Nataliza Rayfield was the best of the best. It was law, an accepted fact that transcended ideology itself. Rebels worshipped both the ground she walked on and the endless propaganda posters she adorned with her visage. Any United Arcadium pilot not plucked from a cave on an undiscovered planet knew that being sent on a mission against Liz was practically an execution. Few lived to tell the tale of fighting her; fewer still would risk fighting her again. Nataliza Rayfield was a death sentence.

Nataliza Rayfield was the hawk.

For a while, a good while, this was enough for Liz. The fascist dogs of the UA knew she wouldn’t go down until their empire was beaten, burned, and reclaimed by the people. She was an inspiration to her troops, a reason to keep going in a war easy to view as a ceaseless lost cause of bloodshed and imperial malaise.

In many ways, that was enough. Her ideology. The fear she struck in the UA’s lackeys after spending her whole life under their sweeping colonial rule. It kept her going, but it left her with a growing pit all the same. A pang in her stomach of something missing. Some kind of spark that Liz always felt but simply refused to acknowledge.

For fifteen years, Liz had no equal, and it had made getting into her mech an act she’d almost begun doing on autopilot.

Liz loved her Gen 1 Whitehawk. A standard-issue frame, let alone a retired one, rarely made it to a twentieth year in service, but a pilot rarely made it to forty-one years old in the field. The Whitehawk had the scars of such service, and Nataliza had the tired old eyes and snow-white hair of such an age. They were one and the same like that. An immortal pilot and her undying mech suit. Made those slogans nice and easy to make, at least.

Liz was odd like that. She didn’t make a request for a custom frame like the other legend-status pilots on Corvis did, nor an upgraded Whitehawk. The Gen 1 was hers. Besides, when your body was packed with outdated Gen 1 augments far too experimental to even touch beyond routine maintenance, it was healthy to stick with what you knew.

Her Whitehawk was a beacon of familiarity, and that wasn’t the problem.

No. The issue was bigger than her sixty-foot mech suit.

When Liz became the best. When she became someone nobody, not even United Arcadium’s most skilled asset turned rebel hero, could challenge. When her allies became a revolving door of new faces with one or two regular comforts. It all piled up to make getting behind her cockpit feel like a slightly riskier desk job. One she was fucking good at, sure, but a desk job nonetheless. The Whitehawk was more like a cherished co-worker than anything else.

For a while, Liz accepted it. It was the cost of lasting as a pilot this long. You either go out in some fiery blaze of glory thinking your sacrifice would destroy the fascists for good, or you live long enough to ceaselessly fight for a future where the galactic state is dead and buried. Maybe the spark of piloting was gone, but the spark and hope in the revolution Liz could inspire never left, and it never will…

…but the fire of fighting in her Whitehawk wasn’t quite as dead as Liz had thought either. All it took was what she worried it would.

Several months ago, she came back into her life. Bailey Cluanaire. The Mercenary Guild’s number one ranked pilot. A former rebel in training. A morally dubious woman at absolute best who thrived off her own satisfaction and difficult-to-deny superiority over other pilots.

…

She was Liz’s ex-girlfriend. The only one that mattered, really.

Bailey was a smug, womanizing, egotist drowning in hedonism. So awash in the term, in fact, that Bailey’s current mech had been named after it, but the BC2-Hedone wasn’t what Liz was starting to get lost in as she peered at the warehouse they were raiding today. 

It was Bailey herself. Liz knew that and knew further the pits Bailey sank into after they broke up. After it all exploded fifteen years ago. There was plenty to dislike about Bailey Cluanaire. Plenty of red flags and pill bottles held both by her two regular hands and the two strange, metallic, bone-like and porcelain-akin cybernetic limbs she’d had installed years back.

Alas, several long months of fighting to hold on to a reconditioned United Arcadium pilot; fighting to give that pilot, a surnameless brunette by the name of Sasha, a second chance at a life the UA had robbed from her so violently. All of that brought things back into Liz’s mind she’d thought were thrown out with the more reckless side of her youth.

Perhaps that all would have stayed as some uncomfortable, annoying thoughts had Bailey simply been here for her allotted three-month contract. Maybe if she’d had her fun teasing and childishly poking at her ex, then left with her cash and a few rebel rookies hoping to be allowed to shine her boots again, the inevitable wouldn’t occur.

Liz was not so lucky.

When you gave Bailey something to use, she’d use it. Sasha’s circumstances were… complicated. She was pulled from every which side with little history to find before her indoctrination into United Arcadium’s Handler program. Without intimate knowledge of her file and reconditioning under the capable hands of Estelle Madique, Corvis Base’s lead doctor and current oldest resident…

…well, it would be easy to see the rebels as sinking into the mud with the UA. Like they were no better than the fascists Liz dedicated her life to dismantling. It’s not like standards hadn’t slipped in other places…

Naturally, Bailey saw exactly that. She also saw a plaything in Sasha, though that had been deemed acceptable by command and Dr. Madique alike. Something about it being a healthy mechanism for dealing with the latent Handler urges left in Sasha’s psyche? Fine. Liz could accept that. If Bailey’s depravity could have a use beyond secretly getting Liz off, then more power to her…

But it was the prodding.

The poking.

“Such a stick in the mud, Lizzy. Where’s that sleazy thing I used to know~?”

“You’ll let these rebels worship you. Why not make Sasha really worship you~?”

Portmanteaus and variations of these for months. Annoying. Infuriating. Tolerable. All of it was her ex trying to get her attention, and she promised herself she couldn’t slip. She had a reputation to uphold that couldn’t sink because of Bailey Cluanaire. Because of her temptations…

Yet, Bailey got her. A loud jab about their dubious past in the middle of the mess hall led to a louder bitchslap delivered to Bailey’s cheek. A moment of broken composure after a reveal of the kinds of things Liz would have done to an imperial like Sasha in her younger years. The things she’d still wanted to do.

Urges.

Needs.

Bailey had read her like a book…

…and so had Sasha.

That night, Sasha came to her with a proposal. Alone.

A threesome to hash it out. Liz looked like she needed to blow off steam, Sasha thought Liz was cute, and Bailey, supposedly, felt like making amends. With Liz pent up as she was and back in the field with Bailey Cluanaire, it seemed like a good idea. At the very least, a good way to relieve stress.

…

In hindsight, most of it was horseshit. Sasha was a matchmaker; that much had become crystal clear as her time on the base extended to planned permanence. She got Liz and Bailey in that room together to get them back together, something which Bailey, soothingly, didn’t seem aware of either. One round of fucking the daylights out of Handler’s best fuckbird had turned into four more of Liz and Bailey swapping saliva, bodily fluids, sex toys, and fifteen years of backed-up anger, insults, and longing.

…It was the best night Nataliza Rayfield had in fifteen years, closed with an angry, half-joking deal made between her and Bailey.

“If you’re here to make amends, then join up and prove it. If you’re so much better than everyone, then join up and fucking prove it, Bailey.”

Bailey agreed, but Liz had anticipated her to perform the usual mercenary gambit. Promise something and leave the next day.

However, that didn’t happen. Liz woke up after the night of her middle-aged life to Bailey Cluanaire, the rebel captain. As horrifying as it was dreamy.

She left the guild. She agreed to every term in the rebel code. No drugs. No nights out on the town making a show of herself. And Liz? She didn’t have a fucking clue why she was doing any of it. What was her game? What was her angle?

What was Bailey winning out of this?

It had been several more months since that day now, and Liz still had no reliable theories. None that made sense, at least.

…

Well, one did make sense. The one Liz needed to deny. That the spark Bailey’s presence awoke in Liz was mutual. Even fifteen years since their fall, their symbiosis on the battlefield was as sharp as ever, and it made Liz’s Whitehawk feel alive again like it hadn’t in so long. Could the mercenary… ex-mercenary… have been actually longing for their fire again, or was she playing Liz like she’d gotten so good at playing the surrounding galaxy?

…

Was Liz a fool for wanting that? Was she an idiot for already seeing them as an item again? A moron for wanting that too?

…

Before Liz could continue letting herself get lost in ponderance on the foggy outskirts of one of Ansa’s many rotten little “corporate” weapon factories, the old, fuzzy radio in her Whitehawk’s cockpit finally buzzed to life.

Aoi Tarowaka: Kaaay, drone sweep’s done, you two. Unless Ume’s being a big dummy, I spy seven low-grade artillery mechs guarding the outside of the warehouse. Nobody inside, though! Weird, right?

The perky, upbeat singing of Corvis Base’s hacker extraordinaire and lead communications expert, Aoi Tarowaka, was the first of her two comrades’ voices to greet Liz through the Whitehawk’s old shitbox of a radio. “Very… It’s not like any corp to leave a stockpile this handy so… up for grabs.” Liz replied to Aoi with a stern cadence of professional assessment… Aoi wasn’t the only other pilot with her today, though… “Bailey, thoughts?” Liz’s voice slipped almost unnoticeably as she called for her partner in crime’s opinion.

Bailey Cluanaire: Well, if you’re just dying to hear my voice, Lizzy…

Liz regretted asking already, stuck waiting for a few moments while Bailey teased her with the ludicrously high-quality comms equipment in her mech. There was something disturbing about her sounding clearer than Aoi, but that was Bailey for you.

Bailey: Mitra weren’t known for splurging on security when I worked for them. Half the time a protection contract was just me and a few of these artillery flunkies. Easy pickings for two hunters like us, Lizzy~.

Ah, Liz could hear the dripping desire to say worse in Bailey’s voice. She undoubtedly would, too. The fire-haired woman could hold her tongue around the right allies and show a shell of restraint for Liz’s reputation. Their relationship, whatever it was, technically wasn’t public, after all. Around Sasha and Aoi, that restraint was utterly pointless, though. Sasha practically planned for this, and Aoi was the closest thing to a friend Liz had ever seen Bailey make.

Because of all this, any response from Liz in the field today came with the risk of distracting little prods aimed at her and Aoi both. But, remiss as Liz was, mission talk came above her status as a shining rebel beacon of morality, if she truly cared about it at all. “Thinking they might have a merc hiding around here, then? It wouldn’t be out of place for a corporate hit.” Liz thought back to the couple of cocky mercenaries she’d put into boxes over the years, comparing them to the former champion of mercs eyeing the perimeter in her mech just a few clicks away.

Bailey: Eh, maybe. Mitra doesn’t cheap out when they gun for a merc, though. Probably ran more protection jobs for them than anyone else in the system. If one’s hiding here, it’ll be a “good” one.

Aoi: Juuuust looked into it while you two were chatting!!!

Before Liz could continue the rare act of a professional conversation with Bailey, Aoi butted in with excitement and then a pause. “Anything else we need to be looking out for here, Aoi?” Liz questioned calmly, knowing the next she’d hear from Bailey would certainly be back to their usual dynamic. Ah, one day she’d be normal, right?

…

Fat chance.

Aoi: Nope. A second sweep showed nothing, and Mitra doesn’t have any logs showing a merc hiring recently. Get this show on the road, you two!

“Then let’s be sure to thank them for the firesale.” Liz replied with a cocktail of relaxation and humor in her aged voice. She still suspected something was amiss here. Mitra may have been on the way off this planet, but a corp like them tended to burn excess stock, not leave it for the rebels to pocket. “Ready when you are, Bailey.” Liz was able to let it go, focusing on the quick mission at hand instead and calling for her partner of multiple ilks.

Bailey: Ready as ever, Lizzy. Just remember who’s taking it tonight if I win~.

Ah, there was Bailey. The real one. The light in her voice shone like an industrial torch as she beamed her words through Liz’s speakers.

Aoi: Jelly~! Go for it, you two!

Aoi’s speakers too, clearly. Liz wasn’t stammering, at least. Their banter had started to reach a level of normalcy for her, dangerous as that may have been. Right now, it was go time. “Let’s move. I’ll start with the squad on the right of the warehouse.” Liz gave her plan to Bailey before finally kicking the Whitehawk into gear, cruising away from the hill the two were told to wait by with their targets already in mind…

…and a kill count to hit.

Bailey: Guess I’ll take the left, then we can sweep our way to the middle. Don’t let those intrusive thoughts about getting me out of this suit before dinner distract you too hard~.

“Same to you, pervert. Keep your head in the game.” Liz gave a light bark back at Bailey’s joyful teasing but kept her head. She could worry about that dinner after the mission. Right now, she might as well prod Aoi for a little more info. Bailey certainly wouldn't, after all. “Aoi, got any extra intel for us on the artillery here? We haven’t exactly tangled with Mitra’s fodder mechs much.” Liz was quick to move from small, competitive rage and back to professionalism with Aoi, hoping the comms girl could do the same.

Aoi: All seven seem to be the same make, as far as I can tell! About sixty percent the size of your Whitehawk… Only armaments are slow, long-range cannons… Nope! Boring stuff! Hit ‘em fast, and it’ll be easy peasy!!!

That was decidedly normal.

Aoi: You’ll be back home and kissing Bailey’s abs in no time!!!

Ah, never mind then.

“Vice versa if I win, isn’t that right, Bailey?” Liz could reclaim her reputation a bit if Aoi was going to play like that. She was still just far enough out from the basic concrete box of a warehouse and its surrounding fence to get one jab in before she needed to focus on both the mission and winning.

Bailey: Mhmmm. Might eat you out before dinner if you wow me. Might even let Aoi watch~.

Aoi: You better!!!

Sometimes Liz didn’t even know why she bothered. That girl could outflirt anyone if she got to know them enough, and she knew Liz better than anyone in the galaxy. “Alright, alright. Targets are in view. Confirmed to be two small-scale artillery frames. Bailey, how about you?” And Liz was right back to business when those artillery mechs loomed in her viewscreen’s sights, just as described. Easy peasy, but she felt something…

Excitement? Competitive fire? Probably both.

Bailey: I spy three pathetic little cannon rats. Lucky me. Good luck trying to win, hot stuff.

Aoi: I am so glad I get to watch this. You’re free to engage!

Aoi clearly didn’t have a horse in this race, but it was a race she was obviously more than enthused by. Curse Bailey, though. She’d easily have a head start by the time they swept the front of the warehouse. If the rebels had her luck fifteen years ago, the United Arcadium would probably be a bad memory in the history books by now. Liz could cry about it being unfair…

…or she could do her best to beat this hot bitch again.

“Aoi, mind patching me into these two’s comms?” While Bailey’s bastardized custom mechs came with next-gen communications equipment on hand, Liz’s Whitehawk typically took a high level of manual tuning just to get comms with her squad working. The Gen 1’s outdated tech made communicating with or spying on the enemy a tedious no-go unless you truly needed to.

Fortunately, Aoi’s drones were good for a lot more than scanning. Even an old beast like Liz’s Whitehawk could patch into the drone’s surveillance equipment in the right circumstances, and today’s simple gray weather was perfect for it.

Aoi: On it! Fly, my beautiful babies!

Getting Aoi to show her handiwork off was as easy as asking. Though, for a perky loudmouth in a bright purple mech, Aoi had some solid stealth chops. Liz still hadn’t actually seen those drones in the field. Clever little cat, weren’t you, Aoi?

After a few seconds, Liz was inundated with the frizzy radio chatter of her two soon-to-be victims. Two women, both sounding closer to their thirties than their twenties. Corporate probably plucked these two from a deserted war zone somewhere and put them to work on endless guard duty. It was tough to feel bad for what was likely former Arcadium scum so worthless they couldn’t even die for their vile cause.

???-1: Got a solo mech looking to be headed towards us. I’ll let command know the smaller infantry won’t be… wait…

???-2: Hey, intel said they were sending some shitty infantry crew, not that fucking Whitehawk… How’s that fair?

???-1: Have some faith, dumbass. It’s one dried-up pilot. We’ve got good distance and a cannon each. Fire ‘em.

???-2: You’re suicidal, you know that. She’s gonna rip us in half…

Thanks for the heads-up, ladies. It only made this next part even easier.

Liz’s comms stayed silent as she approached firing range of her first two targets. Foolish as the two Arcadium flunkies seemed, the first one did have a good point. A solid hit with a high-caliber rocket, even one of the cheap ones packed into the arsenals of fodder machines, could take out a limb on a nimble machine like the Whitehawk.

Easy solution. Don’t get hit.

As a slow, steady rate of stationary cannon fire was volleyed towards the Whitehawk, Liz was able to slide past it with the kind of deadly grace pilots feared her for. As the two fired every rocket they were given towards the hurtling white comet of a mech suit starting to feel eerily too close for comfort, Liz entered her flow state. Each micromovement of the Whitehawk’s body was perfectly calculated in a matter of nanoseconds, and that was before she’d even attacked yet. Those augments may have been ancient, but, paired with her latent skill, they cut her reaction times down to nothing, and each dodged rocket made one thing clear…

…Liz was anything but dried-up.

???-1: She’s not fucking invisible, you know. Why aren’t you hitting her???

???-2: Must have missed you knocking off an arm. Want to survive this? Stop standing around and move.

With the pair contemplating some kind of maneuver beyond pointing and shooting, Liz saw it as the appropriate time to pull a basic, slow-firing assault rifle from the right leg of her Whitehawk’s body. Bailey was almost certainly toying with her food right now, but Liz was a woman of ruthless efficiency. Moreover, the Whitehawk wasn’t quite built for the grouped opponents Bailey had her machines built for. Best to stick to single targets.

Thankfully, the pair splitting up in their attempt to knock Liz from both sides made that exceptionally easy. Liz took aim with her rifle while still dodging the cursory remains of the pair’s cannon shots and fired a few steady, automatic rounds in the direction of the artillery unit on the right.

???-1: The fuck is with her aim…?

She shoots. She scores. Sparks flew from a few easily landed shots on her first target’s body, while the second focused on flanking her left side. Liz kept an eye on the corner of a simple radar screen on her cockpit’s dashboard but didn’t let that distract her from sweeping the first target as quickly as she could. The Whitehawk was quicker than both of these two, and the stray hits to target number one had slowed them down an extra bit.

???-1: Not even gonna say something? I’m not running from some stoic bag of fucking nothing! Rebel scum!

???-2: Just keep her attention a little longer…

It seemed like mystery lady number two had a plan. Cute. Liz had a better one.

With the first artillery unit seemingly going in for a heavy punch aimed squarely at the Whitehawk’s head, backed by two more stray cannon shots that landed closer to her unnamed ally than Liz, this was an easy one. The Whitehawk’s rifle took aim and went for the first unit’s winding arm.

???-1: Stupid high caliber…

Success. With the unit’s arm damaged and sparking at its elbow joint and their distance closing in fast, Liz focused on slowing the pace of her boosters to further weaken the impact. Her rifle briefly ceased its fire while the Whitehawk’s free hand unveiled the mech’s big, not-so-hidden secret. Sharpened steel claws retracted from the metal beast’s hand while the mech was far too close to make any kind of plan for it. The first unit was about to go in for a weakened, pathetic punch.

Liz was going in for the kill.

???-1: I see you back there. Do something, dumbass. Call for backup. Something!

???-2: Yeah, yeah… Gonna mount your head on my wall, Whitehawk… Just stay distracted…

???-1: If I was playin’ bait you should have fuckin’ told me!!!

???-2: You’ll be fine… Wait, what do you mean no reinforcements…?

The poor coordination Liz anticipated from a lot like this. Typical corp, too. Leave your pathetic troops to die with no help. Typical, though it likely meant the guards at the front knew of their presence, or at least Liz’s.

Eager to ensure as little wasted time as possible, the Whitehawk’s rifle moved its focus to firing off shots behind it, forcing the second unit to slow her roll while the first was seconds away from collision.

CLNK!

Got her ass.

“Weak hustle, kid. Figured a crop like Mitra could do better than the likes of you.” Liz broke her silence while the first unit’s failed punch weakly connected with the Whitehawk’s shoulder. The frame’s right arm continued a slow barrage of bullets for another few seconds before turning her focus to the pickle that lucky contestant number one got herself in.

???-1: She’s a few seconds away. Gonna waste your time dyin’ for MEEEEGH—

“Unlikely.” Liz didn’t even give the pilot a chance to finish before the left claws of the Whitehawk plunged at full force through the poorly reinforced glass of her cockpit in a rain of broken shards and red mist. Probably dead from the jump, maybe she was still clinging on for a few extra seconds; either way, her mech was disabled, which was all that mattered here.

One down. One to go.

???-2: J-Just like that??? T-Told her this was suicide… I can still do this…

Clearly the second unit’s morale wasn’t at an all-time high, but with the gap closing between her and the stationary Whitehawk, there was some small belief in her that she could be the one to beat the hawk. No ammo and her best plan was still to rush towards death like her comrade? Weak.

Every pilot wanted their killing of the Whitehawk to be some dramatic showing of skill they didn’t have. The odds that a pilot like this really had something were about as likely as getting hit by lightning, but Liz couldn’t blame some mediocre Arcadium flunky for having dreams. Her friend probably did too.

They should have had better ones.

With the gap closing, and with just enough time to slyly reload her rifle with a fresh mag, Liz waited until the last viable moment before turning around, the first limp corpse of a mech still in her iron grip. Faster than anyone else would be able to reasonably react, the Whitehawk tossed the wasted mech corpse toward its ally. Dodging bullets was child’s play; dodging the husk of a mech slammed towards you just a scant few meters from your target?

???-2: Motherfucker!

A less simple feat, and one the second unit failed at spectacularly. The heavy corpse of a Mitra artillery frame was enough to completely wreck contestant number two’s balance. Like her suit was made of nothing, it was launched a few feet backwards and landed squarely on its back. Recoverable, in theory… if the Whitehawk hadn’t dashed towards her before the suit had even hit the ground.

???-2: This isn’t f-fair. I need b-backup. You girls at the front. Anyone. Send SOMEONE.

Typical Arcadium flunky behavior. A poor pilot blames their intel. A poor fighter blamed their caliber of opponent. Right or not about the odds of beating Nataliza Rayfield, upstarts like this always went out crying about the unfairness of it all. The unfairness of a regime and war they created, and this one didn’t even have it in them to die for the cause. Just a useless corporate rat.

???-2: Fucking finish me thEUGH—

Liz didn’t need to hear whatever monologue this one had for her. With a position above the pinned-down mech taken, the Whitehawk’s left foot smashed through the frame’s fragile cockpit in another shining display of broken glass and viscera. Now this pilot was definitely dead; there was enough gore on the Whitehawk’s foot to make any other outcome an impossibility. Paired with the blood still dripping from her left talon, and the wounds of battle were plainly visible on her. Beyond a barely visible dent in her frame’s right shoulder armor, the wounds sure as hell weren’t hers, though.

Two down, a likely two at the front to go. “Bailey, come in. These two are KIA. Your status?” Might as well calmly check in on her competitor before she made any moves for the front of the warehouse. Would she need help against basic artillery? Doubtful, but they were still partners.

Bailey: Took your time with those two, eh, Lizzy? All three are down, and I’m on my way to the front now. That ass is mine tonight... Oh, and hi, Aoi… Got any fun news for us~?

Why did she even ask?

Aoi: Hi, that’s hot! Two targets confirmed at the front, by the way! I’ll keep my drones buzzin’ around for anything else!

That competitive streak began to awaken in Liz as she boosted her mech suit away from the smoky wreck of dead mechs and bled-out pilots she’d made. Sure, the mission was important. Clearing these artillery units and guiding the infantry here for some armament reclamation would be a major boon for the next battle with the UA…

…but Liz was already a kill behind Bailey, and she really wanted control tonight.

Liz refocused on the two tasks at hand: beating Bailey at this game and clearing the place for their infantry, hopefully not in order of importance. The Whitehawk was able to swing from her position on the far right of the warehouse to the entrance in less time than it took to rip her first two targets to shreds and shards. The ruckus she had caused would surely mean the two artillery mechs at the front were on edge, but getting within visible distance of said gate only confirmed it.

???-3: The Whitehawk’s speeding towards us. Fire everything we've got and hold position unless absolutely necessary.

???-4: On it. You heard a peep about any reinforcements?

???-3: Any nearby units are “occupied,” apparently. We’ll be fine as long as we get the hawk.

???-4: Yeah, right…

It seemed like Bailey wasn’t a known quantity yet… interesting, but Liz had to focus.

After some pointless banter, cannon fire began hurtling towards the approaching Whitehawk once again, though these two seemed to be focused on a clean, well-tracked stationary assault. Easy enough. Knocking two of them out if they weren’t moving might prove difficult on her own…

…but she wasn’t the only one cruising towards the pair… the Hedone managed to find an opening behind them. Clever.

Bailey: Looks like I win. Mind taking the one to my left for me? Makes it easier on my whip~.

Gods, Liz could practically hear Bailey’s tongue tracing her dark, soft lips as she spoke… stupid kissable lips...

That aside, though, Liz didn’t have a counteroffer that could give her an edge. Taking one each was smart. There was no point in being a showoff, either. With her dead aim ready to show itself off, the Whitehawk fired a few carefully aimed rifle rounds at the knee joints of the rightward artillery mech.

???-3: Crap! …Don’t just gawk, hit her.

Before it could get ready for what Liz perceived as a potential move, Liz’s shots had paralyzed its knees for what she wagered would only be a brief, couple-second-long window. Given her distance and the second artillery unit prepping its move, that wouldn’t have been enough to do much with.

Fortunately, Bailey had her uses beyond her pretty looks.

Bailey: No need to move. You look better right where you are, loser~.

Before either unit could react, the BC2-Hedone was behind the second target. A beast as disgusting as it was astounding. When Bailey pitched Corvis Base’s revered head engineer the concept of an entirely custom frame espousing the design principles of Liz’s Whitehawk. Well, Sierra DeSoto was all in on a new passion project. Liz’s old friend did exemplary work too. It was just as agile yet stable as the old Gen 1 Whitehawk. The Hedone even had the very same analog cockpit as it, too, barring Bailey’s love for higher quality comms equipment.

Yet, it was sickening in its eccentricities. Shoulder-mounted machine guns took the place of the Whitehawk’s assault rifle and pistol combo. A next-gen plasma shotgun lay holstered on Hedone’s left leg, while Bailey’s personal flourish, a deadly flamethrower, sat on the opposite leg.

And the damn whip. A whip these two chumps wouldn’t have the chance to even see, let alone ogle like Liz was right now. The Hedone, nicknamed the Black Falcon by Corvis Base’s growing troop of Bailey fangirls, was a machine designed to show off not just Bailey’s skills… but whatever dynamic she had going on with the rebels’ best pilot.

For Bailey, though. Right now, at least… It was time to do her job. The job she loved. While Liz’s ogling felt like it took minutes, it only took a second for Bailey to strike with a quick, lethal move of her mech suit’s right arm. Hedone’s ultra-hot, plasma-charged whip came slashing down the center of the second artillery mech with speed nobody could dodge without a clear view of it.

???-4: CHOUGHHHHH-

A wet, bloody sound of death was the last thing their radio produced before the frame fell in two cartoonish halves onto the ground. It was probably less funny if either Bailey or Liz peeked at the gore pile that fell with both halves of the pilot’s cockpit, but two decades in the field blocks that out.

???-3: Gods…

The briefly disabled rightward unit was almost as quiet as their dead comrade, staring up at the horrifyingly efficient mech suit above them while trying one last-ditch move to save their skin. The cannon on their shoulder attempted to swing far enough to get some self-sacrificial shot off on the Hedone, but even if such an angle permitted that shot… it wasn’t the Hedone they needed to worry about.

Rushing to bag its kill, the Whitehawk slammed its lightly dented shoulder into the rightward mech with all the force it could. On its back her third target went.

???-3: Rebel cunts! Die in a hole togETHHHHH-

The third kill was very much the same as the second. Mitra’s basic artillery had their exploitable weakness, and a simple mechanical foot abused it perfectly. Blood. Glass. Etcetera. You kill one contract corpo pilot, you kill them all.

Bailey: So that’s three to my four. Looks like you’re mine tonight, Lizzy…

Don’t be a sore loser, Liz. Don’t feed into it…

Bailey: Hm… maybe wear those nice boots and gloves I got you tonight, hm? Just the boots and gloves, in fact~.

Not even five seconds after the artillery was clear, Bailey was already barking orders for the evening…

Aoi: Oooooh, now that’s an image I’m gonna like having in my head tonight!!!

On the squad’s comms no less. Don’t take the bait...

Thank the Gods it was just them and Aoi here, at least. What did she even see in Bailey for her to put up with this?

…

The stellar mech piloting.

…

The outstanding sex.

…

The feeling of tasting forbidden fruit…

…

Ugh, focus, Liz. “W-We can worry about that when we get back. Aoi, sweep the area and make sure we don’t have any other guests to clear out for the infantry.This felt too easy.” A light stammer aside, Liz was back to business at a record pace, even if she knew Bailey could latch onto even the lightest show of fluster like a leech. “And Bailey… clean work today.” Hopefully, a little praise could throw Bailey off her scent before they were somewhere more… private.

Aoi: Youuuu got it!

Bailey: Real easy to be at my best when I know what kind of ass is waiting for me at home, Lizzy~.

Aoi: Lucky…

Well, it was worth a shot. Don’t blush at that, Liz. What are you, a twenty-year-old?

Around Bailey… it almost felt like she was again…

Bailey: Who knows? Let me do the talking, and maybe I’ll turn that double date into a foursome for us… That’d be a fair prize for proving I’m better than you today, right?

“Not a chance… Dealing with… that… on my own with you is enough.” Despite Bailey’s lack of subtlety, and effective, growl-worthy jab at her skills, Liz attempted to maintain an air of composure around Aoi. “Besides, you got lucky with positioning today. That’s all, Bailey.” Mostly. She could try to defend her honor a little, even as her Whitehawk began walking away from the gate, dragging one of the two artillery mech corpses with her. Might as well clear the way for their infantry.

Bailey: Always with the luck angle. Can’t accept that sometimes I’m just better than you. Maybe I’ll finally fuck that out of you tonight~.

Don’t take the bait, Liz. Don’t do it.

Aoi: Hi!

Saved by Aoi, Liz hoped at least. The last thing her now blushing cheeks needed was two girls going at her like this… hot as the deeper recesses of her mind would have to admit it would be.

Aoi: The inside of the warehouse is totally empty! Nothing on the peri… wait a second…

Wait a second…? Had Aoi spotted something? Was Liz about to have to torch another batch of Mitra artillery units after all? It could be fun to beat Bailey in a second-round upset…

Aoi: That jammer is good… Mech’s dead silent too… Wait… Liz, they’re coming right at-

Bailey: I got it!!!

Liz was given maybe two seconds to act before she heard a loud crash mere meters behind her. She managed to do a 180 speedily enough to see the Hedone catching a large fist from an unknown machine in its right hand. Liz immediately deduced two things. That fist was about to plow right through the Whitehawk at Hedone-level speeds… and Bailey had blocked it with the full size of the Hedone’s body like a sixty-foot human shield.

That was… sweet… and confusing.

Bailey: Look at you, Gloria. I knew you were spineless, but trying an ambush like that… Pathetic as ever. You’re welcome, by the way, Lizzy!

“Right… thanks…” Liz could have a genuine, mushy heart-to-heart about the potential life-saving with Bailey before their dinner date. She cleared her head as best she could and moved to the side of the unknown, advanced-looking mech suit Bailey had caught with Hedone’s hand. Before Liz could get a hit in, though, that mech had landed a kick to Hedone’s leg and used the opening to slide back and get some distance between it and its attempted ambush victims.

Gloria: I didn’t know we were on a first-name basis in front of your girlfriend, Cluanaire. Little ass-eaters like her can call me Theseus.

Bailey: Aww, little Gloria thinks she’s worth that kind of anonymity! Your mech is Theseus. You’re just Gloria.

Gloria: Shut the fuck up!!!

Well, this was odd. A mysterious pilot, arguing with Bailey and, impressively, coming off as the more annoying one of the pair. “No clue who you are, Gloria… But I’m not one to take crap like that from an upstart I don’t know. I’d walk away before you waste your time dying here for nothing.” Liz was typically the type to reserve her trash talk for the odd chat with Bailey, but after a stunt like that done to save her life… she could throw the ex-merc a bone. Even if she doubted this one was worth it. Probably an Arcadium rookie with a nice prototype suit.

Gloria: Oh, I know what a bitch like you takes. You take dick from a man who thinks she’s a chick!

Bailey: Real charmer, isn't she, Lizzy?

Never mind. Maybe Gloria was worth far more than a petty jab. Shit like that was a fine way to get chewed out by Liz. Earned a growl on Bailey’s otherwise relaxed behalf too. “Charming as any corporate mutt or Arcadium dog. Aoi, what can you tell me about a pilot called Gloria. Or Theseus?” Fun as playing into a game of taunting a transphobe with Bailey before she’s splattered all over the ground might have been, Liz’s professional side still won out. For now, at least.

Aoi: Gimme a sec aaaaand I-

Bailey: No need, Aoi. You focus on your babies. If we’re going to trade insults in an adorable standoff, I might as well tell you a little about my least favorite coattail chaser, hm?

Aoi: Kay, but they’re keeping an eye on you!

Liz probably should have chastised Bailey for silencing Aoi’s intel like that, but something in her didn’t mind it just being the two of them right now. Bailey likely knew enough about a merc like this, too.

Gloria: Like I need some tranny to tell his overhyped attack slut about me.

Bailey: Jealous of a real woman, Gloria? So… well, I was going to say beneath you, but is it~?

Gloria: Choke on your dick and die, tranny.

“Think I’ll be fine getting info from these two, Aoi. Just keep watch for now.” Liz couldn’t help but crack a smile as she witnessed her maybe-girlfriend prod at a woman who deserved it for once, only dashed by the growing desire to rip Gloria’s throat out. If they were stuck in a standoff, though, she may as well milk some info out of it. “Come on, Gloria. If we’re getting to know each other before a fight, the least you can do is tell us why you’re here.” Truthfully, Liz had two hunches already, but if she could get one of them confirmed from the girl in the odd round mech herself, that would be nice.

Bailey: Oh, that’s easy. Bet the Guild is real mad I left, right? You’re here to curry favor now that you’re everyone’s least favorite number one merc, aren’t you? Bet your engineers slaved over a build that could trounce Circe, didn’t they? Such a shame~.

Well, that was almost one of Liz’s theories confirmed…

Gloria: Fuck off. The Guild’s had a hit out on you for months, but everyone else was too much of a pussy to claim it. I figure if I bump you off, they’ll see I’m better than you! And this is MY build. The best fucking build.

Bailey: That’s why you were number two until I left, right?

Gloria: Fuck off.



Prickly bigot, this one. That was definitely one of Liz’s theories confirmed, though. Typical Bailey. A fight Liz didn’t ask to be involved with always followed that girl around to haunt them… though this one might have pissed Liz off enough for a fight either way. “So you went for me first? They send Bailey out on solo missions, you know. That’s shoddy planning from you and the Guild.” Shoddy planning that almost got you killed, Liz. Today should teach her to upgrade her sensors, at least…

Bailey: You losers really are nothing without me, are you?

Gloria: Shut up! I went for you as a psychological tactic… a-and striking a deal with Mitra was the Guild’s stupid idea!

Some small prodding and she was already stammering and revealing plans. If this was the mercenary ranked below Bailey, Liz was almost eager to see what the real bottom rungs of the Guild looked like. Although, this standoff was starting to feel like a slightly humorous waste of everyone’s time. She and Bailey could gun for Gloria whenever… but Liz was starting to kick an idea around in her noggin…

Gloria: If I wanted to play argumentative housewife with some failed man and his prized chaser, I’d go back to that freak I fucked with on Earth. You. Rayfield, isn’t it?

Oh, this was going to be good.

Gloria: You’re not a target today, and the UA wouldn’t give me shit for bringing you back to them dead. Why don’t you fuck off home and let your boy toy get what’s coming to him, huh?

Oh, that was fucking rich. The odds Gloria could so much as scratch a pilot like Bailey were practically nil as is. But Liz abandoning a comrade… abandoning much more than a comrade… so she wouldn’t have to fight some cheap bigot in a prototype toy?

Bailey: Sounds like a sweet deal to me. Come on, let me get what’s coming to me~.

A comedic, faux-professional offer made even more humorous by Bailey’s utter mockery of it. Pathetic.

Liz had a better one.

“As much as I’d enjoy smashing that toy of yours to pieces with Bailey… I’m already a little bored by standing around looking at you… I want to beat you myself, honestly.” Liz was letting her professionalism slip, and it couldn’t really be helped. Here she was, staring down some transphobic merc with utter delusions about her place in the galaxy, watching as Bailey let insults that’d make some of her rebel allies cry simply bounce off her like the person barely existed.

If Liz closed her eyes, she was in Lucy’s bar again, about to beat the snot out of some Arcadium dog on a night out. One who’d dared to grope her and berate her girlfriend in the same breath. Bailey was a big girl; she could fight her own battles…

…but Liz was feeling nostalgic.

Gloria: Why the fuck would I waste a minute taking you one-on-one? This whole arsenal was assembled today to beat… well, Circe, not this thing… But I can take him and his ball polisher at the same time.

Bailey: Mhmmm, I bet you could~.

Gloria: Inferior fucking freak.

All Liz needed was a glass of that rancid cream liqueur Bailey drank, and this would be no different from their old bar fights, sixty-foot war machines aside. “Think about it. If I’m as weak as you think, taking me on is no sweat, right? Plus, you’d really do a number on Bailey by beating me in front of her, right?” There was a new addition to the dynamic, though. Getting Liz in on Bailey’s own brand of teasing? Eat your heart out, younger Liz.

Bailey: Fighting you after wrecking my one true love? In a mech suit made to kill me? Oh, I fear you’d destroy me, Gloria.

Even stranger that Bailey was playing along. Maybe she had changed. Perhaps she just found this whole exchange hot in some weird, Bailey-esque way…

Gloria: Fine. Whatever lets me kill your loser boyfriend on his own in a fair fight easier.

Hey, if it got Gloria to agree to her future embarrassment, it was a win for Liz, even if every transphobic jab at Bailey awoke some kind of dormant fury inside her. You didn’t tend to hear a lot of bigotry of such a caliber in a rebel base, certainly not aimed at a woman who looked as good as Bailey, either.

“Good. Great, even. Bailey, give us some room.” Typically Bailey would respond to such a blanket order from Liz with a bratty remark about who was on top in their relationship. This time, though, she was oddly cooperative. She took her time, but the Hedone walked off a few dozen meters to the left of this looming defenestration of a well-disliked mercenary nuisance. A flat, open battlefield with a spectator who might as well have a bucket of popcorn with her.

Gloria: Ready to die, Whitehawk?

With Bailey out of her way, Liz could take a second before replying to analyze this upstart’s mech suit. Liz had a theory brewing already that Gloria would be a standard pilot carried by an expensive suit and a good crew. She’d need to see how she fought, but her suit looked like as solid an indication as any. A round body adorned in hexagonal patterns and open slots for what looked like a custom attachment system. Most of the outer body was using them to attach armor today, with an array of boosters on the back, likely to stay mobile against an agile fighter like Bailey.

If Liz had to guess… the armor was probably some form of heat-resistant metal… Clever, but any half-decent engineer could come up with counters for a specific, highly custom mech.

Much like the armor, her arsenal too seemed built for a battle with Circe. A high-powered railgun was holstered on its back to poke her at range, while its arms seemed bulked up around the forearms to make grabs and punches viable up close. The dual SMGs on her legs might be trouble… but beyond that, this seemed like a rig custom-built for precisely one mech. Gloria would need serious piloting chops to turn that into something a Whitehawk would struggle with…

Aoi: So, this is kind of really hot, but if you need support, I’m here!!!

It was almost cute that Aoi thought Liz might need assistance with this one, but it was always good to keep tactics in your back pocket. “Noted, Aoi. Try to enjoy the show.” Was that unlike Liz? Ah, who cared? It was time to see if the Mercenary Guild’s supposed best was worth the fuel it’d take to wreck her. “Ready when you are… amateur.” Liz didn’t quite have Bailey’s penchant for teasing. Liz was a professional, and professionals attacked a pilot’s skills. Besides, Gloria had nothing even worth prodding at to Liz beyond the bigotry, and she liked being the bigger woman. Worked better for the image command liked.

Gloria: Oh, we’ll see who’s the amateur here, pinup girl.

As Gloria predictably made the first move, two things already became clear to Liz. This merc had none of Bailey’s insult game, and she was already showing a lack of adaptability. Her punch was easy to call as the speedy machine slid quietly towards the Whitehawk, charging a slow punch with the power required to try to knock down a well-supported quadruped like Circe…

…slow enough for a lighter biped to simply duck like a boxer.

“Your mech is impressive; a punch like that could have knocked my Whitehawk’s head clean off… but your form’s all wrong.” Liz spoke with something far more annoying to Gloria than Bailey’s unbridled sass. “You save slower punches for frames with lower mobility, or ones you’ve staggered. Otherwise you’re just giving your opponent…” Liz was professional. Almost scolding, even. She was talking down to Gloria like she was some kind of drill instructor chewing out a new recruit. “…an opening!” One with moves to back the talk up.

Liz was quick to pull out her assault rifle, and quicker still to deliver a strong, winding punch to Theseus’s body that sent the mech sliding backwards a dozen meters.

Gloria: Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? You land one good counter, and you’re my mommy now? If I wanted advice, I’d ask, featherhead.

Bailey: Ooooh. Featherhead. Careful, Lizzy, she might steal your lunch money if you lose!

Gloria: Stay outta this until it’s your turn, freak!

If Liz was angling to annoy a pilot to death, Bailey’s prodding was certainly helping matters. She had to admit to herself, those old bar fight-esque taunts were a fine hit of nostalgia to the middle-aged hero. Like an old rush that she didn’t even have to work hard to chase. Was it bad that she missed this? Probably, but she could ponder that after kicking this upstart’s ass.

Said taunting from the sidelines even gave Liz an extra second-long distraction to fire off a few shots around the gaps in Theseus’ armor. They were few and far between, but there was already one particular space Liz was guiding her shots to. A gap between the armor on its body and its left leg unit. Liz deduced that Theseus wasn’t just rocking a few custom, removable parts. Everything was removable. Arms, legs, armor. The orb-like body wasn’t just its well-armored cockpit… it was effectively an advanced take on one of those little customizable models Aoi collected.

That led to a hunch. Whatever its attachment mechanism was, it had to be fragile, hence the surrounding armor… but no armor was flawless.

Gloria: Alright then, let’s play that game…

Gloria wasn’t completely worthless as a pilot, at least. With Liz’s target noticed, though, the merc could still prove their lack of improvisational prowess. Theseus was on the move fast, pulling its railgun from its back in a move that almost threw Liz for a loop. A charged gun that would likely slow the entire mech suit down? At this range? Bailey was wasting her life with these people.

Liz saw her next opening form already. Rather than rush in and attempt to get her next hit in before the gun fired, Liz kept some small distance between them, steadily approaching Theseus at the same speed it was backing away from her. It was a risky move. A Whitehawk wasn’t exactly pumped up with armor, and a well-placed railgun shot may very well have been enough to tear through its cockpit, but Liz was no rookie. A standard CATERAN railgun had a charge-up time of about four seconds, with additional bandwidth to hold its charge for two more. Gloria was no tactician, so that thing would probably pop off…

…now!

Gloria: Tricky little bird. Stay still!

Success. Liz swerved to the right just as the railgun fired. As fast as Liz dodged its shot, she boosted the Whitehawk towards the backsliding Theseus as quickly as her mech’s thrusters would allow. Of course, even an amateur could foresee a melee hit after a railgun miss like that.

With a feigned wind-up to a punch, Liz got just close enough to bait Theseus into prepping its arms for a block before making her own slide backwards. With her target stationary for a moment, Liz took the chance to fire off as many shots as her rifle could dump around the upper body and arms of the frame… “A little advice for you…” …and that wasn’t her only countermove, either. “You generally want your railgun to be fired from a distance that doesn’t leave you open in the cooldown. Common mistake for people who don’t understand their tool set yet. The SMGs might have been a better play for keeping me off your back.” As she set another trap in the form of advice, Liz grabbed the slow, high-caliber pistol from the Whitehawk’s left leg with the adjacent hand. The more free full auto fire of her rifle was promptly joined by slow, well-aimed pistol shots directed right at the barely exposed joints of Theseus’ legs.

Gloria: Shut up and stop taunting me! I have my battle plan, so focus on yours!

Bailey: Haven’t heard her this mad since she lost out on that Limbic contract. Go on. Teach her a lesson for us, Lizzy.

Gloria: Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!!!

Liz had to admit that the rather encouraging order from Bailey tickled her brain in a strange way. Was it self-absorbed? Sure. But there was a fun to this game of beating up a bigoted nuisance that Liz hadn’t felt in Bailey’s absence. It felt good to be just a little reckless.

Gods, it was almost a little hot…

“Suit yourself, rookie.” Liz could already hear an oddly satisfying growl come through her mech’s old speakers as the next part of her counter played out. The old rebel typically liked playing it smart with the micro missiles in her subtle, shoulder-mounted launchers, but she was feeling daring today.

Gloria: I’ve been doing this for six years. You’re the fucking rookie!

Maybe it was Gloria’s lack of charm, skill, and overall compassion for her fellow man. Perhaps it was the low-rent insults. Most likely, it was Bailey’s saccharine influence. Whatever its cause, there was something joyful about the inevitable kicking into the dirt Gloria was about to walk Theseus right into.

Just do what Liz told you to…

Bailey: Cute guns, Gloria. The size really fits those other tiny things in your… war chest…

Gloria: At least God gave me mine, cunt! He’ll toss you down into Hell himself soon enough.

Bingo. Thank you, Bailey Cluanaire, for laying the extra bait.

In a move born out of clear aggravation at both her current and future opponents, Gloria did exactly as she was instructed by Liz at precisely the time she shouldn’t have. The SMGs were out and began a chaotic storm of high-speed, low-caliber bullets aimed loosely at the Whitehawk. The Whitehawk’s immediate shift to an evasive, circling maneuver would undoubtedly make hitting it a pain, even with the current-gen target assistance likely built into Theseus and Gloria herself.

What certainly didn’t help was the slow barrage of micro-missiles the Whitehawk fired from its shoulder-mounted launchers not long after. Some were aimed at Theseus; one or two even hit the mech’s body. Yet almost all of them were duds, landing loosely near Gloria’s mech.

Gloria: Clever bitch…

Bailey: She’s my clever bitch, too. Making me proud, Lizzy. Watch the aim, though. The paintwork on this thing isn’t cheap!

Gloria: The day I learn how to mute that stupid fucking microphone of yours…

Liz could get Bailey for that comment later. Every petty insult and absorbed comment got Gloria that bit more heated… Though, she had managed to see what Liz’s scheme was even in her haze of distracted fury. The barrage of missiles that ‘missed’ their target created a reliable trail of small, yet effective clouds of dust and smoke circling Theseus and blocking its aim. A stray few shots managed to meet Whitehawk’s body, of course. This was a move with risks, and some minor battle damage was the least of them. Liz couldn’t exactly see clearly through the smoke, either, and the capacity of Theseus’ magazines was a mystery.

The merc wasn’t going along with every aspect of the scheme, either. She was trying to reposition Theseus out of the smoke clouds in a mutually circling dance of dust, smoke, bullets, and missiles. Not a wholly inane move from the otherwise disappointing pilot. If her bullets could outlast Liz’s missiles, she very well might have had a shot at this, assuming no interruptions from Bailey, something both pilots doubted the ex-merc would avoid for much longer.

Fortunately…

Gloria: Squirmy little bird…

Gloria was dry first. With Theseus’ mags empty, she tried to think on her feet, lurking in the clouds of kicked-up dust while switching as quickly as possible to her railgun. Oh, Gloria, what was it Liz said again?

“Bad move, rookie…” While Gloria tried to get an exact bead on the Whitehawk in the now dissipating cloud of smoke, Liz had already begun the final part of her play. The missiles kept firing right until the distance would be truly untenable for avoiding self-damage. The gap between the Whitehawk’s explosive fire ceasing and Theseus’ railgun almost charging felt like a year distilled into a few seconds. At the end of the day, though, the Whitehawk was fast, and every bit of damage done to Theseus’ limbs had slowed it down.

Gloria: Shit!!!

With what would hopefully be the last full-force shoulder bash of today’s mission, the Whitehawk hit Theseus with everything it had in the hopes of knocking it down. Liz’s hopes had a tendency to end up true, and with only a larger dent in the Whitehawk’s left shoulder to show for it, they did again.

Sierra would probably be a little miffed, but that dent would buff right out. What wouldn’t buff right out was Liz’s plan for Theseus.

Gloria: Get the fuck off me, you whore! You fucking tranny lover! You got lucky!!!

Bailey: Have you considered you just suck at this, Gloria~?

Gloria: SHUT UP!

While Bailey smugly enjoyed the dismantling of what she may be offended to have referred to as her rival, and Gloria barked away like an angry, slur-spouting dog without a muzzle, Liz got to work.

With Theseus on its back, the Whitehawk planted a foot on its round body and pressed every bit of weight it could to pin the heavier mech down. With its weight holding Theseus to the ground, the Whitehawk holstered its weapons and grabbed a solid hold of Theseus’ wrists.

Gloria: Let go!

Bailey: Come on, Lizzy. Make a mess for us.

Both Gloria’s whining and Bailey’s smug order served as motivation for Liz to use every ounce of the Whitehawk’s strength and sturdy build to pull with everything it had. Screws began jostling out of place, hydraulic fluid began to leak from Theseus’ arms, and the emergency beeps within the mech’s cockpit could just about be heard by Liz. Music to her ears.

Gloria: No. No, fuck off! Just kill me if you’re gonna be a c-cunt like this!

No such mercy was going to be given by Liz.

With one final tear and horrifying sounds of mechanical gore filling her and Gloria’s ears, Liz used the Whitehawk’s strength to rip Theseus’ arms clean off. The two limbs were held in the air like a sick trophy while they dripped amber hydraulic fluid onto the ground below. “This is why mercs like you disgust me, rookie. All that money selling yourself up the river, and what do you even have to show for it?” Just as quickly as Liz’s scolding and boasting started, the arms were tossed to the sides of Theseus’ dismembered body. Not long after, the Whitehawk grabbed its rifle again for some extra defiling.

Gloria: M-More than you ever fucking will! You and your dying cause and your evil little boyfriend too lovesick to do his fucking job. I’m not a tranny chaser who can’t accept the galaxy for what it is. I’ll always be better than you!

For once, Bailey didn’t retort. The ex-merc seemed content letting Liz tear this woman apart figuratively and, in the case of her mech suit, literally. “I see exactly what the galaxy is. I want it to be better. Deep down, Bailey does too. She has to… You, though…” Liz let her belief that Bailey could be good slip as she aimed her rifle down at Theseus’ left leg, firing at its joint with all the lead it took to make it spray more hydraulic fluid a moment later. “…You’re a failure. You’re one bad day away from bathing with the UA and blaming everyone else for it. You can’t even pretend to believe in something.” While Bailey’s insults came with an audible smirk bundled in, Liz was all business.

Liz believed every word she said.

Gloria: Your boyfriend is one bad day away from sticking a needle in your neck. You think he can change? You think you can change him? He’ll drag you down with him… and I’ll fucking laugh while he does it, cunt! …Unless you kill me!

“Call her a man again, and maybe I will… ” Once again, Liz was the only one with a response, one caked in an anger Bailey and the still-listening Aoi had scarcely heard. Seemingly, it was an anger that still couldn’t defeat the inherent lack of satisfaction killing a wretch like Gloria would leave her with. “Next time the Guild wants Bailey… tell them to send someone worth our time, rookie.” Liz didn’t give Gloria another word nor another scar to her disabled mech. The foot left Theseus’ body, and the Whitehawk trailed off towards the distant black mech watching from the sidelines.

Bailey: Nice seeing you again, Gloria. Maybe next time the ‘tranny lover’ can let you get ripped apart by the ‘tranny’ herself. Until next time~.

Gloria: I’ll fucking rip you apart! I’ll end you both if it’s the last thing I do! Your girlfriend’s gonna die for some failed m-

“I’ve heard enough out of you.” With a hum, Liz toyed around with the Whitehawk’s radio, trying to tune out Aoi’s drones and, with a light headache, getting back to the slightly less irritating bliss of squad-only communications. “Aoi, that mercenary’s dealt with. Let’s get those supplies and get out of here, before any more surprise guests pop up.” Liz displayed an impressive ability to get back to business, both the anger and the spice of a risky battle leaving her voice as quickly as they’d taken it over.

Aoi: I saw. It was kinda really hot, actually! I’ve never seen you mess around like that before! You should fight like Bailey more often… Lizzy!

Ah, and the cost of showing off already hit Liz. Fun as that was, Aoi probably wouldn’t ever see her the same after today… and maybe Liz didn’t mind all that much. Aoi was no recruit. The sparkling clean image of a flawless, calculated hero didn’t need to exist for a weird woman she’d known for years. “That’s Liz to you, Aoi.” None of that nicknaming, though. One teasing girl hitting her with Lizzy bombs was more than enough.

Aoi: Kaaaay. Well, the tiny troops are on their way. You two keep watch a liiiittle longer, and then we can all go home with a whole bunch of cool Mitra toys!

“Affirmative. Just give us the word.” With Aoi dealt with and that nickname thing hopefully nipped in the bud, Liz fiddled with her awkward radio’s dials, knobs, and buttons until, Gods willing, it was just her and Bailey on her comms. “So, that friend of yours was… interesting.” Liz’s professional candor was allowed to slip a small smidge when she was confident only Bailey could hear her. There was an air of something in her voice. Something more casual than most got to hear.

Bailey: Bet she’s screaming slurs you’ve never even heard in there. Sad, pathetic little woman. I almost feel bad not just putting her out of her misery, but I’m sure being alive as Liz’s wrecked bitch is worse than bumping her off!

“Riiiight. She’s just lucky it was at you and not… you know. You can take care of yourself. You’re a toughie… But, Ina…” Liz’s reasoning for switching to a single person’s channel was always obvious to someone like Bailey. There were things the ex-merc knew nobody else did; being moved to the same bunk as Liz created that scenario even without their odd bond, after all.

Bailey: Mhmmmm. Mama Nataliza would have killed her on the spot for making her kid cry. Almost brought a little old tear to my eye fighting for me like that, though. You really do care, huh~?

“I only did some of it for you… Besides, you know how I am about people like her.” Liz’s tone was defensive for a brief moment. A moment she expected Bailey to cling to like she always did.

Bailey: Of course. The Mercenary Guild is full of upstarts trading their souls for wealth. That’s how you put it last time, right?

Liz was partially right, but Bailey continued on before she even had a moment to open her mouth.

Bailey: You did something sweet for me, though. Seeing you fight some little bigot for me again was a fucking turn-on too… I think we can consider today’s competition yours, Lizzy.

Just like that? Bailey turning down a chance to top Liz however she wanted over a sixty-foot bar tussle with a slur and disappointment magnate? “That’s sweet… What’s the catch?” Liz knew she did good today. She knew Bailey would undoubtedly catch the heat Liz felt in being a reckless maybe-girlfriend to Bailey Cluanaire again… But this girl always had an angle for herself. What was it this time?

Bailey: No catch! We do that cute dinner date with your totally-not-daughter and Sierra. We have some drinks. We share embarrassing stories about each other… and, after, you show me the Nataliza I’ve been hungry to see again since I got here. You’re holding out on me when you top, Lizzy. I know you can fuck a girl up~.

Ah, the catch was weird sex. Obvious outcome there. “For one, Ina’s not my daughter. She’s just a friend I’m a little more supportive of.” Right on the defense, Liz. Come on, the old you would have never tossed Bailey a bone that obvious.

Bailey: Mhm. I believe you~.

Though, the old Bailey would have chewed a little more on a bone that juicy…

“Secondly… You’re on, but I want you on your best behavior. Have fun, but Ina and Sierra aren’t Sasha. They’re friends and comrades on an equal level to you. Got it?” Liz sounded more like a stern mother with each passing word of that statement, but she knew Bailey well. No talking her friends into foursomes on the first double date. Would Liz mind if that happened… no, probably not, but she had a reputation to uphold with those two. That’s a second or third date thing.

Gods, Liz. What has she done to you?

Bailey: So untrusting, aren’t you? You have my word. No funny business on the first date… Oh, and I’ll handle asking Aoi about that… thing you wanted to do~.

Another statement where Liz could practically hear the tongue tracing Bailey’s lips. She almost hated how clear her damn microphone was.

“That’s your kink, not mine. But, fine. Consider it your payment for winning the actual bet today.” All Liz had to do here was stay professional…

Bailey: If that makes getting double-stuffed by us easier on you, Lizzy. Much as I’d love to keep talking, though, Aoi’s saying we can leave, and I’d love to fit in a shower before dinner.

It was tough when your cheeks could light up a Christmas display in a festive red, but Liz pulled through after a quick, audible clearing of her throat. “I’ll catch you closer to dinner then.” Smooth, Liz. Smooth.

Bailey: Mhm. Make this a night to remember for me, Lizzy. I’ll make sure to do the same~.

Never had a casual flirt felt so much like a threat, but Liz could worry about keeping Bailey in line later. It was time to head home… and think a little on the way.

Was that moronic bigot right about one thing in her miserable life? Could Liz trust Bailey Cluanaire after so many years? Was it smart to trust the changes she saw in her as anything besides manipulation?

Was Liz an idiot for loving her again?

Guess she’d find out at this double date, wouldn’t she?