Epsilon, but no, the true purpose is simple: Testing Kérberos, after all, the two pilots were separated for so long, and their first outing was dismal.

In essence, it seems like both Alpha and Epsilon are planning something, neither would authorize something like this for simple bragging rights.

“Juniper,” Laila speaks, her voice more focused and serious, while her eyes never leave her screens. “Are you ready?”

‘Yes, Sir,’ Juniper responds without any hint of emotion to her voice. The warmth her voice once had is long since dead. But that is no surprise, after all, Laila is the responsible for snuffing out that warmth.

Even so, there is no guilt to be felt, not now.

Maybe later when it’s just her, but for now, there’s work to be done.

With a crack of the neck, and a smirk, Laila issues her first command: “Then it’s time, I want you to fly high my lovely phoenix and give me a sensor sweep.” Feels like old times, Ixion feeding Argos sensor data, all so she can strategize. The only difference is that they’re not rebels anymore. “And remember, no killing blows, love, I don’t want any corpses.”

Wordlessly, Ixion Stryx unfurls its six wings, crimson energy crackles across the half-dozen blades, building and building, until the mech blasts across muddy terrain and into the foggy skies above. Ahh, the orchestral sounds of a flying mech are always so delightful.

“Good girl, Juniper. No readings so far, head to point 031 and begin a recon sweep. Fly low and have your scythe ready.” Gods it feels so damn good being back in the saddle, giving orders, with Juniper unquestioningly following them.

As for Laila, she begins her own set of preparations. A dissonance of noise hums across through the cockpit from the EW system coming to life. It hums and hums, slowly fading away, but it’s such a lovely sound that only a true music lover could appreciate.

A new noise overtakes the quiet cockpit. Argus’ thrusters come to life with a quiet hiss becoming a loud screech. Changing positions, its rifle pokes out from the side of a half-finished skyscraper. It’s far too quiet from her position, but such is the life of a sniper, right?

‘Target sighted along bearing 022, operating under name Daseatus, transmitting data now.’ Ah! Here we go, the hounds have begun their part of the dance!

Targeting data transmits to her helmet, projecting data such as wind velocity and temperature, as as well as a cross-shaped reticle. It’s near impossible to get a fix on Daseatus through this fog, but with the help of Ixion Stryx’s IFF lighting the displays, she can pinpoint where the target should be.

Predictive sniping is a talent that Laila picked up from years of field work, it’s not so much where the target is, as where they will be. Most rebel snipers didn’t have this skill, even with the vast amount of data, they relied on keeping an enemy still long enough to get a shot off. You learn a few things with Ixion as your partner.

Even with the upgrades, she has to hope that Juniper can keep Daseatus at bay long enough for a shot to land. One shot won’t do the trick, but it should bring Theaboros Archon out of hiding. Shyness is unbecoming of a dancer, after all.

“Juniper, shot incoming, fall back accordingly,” Laila says, grinning from ear to ear.

With a pull of the trigger, the rifle erupts. A sabot round clears the barrel, propelling it forward. Once in flight, the sabot separates and seconds later the munition impacts. Unfortunately due to this officially being classified as a training mission, her AMR is using lower caliber rounds than normal.

It’ll hit, but it won’t kill. Gods, what a fucking bore.

‘Shot missed, adjust firing angle to 0114, I’ll hold it off, Sir.’ Damned fog, can’t make heads or tails of positioning.

Composing her next shot, Laila begins the needed adjustments to the firing angle. Fog is such a pain to compensate for, even with the sub-windows feeding her every piece of relevant data. Oh, but that’s just the life of a sniper, right?

A click confirms that the next shot has been primed. And just like that, the rifle erupts with its next shot screeching towards the enemy.

‘Daseatus confirmed hit!’ Those are the words she loves to hear.

Ah, but she can already hear the orchestra building up to their crescendo, so it looks like it’s time to move. Laila flips two switches from her left-hand panel, stowing the rifle to engage the flight system. Purple energy builds and builds around Argus’ wings, sending it skating across the muddy terrain. Time to get closer, Juniper will need support if she’s to take down that erratic mech.

Maneuvering thrusters propel the mech upwards, gracefully landing onto a rooftop. Sub-arms equip the rifle and the process begins anew. Heat sinks deploy, rapidly cooling down Argus to conceal its heat signature. Heat is many things for a mech like this, but primarily? The enemy. Need to keep Argus cool, otherwise she might as well just paint a big fucking target on herself.

“Juniper, give me a fix on Daseatus,” Laila commands, beginning the targeting process anew.

Data pours into her helmet, but it takes precious seconds to sift through it for anything useful. Impossible to make anything out with this dense a fog, can barely see the next rooftop. Doesn’t matter if she’s using thermal scope or not. Fine tuning it only slightly helps.

From what she’s picking up, Ixion Stryx and Daseatus are locked into melee combat, with neither unit gaining much advantage. For every scythe strike, there’s an axe to parry it. Mm, too close to have Juniper fall back, that would leave her open.

Okay, time to give her the needed room. “Juniper, cease attack on Daseatus on my mark. I need you airborne,” Laila issues her command, priming Argus’ rifle. With the new set of targeting data, it’s just a matter of making final adjustments.

Come on Monax, it’s time to show yourself.

The trigger is pulled and the round bursts free, screeching downrange towards its intended target. “Juniper, climb now!” With the command issued, Ixion Stryx climbs high, avoiding impact. “Visual on enemy unit?”

‘Shot impacted, no visible damage.’ Hah, of course not, not with these pathetic lower caliber rounds.

So be it. “Deploy feathers and burn through that armor; I’ll cover you.” Just what the feathers on Ixion Stryx were designed for. Even without realizing it, Juniper set herself up for this role.

‘Copy, Sir.’

Priming her next shot, Laila grins beneath her helmet, adjusting the firing angle by ten degrees. Monax is hiding somewhere in this dense fog, but if she doesn’t hurry, her hound is going to be in for a bad day. “Juniper, fire now!” The round screams free of the barrel, hurdling towards Daseatus.

Feathers mounted on Ixion Stryx’s wings deploy, free falling onto its target. ‘Dead-on hit, Sir! Major damage to enemy armor!’ Laila could laugh right now, because this all too easy. Thing is, she knows that this is a trap. Monax will let them take out her hound, then she’ll move in and attempt to puppet them. Oh, but she’ll have such a difficult time against Kérberos!

After all, they’re both experienced dancers who move perfectly in-time with the three-count measures.

The waltz music comes to an end, and Laila bows her head to Juniper, who has fulfilled her orders so perfectly. “Juniper, to my side, we’re moving into phase two.” The fast tempoed sound of engines roaring always gets Laila to crack a smile, even in the middle of combat. Daseatus isn’t downed, quite the opposite really, but its partner will be showing soon.

The radar isn’t picking it up, but who’s to say that Theaboros Archon doesn’t simply have a stronger ECM than Argus?

Ixion Stryx lands onto the streets below and assumes a guarding stance with its scythe. Juniper can smell it, the scent of their true opponent entering. Even if she can’t see it, she knows by the eerie silence of the battlefield that something is coming.

As for Laila, of course she knows, it’s why she’s already loading in flak rounds. Daseatus was nothing more than insignificant ant. The shots fired at it weren’t meant to kill, they were meant to enrage the asylum patient.

Warnings fire off in the cockpit and Argus leaps from its vantage point in the nick of time, just as the building it was on moments ago collapses from autocannon fire. “Juniper: Sic ‘em,” she issues the order, and Ixion Stryx moves to follow. A howling roar rips free from its engines in pursuit. That’s right Juniper, go hunt your prey, do as you’re told and make them regret dancing with you.

Through the thick fog, thermal sensors pick up on a slow moving unit heading through the half-built city. Ixion Stryx is already moving to engage, but it’s time for the next dance to begin. Targeting data pours into Laila’s helmet, the rifle is primed for its shot.

“Juniper, on my mark, engage.” Final adjustments to the firing angle are made, matching the trajectory of Theaboros Archon. It takes only seconds for the flak round to rip free of the barrel. “Now! Engage!”

The round misses, or so it seems. It bursts in midair, flashing and self-destructing in front of Theaboros Archon, sending a forward-focused shockwave of shrapnel towards the fallen angel. A proximity fuse, designed originally for anti-aircraft use. Like the rest of her arsenal, it’s not meant to kill, this is meant to damage sensors.

Ixion Stryx blasts across the muddy soil, firing its sub-arm wires in an attempt to go for the kill. With its scythe deployed, it catches the attention of Theaboros Archon, immediately countering the wires with a spear. One wire is torn off, while another releases with no time to spare, narrowly avoiding destruction by a spear.

Scythe and spear clash back and forth, while Laila preps the next shot.

It’s just as she prepares to fire again that warnings blare in the cockpit. Ah, so the asylum patient has come for its master, perfect timing! She quickly changes the targeting parameters to Daseatus, firing once it has come into range.

The flak rounds leave the already damaged animal with a few new wounds, but still nothing critical. Grinning, she stows the rifle, allowing Daseatus to walk into her trap. Come on mutt, show me what you’re made of.

Daeseatus closes the gap in no time, throwing itself into a large leap. Twin autocannons pop free from Argus’ wrists, peppering the beast with new holes all over its chassis. Unlike the rest of Laila’s arsenal, these are live rounds, using reduced power. They’ll sting, but they won’t kill.

The asylum patient is slower than before, trying and failing to get past the barrage of cannon fire. Despite the gouges in its thick armor, Daseatus refuses to roll over and die. It charges once more, attempting to swing its axe. Oh, but she can already hear the slow dance beginning. “Juniper, it’s time to switch places, wouldn’t you agree?”

‘Sir, Theaboros Archon is awaiting you, I’ve softened it up for you as requested.’ As always, Juniper knows just how to charm a woman.

“Good girl! Your new target is Daseatus, sending coords now.” Laila shouldn’t keep her new dance partner waiting, that would be impolite. Sure, she could dance with the asylum patient, oh, but where’s the fun in that!?

Redlining the throttle, Argus blasts across the city, weaving through incomplete buildings. One thing is perfectly clear through the thick fog:

Theaboros Archon standing en pointe in a slight hover above the muddy battlefield, its long crimson spear rests behind its slender torso. Dainty, fragile, yet menacing. It’s striking figure resembles a ballet dancer. Yet, somehow maintaining the heft of a reactor and thrusters. To crown this fallen angel, a halo containing a pulsating orb.

So this is the fallen angel. How poetic that a demon is its next opponent.

Skating through muddy terrain, Argus grasps its spear tightly, extending it into the left hand. On deployment, the twin tips burn purple as excess reactor energy feeds into it. Once its opponent is in sight, its spear is thrust towards the first opening. It’s right as the strike lands, that one lands in retaliation onto Argus.

Come on, show me you’re made of!

If this is Monax’s opening move, then she’s quite the dancer. Oh, but she’ll fall just like everyone. Laila will enjoy wiping that smirk off the ex-merc.

Argus turns back to face Theaboros Archon, readying her spear for the next attack. Whereas her opponent stands en pointe, her own machine stands with its knees bent, arms pressed forward, spear extended. A warriors pose.

Blazing purple energy forms around the twin spear tips, awaiting their chance to wound. She’s waiting, waiting for Monax to slip up and make the first move, just like a fighter waits for an opening. When that opening is met, Laila’s spear is spun and thrown into Theaboros Archon’s right shoulder, only for it to be jerked back with a chain attached to the weapon.

Despite the new wound in it, Theaboros Archon does nothing, only standing there as Argus fires its reverse thrusters to pull back. No time to analyze, need to— dozens upon dozens of signatures overtake the radar, warnings screech through her helmet, forcing her to kill all feedback.

Comms and even the thermals are useless, static has taken over all of it. Looks like she’s flying blind now. Oh, but she anticipated this would happen eventually. The electronic warfare has been countered, but that was to be expected.

Ahahaha, finally! She’s been waiting for Monax’s counterattack!

Argus weaves through cramped terrain, dodging obstacles with the expert timing of an acrobat. Theaboros Archon doesn’t follow, choosing to idly float in its same position, allowing Laila the chance to run away. Just need to break the counter jamming and fast, because Juniper’s still locked in combat.

Laila would laugh right now, if she weren’t in the middle of attempting to break through the counter jamming. Whatever Monax did has made it such a headache to counter. Oh she’s good, damn good at that, but Laila? She’s fought worse before.

Argus kneels, taking cover behind a skeletal skyscraper, beginning the process of breaking through the counter jamming. Simple frequency hopping isn’t effective of course, wideband jamming is a pain. So, what’s her counter?

Upping the signal strength.

It’ll take some time to boost it, but it’s an effective counter.

Theaboros Archon is out there somewhere hunting, leaving her with few options. No telling how wide the range on its ECM is, but guess it’s now or never. Radar pulses chirp as the frequency increases. It sounds similar to a cricket, but this also comes at the cost of potentially exposing her position. Just need this to work long enough to issue a command to Juniper.

Precious seconds tick by as the signal strength continues to climb, but it’s too late. In the distant fog, a blazing crimson halo makes itself known.

A spear pierces through, missing Argus by mere inches, which is when a wrist-mounted autocannon lights up Theaboros Archon. No major damage, but it forces the enemy onto their backfoot, giving Laila just enough time to fire side thrusters, once Argus has risen from its kneel.

Skating through the fog once more, she’s forced to send her mech into long leaps of faith, in order to avoid any possible buildings. Wasn’t exactly given a layout and the mapping is fairly incomplete.

Heh, been in tougher situations than this, though.

Alarms sound in the cockpit, forcing her to once more send Argus dancing, narrowly avoiding another spear strike. That one cut it too close, couldn’t see the damned halo, meaning the spear must have been thrown. Crafty.

Kneeling once more, Argus has taken cover near the edge of the city, in a mostly unbuilt area. Just need a little longer to break the jamming. Laila relaxes into her seat, punching in the needed parameters to hopefully break the jamming. Signal strength rises further than before, screeching out over the frequency. This will give away her position, but so what?

As Argus begins to rise from its kneel, two long black appendages extend from its shoulders. Simultaneously, its power core burst into overdrive, the excess heat blazing out across its back, up through its horns, and along, down, and out of the new appendages like wings in an energetic purple flame, creating the image of a true demon.

She’s grinning oh so wide, because this honestly felt so boring until now. Oh, Monax is such a lovely dance partner, being able to keep up with Laila. But it’s time to take this fight up a notch.

Continuing its trajectory through unpaved roads, she pulls back on the controls, sending Argus high into the foggy skies above. At long last she’s airborne, finally allowed to spread her wings! And how magnificent they are!

Laughter overtakes the cockpit, finally breaking through the jamming. Radar shows three signatures, and that static hiss the comms had is finally gone! “Juniper, status report.” Radar picks up one signature moving in on her fast. Theaboros Archon wastes no time in making its prescense known to her with its speed.

‘Pinned down, Sir. Daseatus is countering my every move.’ Figures as much, seems the asylum patient has some skill after all. Not a total surprise, but it’s still quite the sight.

“You’re playing your role perfectly June, don’t worry.” Juniper’s role isn’t to take down Daseatus, it’s to buy time. And she’s done such a wonderful job of it. “Hang on a little longer, I’ll support you when possible.”

‘Copy, Sir.’

Kione Monax is good, but it’s clear that she’s underestimating Laila. If this were Argos, Monax would be right to underestimate the pair. But Argos was reborn into the all-seeing Argus. Even now, Laila has eyes everywhere.

And those eyes represent her path forward.

Victory, because there is no going back. She’s spilled blood, betrayed comrades, damned her beloved to a muzzle. The only way forward is to embrace her sins and grasp victory.

Argus charges towards Theaboros Archon, trading spear blows with it. Neither of them have the advantage, both pilots are all too familiar with aerial combat. Which is exactly what makes this so enjoyable! Finally an opponent who isn’t folding immediately.

“Juniper,” Laila calls out, ducking and weaving through spear shots. “I need you to move to point three delta. Should be a bridge, collapse it and box in your opponent. Full permission granted for flight.” This is all too convienent so far, it’s time to test a theory.

Juniper’s trust is unwavering as expected. Her response is instant, the sub-window picks up Ixion Stryx vaulting over its opponent and taking to the skies as commanded. Feathers release, Laila can pick up the sound of a bridge collapsing. Oh, but that’s not enough, Daseatus is closing in on Ixion Stryx with the aide of wires, just as expected.

Laila cracks a subtle smile, having her theory confirmed. “You’re listening in, aren’t you, Monax? Bet I didn’t even crack your jamming, did I?” Her last ditch effort was far too convenient, why wouldn’t it have been a ploy? Monax is smart, probably managed to break the encryption on Kérberos’ frequency.

‘That obvious?’ Laughter echoes from the neurohelmet. ‘I’ll give you credit, your evasion? Top notch, you did your homework Praxian.’ It takes Laila so much restraint to not toss the bloody thing off. Monax knows her name, which means that Laila needs to beat it out of her opponent’s mouth.

Argus jabs its bident low, stabbing Theaboros Archon through a leg, but the favor is quickly returned with a burning jab through Argus’ torso. Reverse thrusters fire, propelling it back, before any further damage can be dealt.

‘Come on Praxian, what happened to us fighting?’

A grin settles across Laila’s lips. “Oh? We were fighting? Well, in that case…” She’s laughing yet again, it’s just so funny! “Juniper: To me.” A howling roar from twin engines rips through the sky, Ixion Stryx blasts past the crimson spear, tearing its blade through the fallen angel. “Oh, but don’t worry, we’re not done yet.”

Argus lands softly onto the muddy terrain, firing off another set of heat sinks. The blazing energy across its horns and back simmer away, leaving only steam in their wake. Far from a perfect test of the new flight system, but so very worth it.

Now however comes the fun part: Once more, the spear folds, being stowed away on the machine’s back. Its rifle is equipped and loaded with a flak round to begin the next dance. Laila is far from a selfish partner; if Juniper wishes to dance with someone else, let her. It’s only proper etiquette that they seek new partners after the slow dance.

Ah, but even so, Laila is supporting her partner from afar with flak rounds impacting Theaboros Archon every few seconds. Really pushing the limits of the gun here, but that’s the point. Push it to the limit, so that any weaknesses can be snuffed away.

The next volley of flak is dodged and Daseatus emerges from hiding, charging at Argus with its pile bunker. An asylum patient wishes to dance the minuet? Normally Laila would turn them down, as her dance card is quite full. But on an occasion like this, it’s damned near impossible to turn down such a request.

Argus dodges each successive blow of the beast’s pile bunker, performing a perfect pirouette on the final attempt. Wrist-mounted autocannons fire, forcing her dance partner to make such sloppy movements. Ugh, what a shame that her partner is so unsteady on their feet. Ah, but what is an experienced dancer, if not also a teacher?

Once more brandishing its spear, Argus readies itself, waiting, waiting, waiting for just the right moment to stab it through Daseatus’ left arm. Everything below its elbow is severed when the burning bident is removed via chain. If she listens closely, Laila can almost make out the sound of screeching.

It’s such lovely music to her ears!

“Juniper, it’s time: Attack pattern delta.” Upon receiving the command, instinct takes over Juniper, sending Ixion Stryx barreling towards the ground to fire its remaining wire onto Daseatus. It’s impolite to cut into someone else’s dance, but it’s fine, after all, Juniper is only a hound. And hounds have no manners, only killing instinct.

Just as Ixion Stryx should impact, the wire retracts, its scythe is buried deep into the head of its opponent. Comms pick up extremely loud howling, the moment that it pulls back. That should be the end of Daseatus, it’s far too wounded to continue.

Everything has gone according to plan, there’s just the fallen angel left to contend with. “Hey, Monax, your hound’s been taken out. That’s your cue to surrender and exit the ballroom appropriately.” Laila fights back laughter, knowing full that won’t happen.

‘Oh? So that’s it then, I’m beat?’ Monax takes a tone of curiosity, not anger, not even resentment. Pure curiosity. ‘I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve, don’t you worry Praxian.’

That’s cute, but so does Laila. “June, pattern beta!”

Argus takes position in a clearing, awaiting Ixion Stryx to lead its opponent into range. All it takes is one pull of the trigger for a sabot round to launch free of the rifle’s barrel, propelling itself towards Theaboros Archon. Upon a confirmed hit, she loads the next shot, preparing to fire once more. “I’m giving you an out, just surrender or else, I’ll make it hurt.”   

No response.

Fine, Laila didn’t want it to come to this, but she’s feeling feisty today. “Juniper: Off the—“ The last word refuses to come out, no matter how many times she repeats herself, all she can think of is it. The beast lurking within Juniper. And how much it fucking scares Laila, even now.

Get a fucking grip on yourself Laila, isn’t this what you wanted!? Use the gods forsaken leash and command her!

But if she uses that command, will she be able to rein in the hound? Will she even be able to recognize what remains of the woman she loved for so long? No, there has to be another way, right? Two on one, this should be easy.

‘Hounds: Off the Leash. Take out Praxian.’ No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No. The only thing that Laila can hear over the comms is a pained scream, turning to a ripping feral howl. Shit.

She scrambles when Ixion Stryx turns to face her with its scythe clutched tightly. ‘See, I thought it was cute that you planned for a fair fight: Thing is, I fight dirty.’

Laila’s eyes widen, taking a counter stance immediately. “Juniper, on the leash, dammit!” Those words have no effect, Juniper howls out loudly, cleaving her scythe towards her partner’s machine. “Juniper, on the fucking leash! Listen to me!”

Argus parries the scythe with its rifle, warding off the blade. But to Ixion Stryx, none of that matters now. Gone is the calculated piloting style, replaced with an uncoordinated bestial rage craving bloodshed.

Laila spins up Argus’ flight system, sending it screeching across the city at a low altitude. “JUNIPER ON THE FUCKING LEASH!” Despite knowing it’s fucking useless, she has to attempt to bring her partner back to reality. Like it matters, Ixion Stryx is hot on her trail, but that’s not even the worst of it: Daseatus, which had supposedly been downed is standing again, looking worse for the wear, but preparing itself for interception.

Two bloodthirsty beasts against her? Shit, these odds aren’t pretty.

Daseatus is aiming at her, but with no ranged weapons— A hiss of steam erupts from its chest cavity, four openings appearing. Seconds later, four wire-guided harpoons have launched, aiming for her.

One wire she manages to destroy with wrist-mounted autocannons. A second and third, removed from the equation with a swipe of her bident. That fourth one? On a collision course, despite the countermeasures.

Looks like it’s time to take a page from June’s playbook and do something insane. Power is redirected into the thrusters, pushing Laila back in her seat, from the gs being pulled on this breakneck climb. Her body feels heavy, her vision going spotty, probably seconds from losing consciousness. And that fucking over-g warning won’t shut-up either.

The wire retracts, confirming just what she hoped for: She fucking evaded it.

Doesn’t matter, because just as she levels off Argus, a burning spear misses impacting by inches, but a scythe hits from behind, tearing a gash into the left leg. Warnings cascade over the monitors, forcing her to dismiss them.

‘Come on Praxian, what happened to that attitude?’ Monax laughs sardonically. ‘Aw, what’s the matter? Scared because your precious puppy turned on you?’

Fine, you want attitude?

Laila breathes sharply raising her spear. In front of her, Theaboros Archon brandishes its own spear, behind Ixion Stryx clutching its scythe tightly. A no-win situation for her. Or it should be. “Turning my hound against me? It’s crafty, but I’m better!”

Argus’ left arm stabs its bident into Ixion Stryx, right wrist-mounted autocannon lighting up, peppering Theaboros Archon with autocannon rounds. And then, before either can counterattack, maneuvering thrusters change her course, sending her climbing once more.

Over-G warnings sound, but are ignored in favor of pushing Argus even further. Running out of wiggle room here, but just need a little longer for this plan. Ixion Stryx is fast in its pursuit, but the hound isn’t very coordinated with its piloting.

‘Come on Praxian, if you can’t fight dirty, you’ll never make it as a handler.’ Has anyone told Monax her voice is annoying? Because fucking hell.

Warnings sound off in the cockpit again, forcing Laila to make a split second decision on targeting: Ixion Stryx or Theaboros Archon. And unfortunately for her pride, it’s Juniper. It’s always going to be Juniper.

I’m sorry, June, this is my fault.

Ixion Stryx closes the gap, firing its only remaining wire onto Argus’ cockpit. As the beast begins to reel itself in, preparing to strike with its scythe, Laila breathes deep. Closer and closer Ixion Stryx comes until her bident is stabbed through its reactor. Not deep enough to cause it to go critical, enough to cause a normal pilot to pull back. Hound? No, damage ignored.

The energy across Ixion Stryx’s wings is crackling, faltering but it’s managing to barely keep itself airborne. Without a scythe, it’s left to fire vulcans and claw uselessly at Argus.

Hurts to see this happen. This isn’t her wife, it’s some fucked-up monster. June was always the better pilot when it counted, but— Fuck it. Laila shakes off the idiotic reminiscence and regains her composure. Clicking her tongue in annoyance, she switches the ammo in the wrist cannons to 90mm armor piercing rounds.

It’s not very much, but was kept in the back pocket in case something happened. Why the fuck did it have to be this? Gods fucking fucking fuck fuck.

Two clicks confirm that the cannons have been reloaded.

All at once a barrage of autocannon fire is unleashed onto the flying beast, aiming for its simmering gray wings. The rounds shred through one, while another hangs on by a thread. As a result, both mechs are sent into a dive they can’t recover from. Well, one can’t.

Laila shuts her eyes tight, moving her spear to slice through the wire, allowing her to regain lost altitude, whilst Ixion Stryx plummets to the ground. Sorry, June, it’s over now.

There is no explosion, no nothing, only silence.

A muddy crater rests down below. Various bits of plating and parts from Ixion Stryx lay scattered throughout. As Argus descends, Laila looks over the gruesome sight, fighting back a sigh. One leg has been torn clean off, the other dismembered at the knee, wings shredded away, only a left arm, its scythe sits buried a few feet away, somehow intact despite it all.

And yet, the gunmetal gray beast still attempts to stand, still attempting to follow its orders.

“Monax, call her off, or so fucking help me gods, you’re next,” Laila bitterly says it. “You win.”

No response, but that’s to be expected from a cowardly ex-mercenary.

Her spear is clutched tightly, aiming for the beast in front of her. Even as it attempts to crawl its way towards her, there is no hesitation from Laila, only tears. Argus’ spear is thrown, buried deep into Ixion Stryx’s reactor, silencing the gunmetal gray phoenix’s cries. Reactor won’t go critical after all that damage, the safeties will kick in.

I’m sorry June, this is my fault.

She throws off her helmet, not even bothering to set Argus into a kneel. A liftwire deploys and she’s on the ground in seconds, running like her life depended on it to Ixion Stryx. That’s the thing though, her life doesn’t, June’s life does.

Laila pulls the emergency hatch release, fighting back tears. Steam hisses, the hatch blows away, immediately something charges at her, tossing them both back-first onto the ground. A shard of glasses stabs through her left cheek, forcing out a scream. Over and over it gouges her, the hound screeches, refusing to see reason, until a swift kick to the gut silences the enraged beast.

This is just what happens when you hesitate, right?

“Juniper,” Laila says softly, cradling her wounded wife tightly in her arms. “On the leash, please. It’s over, okay? I’m sorry.” A single tear rolls down her cheek, stinging at the bleeding wound. “You’re okay now, I’ve got you”

“… La… ila… I’m… s… sory…” June wheezes, coughing up blood. She’s banged up bad, her prosthetic arm has broken off at the elbow, her black tank top stained crimson from the amount of blood lost. Her muzzle is hanging from her face, the left strap torn free.

Laila puts a finger to her love’s mouth, shushing the wounded hound. “It’s okay June, you did good, just rest now, okay?” She has to fight back tears, because now isn’t the time for them.

Juniper nods quietly, closing her eyes and drifting off into peaceful slumber. This isn’t how any of this should have gone, but Laila fucked up— No, she didn’t fuck up. A fuck-up implies a mistake, but this wasn’t a mistake. June didn’t “accidentally” attack her, this all happened because Laila hesitated.

Again and again, and fucking again. She hesitated, because more than anything she fears the beast lurking inside her partner. Because she’s a coward, a fucking hypocrite, so many damned words to describe herself.

Laila failed the one person in this shitty world who needed her.

It’s just as the tears finally begin to fall free that a bright red spear is aimed at the pair in the mud. “You got lucky, I would have put you down, but She wanted you to be taught a lesson. Go beg and grovel at Her boot, you pathetic excuse for a handler.”

***

As military hospital rooms often do, it feels cramped in here. Far more cramped than even a normal military hospital room in all honesty. But that might just be Laila’s anxieties talking.

Kérberos failed their first mission, there’s no way around it. Laila failed to control her beast, which led to Juniper going berserk.

What more can you say?

Juniper is lying in bed, to her right, an IV stands, the needle embedded in her wrist. The monochromatic prosthetic lay in pieces on a table across from her. Her old Wardog jacket lay folded on a chair, surprisingly still in good condition. Bandages cover much of her upper body, but she’s thankfully out cold. Back in the old days, she'd be joking about how it's another stupid story to tell. Given the last few hours, it's a blessing that she won't be able to. Didn’t take long for an evac to get on scene, but it was gruesome. June lost a lot of blood and needed an emergency transfusion, among other things.

Laila stood by her up until they carted June off for surgery. And now, they’re together again. Laila’s been sitting in a seat to the right of June, having been deep in paperwork for the last hour or so now. Occasionally she stirs, but doesn’t wake.

As for Laila? Docs wanted to patch the cut up on her cheek, fucking shard was stabbed deep enough to leave a mark. But she refused to have it stitched up. No, she wants it to leave a mark, so that she’ll remember her greatest fuck-up forever. It’s a deep gash on her right cheek, probably lucky it wasn’t infected.

From what she’s been told it’s not all bad news. The corporate overlords were impressed with the show Ixion Stryx put on, and want to rebuild it, in some attempt to test some new tech. She’s signed off on it, but it fucking eats her up.

Both Ixion Stryx and Argus, have seen their fair share of work, it’s nothing new. No, what eats her up is how June shouldn’t have been in that fucking situation. Nonetheless she was.

So now, Laila’s been left to handle the paperwork of the aftermath. Honestly, it’s a blessing in disguise given the day. A nice distraction from her failures. Hah, as if. Once they’re back at base, she expects Epsilon will chew her out.

Deal with that later, when there aren’t bigger headaches.

Every time Laila looks at June in bed, it’s a reminder of their time together.

For the first seven, maybe eight months they couldn’t stand each other. The serious squad leader, who was trying to bring back her rookies safely, and the mercenary with a mouth that never shut-up. They were a match made in Hades.

Still remember them coming to blows a few times after missions. Oh, Laila had a mean right hook, but June? Fuck, she threw an uppercut right back, took the wind right out with that one.

Not sure what spurred her to stay, to be honest.

Always felt like she wanted to be anywhere else but the battlefield. Then again, it might have just been she had nowhere else to go. Lost her homeland, experienced so much bloodshed ontop of it all. So it was probably just that she had nowhere else to go. Being around the rebels, though, that gave her purpose, something to fight for. After she joined up, it felt… different around her, she dropped the facade, was more sincere, willing to stick her neck out for people.

In that same time frame, Laila buried so many comrades. People she’d called friends, shared drinks with, had just been talking to an hour ago. That’s the life of a rebel, but it never got easier. Felt like she was cursed to live, while all of her friends and allies were dying next to her. Yet all the same, June was there to help her grieve. At first, it was a friendly shoulder to lean on, but then one thing led to another and they started sleeping together.

Turns out, they completed each other. Both of them started genuinely smiling when they had the other, because hey, romance is what keeps you sane sometimes. So many missions would have gone differently if she didn’t have Laila, and if she didn’t have June.

Sure, the two of them have seen each other in hospital beds more times than either of them can count. Usually for pulling some idiotic stunt in order to save someone, or their own asses, but this time? Juniper’s the one in the bed, because Laila failed her.

Didn’t matter how much she planned things out, she forgot to expect the unexpected. Fuck, she lost the resolve to use the leash. Instead, Monax used it and ended this farce of a training exercise.

Can’t blame her, as much as it would be cathartic to, since Laila was going to do the same damn thing.

Maybe it’s time to face the truth: She wasn’t cut out for this life. How the hell is she supposed to burn away her humanity, when the one thing that ties her to this fucked up world, is laying in a hospital bed? Time to cut her losses and go into the wind.

Hah, where would she even go?

She knows too much about the inner workings of the hound program, too much valuable information that would get her a bullet to the back of the head. Can’t go back to the rebels either, not after the heinous shit she’s done. Gods know how many people she got killed by feeding Epsilon information.

Can’t even pretend that this was the result of brainwashing, like Juniper. Nah, every damn thing that led the two of them here was willingly executed by Laila, no coercion, no nothing. Just her joining the winning team.

In the end, the only option is here.

One thing’s for certain, Laila made an ass of herself and has shown she’s not ready to have the training wheels taken off. Still need Epsilon’s help, because she’s that caravan boy again. Needing everyone’s help, because dad passed out drunk in their bunk again. Or he thought the boy needed to be reminded of his place.

Maybe that’s why Laila’s been so desperate to prove herself to Epsilon. She promised to give Laila a path to ending the pain. To saving June from herself, and the rebels who refused to see her as anything but an infallible hero. Promised a lot of things, but Laila hasn’t lived up to her end of the bargain, has she?

Fuck, she really isn’t cut out for this life, is she?

“You know, as far as pilots go, you’re not half bad. Save for acting like a rebel playing dress-up.” Fucking hell. “Shame you had to put down your own mutt, but that’s life, right?” Kione Monax laughs, leaning against the doorway.

Sighing, Laila stands to confront the unwanted visitor. “Come to rub salt in the wound, I see?”

That gets another laugh out of the opposing handler. “Please, if I wanted to rub salt in the wound, I’d have had what’s her name blow her brains out.”

“It’s Juniper,” Laila says, clenching her taped fist tightly. “If you’re just here to mock me, you’re better off sucking off the gun barrel of a Doru.”

“Aww, what’s the matter? Did your puppy get a booboo?” Swear to the gods, Laila is this close to clocking Monax upside the jaw. “Cool it princess, you hit me, I’ll make your life a living nightmare.” She grins madly, practically begging for a stiff hit.

A living nightmare? That’s what life is for Kérberos. Their leader betrayed a cause she supposedly believed in, while her subordinates are the two people she supposedly loved, only to allow them to be turned into dogs.

Monax can’t do worse, no one can.

Laila throws a punch, intending to beat the annoyance until she bleeds, only to stop short. Her taped fist mere inches from Monax’s face. “You’re right, I am acting like a rebel, because I don’t know any other damned way. That’s what you wanted hear, right? I’m weak, you’re strong, fuck off.”

“What a shame,” Monax says, gently brushing aside the fist. “Unfortunately, I’m not here to teach you how to be a person again, or any of that bullshit.”

Laila knows how to be a person, she conquered everything thrown at her and survived with her humanity intact. But that’s not good enough is it? No, Epsilon wants her to burn the humanity away. It’s never good enough for anyone, let alone Laila.

Dammit.

“So why are you here?” She narrows her eyes, but keeps her other fist clenched.

“Advice. You clearly need it from someone who isn’t dead inside.” Monax smirks, watching Laila’s taped fists carefully. “Temper, temper, after all, I might be okay with a punch, but what would your superior think? Running around making a fool of yourself.”

“Fine.” Laila sighs, unclenching her fist. “So, talk.”

“You’re trying so hard to be that monster, to just taste that power. But your weakness is so obvious. It’s her, the mutt in the bed.” Monax says it flatly, not even a hint of smugness to her voice, just… pain. “Guess in turn, it’s you as well. You look the part, but you’re still hiding, acting like you’re a rebel about to save the damn world. Newsflash: You’re a handler now. Either start acting like one, or you’ll find yourself fucking boots.”

It’s June?

Hah, yeah, it’s so damn obvious. Of course it’s June. They’ve been together for three years, three long fucking years of losing people they care about, of burying comrades and getting no closer to the end of a never-ending war. She’s always been the weakness, even when Laila was the take no shit rebel, Juniper always had something different about her.

Ahahaha.

Every drop of blood spilled, every person betrayed, it’s all been for June. Of course she’s the weakness, why wouldn’t she be?

“So, what? I’m just supposed to accept that she’s better this way and never question my guilt again?” Laila’s out of anger, but it’s not quite sorrow either. It’s resignation, she’s resigned herself to the truth.

Monax shrugs. “Dunno, but you got a long road ahead before you’ll match up to me.” With that, she opens the door walking off into the halls. “Oh, and tell Epsilon that Alpha sends Her regards.”

So that’s it then?

The answer to all this is Juniper?

When the name of the game was saving Juniper, Laila was focused, ready to do whatever it took to get back her love. Now that she’s got June back, she’s backslid. Gone is the focused handler candidate, willing to become a monster. Instead, their relationship is essentially the same as it was in the rebellion. Down to the little things, it’s all the fucking same.

Every chance Laila has had to use the leash? She’s refused. She fears that beast, but most of all: Part of her doesn’t want to give up the make believe world where they aren’t both traitors. Epsilon has taught that lesson, but she’s refused to listen.

Their make believe world can’t stand any longer.