Chapter Text
“... I want you to be a walking advertisement for opportunities in destruction. Rusty out.”
As soon as the briefing line died, Rusty let out a frustrated growl. He leaned back in his pilot seat, his head faling on the headrest. Looking at the infuriatingly gray sky above his head through the external cams of his AC, he once again felt annoyance boil in his stomach.
It’s been almost two months since the PCA decided that they’d had enough of corps and mercs screwing around what was supposed to be a ‘closure area’. Two months of lost battles and withdrawals. Two months of the suppression fleet laying down the law all over Rubicon and executing anyone who got in their way, civilian casualties be damned. As much as Rusty despised the corporations, having the PCA run the show on the ground was objectively worse. At least most of the time Balam and Arquebus were too focused on smashing each other’s heads in to drag innocents into their wars.
It was exhausting. Rusty was sure that it was only a matter of time until all involved factions reached their breaking point, and then… He could only guess what would happen then, but being a realist, he didn’t expect anything good to come out of it. In fact, he was preparing for the worst.
But… It wasn't all bad.
Fighting the urge to glance at his interface, Rusty took a deep breath. Any second now…
“One new message.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, when he heard the announcement of his COM. Without even looking, he knew that the message popped up on one of his private channels. With a quick swipe of his hand, he opened the line.
“Hey, buddy. How’s life?”
A moment later, green, glowing letters emerged on his screen.
‘Adequate.’
Minimalistic as ever. Rusty chuckled. When did this start? He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when these scant messages from the odd freelancer merc turned into small silver linings that dotted his gray days. If he had to be perfectly honest, he didn’t expect them to react at all after the silent treatment during the Wallclimber mission. Hell, their first reply set off every single of Rusty’s alarm bells. But soon, one short message followed another, and suddenly… he’d actually found himself enjoying these little chats. There was something shamelessly honest, almost innocent, about them. In a world built on greed and lies, it made Rusty crave for more.
So much so, that he had to keep reminding himself why he was being friendly with the merc in the first place. Raven was a wildcard. They could be a powerful ally or a terrifying enemy. And Rusty knew exactly which one he preferred.
Still… It was a shame they never spoke.
‘You alright?’
“Great,” he replied automatically. “With the PCA running rampant, we suffered a few setbacks, but nothing we can’t handle. Besides, you getting more jobs is a nice bonus, isn’t it?”
Funny, how natural lying came to him by now. To his superiors, to his squad members, to one of the very few people Rusty considered something akin to a friend… sometimes even to himself. The reasons were always different. This time, he simply didn’t want to dim his silver lining with his bad mood. Still... a lie was a lie.
‘Not what I meant. You seem annoyed.’
Rusty blinked. For a few heartbeats, he just stared at the green letters, unsure he’d read them correctly. He frowned, quickly going through his list of usual excuses. He could pull out yet another lie, but… Moving his hand through his ruffled hair, Rusty puffed an amused breath.
“... That obvious, huh?”
‘No. An educated guess. What’s wrong?’
Looking down at the green letters on his interface, Rusty tilted his head. This was new. Raven liked asking questions. It was something V.IV had noticed early on during their conversations. In fact, it was how their little chats had started in the first place. Their first question had come in as a reply to his warning about Arquebus. They asked him about the Wall, then about the Juggernaut, then about its weapons. Then, their focus switched to a different topic, but the questions never stopped. Their curiosity seemed near boundless, involving even the most mundane things. But their favorite topic by far was Rubicon and how it used to be before the fire. Maybe that was the reason Rusty had taken a liking to them, he mused.
What they didn’t ask were personal questions about himself. Despite their chats (that over time had become very frequent), he’d rarely ever seen a simple ‘how are you doing?’ from them. Whether Walter’s Hound didn’t want to be nosey or just wasn't good at the whole ‘social thing’, Rusty couldn’t tell. Today, they seemed…
“Worried?” A grin snuck its way on his face. Somehow, this felt good. “Guess, I’m just tired,” he replied, this time, honestly. He felt tired more and more often lately. Both physically and mentally.
‘Relatable.’
The following pause felt as if they were processing the new information. Rusty decided to use it and change the topic.
“Say, what are your plans for the mission, buddy?” he asked casually, as if he was asking about their plans for the weekend. Leaning back in his seat, he rubbed the back of his stiff neck and rolled his shoulders. It really was a bad habit to spend this much time in his AC outside of missions, but the alternative was to hang around Arquebus base and possibly run into Snail. Rusty would rather stick a fork in his eye.
‘Not sure yet ’ they replied, ‘but it will be fast.’
Most likely the best approach. While Rusty had no intel on the strength of the forces inside the refinery complex, the PCA were infamous for their efficiency. Had the mission been given to him, he would've spent no more than 10 minutes inside the base. Make some fireworks, blow the place to pieces and get the hell out.
“Sounds like a job for your Songbirds,” he chuckled. “Well, enjoy yourself and give the PCA my regards.”
‘Not coming along…?’
The disappointment in the message was almost tangible. It elicited a deep sigh from Rusty.
“Sorry, can’t join the fun,” he muttered. It wasn’t exactly a shocker that Arquebus decided to only send Raven. After all, it was a simple hit-and-run job, easy enough for someone of their caliber. There was no point in sending anyone else. “Maybe next time.”
Their usually instant reply came slightly delayed.
‘... Busy?’
“I wish,” he scoffed. “Guard duty. There was an alert at one of our facilities, and now the High Brass is being paranoid. Will be leaving here soon.”
It wasn’t exactly a lie, but not the entire truth either. Snail had condemned him to guard duty… but Rusty knew it was only to prevent him from tagging along Raven on the mission, orders or no. Usually, the sleazy second in command was way too far up his own ass to pay attention to anyone other than himself, but apparently even he’d noticed Rusty’s interest in the new merc.
A sly smirk tucked at the corner of his lips. Granted, there sure was plenty to be interested in… A new message popped up on his screen, pulling his attention before his thoughts could wander off into dangerous waters.
‘Exciting.’
Rusty snorted at the dripping sarcasm hidden between the green letters. He couldn’t deny the observation. But this was the price he had to pay to keep a low profile. Outstanding performance, spotless discipline… passive obedience. Like a muzzled wolf.
‘I’ll see what I can do.’
Unsure he understood the new message correctly, Rusty blinked.
“... What?” The question forced its way out of his throat before he could suppress the surprise in his voice. “What do you mean?”
'Heading out now. Take care.'
And just like that, the channel closed. Staring at his interface, Rusty shook his head. That was… strange. He’d noticed a change in Raven’s actions and replies a while ago. At first, it was subtle, barely noticeable. After the C4 augmentations had ravaged their body and mind like a wildfire, they’d been slowly learning how to be human again. The more they spoke, the more questions he answered, the clearer he could see the person behind the green letters. Step by painful step, with every mission and every message, they seemed to become more alive. Rusty had had his eyes on the new merc since their first mission together. It was fascinating to watch them… awaken.
But this… this was different. It no longer felt like a shaky step, a trembling attempt to remember how to feel. It felt bigger. More significant than their small exchanges.
Rusty didn’t know what his buddy was planning, but he’d be damned if he didn’t meet it head on.
The rest of the day could as well have been a month. The deployment of the fourth squad to guard an observation facility was just as pointless as Rusty had expected it to be. Once he’d positioned the MTs under his command around the base, he piloted Steel Haze to an elevated spot that provided him with the perfect 360 view of the brown wasteland around him. A bleak scenery he'd grown used to. One that hadn’t always been like this.
The setting sun cast its light into a windswept canyon. A long time ago, this place had been home to one of the largest rivers on Rubicon, with wild currents and beautiful waterfalls, embraced by green stream banks.
Now, after decades of exploitation and the Fire, nothing remained but red rocks and dust…
"One new message."
Rusty almost jumped out of his skin at the sudden announcement. Couldn’t a guy just suffer through his guard duty in peace? Cursing under his breath, he looked down at his interface and his annoyance evaporated.
“Hey, buddy. Something the matter?” Rusty asked, fighting the curiosity in his own voice. He shifted in his seat. Raven was supposed to be out on a mission…
‘No. You free?’
“As free as a chained dog,” V.IV scoffed, a bit too honestly. There were too many things he could be doing right now instead of staring into space. “But I can talk, if that’s what you mean.”
‘Good.’
The answer elicited a chuckle from him. “You still won’t tell me what you’re planning, will you?”
The comms remained silent for an uncharacteristically long time, making Rusty chew his lower lip. Raven was usually quick to respond, no matter the situation. Now, waiting for a reply felt like an eternity. Subconsciously, he even leaned forward a bit, staring at the comm screen, but the message never came. Instead, the artificial voice of his COM announced.
“Incoming transmission request.”
A new screen popped up on his interface, a pitch-black rectangle without any designation or description. It should’ve immediately set off all his alerts, but instead his fingers hovered over the new screen, an inch away from touching it. But his hand quickly curled into a fist. The curiosity was so overwhelming that Rusty actively had to stop himself from opening it.
“What’s that?” he asked, keeping his casual tone.
“A front-row seat.”
The reply made him arch an eyebrow. No way. They weren’t… were they? His fingers brushed over the interface, dragging the black window into the center and expanding it. The screen lit up, flickered and the blurry picture regained its focus… Rusty looked down at a frozen bay cramped between two tall snow-covered cliffs and littered with familiar gray structures. Coarse, misshapen, like a cancer nested in the flesh of the planet. The refueling base.
Raven was transmitting the footage of their external cams and sensors directly to him.
Bad Luck seemed to be standing on a high cliff towering over the bay, barely outside the range of the PCA scanners. A Haldeman shotgun in one hand and a pulse blade in another, they looked down at their hunting grounds.
Fingers flying over his interface, Rusty double-checked the feed. The transmission was really coming from the Ice Field. Still, it took him a moment to accept that, yes, Raven was indeed sharing their cam footage with him.
As the realization slowly sank in, Rusty felt a wave of excitement rush through his bloodstream. “Damn…” He muttered, fighting off a smile. Caught off guard by his own reaction, he moved his hand through his hair. “Not gonna lie, you’re full of surprises, buddy.”
‘I know.’
Rusty barked a laugh at the reply. The green letters on his screen were drenched in smugness. He could almost see the smirk on the mercs face before his inner eye.
‘Ready?’
“Always.” A wolfish grin spread across his face.
Contrary to his expectations, Bad Luck didn’t dash down into the bay, but instead simply dropped off the cliff in a free fall. Leaned back in his pilot seat, Rusty watched the layer of ice beneath rapidly approaching.
A low chuckle emerged from his chest. Oh, this was gonna be good. He should get Snail a bottle of some cheap booze as a thank-you gift, just to piss him off. By giving Rusty the most boring assignment, the dickhead actually managed to make his day. This was so much more than just a ‘front-row seat’. It was Raven’s show of trust. By sharing their video feed, they were providing V.IV with valuable information that made them extremely vulnerable. Something any AC pilot with even a single functioning brain cell would only do with their operator, the only person they trusted with their life. Even a half-assed hacker could trace the frequency back to the AC and make it unusable within minutes. The message of this gesture was crystal clear.
It made his heart skip a beat. Sure, it would’ve been fun to blow up some PCA bastards together with his buddy, instead of standing around. But, somehow, this felt better. More… intimate.
Seconds before the impact, the engines of the AC roared to life, thrusting the mech across the ice at a breakneck speed and taking course towards the nearest set of towering gray buildings in the distance.
‘Main System: Activating Combat Mode,’ the synthetic COM voice announced over the feed.
His breath hitched. The familiar cue sent a rush of adrenaline through his system, forcing him to straighten in his seat. A visceral reaction of his body Rusty didn’t expect. He took a deep, controlled breath to calm himself and focused his attention on the screen. There, in the distance, he saw two dark humanoid silhouettes standing between the buildings.
‘Enjoy.’
The blue glow of the pulse blade illuminated his screen, drowning out the green writing of the message. The flash was instantly followed by an explosion of fire and torn metal. Without slowing down, Bad Luck pulled the blade out one of the MTs, leaving a clean hole in its metallic torso. The next explosion detonated before its smoking remains hit the ground. Through the outburst of sparks and fumes, Rusty watched the second MT go down, the upper chunk of its frame missing.
Bad Luck reloaded its shotgun. Not a heartbeat later, the boosters once again roared, as Raven piloted their AC straight towards the main gate of the refinery complex. The direct approach made Rusty arch his eyebrow. Their preferred tactics usually involved more maneuvering and less… well, ‘in your face’.
“The audacity…” He chuckled. Adjusting his screen, he increased the field of view to the maximum.
‘You wanted destruction.’
The message came the same moment a new transmission rang through the coms.
“Code 15! Contact with AC of unknown affiliation!”
“Suspected corporate hire. Single AC.”
“Terminate immediat…”
They didn't get to finish. The unmistakable sound of launching Songbirds was followed by two explosions that tore the Enforcement Squad mech on top of the ramp before them to shreds. Huh. So Raven had listened to his suggestion.
Bad Luck swayed sideways to evade incoming fire, playfully dancing between homing missiles. The world on the screen blurred into a white and gray mess, occasionally shaken by a too close for comfort rocket impact. But Rusty knew that Bad Luck’s every movement was impeccably calculated. Not a single redundant boost, not one wrong step. It was what set Raven apart from other pilots. Absolute efficiency.
The ease of their movements felt almost taunting. PCA’s projectiles kept missing the AC by the width of a hair. Rusty smirked. He could only imagine how bloody infuriating it was to see the enemy emerge from yet another pall of smoke perfectly unscathed.
Boosters blasting with full force, Bad Luck soared high into the air. The camera feed swung to their left, briefly focusing on a set of pipes and containers further in the distance. Fuel storage tanks, Rusty concluded. Two loud thumps announced the second duo of Songbirds grenades fired in that very direction. Not a second later, the AC rushed down towards another Enforcement Squad mech like a bird of prey. The pilot made a clumsy attempt to evade, throwing themselves to the side, but they weren’t fast enough. A flash of blue light illuminated the screen as Bad Luck rammed the pulse blade into the metallic body, grinding it several meters along the concrete ground with a deafening screech until only an unrecognizable mess remained.
Fierce, ruthless, and beautiful in its execution.“Yeah, just like that…” Rusty purred, eyes glued to the screen.
He had no love for senseless violence, but there was something about the way Raven fought that made a battle feel more like… like… Subconsciously, he hummed, searching for the right word.
Bad Luck smoothly glided over a gigantic metal pipe, past stacked containers that looked more like toy boxes. Engines roaring, it continued its way towards the heart of the base, the refinery.
“Code 5. Unaffiliated AC. Moving in to terminate.” Another PCA announcement rang through the feed.
Rusty narrowed his eyes. AA18A Light Cavalry. Heavily armed and mobile, they comprised the main fighting arm of the PCA suppression fleet. The LC rose in the air, flying towards Bad Luck. It rushed to the right, firing a salvo of homing missiles, but quickly changed its direction and moved in for a direct strike. The edge of their energy blade moved past the AC, missing its left arm by what looked like mere inches. The LC came dangerously close, so close that Rusty could see the deep scratches across their plating. It was the last mistake they made. A deafening shot rang out, and the mech jerked, tumbling to the ground. More shots followed, tearing through armor and metal, as Bad Luck emptied one charge of the Haldeman after the other into the staggered LC at almost point-blank range. A short dash backwards and the Songbirds finished the job, sending torn parts and pieces of metal flying in all directions.
An artwork.
Rusty exhaled the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Bad Luck painted a picture of destruction on the battlefield like an artist on a canvas. There was a subtle elegance to their brutality, a deliberate care behind every shot. Witnessing them fight like this, through a direct, personal feed, felt like a privilege.
Chewing his lower lip, Rusty pondered. “Does Walter know of this?” It was a rhetorical question, really. There was no way in hell the Handler would’ve allowed his Hound to share such sensitive information. But Rusty couldn’t help himself. He wanted to hear the answer, wanted them to spell it out.
‘He doesn’t need to.’
The reply sent a surprising jolt of excitement down his spine. He tried to suppress a grin that fought its way onto his face, to no avail. The unspoken implication hovered in the air between them, heavy with meaning. Rusty decided to leave it uncommented. Taking this further now would be too… distracting. For both of them. So, he focused his attention back on the cam feed.
Bad Luck briefly stopped atop a cliff and looked down at a massive black bridge that connected the frontal storage and loading area with the main complex. Far in the distance to their left, Rusty could already see the dome of the refinery plant. The AC dropped down and rushed straight across the bridge, weaving between incoming gunfire and homing missiles from the defense artillery. Instead of circling around the bridge and attacking from behind, they once again went in for a frontal assault. Bright flashes of orange and red filled the cam feed, forcing Rusty to narrow his eyes. A pair of turrets was cut in half with a three sixty spin of Bad Luck’s pulse blade. Smoothly, with an almost casual ease that made Rusty suck in the air between his teeth.
“Poser,” he chuckled, when Bad Luck danced between the two heavy artillery cannons at the end of the bridge, shooting one of them down with the shotgun and blowing the other up with the Songbirds.
As Raven continued their rampage through the refinery complex, their comms got flooded by PCA chatter that grew increasingly more frantic with each passing minute.
“Code 5! Hostile AC sighted!
“Code 15!”
“Where’s the vanguard?! Handle it!”
“Requesting backup from the System! Code 78!”
Took them long enough, Rusty thought. He knew that the PCA had the tendency to underestimate ‘single ACs’. It happened plenty of times during his own run-ins with their forces. Most of the time, they called for reinforcements when it was already too late. But now the clock was ticking.
Leaned back in his pilot seat, he watched Raven mow down MTs, LCs and artillery units like a force of nature. They seemed to take his joke about the ‘walking advertisement’ very seriously.
… Yes, it had definitely been a good idea to follow his gut feeling and get on the good side of this merc. This private show only confirmed Rusty’s opinion of them. Watching Raven take the base apart with the precision of a neurosurgeon and with the ease of pressing a button was both breathtaking and terrifying.
Smashing through the last standing MT, Bad Luck dashed towards a vertical catapult located right next to the refinery dome. With an almost graceful leap high into the air, the AC landed on the edge of the building and focused its camera feed on the huge gaping hole torn into its side by an explosion. The result of the PCA takeover a few weeks ago, Rusty mused. It wouldn’t take much to overload the energy plant inside. Crossing his arms on his chest, he waited for the signature launching sound of the Songbirds, but instead Bad Luck turned around. Their external cameras looked up to the sky.
Rusty frowned.
“Code 23. Attending the scene.”
“The Watchpoint report checks out.”
Far in the distance, the cams registered two bright dots that grew bigger by the second. The reinforcements. They arrived faster than Rusty had expected. Much faster.
He steepled his fingers, contemplating. Only two of them meant that they either were a vanguard sent to slow the intruder down and the main force was still on the way, or they were…
“Callsign ‘Raven’...”
“Priority subject for termination. High on the list.”
Two heavy mechs landed on the wide open platform several hundred meters away from the refinery dome.
Ekdromoi. The PCA’s very own executioners. Being a priority target himself, Rusty was all too familiar with them. Equipped with the best crafts their research labs had to offer, armed to the teeth and piloted by the PCA elites, they were, without a question, a force to be reckoned with.
And yet… the odds were not in their favor. A few months ago, Rusty would have told Walter to look for a new Hound, but he'd learned much since his first encounter with 'Raven'. The merc’s victory wasn’t a matter of ‘if’.
A smirk spread on his lips, as a rogue idea formed in his head.
“How fast can you take them down?” Rusty asked casually. The reply was immediate.
‘4 mins.’
Surely, they can do better than that…
“You have 3 and a half.”
Fingers flying over the interface, Rusty opened a timer.
The camera feed shook slightly, as if Bad Luck actually physically chuckled. Its attention fixated on the new enemy, the AC fired its grenades at the energy plant without even looking at it. Boosters roared, launching them forward. The two PCA SPs followed the example, but while one of them dashed to the right in a flanking maneuver, the second one lunged directly at Raven at an insane speed. A long blue pike materialized in its right hand. They were going for an impalement, but Bad Luck kept the collision course.
And Rusty's eyes widened.
The AC reached back behind its left shoulder and pulled out an enormous Gatling gun from the weapon bay. Its fourth armament.
"Damn… Now you’re spoiling me, buddy,” Rusty purred. His eyes were glued to the sleek HU-BEN armament that looked like it had been delivered but seconds ago.
The weapon howled and began emptying its magazine into the rapidly approaching SP. Despite the barrage of gunfire, it didn’t try to evade. Energy pike ready, it stormed straight at Bad Luck. A gamble. One well aimed hit off the pike would be enough to incapacitate the AC, if the SP pilot actually reached his target.
It was as if the time around them slowed down. The game was on. Who would falter first? Whose machine would give in? Suddenly, the cam feed shook violently and static filled Rusty’s screen. A hit from behind, he realized. Seems like the second SP wasn’t wasting any time. But Raven didn’t even flinch, riddling the incoming PCA craft with bullets, until, a split second before the collision, it staggered. Its pike lowered, it trembled. Using the opportunity, Bad Luck continued shooting it point-blank. Pieces of torn metal, sparks and brass flung across the screen like a gruesome firework when the LS began losing altitude and fell to the ground in an explosion of fire and machine parts.
“One… helluva… merc.”
On that, they agreed.
He exhaled a breath he was holding. His heart was racing from the adrenaline rush. At least he hoped that was the reason. Reflexively, he moved his hand through his hair, smoothing the stray strands.
He tried to shift his focus back on the feed, on Bad Luck locked in a dance with the last remaining PCA SP, but his thoughts kept wandering. Rusty was supposed to feel good about this. It was a show of trust, a commodity as rare as Coral on Rubicon. Raven, Walter’s best Hound, the Wallclimber, they trusted him. A goal he’d been trying to achieve for a while now. This should’ve felt like a victory. Why did he feel like he was losing control, instead? Why… why did it suddenly feel like trust wasn’t enough?
His screen lit up in an explosion of purple sparks, as Bad Luck dashed backwards, mere inches out of range of a pulse explosion. And again. The PCA pilot was trying to keep the AC at a long distance, Rusty realized. Seeing as their armaments were most effective in mid to close range, it was the only logical course of action. Apparently, the pilot was planning to comfortably shower Bad Luck with rockets and plasma charges from afar, but he wasn’t the one setting the rules on this battlefield. Raven was.
When the SP fired its third charged plasma shot, Bad Luck didn’t fall back. Boosters roaring, it rushed directly towards the projectile, diving underneath it at the last second. Rusty watched the purple arrow pass slightly above the central external camera as if in slow motion, blurring and distorting the feed. A moment later, the transmission shook violently, accompanied by the deafening screeching of metal against metal. Bad Luck had rammed the SP, sending it tumbling backwards, but it wasn’t done just yet.
Spinning around to get behind the PCA craft, it powered up its pulse blade. A blue ray flashed across the screen. With one smooth swing, the AC cut off both missile launchers from its opponent's shoulders. The armaments dropped to the ground with a pathetic clang.
“You don’t play with your food,” Rusty chuckled. The cut could’ve easily been a stab right through the core. Apparently, Raven decided to let their prey live a little longer.
But only a little.
The Gatling gun came back to life, unloading a full magazine worth of bullets into the tumbling SP until only a smoking pile of deformed metal remained.
“No one outruns… the EKDROMOI…”
Bad Luck reloaded its gun, more as a reflex than out of necessity, seeing as there was no one left to use it on.
A familiar silence descended upon the battlefield like a shroud, and Rusty felt the tension in his own body dissipate. The quiet after a battle never failed to miss its effect on him, even if he wasn’t actually participating. He glanced at the timer on his screen and a wicked grin spread on his face.
00:02:43… 00:02:44… 00:02:45…
Raven beat his challenge by almost a minute.
“... You magnificent bastard,” Rusty whispered, quietly enough for the compliment not to get picked up by his microphone. He wanted to blame it on the Gatling gun, on the fourth armament he'd completely forgotten. Had he known that Raven was carrying one, he would've set the bar higher. But Rusty knew that even without the gun, the merc would've easily bested 3.5 minutes.
“Nice work,” he said, trying to keep his tone casual. It wasn’t easy. He barely contained a disappointed sigh when the feed on his screen turned black. “That was one hell of a show, buddy.”
‘Glad to be of service.’
“What’s next for you?”
‘Rest. It’s an order.’
Ah, so Walter did take care of his hound. Figures. After all the successful missions, they were probably his most important asset. Because, obviously, that was the only thing that gave a person their value on Rubicon.
“Good, you deserve it,” he smiled, making a mental note to ask them what they actually did in their free time. Rusty tucked it away for later, along with dozens of other questions he’d probably never ask because they felt too personal.
‘... Feeling better?’
The green letters on the screen made him blink in surprise. Right. They’d done this for him. Rusty hesitated. He wanted to say something. Something other than a lighthearted one-liner. After the act of faith, Raven deserved something… real. It sat right there, at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. It felt like he’d cross an invisible line if he did.
“Heh… when did I become such a coward?” He muttered under his breath, moving his hand through his hair.
‘Come again?’
“Yeah, I do. You worry too much, buddy,” he replied, slipping back into his confident tone and grinning. It was better that way. Safer. But his grin immediately faded.
‘Mission complete.’
Why did this feel like he was losing a fight? He wanted to laugh out loud at the joke, but the laugh got stuck in his throat. When his voice returned to him, it was quiet. Almost a whisper.
“Thanks.”
‘Any time. Buddy.”