She takes a few deep breaths, applying the last bits of tape to her fists. Her feet move into the proper stance, raising her arms into position at the same time. Then, a right hook onto the bag, following that with a jab. Her feet slide across the cold floor, crouching low to deliver a hard punch. Sweat pours from her face, continuing the routine over and over.

A right hook lands with ease, her feet dancing around the bag with a practiced rhythm. There’s a burning sensation in her lungs that reminds her yet again, that she is alive. Even now, when all she wants to do is to collapse into bed and die, she knows she cannot.

It’s time to play the hero that people expect from Wardog, even if kills her.

Normally at this late hour, she would be asleep, if not for the nightmares getting worse. She only got two hours of sleep before jolting awake from another nightmare. They continue to haunt her no matter what she does.

When she closes her eyes, the only thing there is the look of disappointment from Her. Juniper failed, failed the one person willing to absolve her of the pain and is now doomed to live in agony for it. She tries not to dwell on it, but it’s close to impossible to not to. Juniper was given a chance to prove her worth, to show that she was capable of more, and she failed.

She can’t even disassociate into the static anymore. It refuses to materialize in her thoughts, making her wonder just what in the fuck is wrong with her? That answer is blatantly obvious though, a lot. A lot is wrong with her.

It’s easier to ask what’s right with her, because nothing is right with her.

Now isn’t the time to spiral, it’s time to focus. There’ll be time to fall into a depressive state later.

Sliding across the floor, she hits the bag with a sharp jab, following that quickly with an uppercut to the top of the bag. Jumping back, Juniper assumes the proper stance again, exhaling a sharp breath. Her heart beats faster and faster with every breath she takes.

Moving left, she lands on the balls of her feet, throwing a hard right hook onto the bag, pounding with everything she’s got. Stepping back, that hook is followed up with two jabs, before she moves to the side, repeating the same process.

She finally understands why Laila always hit the bag before and after missions. It must have helped to keep her level-headed, especially after a strenuous mission. Juniper chugs down a jug of water, pouring the rest over her head, sliding back into the routine.

It’s too soon to stop, not when she finally feels the burn.

A flurry of punches erupts, each hitting the bag with a precise force to them. Hitting the bag is more like dancing with the intricacies of her movement and how precise she needs to be. Too little force and it won’t amount to anything. But too much and she misses her target.

It’s easy to imagine the bag as Her. It helps Juniper to stay focused. The irrational and scared part of her brain wants to run back to Her and beg for forgiveness. But she refuses to do that, because she knows it won’t change reality.

Juniper Sladek is not human, she forfeited the right to call herself a human the second she put on the muzzle. The same muzzle that sits buried in her locker, it calls to her with its alluring words. Would it not be so easy to wear it again?

With a grunt, she shakes off the intrusive thought, refocusing on the bag. Every punch lands with an anger attached to it, one that she refuses to let go of. She’s found that hitting the bag helps her to blow off steam.

Gods does she need it. She’s seen the way people stare at her in the mess, the looks in the hangar when she checks in on the overhaul being made to Ixion. They all judge her, see her every fault, but it’s hard to blame them. Juniper is the one who turned traitor, who let Her break whatever was left of her fragile psyche.

Command have grilled her for intel off and on since her recapture, but every answer is the same “I don’t know.” Juniper’s head was filled with starlight and static, not information. Even with data pulled from Ixion, they’re left with more questions than answers.

If Laila were here, she’d have answers, she would have known what to say. But, of course, she isn’t here. It’s Juniper’s fault, no matter what anyone else says.

With a final uppercut, she slides back, grabbing the sweat towel from the bed. She sits down to clean the sweat from her face and downs an entire bottle of water, panting for breath. Gods, she so fucking needed that.

At first, this was to help refocus her mind, after spending almost a month and change in self-imposed isolation, she needed the distraction. But then it became about routine, hitting the bag, the constant workouts. Even going as far as to cut her hair, shaving off the sides and leaving just a bit of length in the back– just the way Laila always loved it. If anything, she feels more like her old self again. The Juniper Sladek before the muzzle, the pretend person she used to be, before the truth was shown to her. It’s easy to slip into the facade of her again, because she never truly existed. Everything about her has been a mask to hide her pain for years, to where even her love could never have known what was real, and what was not.

All pilots report to briefing room at once. A voice over the intercom buzzes, which seems to be her cue to stop sparring.

She knows shouldn’t show up to the briefing, after all, she isn’t one of them, nor has she ever been. But at the same time, it’s in her best interest to show up and pretend that she’s okay. Even if the truth is far from that.

With a groan, she cleans the sweat from her body and grabs her flight jacket. Clad in a tank top, shorts and a leather jacket, she opens the door to the brightly lit hallway, making her way to the briefing room.

It’s funny to her, the pretend-person would never have worn this getup outside of her quarters. She’s done everything possible to hide it, the bulge, the stark reminder of him, the person who never was. Hormones helped, but there was no way to get this deformity fixed, not when she didn’t have the funds to do so.

Down a flight of stairs and then through a doorway leads her to the briefing room, wherein other pilots are beginning to show up. There’s only around twenty pilots here, but so many of them are staring at her, as they walk in. Probably wondering why she’s here, instead of six-feet in the ground for treason.

Unfortunately, there’s no good answer for that.

Juniper rests a foot on the wall behind her, leaning back with her arms folded, to watch the stragglers make their way in. Once everyone has finally made it in, the lights turn off and a holographic projection lights up the room.

“Okay people, listen up.” The Briefing Officer says, being illuminated by the projection. “We’ve got a supply convoy that’ll be running through the old city of Vernio. You’ll be escorting it through and ensuring it has a secure route to get here.” The projection displays a ruined city, with markings for the route the convoy is supposed to take, as well as various details surrounding the mission.

Ah, escort duty. Not her favorite job in the world, but someone has to do it.

The route itself is fairly straightforward, but there’s too much open terrain, it’s the perfect spot for an ambush.

“The convoy itself will be composed of twenty transport units, loaded to the brim with supplies. As a result, these things are slow moving and lightly armed” The projection shifts showing a hologram of the transport unit in question. Quadrupedal mechs that while slow moving are typically heavily armored. They’re the perfect units for transport duty.

Juniper has seen these transports take down Doru before, but it’s rare. These transport are slow moving and their weapons have a terrible fire rate. They’re more likely to die without landing a hit on an enemy mech.

“Normally this would be fairly routine, but with the losses we’ve sustained as of late–” Juniper shifts uncomfortably, wishing she weren’t here right now. “–things are tight, and as such, we don’t have many machines that are ready. We’re running this with only three units.”

The quiet atmosphere turns loud, from pilots all trying to ask their questions at once. Why three units, why not a whole squadron, etc. Normally escorts would be done with multiple teams working in unison, but it’s been a rough month. While there are close to nine or ten mechs available, there are other jobs to be done.

He clears his throat, changing the projection accordingly to the mechs involved in the mission. “Quiet down, people and listen up. Helios will taking lead on this operation, as the PMC employing Glass has agreed to extend their loaning of her through this mission. Lieutenant Saparlo, I’m assigning you to this mission as well, since your Doru has been repaired. That brings me to our third pilot, Captain Sladek–” The Briefing Officer sighs, grimacing. “The overhaul to Ixion isn’t done, but we need someone with urban combat experience here.”

Even in the darkness, she can tell everyone is staring at her, probably wondering why a traitor is allowed freedom. There’s no choice in the matter though, they all know that. If she steps out of line, there are two units nearby to take her down. It’s not a reassurance, but there is no other option

“We’re expecting light to moderate resistance from the Empire. Our allies in the east have been causing a ruckus to disrupt their forces, so that should keep their heavy hitters away. With any luck this goes off with a hitch.” The projection changes as the Commander paces around the darkened room. “Outside of Vernio is an old tunnel network we’re using, that’ll take them safely here, without drawing further attention. Defend them until they reach the designated point.”

Juniper studies the projections, making mental notes when needed. Best to keep a low profile and not attract attention, use the convoy as bait to lure in the enemy. As soon as the last transport hits the tunnels, it’s a matter of ensuring they make it safely here.

Ixion will need some adjustments to the sensors, to account for the tall buildings, but it’s nothing that can’t be done on the fly.

“Finally, that brings me to the route–” It changes showing the designated route. A mostly straight line through the heart of Vernio, surrounded by the skeletal remains of buildings. “–We’ve determined this to be the most optimal route, as it provides less ambush opportunities. I want Sladek on overwatch, while Glass and Saparlo, you’ll be the primary escorts.” The projection fades away, as the lights of the briefing room turn back on.

“You ship out in an hour, make it count.”

Free of the monotonous briefing, Juniper returned to her quarters for a hot shower. It’s an easy enough mission, she’s done convoy escort before, not a lot goes wrong. As long as you’re not careless, everyone walks away without issue.

Yet, as she laces up her boots to head for chow, she can’t help but wonder if she can really do this. Pretend that she didn’t give up her humanity, or kill her supposed allies, just because She could make the stars come back.

Sure, she’s been cleared for service again, but there’s not a chance that anyone will want to willingly work with her after this. There was a time when they would have seen her as a hero, but now it’s obvious they only see a traitor. But then, Juniper was never a hero, she was just a weapon meant to be pointed at the enemy.

It’s the true purpose of her life, one that She helped Juniper to realize. Even now, when she should be focusing on coming mission, she loses herself to thinking about Her, again. None of what happened feels real, like it was some sort of nightmare, only it did happen.

When Juniper put on the muzzle for the first time, she remembers feeling…euphoric. As if the missing piece of the puzzle known as her life, had finally been found. Everything made sense and it felt wonderful. Gods, it makes her hard just thinking about wearing the muzzle again.

Laying back against the door, she slips a hand into her pants, while the other furiously unbuckles her pants. She can’t stop thinking about Her, about what She did. Juniper shouldn’t be so turned on, yet here she is, beating her meat, like the animal she’s quickly become. She would wear the muzzle, again and again, if it meant that this feeling would never leave

If she wears it again, maybe everything would make sense again and she could finally hear the voice of her Master again. She yearns to hear that voice again, for it to call her a good dog. Even just thinking about Her, drives Juniper crazy. This shouldn’t feel so good, she was supposed to be free of Her influence, but Juniper no longer cares.

Handler would want Juniper to give into her animalistic desires. Because she is an animal. And that thought is what finally sends her over the edge, hot cum spilling onto her hand and staining her panties. She knows she should clean it up, but instead, she scoops it into her mouth. A reward for remembering who her Master is. Whatever is left can stain her cock and panties, to remind her of what she is.

Now, coming down from her euphoric high, all she can feel is disgust, for what she’s been reduced to and for who she is. Not even a person, a fucking animal and she loved every second of it. They twisted her mind and made her this way. Or that’s the lie she wants to tell herself.

What She did to Juniper’s head was simply bring out the truth. The truth that Juniper needed this, she craved it so damn badly. When the choice was offered, she didn’t even hesitate to take it, because she needed it.

Laila would be disgusted with her, if she knew that this is what Juniper has been reduced to. She wouldn’t even recognize the one she gave her dog tags to, because there is nothing to recognize.

Juniper rubs her head, trying to block out the noise in her head.

She should head to the mess and get some food in before the mission. Food will help her forget all about this, then she can focus on piloting, the one thing she remembers how to do. The halls are quiet, personnel are either sleeping or on standby. Her walk is peaceful, helps to almost forget what she just did. As if she can’t feel the mess in her panties.

By contrast, it’s loud in the mess, making it hard to focus on the food in front of her, let alone her thoughts. Not that the food itself is very appetizing, but it’s better than the rations. Juniper sticks a fork in her stewed meat, not so much eating, as she is staring at it. She’s always had a hard time keeping down food before missions, probably due to nerves.

You should ask yourself who within your organization would benefit from selling out the infamous Wardog Squadron?

Doesn’t help that she can’t stop thinking about those words. Why would anyone do that? It makes so little sense that it almost feels like a lie. But then, she remembers the glares, the cautious stares, as if everyone were waiting for her to simply snap. There’s no actual proof that they were sold out, but…it makes perfect sense.

That entire mission felt off. Too straightforward, too–Ugh, she takes a bite of her meat to shut her thoughts up. And then, she rubs her temples, taking a deep breath. She can’t spiral right now, this isn’t the time, not when there’s work to be done.

“Morning cap, pleasure to be working with you, today.” Mara says, sitting down next to her. Based on their limited interactions so far, it’s difficult to say what Mara’s aim is, only that she seems as chipper as ever. How did someone like her survive basic training with the Empire, let alone become a pilot?

Juniper takes another bite of her meal and nods. “Guess so.” She says with a distant stare, not at anything in particular, just nothingness.

“Y’know as shitty as this stuff is–” Mara points with her fork to the mediocre stewed beef. “–It’s still better than the slop they’d feed us in the empire. That stuff was calorie dense, but tasted like absolute shit, looked even worse.” She laughs, but Juniper only shrugs and nods, picking at her meal again.

The conversation stays silent, as both eat the rest of their meal, until Mara speaks up yet again. “Tell me somethin’ Cap, how exactly’d you get your hands on a mech capable of flight?” Mara says between bites. For just a brief moment, she reminds Juniper of a starry eyed rookie.

Juniper leans back, exhaling sharply, finding the pretend-person in her. “I was around your age when I stole it, I don’t remember what they were calling it back then. But there was some mech wreaking havoc on Imperial forces on another front. They built a prototype that they had hoped to be able to field by the end of the year, which is when I stole it.” She’s not fully lying, but it’s also not the truth either.

Mara laughs, choking on the stewed meat for a moment. Juniper checks on her, but is waved off, by Mara downing an entire glass of water and coughing furiously before finally exhaling. “Bull-fucking-shit. I mean, no offense, but you don’t strike me as the type to be able to handle an infiltration mission. You just got a look to you, that screams ‘I’m not Imperial!’ Maybe it’s the hair, not exactly Imperial regs.”

Juniper takes a final bite, setting aside the tray and shrugs. “Believe it or don’t, but I’m telling you that’s the truth. Though, it’s been through so many modifications since then, it’s hard to call it Imperial at this point.”

Mara nods, staring in amazement. “Can’t imagine it runs on a basic fusion reactor, right?”

Juniper shakes her head. “Pulse Reactor, one of a kind. Bitch and a half to maintain, but the techs here somehow make Ixion purr so well. Don’t know the specifics, never exactly my strong suit.”

The Ex-Imperial stares at her for a moment, leaving Juniper to wonder if she said something wrong. But then she speaks up, “so what’s the deal with the name then?”

“Ixion? I like it.” Juniper confusedly says, raising an eyebrow.

Mara grins, shaking her head. “S’a good name, but like, why?”

The confused pilot shrugs. “Guess it’s a rebel thing? Lot of our units tend to be unique pieces of shit. So naming them makes them ours.”

She seems to like this explanation, nodding. “Makes sense, does that mean I should name my Doru? There’s nothing unique about it. Hell, it ain’t even the only one in the hangar.”

Again, Juniper shrugs. “Do what you want. Maybe wait for some defining feature.”

Mara nods, clearing her throat. “On the subject of the Empire, kinda wondering what the kennels were like. Heard stories about it from other pilots, but we all knew better than to dig deeper. That fuckin’ lady scared the shit out of most of us rookies.” The pain in Juniper’s head gets worse having to remember that.

Her hands shake for just a moment and she counts backwards from ten in her head to distract herself. Some technique the docs want her to do in addition to taking the pills. It works, but she wonders why they’re even bothering with her. “Don’t know.” Juniper mutters, staring at the table in an effort to distract herself.

“Y’don’t know? But weren’t you–”

“I don’t know. Okay? I don’t know, I don’t know anything anymore. They–They–They fucking hollowed out my head a–a–and–” She hyperventilates, reaching in her pocket for the meds, popping a pill before the spiral gets worse.

Mara looks concerned as she reaches her hand across the table, only for it to be slapped away. “Don’t fucking touch that thing.” An angry voice scolds her.

That angry voice belongs to a blonde woman, taller than Juniper. The expression on her face says it all, she’s the pilot of Helios, the mech that Juniper almost killed back in the Levka Valley. If not for the strain becoming too much, she would have finished the job too.

Mara turns her attention to the blonde. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Vera Glass, the one this fucking mongrel–” She glares at Juniper, cracking her knuckles. “– just about killed, ‘cause she decided to turn traitor. I don’t know what they’re fucking thinking letting you back into active duty, but listen to me: You even sneeze wrong and I’ll kill you where you stand. Understood?” Vera practically spits the words out, slamming her fist onto the table.

“R-Right.” Juniper mumbles.

“As for you–” She turns her attention to Mara. “Take my advice and stay the fuck away from this headcase, before she gets you killed too. We’re shipping out in fifteen.”Vera walks off before Mara can respond, while Juniper sinks lower into her seat.

None of what was said about her was a lie. Everyone dies around her, because she’s the Angel of Death. It’s natural for death to follow in her wake. She hates it, but there’s no changing it now.

Mara puts a sympathetic hand on Juniper’s shoulder, as though to comfort her. “Starting to see why you never leave your quarters, with allies like those. C’mon we should probably get ready.” She says standing up.

Unfortunately for Juniper, she follows Mara without issue, instead of running to hide in her quarters, like she would prefer. The walk from the mess hall to the lockers is short, but gives her time to think. If Laila were here, she’d have punched Vera on the spot. Because she never wanted anyone to disrespect her girlfriend, her lieutenant.

Laila was the reason Juniper got up, let alone continued piloting. Now, that she’s gone, Juniper is left feeling empty.

They hollowed out her head, replacing everything with starlight, but that’s not why she feels this way. It’s because she had a chance to make things better and instead of taking it, Juniper ran away, and she hates herself for it.

Inside the locker hangs her green, standard-issue pilot’s jumpsuit. It’s a spare, given that her other one was in tatters, but it’s been modified to accommodate the neural implant in her neck. She remembers the doctors examining it thoroughly, apparently impressed with how it’s healed over perfectly.

On the bottom most shelf it sits. Her muzzle, the reminder of surrendering her humanity. It would be easy to wear it and become her –the other Juniper– but she refuses, for fear of what it’ll make her. There’s no way she can wear it just once, without needing it after.

But, she tries not to think about that, instead putting away her regular clothes into the locker, pulling out her jumpsuit. Many pilots prefer a skin suit underneath, but they’ve never felt right on Juniper’s body. Either too tight, or not tight enough. Always a conundrum that her captain loved to laugh at in their more tender moments.

To the left of her locker is–was her love’s locker. It’s gathered dust since that mission and if she were still here, she’d be mad that Juniper was promoted to Captain, because she would have had one less thing to jokingly hold over her Lieutenant’s head. The supposed mercenary getting promoted to captain, after years of working as a lone wolf. It would have made her laugh remembering how their relationship started. But with it would have come the speech about her being proud of Juniper.

She shakes free the thoughts and pops another pill, stowing it inside the locker and closing it.The pills help stave off the spiraling, keeps her head from falling apart. And gods know she needs it more than ever today.

Sitting down on the bench, Juniper grasps her dog tags, staring at them for what feels like minutes, but is only seconds in actuality. What once was just one tag, is now two, with Juniper’s own set underneath.

With a stretch she gets up and watches as the other two pilots finish changing. Mara is wearing the typical Imperial jumpsuit, black and white, nothing fancy. Vera on the other hand has some orange high-tech suit, that Juniper can’t wrap her head around. It looks to have a heart rate monitor and some other oddities attached.

Normally her pre-sortie ritual was always tossing the tags, but not today. Today she opens her captain’s locker, staring at the photo of them on the inside of the door. “Don’t worry ‘Cap, I won’t die out there. Not as long as I’ve got you with me.” She silently says, bowing her head in respect and closing it back up.

The smells and sounds of hot work grabs her attention as she walks into the hangar. So many sleepless nights spent in here after missions going over combat footage. It got to a point where she was banned from the cockpit and forced to sleep in bed with Laila. One of her “orders” to Lieutenant Sladek.

It makes Juniper yearn for those days, even though they’re long gone. There’s no time to reflect on them however, as the head technician approaches her. A dark skinned woman who towers over her and looks like she hasn’t slept in days. And she probably hasn’t.

Mora Boscht. Back when Juniper first arrived here, Mora was entrusted to handle all repairs on Ixion. It was because of her that Argos became capable of flight; an insane dream of hers, worked up over many sleepless nights. With Ixion back in the rotation, she still handles the work on it, because she knows how to make it purr just right.

There’s an almost angry look on Mora’s face which turns to a smile the second she pulls Juniper into a hug. “It’s been too long, glad to see you’re still kickin’ after all of that.” She says, letting go of Juniper.

Juniper for her part just shrugs, staring up at the reverse-jointed legs of Ixion. “Is it ready?”

Mora shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “Normally, I’d tell command to fuck off, there’s no way I’m sending out a half finished mech. It’s nowhere near ready, but we’ve been on a time crunch here and Ixion was the closest to complete.” She talks a mile a minute, giving Juniper no room to duck out from the conversation.

“I’ll keep the upgrade talk short. Had some new wings fashioned up from old spares, because the other ones were trashed–” She gestures to the upper body of Ixion, with a wide smile on her face. “– Took so much damn work, but the wings have been moved into the shoulder compartment, which should reduce the strain on ‘em. Thanks to the PMC techs, we’ve managed to turn them into radiators, to help the heat strain.”

Juniper nods, taking in the upgrades made to Ixion. It looks brand-new, despite still being in the throes of a rebuild. Gods, she hopes they didn’t have to scrap together parts to prep Ixion.

“Take it easy on those engines though, we’re still waiting on upgrades, you got lucky, we repaired the damage to ‘em at least.” Seeming to sense Juniper’s uneasiness, Mora pats the pilot on the back and walks off to yell at one of her juniors.

Ixion isn’t fully rebuilt, but it’s good enough to where Juniper is satisfied, no sense in complaining anyway. She gazes up at the mech again, staring up at the right shoulder. The Wardog emblem rests on it, with three white scratch lines through it. Only one person deserves to proudly wear it, and they’re dead.

“Y’ready cap?” Mara says, putting a hand on Juniper’s shoulder.

Juniper shrugs, “doesn’t matter.” Not bothering to waste any more time, she climbs up the ladder to the top of the mech bay, planting both feet on the metal platform. Gripping her dog tags tightly, she exhales, clambering into the cockpit hatch of Ixion.

The hatch closes, blanketing her in total darkness, while the neural cable connects to her implant. She rests her hands in her lap, relaxing into the seat, letting the pain of connection take hold. If she screams right now, she might bite her tongue, or worse, choke on her own bile. Juniper holds back her screams for dear life, while her hands shake violently in her lap. It hurts so fucking much, having to relearn her sixth sense all over. Sure, she’s watched the repairs, even calibrated the thrusters herself, but this is the first time she’s connected to Ixion, since they were both recaptured. As the violent seizure finally comes to an end, she wipes the blood away and steadies her breathing.

Machine and Pilot are one and the same now.

Monitors and various system panels illuminate the dark cockpit, while Juniper begins final systems check on Ixion. The rebuild is not totally done, the armor exposes a good chunk of the frame underneath and it still has the same thruster setup on it from before. None of that matters to her though, as long as her beast is freed once more.

Cables disconnect from the reactor ports, blasting steam out as they fall to the ground and quickly get moved to the side by ground crew. Alarms wail throughout the hangar, whilst the mech bay opens to release the three units. Ixion is first out of its pen, followed by Helios in a bright gaudy orange, and the Doru, which looks to have been repainted in a basic white paint scheme.

As Ixion makes its way onto the elevator, Juniper kisses her dog tags, burying them within her jumpsuit.

“Let’s do this, Ixion.” She says to her machine, uttering a silent prayer for herself.

Sladek, this is your only warning. You step out of line and I won’t hesitate to end you. The voice of that mercenary, Glass, rings through the comms. She’s only known the merc for an hour and she already despises her.

***

Juniper fights back a yawn, escort duty is always so boring. The intel may have been wrong, they’ve yet to encounter a single enemy and they’re already halfway through the city. Every thirty minutes or so, she changes position, staying ahead of the approaching convoy. But honestly, she’d rather be back at base hitting the bag. She might even be able to picture it as that merc. That would be nice, hitting someone who deserves it. Showing everyone not to fuck with her. But it’s only a dream, she’d rather not attract more unwanted attention.

Ugh, she focuses back on the monitors, watching as nothing happens. These old cities aren’t exactly a great sightseeing destination. Whatever isn’t already rubble is due to collapse on its own any day now.

Once upon a time, Vernio was a city that never slept. Then one day, it fell asleep, never to awaken. Now, the only sound that Juniper can hear is rain pitter-pattering against the metal frame of Ixion. It’s peaceful, yet haunting in its own way.

From her vantage point she can see the scars that haunt this city. Buildings once full of people, now sit empty, abandoned and crumbling. The remains of mechs fill the streets, many of them damaged beyond repair and abandoned, just waiting for their reactors to one day explode. Some day Vernio might be rebuilt, but for now, it sits abandoned as yet another haunting reminder of the war.

The pouring rain is a nice distractor, it quiets Juniper’s thoughts, letting her stay focused on the task at hand, instead of spiraling yet again. Even still, it’s far too quiet throughout the city. Could be an ambush waiting to happen, or it could be that she’s grown paranoid. Hard not to be paranoid, when you’ve been through a situation like this before.

Sladek, status update.

Glass, the merc says. They’ve only had one interaction so far, but Juniper is already wishing she could have finished off Helios back in the valley. She can definitely see why the merc’s PMC offloaded her onto the rebels though, with an attitude like that, she’s bound to be trouble.

“Good on this end.”

Juniper has eyes on Helios, she could take it out with a single shot. Unfortunately there’s no way she can make it look like enemy fire.

Saparlo?

Nothing out of the ordinary.

Then there’s Mara, the former Imperial. Overtly friendly, almost seems star-struck from meeting Juniper at times. She’s annoying, but harmless. Probably just as nervous as anyone else, only she hides it better. Tendency to say the wrong thing, such as mentioning the kennels, or Her, but more likely it’s the bluntness that they teach you in the Empire. Juniper can see herself sharing a drink with Mara again, as long as she doesn’t bring up the past again.

It’s far too quiet, nothing has lit up the radar at all thus far. The Empire may be good, but not good enough to avoid detection. She’s seen firsthand how these pilots operate, most of them are terrible and have no strategy.

With the flip of a switch from a side panel, another sensor sweep goes off without a single hostile lighting them up. Urban operations tend to wreak havoc on a mech’s sensors, something about all the large buildings. And given the amount of them, that makes flight a pain to attempt, meaning that it’s best to save that for an emergency situation.

This is convoy lead to escorts, fifteen klicks from city limits.

“Copy.”

Hey, we get out of this one unscathed and I’ll toss some liquor your way. Some of the good stuff we usually keep in reserve.

There’s laughter over the comms, but Juniper boredly yawns instead. Liquor is liquor, doesn’t matter to her at this point if it’s the good stuff or the bathtub brewed shit, as long as it gets her drunk.

Lead to all units, cut the chatter, we’re not out of this yet.

As such, the comms go dead again, leaving her to perform yet another sensor sweep. Every five minutes on the dot she performs another sweep, and every five minutes, nothing comes up. She should be thankful, it means that everyone will return alive. It’s almost time to change vantage points, which will give her something to do, at least.

Since her recapture, this is the furthest that Juniper has gone. She’s taken Ixion out to the training fields a few times, but this is her first mission. It’s weird to have this unearned trust, as though she deserves it. But, when you’re short on experienced pilots, you make sacrifices.

She wishes Laila were here, they were the perfect team. Ixion would set them up, Argos would knock them down. Then, when it was just them afterward, they would lay in bed, cuddling and talking about whatever crossed their minds, everything felt right. That final night they were together, when the nightmares woke Juniper up, Laila had been sweating, clearly having been hitting the bag minutes prior. She was nervous too, but never let it show, because she had the tendency to bottle everything up, compared to Juniper who just couldn’t hide it.

Fighting back a sigh, she folds up the scythe and leaps to her next vantage point, slowing the descent down with thrusters. The docs cleared her for this mission, said that what happened wasn’t her fault. None of them were there though. None of them saw the fucking beast that killed her love. Or what the Imperials did to Juniper’s head. They’d rather believe she chose to betray them, that the truth of everything didn’t shatter her reality.

The thing is, she knows the truth.

You should ask yourself who within your organization would benefit from selling out the infamous Wardog Squadron?

One of these bastards sold them out and she can’t get that out of her head. It’s because of her “allies” that Laila is…dead. A fact that Juniper is still having a hard time processing. Other rebels look at her with disgust, while pretending that they ever cared for her. Even when she needs to focus, she has to ask “why am I doing this?” to herself. Would it not be so godsdamned easy to pull the trigger on Helios and then turn it on the Doru?

Gods, it would be so easy, and so, so satisfying. Unleash the beast onto the merc who keeps threatening to kill her and the imperial traitor, who sent her back to hell. But she can’t, because then what will she do? Where will she go? Nowhere, of course.

She finds her hands shaking and she suddenly misses wearing the muzzle. Misses how calming it was. But she isn’t that version of Juniper anymore, she has to wear the facade of someone long since dead, as if her head hadn’t been filled with starlight, static, along with gods know what else. She was supposed to be fixed, instead, she’s more broken than before.

Sladek, gimme another sensor sweep.

The irritating voice of that merc comes over comms and silently she hopes that Glass suffers a painful death.

Juniper takes a calming, centering breath and watches the sensors give her an updated reading. “Nothing to report, all clear–” An explosion ripples in the distance, startling her. “–What the hell was that!?”

We’re under attack, unit seventeen has been hit, still operational.

Juniper grins from ear to ear, cracking her knuckles. Showtime.

She throws open the throttle, blasting from her vantage point down to the ruined streets of Vernio. This is her favorite part of piloting, the hunt. The Imperials can run, hell, they can hide if they want, but she’ll find them. And she’ll kill them.

Who knows what it is about this that makes Juniper feel like her old self if even for a minute. Maybe it’s all the drugs that the imperials and rebels put in her, or maybe, she’s just so fucking broken that this is the only way she can be anything but pain anymore.

Either way, it’s going to be a bloodbath.

Sensors light up with over a dozen enemy signatures across the board just as she lands in the streets. Juniper doesn’t need to wait for them to come to her, as a shell just barely misses hitting her. The scythe on Ixion’s arm unfurls and she goes on the hunt for her first kill of the day.

A Doru looks to be her first of the day as it charges towards her without much regard for its own ass. Ixion goes airborne, quickly shifting into a free fall as the engines cut out. Just as the thrusters re-engage, the enemy Doru is sliced clean through with the scythe, while Ixion climbs again.

Dumb bastard, shouldn’t have done that and now you’re dead.

Two more Dorus come after her, firing round after round at Ixion only to meet their end very quickly from two cannon shots. Dorus are easy to deal with, they churn them out on a large scale, with minimal armor and terrible pilots. It’s a wonder that rebels manage to steal these things and turn them into capable machines.

Juniper howls loudly, fully embracing her non-human status. Gods, it feels so good to let go and be her for a change. Another explosion rocks the ruins and a nearby building collapses. Out of the smoke she sees Mara’s Doru engaging an enemy unit, looks to be a Belos. Limited-run model meant to succeed the Doru, instead only given to special-ops units.

Ixion blasts through the smoke, firing round after round at the Belos, which only shrugs them off, simultaneously holding off Mara in a melee fight. She’s suffered at best minor damage, which gives Juniper a window to cut in, blasting the Belos from close range with the rifle, and going at it with a swing of Ixion’s blade.

The Belos has better armor, but even it can’t withstand the scythe of Ixion, as it tears open a large gash, blasting rifle shots into the now open wound. Direct hit, which shorts the short-range missile launchers on its back, before it even had the chance to use them. The enemy unit doesn’t go down before it attempts a suicide charge into Ixion, only to be brought down with one more rifle shot.

Die with dignity next time, why don’t you?

Thanks for the backup, cap.

“‘Course.” Juniper quietly says, checking over everything. Not a single hostile left, unless Helios took care of them–And she highly doubts that the merc could do that–more than likely there’s an ambush waiting.

The convoy is in deep shit, Sladek, Saparlo, link up with me ASAP.

“Copy.”

Roger, heading your way.

They’re in an open part of the city, surrounded by nothing but potential hiding spots. Every corner, every abandoned building could be a trap. With every sensor sweep comes the potential for more problems. That’s why she’s paying extra attention to the radar, ensuring that as they come up on the convoy, the only blips are friendlies.

No telling how many enemies are left, could be none, could be a whole platoon. At least with the Rebel-Doru following behind her, there’s a reassurance of safety.

Far too soon to get comfortable though, as the radar lights up, blaring warnings from an enemy missile closing in on them fast. Juniper just barely manages to evade the incoming missile, pulling the stick hard to the left. She has no eyes on the missile source, but it has to be close, there’s no way that was long-range.

Scans are revealing nothing, which is troubling. Every building they pass by, she has to wonder could there be enemies hiding in there? No, they wouldn’t make themselves so obvious. Unless the missile was a distraction and–

Convoy lead to escorts, we’re five klicks out from city limits and–The transmission goes silent, followed by various screams over comms. Shit.

Juniper pulls up on the throttle, throwing Ixion into the sky. Once airborne, she takes a wide range scan of the surrounding area, which isn’t revealing much. Helios isn’t popping up on scans, but there’s black smoke billowing from the convoy route. Not far, maybe two miles tops.

She draws the scythe of Ixion, wasting no time in beginning the hunt. “Lieutenant, link up with Glass, I’ve got this.” Juniper snarls, letting the animalistic side of her take hold. She hates admitting it, but this is where she belongs, on the battlefield.

Captain Sladek, there is no way I’m letting you take this thing down on your own. Mara protests, already following Ixion on the ground.

Juniper knows she should give the order for Mara to go, but there’s no way she’d listen.

In the crater of what once was a transport mech, stands a black mech. Bigger than Ixion, heavier too. It looks like–Shit, it looks almost exactly like Argos. Much bigger than it was before, the Empire spared no detail in remaking it. Slabs of black metal cover almost every inch of its frame, sending a chill down Juniper’s spine. Argos was always big and bulky, due to much of it being built from Ixion’s spare parts. But this is insanity, there’s no way that whatever this thing is, is her. In lieu of the bulky flight system on its back, there are heavy weapons; cannons to be precise. While in its hands rests a hammer and a rifle, both of which look like they could rip Ixion’s armor to shreds fast.

Laila…Laila’s dead, right? Yeah, she’s dead, this is just some weird lookalike mech is all. Juniper bursts out into nervous laughter, trying to find her resolve. She was so confident just minutes ago, what happened to her?

Sladek, where the fuck are you?

The merc finally decides to make her presence known, but Juniper falls silent, staring nervously at the lookalike mech, waiting for it to make a move. It doesn’t have the Wardog emblem on it, but–but nothing, it’s not Argos, why the fuck would it be?

They’re both dead.

Sladek, you better not have– Juniper switches off comms and focuses on her own her problems. Deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Again and again and again, until she’s better. She closes her eyes, relaxing her hands on the controls, firing a single rifle shot.

The monstrous unknown shrugs off the shot as expected, barreling towards her with lightning fast speed, forcing to the skies. It’s safer up here, she can plan her next move without having to worry about that thing. The only problem is that Mara is still down here, distracting it with suppressing fire with the useless MG of the Doru.

High in the sky, Juniper draws the scythe cannon, prepping it to fire at the imposter. She hasn’t actually done this in midair before, so for all she knows it’ll kill her. At the flip of a switch, the external vents on Ixion open, letting the steam pour out from it. There’s a skyscraper to the Doru’s ten o’clock, she just needs to hope that Mara is smart enough to get to cover.

Switching on the comms, Juniper calls out, “Lieutenant, on my mark, pull back and take cover.” She focuses on the enemy mech, watching it slowly come into her firing angle.

The fuck are you–

“NOW!” She shouts, unleashing cannon fire onto the enemy. The cannon round screeches free of the barrel, slicing through the armor of the enemy mech with ease, exploding on impact and leaving behind a smoking crater. The Rebel-Doru for its part fled to the skyscraper ruins as anticipated.

Ixion is still standing after that risky move, but the recoil left some damage. Nothing major like last time, but the thrusters are showing signs of damage, though still operable, There’s also damage to the left arm, but again, it’s minor. Ixion is built tougher than that, been through hell and back after all.

It’s far too soon to begin celebrating though. Argos was built more durable than that and Juniper doubts whatever this thing is, is going to go down in one shot. Wouldn’t be a very entertaining fight otherwise.

There’s a large cloud of dust, dirt and who the fuck knows what else, clouding up the monitors and sensors. Juniper has to take Ixion down to a lower altitude for a better view, only for wire-guided harpoons to screech out from the cloud, aimed at her. Pretty sneaky whoever you are, but not sneaky enough.

She cracks her neck and growls, slicing the harpoons with the scythe and propelling herself towards the mech that dares to look like Argos. It predictably dodges, but not before she fires vulcan rounds straight into the fuckers head. Anyone who dares to make a mockery of Laila Praxian, the best godsdamned thing to ever happen in Juniper Sladek’s life, will fucking die.

If this is some attempt to rile her up, it’s working. She backs off, blasting red-hot rifle rounds in quick succession into whatever she can hit, all while expertly dodging incoming cannon fire. You’re not Laila, whoever the hell you are, you can’t hope to match her.

The fake-Argos doesn’t even seem to notice Ixion or the damage it's incurring, instead all of its attention is focused solely on the Doru, treating it like a predator playing with its food. It lets Mara get in close, lets her attack with an axe, only to pull the attacking arm off. From her position, the only thing Juniper can hear is a crunch from the Doru collapsing. With the attacking arm in hand, the monstrous unknown decimates the Doru’s head with repeated attacks.

Juniper can’t do anything but watch, while the gun is still cycling in new rounds. Gods, it makes her want to vomit watching this. Another reminder of how Argos went down. Fine, if you want to dance so badly, we’ll dance. Just don’t cry when you lose.

Captain Sladek, I’ll be fine, get this fucking thing!

Mara’s Doru is down for the count, somehow the reactor didn’t blow, but gods it’s gruesome. The Doru’s axe and arm have been planted in its chest, just barely missing the cockpit. It’s sickening to loose at, but Juniper keeps her composure.

“Lieutenant, I need you to stay put. I’ll handle this thing, you focus on getting out a distress call to command.”

R-Roger.

Ixion draws its scythe, venting steam as it lands in front of the unknown. Seeming to sense her intent, they draw their hammer, tossing away the rifle. As soon as the countdown in Juniper’s head hits zero, she slams down the throttle swinging her scythe at the enemy. The scythe collides with the hammer, creating a shockwave that sends glass shards raining down. She pulls back hard on the stick, gaining just enough altitude to deliver a kick to the bastards head.

Juniper takes Ixion back into the skies before the imposter-Argos can respond. She’s still got a few tricks up her sleeve and whatever this is can’t hope to match her. Besides, whatever this thing is, it isn’t Argos, similar, sure, but she was never such a reckless pilot. She was careful and precise with her movements, while this pilot can’t even keep their mech in a straight line, let alone land a good hit.

From up above, Ixion rains vulcan fire down on the bastard, retreating to a rooftop to let the flight system cool down. It’s just outside the effective range of those harpoons, so it should be safe enough to hold up for now. With the press of a button on the right stick, the scythe shifts to its cannon-form. Bracers on the back of Ixion’s legs clamp down onto the relatively solid roof. Once the blade is planted in the ground, it’s a matter of waiting. Whoever the fuck you are, you better not be her.

Please.

Three.

Two.

One.

Click.

An explosion erupts from the barrel of the scythe, shaking the ground around her and kicking up debris. Then, a steaming shell is ejected from the rifle’s port, falling to the ground, while the round hits dead center through the lookalike’s core. Dead center, but the shot failed to penetrate deep enough. Just what is this armor?

Once the cannon cools down, she loads the next shot, aiming for the same spot. This has to work, otherwise she’s out of viable options. Juniper pulls the trigger, watching the shell scream out of the barrel, quickly penetrating the left arm of the lookalike. That only serves to piss it off, as it begins firing both cannons at her vantage point, sending the building crumbling down.

She glides down onto a mostly smooth piece of road, searching for the one who makes a mockery of her love. It’s definitely wounded, there’s a large gap in the left arm, it’s just a matter of exploiting it now.

Slamming the throttle all the ways forward, Ixion charges at the enemy mech, buffeting it with vulcans and rifle shots, while preparing an all-out melee attack. As soon as the gap is closed–the enemy dodges, getting behind her with ease.

Shit, shit, shit, how did it know?

Too soon to fly again, systems still cooling down, so she’ll have to go with another plan. Shifting the scythe back to its cannon form, she puts some distance between her and the enemy, firing at whatever she can target. For a moment, it looks like she’s won. The enemy has gone quiet, not even bothering to make a move now. Only after a few minutes have passed does it begin charging at her again, thrusters screeching out loudly.

Even with repeated cannon shots, the enemy shrugs them off until it’s closed the gap to slice at her with its claws that tear through armor like it were made of paper. Ixion embeds its scythe into the enemy, trying its damndest to move. It’s countering everything she throws at it, as if–No. It’s not. She’s dead.

Juniper pushes the forward-thrusters on her mech past their limit, drawing every last ounce of power from the pulse reactor. Overheat warnings blare throughout the cockpit, but none of that matters right now, not when she’s got this thing to contend with. Ixion pushes the imposter off, just barely managing to evade another round of cannon fire.

Need a plan B and fast. Fuck, even the armor on Argos was never that thick. What the actual fuck did the Imperials do to it?

With every last thruster propelling it forward, Ixion swings its scythe, embedding it deep into the fake-Argos. Sparks fly, metal crunches and the scythe is just deep enough to do meaningful damage. Juniper could almost laugh with how insane her next move is. With the scythe embedded as deep as possible, she pulls the trigger on the cannon, firing round after round as deep into this motherfucker as possible. This time however, she’s done meaningful damage, there’s a gaping wound in the armor that’s sparking and leaking fluids.

There’s only moderate damage to Ixion, but Juniper isn’t looking so hot. Throwing too much at the wall, only to have nothing stick. Not sure what it is exactly, but she’s feeling a lot of pain with this cable in her.

Ixion rips its scythe out from the fake, firing reverse thrusters as soon as the blade is freed. Juniper isn’t quick enough to dodge another salvo of harpoons though, as one went right through the left set of wings, while the other through the hip. This isn’t her idea of a good time, but she’s fresh out of insane ideas. Slicing the harpoons off doesn’t work, because the moment she tries, she gets blasted with cannon fire, which sends her scythe to the ground.

Fresh out of ideas, pinned to the ground with an enemy mech that looks like Argos peeling away armor little by little, Juniper is fucked. There’s no way this isn’t Laila, she’s more than capable of countering everything.

Shit.

“Glass, n…need help…s-s–stat.”

Little pre-occupied, pinned down by enemy forces. Bastards are everywhere.

That seals it then, she’s royally and totally fucked.

Juniper is straining to get Ixion to move, but nothing is working. The fake-Argos fired another set of harpoons through her armor, just to make sure she’s pinned down tight. There needs to be something she can do. Fuck, it can’t end like this.

This has to be Laila and Argos, there’s no other possible answer. They’re countering every move she makes to a T, almost as if what happened to Juniper also happened to Laila. It shouldn’t be possible, Juniper saw the photos. She never said if Laila was dead though, only leaving Juniper to infer as much.

Dammit, how could she be so idiotic?

If this is the end for her, she’s at least going to die at the hands of the one who loved her. It’s a shame she was never honest with Laila. There’re so many things Juniper wishes she could have told her. But the most important thing that Juniper never said enough, was that she loved her. Loved her from the very beginning, when their relationship was rocky, to even right now.

That love for her wife is why Juniper’s still standing.

But of course, she fed Laila some bullshit story about being a mercenary, because Juniper was scared to tell the truth. It doesn’t matter now though, if this is really Laila inside what Juniper assumes to be Argos, then hopefully she’ll be merciful and grant her a quick death.

Oh, who the fuck is she kidding?

There’s still one last ace up her sleeve, one that is fucking insane enough to work. Every last vent on Ixion closes and Juniper takes a deep breath, closing her eyes for the briefest of moments. As soon as they open again, she reroutes everything to the engines, pushing them beyond safe operating limits.

Overheat warnings litter the monitor and she laughs idiotically to herself. It’s fucking sweltering in here to the point that she has to unzip her jumpsuit and let it fall to her waist with a shrug. Rain slams onto the metal frame of Ixion, evaporating on contact, leaving behind only steam.

Just a little longer…

With what little cognitive function she still has, Juniper switches the comms to an open channel, letting out a pained laugh. “You there, Laila? Sorry to cut our last dance–” She grunts, wheezing for breath. Fuck, she’s not doing good. “–Short. See you…o-on the other side…” There’s no response on the other end, just silence.

As expected.

The moment Argos smashes its hammer onto Ixion’s chest, is when Juniper throws open every last vent, unleashing a torrent of heat onto Argos, which melts part of the hammer and a good chunk of armor. That’s just enough of an opening to where the harpoons pinning her have burned away, giving her room to grab her scythe. Everything fucking hurts right now, but she just needs a little longer…

Juniper takes a pained breath, letting out another laugh. C’mon Laila, let’s finish this danse macabre. Just the two of us, ‘till death do us part, right?

That’s not enough though, far from it. Once the vents close again, she begins rerouting everything she has and then some to the scythe, for her most batshit insane idea: Superheating it. If she’s to be the Angel of Death, then she’ll do it surrounded by the flames of hell.

More laughter overtakes Juniper, watching every possible warning light up the screens. Systems won’t be able to take the strain of this for long, so she’ll need to make this one count. As Argos frantically charges Ixion for umpteenth time, that’s when she strikes. Superheated metal slices through the thick armor of Argos, leaving a massive burning gash in its wake, which destroys the cannons on its back with a large explosion.

Juniper isn’t done yet, oh gods no. The heats probably fried her brain by now, but who the fuck cares? With an insane grin on her face, she preps the cannon to fire from extreme close range at the head of Argos.

Three…

Two…

One.

Click

Boom

The shell rips free from the cannon barrel, impacting Argos’ head, and sends it crashing down to the ground. As Argos collapses onto the ground, Juniper lets out a feral howl, letting herself drool at the sight of a downed enemy. Then, as her thoughts drift away from her, she relaxes into the cockpit seat, letting out a soft sigh as the hazy starlight overtakes her vision.

It feels good to once again give into her animalistic nature and simply let it take over. She doesn’t know when it happened, but her hand is already in her panties, once again masturbating to the pleasure of a kill. Letting is its own reward, she’s beginning to learn and soon, she’ll be nothing but a feral mutt. That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

All of her thoughts, worries and fears just disappear, being replaced by euphoria from an orgasm tearing through her body. It feels so good to give in, just like Handler would want her to. That’s all she is, is a dog who follows the orders of her Master. This orgasm is simply the reward for being a good dog. It’s why her panties are still stained with the remnants of her last orgasm, because she’s a good dog. It feels so good to realize that.

She would want Juniper to give into her feral instincts and kill Laila. Then, Juniper could properly serve Her, without the past haunting her. She could be reborn as the perfect weapon for her Master. It would be so easy to take the scythe and fire a few rounds into the cockpit, Laila would be dead in seconds. Besides, Juniper doesn’t have the strength to resist whatever they dumped into her head anymore.

Yet again, she laps up the reward in her panties, moaning at the taste. She was never particularly fond of this before, usually finding it disgusting. But now? She can’t get enough of her own cum. It must be a side effect of whatever they did to her, but it doesn’t matter now, as reality begins to snap back into place.

Damage warnings have been flashing the entire time, but she only now realizes it. Neither arm is functioning very well, Juniper’s suffered heavy damage from the shared connection to Ixion and the reactor could blow if she does something that stupid again. But the important thing is: she won.

Ixion limps forward, taking aim at Argos’ cockpit. Juniper just needs to pull the trigger and kill Laila, before she kills her. It’s so easy, so….impossible. Juniper’s hand shakes on the stick and she reflexively pulls it back, firing at the melted arm instead. No matter how much sense it might make she can’t bring herself to kill Laila.

If that’s really her in there, then Juniper has to save her. She…she can’t let the pervasive thoughts win, no matter how right they seem. Argos is in rough shape, the barrage of heat melted away a good chunk of its armor. The cockpit hatch is partially melted, but it doesn’t look to have spread into the cockpit. A blessing in disguise.

Juniper puts Ixion down into a kneeling position, taking a few shallow and pained breaths, before disconnecting herself from the mech. It takes her a minute to limp out of the hatch with her injuries, but she manages to climb out.

Just need to hold on a little longer. Laila’s there, she’ll know what to do.

Climbing onto the wounded Argos, Juniper clutches her sidearm, just in case of emergency. Her entire body is screaming out in pain, but she needs to keep going, for the sake of Laila. By a stroke of luck, the manual override on the hatch is still where it should be and still works.

It takes her tired and wounded body precious minutes to muster the strength to pull it. Once it’s pulled, she ducks waiting for the hatch to blow and the smoke to clear. When she finally peers into the cockpit though, what she sees isn’t Laila. The pilot is wearing a tattered and bloodied pilots jumpsuit, much like hers, only…they’re wearing a dog hood.

Juniper remembers that hood, that…that jumpsuit from–Oh gods, no. She finally spills out the contents of her stomach, trying to pull herself together. Every shallow breath she takes is more painful than the last and she wants so desperately to scream, but her body refuses to. Her time in Imperial custody is mostly a blur, but this dog hood? She remembers it so clearly. They brought her to and from the white room, she remembers thinking they must have been like her once. Please, don’t let it be her.

She takes a steadying breath and crawls into the cockpit, pointing her gun at the pilot, who makes no attempts to move. The dog-hooded menial doesn’t even acknowledge that she’s there. Just a from a cursory glance, they’re in rough shape, with a trail of blood leading down from the hood and onto their jumpsuit. Gods, there’s even a Wardog patch on it, so could it be…?

Juniper gulps, steadying her hands to remove the cable sticking out from the dog hood. Her arms hurt pulling it out, but the cable disconnects without issue. It’s not too late, she can just turn back now, forget that this happened. Laila’s dead, she should remain that way. Whatever this is, this isn’t her, it’s clearly something else. Juniper wants to desperately to run and finish this thing off, but she needs answers.

So, against her better judgment, she slowly removes the hood, carefully placing it on the menials lap. This pilot isn’t Laila, but Juniper…Juniper knows them. Deep red hair that once looked full of life, has been shaven down to barely anything, Green eyes once full of vigor, now glassed over and then there’s the scar on her cheek, from when a bullet grazed her. It…it can’t be…

Eris Peray. Wardog 2.

Juniper drops her gun and clutches Eris in her arms, softly crying. “Eris y-you’re…alive?”

“H…Hey, J…June…” Eris says between pained breaths, opening her green eyes to stare at Juniper. “G…Good d-d…dance”

She can only stare in disbelief at the sight of Eris. There are dark bags underneath her eyes and her cheeks are sunken in, like she’s barely eaten. Just the sight of her makes Juniper vomit onto the cockpit floor. Eris was the dog hooded menial, the one who guided her in the kennels. But then–Gods, how many people has this happened to?

“W-What happened to you?” Juniper says, staring in disbelief. “Where…Where’s Laila?”

“Epsilon h-h–” Eris lets out a hacking cough, spitting up blood in the process. “–Happened. She…She sends Her regards.” With a weak laugh, Eris finally passes out. Her heart’s still beating, as far as Juniper can tell, so it’s probably just her injuries catching up to her.

Juniper needs to call for evac, but there’s no way she’s leaving Eris in here. On the off chance she does wake up, it’s smarter to stay with her, than run off. Less chance of something going wrong that way. Which means that Juniper will need to connect in place of Eris. It’s the only way.

Carefully disconnecting Eris from the mech, Juniper moves the wounded-pilot onto her lap, being careful not to move her too much. Gods, the longer she looks at Eris’ face, the worse it gets. There’s blood all over her and what she assumes to be scratch marks covering her body. Gods, what did they do to you Eris?

The systems are heavily damaged and take forever to boot, the process is different from Ixion’s, less painful, at least. Perhaps it’s because she can’t feel much of anything right now. But Eris occasionally stirs in her lap, but never wakes up. For that, Juniper is grateful. Eris was Laila’s dear friend and for most of the time, her right hand, who was seen as rising star that would be leading her own squad in no time.

Juniper still remembers Eris’ supposed death. During an evac of one of their former bases, she died in the defense. They had no way to retrieve her body or mech, Imperial Shock Troops were everywhere. Too heavily armed for the weakened rebel forces.

Fuck, to see her like this and to realize Eris was the one to guide Juniper through the kennels, it’s downright sickening. This is Her fault, but yet again, Juniper can’t find it in herself to blame Her. No, if anything, it feels like the longer she’s alone with her thoughts, the more she simply accepts that it was for the best.

Maybe Eris was offered the same choice and chose to take it?

The name Ares pops up on the only working monitor, causing Juniper to let out a heavy, pained sigh. Of course, it was the Ares, it was never recovered after all. But it’s been made to look more like Argos, which disturbs Juniper. More questions than answers, yet again.

She should be relieved, this means that Laila and Argos, are dead. So why does this victory feel so…hollow?

Juniper clears her throat, hacking up blood onto her jumpsuit. A problem for later, not now. With the limited power left onboard this thing, she sends out a distress call over the radio. “This is Captain J…Juniper Sla–Sladek–” it hurts to speak, but she needs to get this message out. “Broadcasting on o-open channel. Requesting medevac ASAP.” There’s only static on the other hand, but broadcasting on Imperial channels is suicide and there’s no way she’s tapping into rebel comms with this, on the off chance that it’s bugged.

After five minutes of no response, she repeats the message and waits for a response.

Holy shit, you’re alive Sladek? I read you, I’ve got transport inbound, gimme your coordinates.

Juniper has never been so thankful to hear the voice of Vera Glass, more than she is in this moment. But gods, her head hurts and she just…she just needs to close her eyes for a minute. Yeah, a quick rest will do her good. She’s earned it.

That’ll stop the the pain at least.