Rizen

An "ugly first draft" web light novel with simple illustrations. All done by AealZX

[aealrizen]

The last memory on the data chip held a weight to it both because it was the last one Midas had to look at, and because he knew from the first few seconds that it was actually the last memory he’d had before he’d lost them all. It was some time after his twentieth birthday, and he was sitting on a flat table wearing a surgical gown, and a small rat in his lap.

Morg.

Midas remembered that rat now.

“You’re a lot more excited than I thought you’d be,” Hesopher spoke, double checking the devices and systems for the thirtieth time. He was scared. It wasn’t even  nervousness, but full on fear. And yet they were doing this anyway, because they had enough proof that it would work, and they weren’t sure how much time Midas had left. Their first experiments had been with dinner before it was cooked. Slabs of meat that still had a bone in them, injected with nanites to see if they would follow the old documents and convert the dead meat to a cyborg system without harming the tissue. The bone material was replaced with metal, and the muscle and other tissues laced with microscopic fibers to strengthen them both for health and to be able to work with the heavier bone replacements. Once they had become experienced enough with that to not have any flaws they had captured a field rat and modified their program for it. That was Morg. A healthy little rat that had so far lived a lot longer than expected for a wild rat, and was nibbling away at a cracker Midas had given him.

After Morg they had done their first terrifying test with Midas, and started with the pinky toe on his left foot. Something that wasn’t life threatening if he lost it. But they found they didn’t have to worry. The years and years that they’d put into perfecting their research had made the surgery a perfect success.

And so they had tried something else.

Midas let Morg hop back to the ground and scurry out of the room, then flexed his left hand to remind himself that this would work. His entire arm up to his elbow, and both of his legs up to his knees were already converted. The same subtle heaviness in his limbs that present day Midas was extremely familiar with weighed on those limbs. They still ached at that time, but it was just the muscles. The bone deep pain that he felt everywhere else was almost nonexistent there. It was just the blood from the rest of his corrupted skeleton he was born with that still caused him grief. But today they were going to fix that.

“I’m excited to be normal,” Midas answered, looking up to his dad with a hope filled grin, raising his hand and flexing it as well as swinging his legs slightly to emphasize his point.

Hesopher couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped him at the choice of words. “You’ll hardly be what people consider normal. But… seeing you be able to run across the field and chase butterflies without ending up bedridden for a week will be nice,” he admitted, the motions from Midas reminding him that this would work, and the conversation giving him something to look forward to.

Drawing a shuddering breath to steady himself more, Hesopher brought the syringe of anesthesia over and inserted the needle in the line closer to Midas’ arm after he obediently laid down. “...Ready?” he asked quietly.

Midas could only give him a warm smile. “Yeah,” he responded softly. “Whatever happens…. Thanks for indulging my wants for so long,” he added. Even if he did end up dying, which he knew would have happened within the next year or two even if they didn’t do this, he wanted his dad to know that it wasn’t his dad’s fault. Midas wanted to take full responsibility for whatever happened, but didn’t want to somehow jinx the surgery now by voicing the possibility that it could kill him. So instead he just thanked his dad for always being there for him, and going along with all of his needs and wants.

Hesopher seemed to understand, his eyes stinging and blurring with tears as he rested a hand on Midas’ cheek fondly. “... I love you. My little Midas,” he responded. That was enough. He would have plenty of time to speak to him longer once he woke up again.

Midas’ smile just grew to show teeth, and he rested his hand over the top of his dad’s. “I love you too dad. You…” he stopped himself there. Those words could be said later. So instead he just grinned again. “I’ll see you when I wake up,” he bid, lowering his hand back into position.

“...See you when you wake,” Hesopher agreed, squeezing the syringe that caused his son to fall into a dreamless sleep.

All of the memories from the data chip settled in Midas’ mind like a heavy blanket of warmth as understanding flooded his mind along with them. So many of the questions he’d had were explained now; even questions he hadn’t realized would have an answer. He didn’t know how to interact with people because he hadn’t grown up with much interaction outside of a few. He didn’t know how to tell when he was sick because he didn’t know what it was like to be healthy. Sick felt normal. Pain, and fatigue had been his every day. He knew so much about programs, and machines, because that had been his escape from the prison his physical body had felt like. And throughout it all his dad had been there, holding him tight when it all became too much. Gently following on with his crazy, childish ideas that strangely were what he needed.

And yet he hadn’t followed through with his last promise. He hadn’t been with his dad when he’d woken up, as though it were something that was his fault.

Blinking his eyes open, Midas looked up from where he was kneeling in the flower fields Hesopher had mentioned finally being able to see him run through, looking his father in the eyes that quickly became blurred.

It was easy to see the change in Midas’ expression when he looked at him now. Midas was still his son regardless of if he remembered him or not, but having his little boy looking up at him with such a familiar expression caused Hesopher to choke on fresh tears. “...Good morning,” he said softly, thinking back to the last conversation he’d had with his son.

Midas’s form shuddered with a weak laugh mixed with a sob. It was hard to find breath to speak, especially when he pushed himself to his feet again while rubbing his eyes. “It worked,” he responded, voice muffled through his tear closed throat. Forcing himself to take a deeper breath so he could speak more clearly, Midas gave up trying to rub the water from his eyes and looked to Hesopher. “It doesn’t hurt, Dad.”

It was Hesopher’s turn to let out a choked laugh, just a small huff as bittersweet relief washed over him because of those simple words. Yet Midas’ smile faded as he couldn’t keep from sobbing harder, suddenly stumbling forward while sliding his arms around Hesopher’s torso in the tightest hug he’d ever felt from his son.

“Daddy it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Midas’ sobbed confirmation that those eight years of painstaking testing, sleepless nights, and smothering fear had succeeded to free him from his life of pain trapped to a hospital bed by plastic vines broke the iron weight that had been sitting in Hesopher’s heart for the past three years. He hadn’t heard Midas call him daddy since he was a smaller child, but it seemed to fit. There he was. His perfectly healthy little boy sobbing in his arms, and making every tear Hesopher had shed alone before today worth it a thousand times over. It was hard for either of them to say anything more, and Hesopher didn’t care that Midas’ now above human strength was making it just a little hard to breathe. The most cherished thing he’d ever had in his life aside from his wife was now back where he could hold him, and he wasn’t going to let go.

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First

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aaaand there's all of Midas' backstory ;v; I cried a lil writing that last part.

now I just have to figure out how to wrap everything up at least somewhat coherently ._.

[aealrizen]

The first thing Hesopher did after getting Midas set on a surgical table in a room that wasn’t his usual was to get a blood transfusion connected to his port. He wasn’t sure how much blood Midas had lost, but he didn’t want to take any chances. He was already looking paler than usual under the blood smeared on his face. The next task was to smother a hemostatic gel over the wound to get the bleeding to stop, and then clean the injury with the scrutiny of a jeweler looking for any defect in a gem. Midas obediently stayed quiet and let his dad move his head around as needed, long used to being examined and taken care of by him. It was tempting to try and stick his tongue through the new hole in his cheek, but he didn’t think his dad would appreciate that. So instead he kept his gaze towards the ceiling and started his usual pass time of counting the distinct marks in the stone while trying to ignore the light headedness.

He hadn’t thought anything of it at first, but the longer Hesopher worked the more pinched his brow became, and the more anxious Midas could feel being smothered in his frame. Midas wanted to reassure him, but considering talking would aggravate part of what was the problem he saved his words for later. Much later it would seem, for it took quite awhile for Hesopher to clean the wound enough to satisfy him before he started stitching it up. At least it was enough time for the lightheadedness to go away, even if he did feel a little cold now. Blood transfusions always felt weird.

Only after he had finished stitching up the fresh laceration did Hesopher speak. “How are you feeling?” He sounded tense, and Midas could hear the subtle frustration in his voice even though he was trying to hide it. He just knew his dad too well by now.

“...Okay,” Midas answered semi honestly. He never felt okay. But compared to how he could be feeling he guessed he was alright. “Hurts, but I’m okay. Like a seven I guess? Wait, no…um…” Was that his face that hurt, or the bones beneath the skin? He couldn’t help raising his hand to gingerly touch the new stitches, confirming that Hesopher had indeed numbed the site before stitching it. Because of course he did. Midas hadn’t felt him putting the stitches in even though he’d watched the thread when he could see it. “Never mind, it’s numb. It’s just the usual that hurts,” he corrected, lowering his hand again. “Um… the rest of me feels about normal I guess? Just the usual after transfusion chill.”

Hesopher didn’t seem like he knew how he wanted to react to Midas’ response. It was good he felt ‘normal’ in the sense that apparently the new injury wasn’t bothering him. But that just meant the rest of his symptoms could be making it hard for him to notice. A seven? That revelation alone made Hesopher’s heart ache and expression fall. It was almost long enough since the last dose that he could give Midas more painkillers at least. Perhaps once they finished dressing the new cut.

But first Hesopher wordlessly stood from the stool to fetch a thick blanket, tossing it over Midas and making sure he was fully covered from the chest down. “Sorry, I should have gotten this first,” he apologized, hands momentarily resting on Midas’ form in melancholy. It was only for a moment though, and he soon moved to pick up the antibiotic ointment to smother over the new wound.

Watching his dad’s sullen, withdrawn mood, Midas felt his own fall into worry. Was it really that bad? Was he upset with him? He seemed a little annoyed. Frustrated at least. “...You’re upset?” Midas eventually asked, just to be sure he wasn’t misunderstanding the sighs his dad was making.

“...A little,” Hesopher admitted, always wanting to remain honest with his son.

It hurt to hear that. Midas was always worried that Hesopher would tell him he couldn’t go outside with the local kids. And hearing that he was upset now made him afraid he was going to get scolded and told he couldn’t play with the others anymore. That and he just generally didn’t like to worry his dad.

“...Is it because I got hurt?” he then asked, just to make sure. When Hesopher gave a short hum of confirmation Midas couldn't help feeling a little defensive.

“...What would you expect me to do? Let Conor get hit?” Midas spoke again, his jumble of thoughts causing an alternate scenario to be what made it to vocal form.

“Yes-?” Hesopher answered almost automatically, Midas’ question somehow reflecting a thought Hesopher already had. Conor was way more healthy than Midas was. Connor had the immune system, and the repair system that would more easily handle the injury. But Conor was also a lot smaller than Midas, and as soon as he realized what he’d said Hesopher’s mood immediately shifted to regret, and the frustration fled. “No. I mean-,” he stammered, his fingers faltering as his mind actually considered that equally unwanted possibility in his mind’s eye. The guilt from even suggesting having someone else get injured was quick to flood Hesopher’s emotions, and his already shaky nerves ended up too unsettled to properly dab Midas’ nose without injuring him. So he lowered his hands to rest on his lap for a moment while drawing a shuddering breath. “.... I’d rather no one gotten hurt,” he clarified.

That second answer earned a small smile from Midas, knowing that was the real way his dad felt and the first answer had just been his protectiveness for his son overruling his real emotions. Seeing his dad had now shifted from irritated to anxious, Midas reached up to rest his hand over Hesopher’s arm. “I know dad,” he assured softly. “I’m okay. I promise,” he tried to assure. “We’ll be more careful next time.”

The last line was a semi subtle request to confirm if he was still allowed outside or not. Yet grounding Midas seemed to have never crossed Hesopher’s mind, for he ended up just looking up quietly and gaining a worried, but endlessly fond smile as he reached up to cup Midas’ uninjured cheek. “...Tell me that when you have color back in your face,” he pathetically scolded, letting out a soft huff to try and pull himself to a more hopeful mood.

The comment caught Midas off guard, but he couldn’t help snickering a little. “Fair,” he agreed, letting himself relax more fully now that his concerns about being punished were smothered. It was only then that the full weight of the energy he’d burned that day settled over him, and he rested his head back on the pillow with a sigh, letting his miserable state finally show in his expression. “...I’m tired,” he admitted, just so Hesopher didn’t get scared about him suddenly closing his eyes after sighing. “After you’re done, can we go back to bed?”

Hesopher wasn’t surprised Midas was exhausted, even though he’d only been away from home for a few hours. So he just hummed in agreement to the request. “Yeah… I’ll grab the extra cushions too. We can put a movie on,” he responded, going back to bandaging the wound on his son’s face.

They were lucky the shard hadn’t hit one of Midas’ eyes. But Hesopher’s hope that he wouldn’t get sick from infection wasn't answered. Midas couldn’t remember much of the next few days even without having lost them to the harddrive, but it wasn’t like that was something new for him. He vaguely remembered Hesopher contacting Crystal for help getting a different kind of antibiotic that wasn’t often delivered to the city from Cerah. She’d had one of her contacts do an urgent run for her, and thankfully soon after Hesopher had the medicine Midas started doing better.

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First

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one last memory to go after this one =7=

[aealrizen]

It was common for the nearby kids to push open the cathedral doors, sandals slapping the tile as they hurried upstairs to peek in the rooms. Little self designated heroes who had decided it was their job to make sure Midas wasn’t lonely, small hands hanging on the door handle as they asked their repeated question of the day. “Hi, can Midas come out and play today?”

The oldest of them was eight years younger than Midas, but he didn’t mind. On the days he could go with them he did enjoy being able to amuse them, and indulge in their mutual quest to keep him entertained. It was how he’d ended up learning to shoot pistols. The kids had found parts in the scrap dropped off from the other cities before, and after Midas had fixed them up they insisted on setting up a shooting range for him to show off in. He had learned that he was good at it too, when his hands didn’t shake from bone deep pain. The weapons were only toys now, deliberately rigged to only shoot enough plasma to knock the cans and bottles with a soft thump that would only bruise the most tender of skin. The kids loved it, especially since they liked to be the ones throwing the different targets into the air.

They didn’t always play with the pistols though. Another favorite pastime was to just push Midas around in a wheelchair and explore the overgrown city. The last place in their world that had plants that grew freely. It was unable to support much human life alongside the greenery though, so most of the ruins still remained. Endless playgrounds for unoccupied minds.

It was during one such excursion that the kids had decided to take a break in a more open clearing. Dusty stone with patches of moss and other plants crawling over the remains of life from before the cyborg war. Midas was just sitting where they had pushed him, watching as the four kids ranging from four years old to eight explored the area.

“Look! A slide!” Millie, the second oldest by only a few days, declared from the crumbling yet long settled second floor as she held up a battered old sign that was just slightly bigger than her. Midas could only chuckle as she dropped the sign on the top of one of the sloping stones and immediately flopped on top of it to slide down the rubble. It was clever, and Midas was pleased to see shy little Meri’s interest get piqued after seeing Millie reach the end safely. As she hefted the sign up again and rushed off to make the trek back up the stairs Meri joined her, plush bear forever held in her arms.

“See how far you can go at the end,” Midas called to them, giving them a goal to focus on as they played. He could hear the two boys, Conor and Seth, banging on various debris to see what sounds it would make. A crashing melody of obnoxious music and laughter. These kinds of days were usually exhausting, but Midas cherished them. Time outside his room with energy being spent that wasn’t his.

Even this day, which ended less than pleasant, was still important enough for him to remember above others.

The kids had no idea, and Midas could never blame them since none of them could know. He was just thankful that he could recognize the sound of pressurized air hissing moments before it popped the container it was in. Conor’s metal pipe had clanged against something hollow, the ringing causing him to laugh and smack the half buried canister again, unaware of Midas lurching from his chair and forcing his horrible limbs to run towards him.

“CONOR!”

Midas’s voice was accented by his thin frame bodily slamming into the child, only managing to knock him more than a meter away because of their height difference. Midas would have apologized for being so rough, but he didn’t think he would have been able to carry Conor away before the canister burst.

And burst it did. The tiny hiss of air that cut off with the second bang became a shrieking pop as the metal burst outward in ugly peeled shards. Midas barely felt something collide with the bottom of his jaw, his mind more focused on keeping himself from bashing his head on the concrete as he was knocked away by the impact. He caught himself on his arms, and immediately noted the splatter of blood coloring the grey stone below him.

“Midas!”

“Mi-!”

“Midaas!”

Only Meri was too shocked to shout, and Midas mentally assessed his own situation as well as theirs without moving. None of them were crying out of pain, so they shouldn’t be hurt. And when he blinked both eyes they seemed blurred from tears, but otherwise undamaged.

He was lucky.

If one could consider having half their face sliced open from jaw to forehead, lucky. It stung horribly, and Midas was afraid to raise his head and have the blood spilling from the bridge of his nose end up in his mouth or down his throat instead. He was also afraid of traumatizing the kids if they saw it, so he had double motivation to keep his face hidden and low.

“I’m alright,” Midas assured as calmly as he could, hand hovering near his face. “Millie, please take Seth and Meri back to the center square with the rest of the adults. Conor, go fetch my dad,” he directed without looking up at them.

“B’but-,” Conor began to protest, and Midas could hear feet getting closer to him.

“Now please,” Midas cut off, putting a little firmness into his tone to hopefully leave no room for discussion.

There was only a moment more before he heard Millie shuffling to grab Meri and Seth’s hands, quickly dragging them away. “... Okay,” Conor relented, having the others’ movements be enough motivation for him to comply. “I’ll be right back!” he promised quickly, turning to run after the other three.

It took less than ten minutes for others to return. The exploding metal had been loud enough to cause people to investigate, but Midas had still managed to pull the loose hospital shirt over his head and use it to put pressure on his bleeding face as best he could.

“Midas?!” Hesopher was borderline panicked when he got there, collapsing to his knees next to his son as Midas sat up a little more straight and gave him a half hidden grin.

“Hey dad,” he greeted, trying to ignore the taste of blood in his mouth and hoping he didn’t look too creepy with it dripping down his chin. It couldn’t be that bad. Head wounds always bled more than necessary.

It turned out to be worse than Midas had thought. Hesopher had taken only one peek under the makeshift bandage before he’d scooped Midas up and started running back home. He didn’t bother asking what had happened, knowing neither of them would have the breath to speak until they were home.

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First

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And finally get to learn how he got that giant scar on his face X'DD a complete accident, wooo

also a bit on where Midas knows Meri from XD

[aealrizen]

It seemed at some point they had contacted Crystal through an underground network. It wasn’t an unfamiliar place for them, considering Hesopher used it all the time to contact and hire mercenaries to retrieve materials for Eutoli as a whole that Cerah and Andaopos weren’t supplying for them. It was through working with those clients that they had learned about Crystal, and her ‘rumoured’ time spent helping people with cybernetic parts. However, whether it was because of their stance to remain under alias, or some other reason, Crystal was proving to be unwilling to fully work with them. It had been a rough few days, something had been concerning Hesopher enough to hinder their progress on developing their own method for cybernetic surgery. It was currently late at night, and Hesopher had unintentionally fallen asleep where he had been cuddling Midas. He was fourteen now, and couldn’t sleep because of the usual full body ache from his bones and faulty blood. And that, plus the state his father was in had put him in a sour mood.

He had his father’s laptop on his stomach, staring at the most recent conversation between Crystal and Hesopher. Neither of them were using real names, and Hesopher had been fairly secretive about everything about them and their situation. He didn’t want to be traced back. Yet something about being sleep deprived and irritated made Midas reach out instead of leaving it to his dad as he had been doing.

‘You’re being really annoying, you know? We’re not asking for much. Just a name of a book we can look into about the problem or something.’

He hadn’t been expecting a response, and shortly after he’d sent it he considered deleting it. His dad would scold him for being rude once he saw it, and they didn’t need to piss off their contact to the point of blocking them. But to his surprise a response came back quickly.

‘Who is this?’

Oh, she recognized it wasn’t Hesopher really quickly. Smart lady.

‘The son,’ Midas typed back quickly, blinking hazily in his sleepless daze.

The next response took longer to show up, but it seemed to be both because of length and because Crystal had taken a moment to consider or rewrite her words.

‘Look kid. Being a cyborg is not a good life. People don’t like cyborgs, it’s hard to maintain the equipment, and resources aren’t plentiful. Stop chasing a fairytale, and go live your life.’

It was sensible. Any healthy person would look at the prejudice cyborgs had to deal with, and the resources and potential risks they had, and would turn the option down without a moment’s hesitation. And Crystal was rather noble for trying to keep people away from falling into the darker parts of society, where other city’s laws made living risky.

But Midas wasn’t healthy, and they were out of options.

So after an annoyed huff Midas opened the camera app and snapped a picture from the camera facing him and his exhausted dad. And for good measure he stuck his tongue out and held his middle finger up to it as well. The picture was then sent along with a short response.

‘Ain’t got much of one.’

He didn’t wait for an answer, the budding migraine suddenly making itself fully known and causing his head to throb and the light from the laptop to stab at his eyes. With a soft groan, Midas clapped the laptop’s lid closed and shoved it aside, rolling to bury his face into his dad’s chest. As soon as the light was gone the pain in his head subsided considerably, and he drew a steadying breath and let it out slowly. The pain wasn’t gone, it never truly was. But after a few minutes of complete darkness it dropped back down to a state he could manage. Enough that he ended up falling into a half sleep for several hours.

The next morning they had woken up to a response from Crystal.

‘Your son seems to know when it’s time to pull the empathy card.’

‘You have our support.’

With the responses came a compressed file holding two complete documents containing the research notes on full body cyborgs from one of the original scientists of the past. And through his tears of relief and laughter, Hesopher still made Midas apologize to Crystal for the rude gesture.

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First

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This one is pretty short compared to some of the others, but the next part is too different and long X'D I really had fun drawing this one too

[aealrizen]

Childhood was half a memory even before Midas had lost everything. He was stuck inside a lot, sometimes unable to leave the hospital bed on his own. His father was always there, as his caretaker and support. Some days were good, almost normal. Other days there wasn’t much more Hesopher could do other than cradle Midas in a ball as he sobbed, waiting for the painkillers to dull the ache. Midas had taken to more mild hobbies because of it. A lot of books were borrowed, puzzles created for him as he got bored of the others being too easy. Time spent on his dad’s lap watching him program very simple software had piqued Midas’ interest when he was a toddler, and being confined to bed rest often had only nurtured his soon insatiable interest. Hesopher often found broken machines dismantled in Midas’ room, only to be reassembled sometime later into something functioning, but often scraped together into another purpose.

It was from Midas that the idea had come. A twelve year old boy absorbing the contents of a huge book as though it could provide more nutrients for his thin body than the sandwich he was absently nibbling out of obedience and not desire.

“Hey Dad?” Midas called, finally willing the courage to ask.

“Hmm?” Hesopher hummed, looking over from his computer to give his son his full attention. He often worked in the same room, just to be there when he was needed as well as unable to let a single moment go just in case Midas wouldn’t be there much longer.

“What if…,” Midas started, pausing to chew his lip gently before hesitantly continuing as he looked to his dad. “What if I became a cyborg? Wouldn’t that cure me?”

The question stunned Hesopher into silence, all of the warnings and condemnation associated with the brand flooding into his mind along with a distinct unwillingness to ever let his son be associated with the stigma. But he wasn’t stupid. He hadn’t thought of it before, but it actually made perfect sense. Replace the bones that housed the faulty blood. A nanite system to monitor his son’s health and help stabilize it. Take all the technology keeping Midas alive, make most of it microscopic, and put it inside Midas’ body. It sounded like a terrifying wish granted by mythical fae.

Hesopher found himself unable to respond, and Midas took that as a suggestion that his idea might be considered. “Leukemia is listed as one of the cancers they were able to cure in the past,” he spoke, voice cautious as he was expecting the same reaction he’d heard so many times before from other people. Don’t ever talk about cyborgs. Don’t even mention that accursed practice. Cyborgs were the reason the world was the way it is now. Broken, barren, stripped of humanity like the machines that had made it that way. But with what he knew, and with half his life being taken from him already, Midas was starting to feel it would be better to be called a monster than unable to get out of bed on his own, and held the book he was reading up to the page that proved his claim.

“But…,” Hesopher finally found his voice again, and it was void of any anger. Just a mix of fear and extremely hesitant hope. “The cyborgs all went berserk. It’s not a stable state of being,” he reluctantly repeated history, sliding the wheeled chair over to the bedside to show that he wasn’t opposed to the conversation. He just didn’t see how it could work without cursing his son to madness.

Midas took that as encouragement to continue, drawing a breath bubbling in excitement. “That’s just it though. Machines can’t go berserk. It’s impossible. You know that. You know just how stupid computers really are. How many times have we both been cursing at how dumb the computer is just because we forgot to tell it to do, or not to do something that humans intuitively figure out on their own?” Midas scooted closer to his dad, the blood transfusion tube connected to him today following and his foot nudging one of the recent projects on the bed. “You see it, don’t you? Machines can only do what they’re programmed to do. What humans tell them to do. The cyborgs didn’t just randomly go berserk, someone programmed them to do it.”

It was true. Hesopher had never really thought about it considering cybernetic study was practically taboo now, and the events of history had happened more than a hundred years ago. But what Midas said made sense. Horrifying sense, but sense nonetheless. The idea that someone had programmed the cyborg apocalypse made more sense to Hesopher’s mind than the historically carried idea that it had just happened like some sort of machine uprising.

His silence only encouraged Midas to continue, repeating his argument and addressing additional concerns as they came up. 

“Machines can only do what humans tell them to. What they’re programmed to do. So someone had to program the berserk virus. Humanity’s greatest predator is still ourselves.” Midas paused only to flip back to a previous page in the book, showing the section about how each cyborg in the past had been given a unique 2400 character passcode that had to be used when they were getting any maintenance. “ In the past, cybernetic components were still left open to a network to allow for maintenance. They had an in that any hacker that was angry enough could have easily gotten into, especially since they kept all the codes in one place, since it was the same company that monopolized cybernetic implants. But there’s two cyborgs that are well known to have never gone berserk, despite being in the middle of them constantly.”

Hesopher paid attention as his son showed him another page, realizing that this had been something Midas had spent a lot of time thinking about before today, the faces of the two cyborg war heroes printed on the page speaking of their unique cases. “...They somehow ended up with hermetic codes,” Hesopher repeated the historically accepted consensus for why those two heroes were immune to the berserker virus. “But no one knows how to recreate them. Humans are too unique and varied, no one can figure out how to make a code that matches them.”

“Then why not just let them write their own hermetic code?” Midas asked, as though he was answering a question a bunch of small children were puzzling over. “Sometimes humans spend so long trying to recreate what already exists. Every human is completely unique. Every human is nature’s own hermetic code. It was a happenstance in the past that the nanite code would be similar enough to those guys’ biology that it would form a hermetic code on its own, and they probably ended up modifying their own code enough to detach it from C-Tech’s old database. But what if we just don’t give them a code? What if we just tell them they have to have a code, and let the nanites create one along with their human host? Adopt their biological signature as their own. Completely. Humans have always had a knack for adapting. So why not let them write their own code?”

It sounded too simple to be the actual answer. But that was also part of the reason it made sense. If, following Midas’ logic stemming from the berserker virus being made by humans, and spread because someone essentially took over the control someone else already had over the cyborgs, then it would be easy to explain the apparent accident. It made way more sense to Hesopher than the excuse that it was just a fault with machines that were too intelligent. Machines weren’t intelligent, just obedient. Unquestioningly obedient, and diligent. So in the wrong hands they were definitely destructive instead of helpful. And humans were notorious for being destructive even before the existence of computers.

So if they made sure no one had control but the person the machines were part of?

Hesopher drew a sharp inhale, rising to his feet abruptly enough he caused the chair to tip and thump back to the floor loudly. He wouldn’t agree to it just yet, but it was the first time in years there had been an option that might save his son. “We have to test it first. Not on you,” he relented, feeling his heart melt when Midas gained the most genuine and excited smile he’d seen since he’d been a small child.

“Thanks Dad,” Midas breathed, flinging his hands around Hesopher’s neck to hug him as tightly as his thin arms would let him.

Hesopher’s return hug was much more gentle, wanting to smother his brilliant, stubborn, hopeful son but also not wanting to hurt him. They wouldn’t be able to ask for help, and wouldn’t be able to tell anyone what they were planning. It wasn’t like C-Tech had given up their hold on cybernetic technology after all. On the surface C-Tech claimed a worldwide ban on even the theoretical research of human integrated cybernetics. Forcing those who studied critical parts of similar studies to be registered in their database. There were even cases of people being executed for getting on C-tech’s bad side. It was risky, and if they succeeded he and Midas might end up exiled from Eutoli. But that was worth it to Hesopher if it meant keeping Midas alive, and being able to make him healthy enough to live a life outside of a hospital room.

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First

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fluffy socks and a cozy hat for the boy 'cause he gets cold easily =3=

[aealrizen]

Opening the memory files stored on the data chip brought Midas a sense of comfort he took a moment to realize people could only have in the safety of their own mind. Just like that image of a cathedral had brought a similar, personal feeling, the memories he watched were unmistakably his. And since he remembered Ian mentioning it was easier to understand from the beginning, he started with the oldest memory there.

“Hey Mommy?”

His voice was so young. Midas knew it was his voice, but he couldn’t have been more than four or five in this memory. So young, and small as he leaned against the side of a hospital bed. The woman laying there was his mother, he now barely remembered to no fault of the file. It was just hard to remember something from so long ago in the first place. But the thin yet vibrant orange curls draping down her shoulders, shifting as she turned to look at him, and her blue green eyes were more than familiar to him.

“Hey… my little Midas,” Angeline greeted. Her hand was slow to reach towards him. Gentle to rest on his head in tender strokes. It wasn’t an unusual response time, her movements had always been slow. Or at least Midas had never known her any differently. He was never kept away from his mom without good reason, but he was always told to be careful. Don’t be too loud. Try to sit still if he was next to her. Use soft hands when hugging her. He understood she wasn’t well, but he didn’t fully understand why she didn’t get better soon like everyone else that got sick.

“Can I sit with you today? I have a story book,” little Midas asked, a large but thin picture book barely held in his arms as he stretched on his toes so it would be easier for Angeline to reach his head.

“Of course baby. Can you climb up on your own?” his mother assured, wondering if the stool was still near the bedside or if she would need to call her husband.

“I can do it,” little Midas assured quickly, scooting the stool over where he could climb onto it before carefully wiggling onto the bed. The book was set to the side, still within reach of where he would eventually settle, so that he didn’t bump his tender mother with the hard cover. There was a specific spot he was used to nestling down in, it was easy for him to pick it out amongst the tubes and wires. And once he had settled down into the small nest between his mother’s waist and arm, Midas very carefully pulled the book over to open.

He had been planning on reading the book quietly to himself, like he usually did, but after a few words read in silence his mother spoke up quietly again. “Do you want to read out loud for mama?”

That was how Midas knew this was a slightly better day than what was becoming more and more common. His expression lit up in a bright smile, and he had to keep himself from squirming in excitement. “Okay!” he chimed, keeping his voice as quiet as he could. He knew he couldn’t treat his mom like other kids treated their moms. There were certain things he had to do differently in order to spend time with her without causing her distress. More time that he felt greedy to take before it ran out. He never fully understood what it had been like for her, but always did his best to help her be comfortable.

It wasn’t until much later, when she had already passed away years ago, that Midas learned first hand what life had been like for his mother, stuck in a hospital bed with artificial vines keeping her fragile body tied down.

Midas was eight when he remembered waking up in his mother’s place for the first time. He didn’t remember collapsing, just feeling horribly achy, and dizzy, and hoping a glass of water would help. He’d been trying to get some from the sink, but now he was waking up to his father watching him with residual tears in his eyes and his tiny hand held carefully between larger fingers. Midas had been sick a lot on and off since he was six, various illnesses and infections that took longer to heal from than others. But this time had been the worst case so far. He’d gotten dizzy before, but never fainted. And never had several hours of time missing from his active memory without him choosing to go to sleep. It wasn’t long after, when Hesopher had done a few tests to make sure, that he had a name for the disease that he started to remember.

Leukemia.

The same cancer his mother had died from was also present in him, among some other diseases he couldn’t be bothered to remember the names of. Hesopher had prayed it wouldn’t be that way, but now he had to acknowledge the truth.

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First

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This one is so soon 'cause I had it 98% written since January X'DD Just had to draw it

Here's mama and lil bitty Midas~ It's a little short because the next section was too long and won't split well

I listened to Desolation, and Cicio from the House in Fata Morgana ost a lot for this one =u=

fun trivia: Midas gets his eye shape and nose from his mom, and his hair from his dad. But his eye color and skin tone are a mix. (Though Angeline wasn't always that pale |D )

[aealrizen]

The relationship label made sense considering how much Hesopher and Midas looked like each other. Whip and Ian had guessed some sort of relation, but they had been thinking more of a distant relative like an uncle, or maybe cousin. So when Hesopher revealed he was Midas’ father the other two couldn’t help looking surprised.

“A’ah, no. Don’t worry about it. He’s a good kid, we were happy to take care of him. He helped us out a lot too,” Whip faltered, finally removing his hand from his sword’s hilt in favor of waving both hands slightly in front of him. He felt a little embarrassed about having reacted so defensively towards Midas’ father, but the sudden appearance of someone he didn’t know always made him wary. “I have to admit when we came here I was only expecting to find something vaguely familiar to him that would give us a hint on the next place to look. We honestly only stopped by because he said the cathedral in Crystal’s database felt familiar instead of just looked.”

“You looked through my harddrive?” Crystal butted in after an offended noise, holding a hand on her sternum.

Before Ian could get too flustered and start to defend their actions, Whip just laughed. “We stole your tokomov reactor too,” he informed, giving Crystal a mischievous smile. He knew her reaction from before had been pretend considering she had apparently scrubbed her harddrive of anything important. So now he was giving her an actual reason to be offended.

“WHAT?” Crystal blurted, her gaze snapping over to fully stare at Whip now.

“There we go,” Whip snickered, revealing that he’d just been toying with Crystal by saying that so bluntly. “We put it to good use at least. Since you left it for a few years or so. Hooked it up to a machine Midas helped design that keeps molrillos from invading an establishment of people just outside Cerah.”

The revelation was indeed better than Crystal had expected after hearing her reactor wasn’t where she left it, causing her to blink quietly for a moment as she registered that. “Oh…. Well I guess that’s fine,” she shrugged. It was foolish of her to expect something as valuable as that to go unnoticed for so long anyway. Instead she allowed Ian to pull the conversation back to where it should have been.

“Do you know why a cathedral would be something Midas recognized? Aside from them being around here?” Ian asked, addressing Hesopher since Midas seemed like he was still having a hard time processing everything that was going on. He didn’t seem to be upset about Hesopher’s arm still being around him at least. Though Ian still couldn’t help noticing how careful the grip was. Was Hesopher afraid of holding Midas too tight for some reason?

“Oh… That’s because we live in one,” Hesopher responded, looking both amused and saddened by the fact. “It was easier to repurpose one of the cathedrals into an infirmary since they were built better than the original buildings. And since housing isn’t abundant here, most people live where they work.”

Another piece of information that clicked in Midas’ mind as true. Just like when Hesopher mentioned he was his father. All the scrambled thoughts of potentials getting dismissed like dispersing fog as the title settled into place. He was only second guessing the feeling since he couldn’t bring himself to actively remember anything specific about Hesopher. The names sounded right. Midas Clandel was his name. And the hugs and kisses from Hesopher had been familiar. Likewise being told he lived in that cathedral he’d seen before made sense, and felt right. He could vaguely remember looking out a window from the inside now.

“You’re one of the doctors for the city then?” Ian asked to confirm his guess after hearing Hesopher worked at the infirmary, and was also wearing a white coat.

“That’s correct,” Hesopher confirmed with a nod.

As Ian confirmed Hesopher’s profession, and through that confirmed his knowledge in medicine and taking care of the human body, Whip couldn’t help circling back to something that Crystal had mentioned to Midas earlier. He almost asked them outright, but when Ian shot a look to him as soon as he opened his mouth Whip reeled that sentence back in favor of a more polite question. “So… what’s the reason you guys had a hunch Midas wouldn’t have his memory? Did you do something to him?”

Okay maybe that second question wasn’t strictly necessary, and Whip felt a mild tinge of regret when Hesopher’s expression became one of anxious regret. Yet that only served to support Whip’s suspicion, and he folded his arms and started pointedly at both of them. If Midas wasn’t in a state of mind to interrogate these two then Whip and Ian would be more than willing.

Hesopher didn’t seem to know how to respond this time, his gaze falling as he pulled Midas a little closer. The argument was there, so he inevitably responded truthfully without realizing how bad it would make the situation seem. “...Yes…”

The response caused Midas to jerk away, eyes going wide in shocked confusion. He didn’t feel the need to avoid Hesopher, somehow he wasn’t scared of him despite the answer. He just wanted to be able to see Hesopher clearly, without looking up at him from directly below his chin.

“W’what?” Midas asked, finally finding his voice.

“Hold on,” Crystal interrupted again, raising her hands and stepping slightly forward, between Whip and Ian, and Hesopher. “He’s making it sound a lot worse than it is. We didn’t expect this to happen, so we didn’t notice it until months later, when he was already with me,” she consoled, noticing how Whip and Ian were shifting protectively towards Midas.

“Notice what? That the kid couldn’t even remember his full name?” Whip blurted, gesturing an open palm to Midas. “Or his own father?” The hand moved to Hesopher.

Crystal’s eyes squinted in mild annoyance at Whip’s outburst. But considering she’d already known him for a long time now she opted for a blunt answer instead of working through a gentle one. “Midas was in a coma before we lost him. He wasn’t exactly in a state of being where we would notice anything. I was watching over him, and while we were trying to figure out why he wasn’t waking up Hesopher noticed that part of his harddrive was replaced by Midas’ memories. He downloaded the data from the computer he was connected to and his own memories got lost in the mix of data that Hesopher had been given to hold onto from people in the city. Home videos parents took of their kids. Birthday parties for family members and friends. Festivals. Journal entries. News articles. All sorts of data sent to be backed up in a secondary database.”

The revelation was enough to get Whip to snap his mouth shut, head pulling back in stunned silence while Midas gasped, making connections in his own mind. “...That’s the reason everyone I can think of always gets called so many different things. Because it’s like I have everyone’s point of view in my head, I can’t tell which one is mine.”

The fact that Midas latched onto, and largely confirmed what Crystal was saying without them having mentioned how his current memories were was enough for Ian to believe that Crystal was telling the truth. Whip was still wary, but also reeled himself back, effectively scolded. His gaze flicked from Crystal to Midas, then back to Crystal, and then to Hesopher as he noticed Hesopher had raised his hand to his sternum. “...A coma?” Whip then prompted, a little more sullen.

When Hesopher looked up and drew a breath to answer, Crystal held her hand up to interrupt him again. “Look, Hesopher sucks at explaining things. Would you rather stumble through a painful sequence of misunderstandings caused by a second guessing guilt ridden father? Or just give Midas his memories back and fill in the blanks after?”

“What?” Midas asked, immediately snapping his attention to Crystal. “You… have my memories?”

The question only prompted Crystal to look at Hesopher as he looped his fingers under his own collar to grab a small chain, pulling the object attached to it out from under his shirt as he took the necklace off. A small data chip encased in a protective crystal case was then lowered to his palm, and he held it where Midas could see. “Some of them,” he admitted, holding the data chip as though it were more precious than gold. “Most of them seemed to have gotten lost. But the ones I could isolate I transferred to this disk so that I’d be able to give them to you as soon as you wanted them.”

It was strangely harder than Midas expected it to be for him to respond to having the chance to get even a few of his memories back. He knew that’s what he’d always wanted, to finally have some answers to why he’d ended up where he had been. But to have them supposedly held right in front of him made him suddenly afraid of knowing those answers. What if knowing made him suddenly different somehow? What if he’d actually been a terrible person, or had done terrible things, and he was actually better off not knowing? The conflicting thoughts made his hand hesitate in the air above the chip, having reached out almost immediately, then frozen in his doubts. And yet when he considered not knowing, considered staying in the scrambled haze of data that wasn’t his, and also thought of how it felt to have those two pieces of information from before settle so comfortably in his mind, his hand lowered to the chip as his eyes rose to meet his father’s.

And when Hesopher only smiled so warmly back at him Midas felt comfort spread into a blanket over his worries, a small smile given in return as his fingers closed around the chip.

Without another word, Midas lowered himself to sit cross legged on the ground, making sure he didn’t end up falling over when he stopped paying attention to the outside world. As he felt Ian and Whip tense and shift uncomfortably beside him, Midas cupped the chip in both hands and closed his eyes, digging into the tiny database the device had and exploring what it held.

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First

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I'm hyperfocusing so hard these days on this story X'DDD That's why all the updates so soon after each other.

This section was one of the rare ones where I didn't have much of an idea, just sat and wrote.

And Daddo's face this time XD the only reason I didn't draw his face in the previous section was because I wanted to focus on Midas' expression

[aealrizen]

It was hard for Whip to watch the teen girl run from them, eventually getting lost between the buildings at the edge of the rice fields. He could track her. It would be easy to do so. Just switch his vision to x-ray and heat sensitive, and modify his hearing. He could easily catch her and bring her back to ask her questions.

But he wouldn’t. Midas seemed to think it would just make things worse, and had opted to let her go. So Whip would follow that decision, even if he didn’t quite understand it. Midas had been so ready to abandon the retrieval of the tokomov reactor in favor of following a lead once before. Yet perhaps it was because the lead was a person this time that he chose to respect their free will to leave.

Or maybe it was just because Midas already had too much information flooding his mind to handle, and didn’t want any more until later. It took several minutes of him just resting his forehead against Ian’s chest, keeping his eyes closed as he tried to filter through the torrent of pseudo memories that had been pulled to the front of his mind. Getting them categorized again and tucked away in their proper places. By the time Midas pulled back, eyes blinking, Whip had given up on being a sentry and had taken to fishing Midas’ and Ian’s shoes out of the water, dumping a small carp back into the pond when he turned one over.

“...Are you alright?” Ian asked softly, keeping his hands on Midas’ shoulders as he started looking around slightly. The question prompted Midas to look up instead of at the water, and he still had a slight squint.

“Yeah,” Midas assured, giving a small nod and blinking a few times before relenting and putting his hand back to his temple. “Just a headache,” he explained as support to his claim. “...Sometimes… I guess it’s like a box gets tipped over in my head. I have all these memories, but they don’t really feel like memories to me. Not like Whip’s memories did to him. And they sometimes contradict each other. Like telling me that a person is my sister, but also my aunt or something. And this time it just… happened all at once.”

The explanation was somewhat confusing at first, but the more Midas described what happened the more Ian was able to make a connection. “...The migraines you used to get,” Ian noted after nodding slowly in sudden realization. “When we first picked you up. Those were caused by the same thing?”

It took Midas a second to realize what Ian was talking about, but he was quick to remember the first half a year he’d been with the Sector 1109 people. He’d been snappy, and reclusive, and sometimes found curled up in the darkest corner he could find with his eyes closed and head covered by his arms. “Yeah. It happened a lot more often after I first woke up. But eventually I was able to categorize things? Kind of lock them away as data in the background instead of active memories,” he confirmed with a nod, rubbing his temple slightly.

“So that girl… made some of the data resurface?” Whip asked, semi satiating his own curiosity by bringing Midas’ attention back to the girl they’d bumped into, and using similar vocabulary as him.

Midas went quiet for a stretch, turning to look where the girl had run. Was that someone else looking at them? He didn’t recognize them, but they had a similar wide hat. Maybe they were just another worker that was wondering what all the commotion was about. Maybe they should leave before they caused anymore trouble. “...Meri…. I think her name is Meri, but I’m not completely sure. She’s… older than I have in my head. But there’s a lot of images of a little girl that looks a lot like her. W-... She-... Something about a stuffed bear. She always had it with her. But now she doesn’t.”

He was raising his hands to his head again, eyes pressing closed as trying to think too much caused the headache to get worse. It wasn’t something that Ian thought would be an easy solution, and he didn’t want Midas to end up feeling sick if the headache did devolve into a migraine. So he rose his hand again to rest on Midas’ back to start directing him away from the rice fields. “C’mon. Let’s go find some shade to sit under and take a break. We need our shoes to dry off too,” he prompted, gently guiding them towards the nearest set of trees he could see. They were a short ways from the edge of the rice fields, amidst a field of wildflowers and grass. Midas seemed to be affected by the sunlight a little more than usual, so Ian figured the shade would help.

“...You dropped your shoes in the water?” Midas asked, a mild teasing snicker in his voice as he followed Ian’s direction and sluggishly made his way out of the water canals.

“It was either that or watch you face plant in the water,” Ian countered, expressing what his thoughts had been at the moment. He’d honestly been worried Midas would get dizzy enough to lose his balance, or possibly completely pass out with the way he’d suddenly reacted.

Midas gave a snort of amusement that suddenly went quiet as Ian’s words sank in. So he cared more about him than the shoes possibly getting ruined by fish water? That was… nice to know. It caused a faint smile to pull at Midas’ mouth.

With the size of the rice fields it took them more than twenty minutes to reach the edge of them. And the walk was slowed even more for a moment as Midas and Ian both gingerly hobbled across the pebble strewn dirt pathway that prevented the meadow from invading the crop fields. Once they were back in the grass it was easier though, and Midas let the grass brush against his fingertips as the wind created waves in the foliage and tugged his hair. It smelled different from the rice fields. A faintly sweet scent that was calming along with the breeze. The smell of plants never faded. But the scent of flowers was different from the water, and the peaceful scenery helped his mind start to settle again. A slight rustle of grass and tree leaves caused him to close his eyes, his steps slowing slightly as he simply enjoyed the environment. It felt familiar. A bittersweet peace that was broken by the faint call of someone in the distance.

“Midas?”

That was his name, but not Whip or Ian who said it. A voice in the semi distance that caused Midas’ heart to skip a beat even as his throat closed slightly. Whip and Ian definitely heard it as well, their forms quickly shifting to face the source of the questioning shout and Whip’s hand subconsciously resting on the hilt of his sword.

And yet, once again, Midas raised a hand to still them for reasons he couldn’t explain, his body feeling suddenly weighed down as he also turned to the source of the shout. There was a man running towards them. A white swallow tail lab coat denoting his profession in medicine and biology. A symbol of status that was starkly contrasted by the presence of house slippers on his feet. But what caught Whip and Ian’s attention the most was the man’s features.

“MIDAS!”

A red haired man, the same shade as Midas’ own hair, was sprinting towards them, feet stumbling on the uneven ground. He barely slowed when he reached the three, keeping from knocking Midas over completely as he threw his arm around the lad in a smothering embrace. Yet Ian noticed the hold held a sense of fragile tenderness to it, as though the man were afraid he might hurt Midas by something as simple as a hug that was too rough. And while Ian and Whip were raising brows in confusion, Midas had frozen stiff in barely comprehending shock. Seeing the man’s face briefly before he’d hugged him had been like looking in a mirror; one that showed a few decades in the future with added glasses. And yet Midas found it was increasingly more difficult to breathe at no fault of the man’s tender yet all encompassing hold. His foreign yet eerily familiar voice quieted into sobbed words Midas couldn’t remember being stored in his mind prior to now.

“T’thank heavens! You’re alive-...”

The man was both laughing and sobbing as he spoke, pulling back only to cup both hands on Midas cheeks and look at him through his tears. Midas could feel the man’s whole frame shaking, both from exertion from running and from emotion. Tears saturated his cheeks even as they were squished by an overjoyed smile.

“My little Midas…”

The simple phrase caused Midas to feel like he was choking on his own esophagus, his frame unconsciously leaning forward slightly. And yet his expression was only a blank stare in lack of understanding. The vague answers to the misty cloud of questions in his mind beating against a wall that prevented them from being known by his conscious memory. He felt petrified. Unable to think of how to respond to what was happening since no coherent thought was able to present itself. Just a blank haze of emptiness only filled by a question and a statement.

Who are you?

I know you.

He was unable to even attempt to trigger any potential memories though. An attempt to further study the man’s face was continually thwarted as the man leaned forward to kiss his forehead, then hug him again, then kiss his temple then cheek. He was very affectionate, and half of Midas found it very odd. But what was more odd was that even though Midas couldn’t place a single memory of this man, the gestures of care still felt like they belonged. Like they’d happened before.

Who was this person? 

Midas didn’t know. But he also couldn’t bring himself to ask because it felt so wrong to even consider doing so. As though the mere words would break this man’s spirit irreparably. Which only reinforced Midas’ thoughts that he should know this man, but didn’t.

His thoughts were inevitably distracted by realizing his own cheeks were damp. A shaking hand raising to his face as he was once again pulled into a tight hug made Midas realize it was because of his own tears. His body was crying despite having no prompting from his mind. Fresh, fat tears spilling from openly staring eyes and fingers shaking as the man’s frame shuddered with choked but elated sobs. It was a longer hug this time, and Midas’ nose was pressed against the man’s shoulder as the man’s hand moved to rest on the back of his head. The scent of the man’s figure inevitably became a smothering blanket to block out the rest of the ambience around Midas. A smell that made Midas’ chest ache from the comfort and heartache it brought. A familiarity that his heart knew but his mind didn’t. As though the words had been stolen from his memories but not the emotions.

Midas let out a confused, choked sob as he gave up on his mind and allowed himself to react completely on his emotions this time. Raising his shaking hands to return the hug and hesitantly gripping the white fabric of the coat, Midas hid his face into the man’s shoulder and let out a choked yet soft mixture between a laugh and a sob.

As Midas became lost in the whirlwind of complete lack of coherent thought smothered by overwhelming emotions, Whip ended up distracted by another approaching figure. One that was familiar to him. It was a shock to see her there, but after the initial surprise faded Whip gave her a wry smile. “So this is where you were hiding, Crystal,” Whip greeted, finding his anxiousness strangely calmed by the sight of one who had helped him so many times in the past.

“Yep. It’s ironically the last place people think to look,” Crystal responded, nodding her head in her own greeting while her hands remained loosely tucked in empty pockets. She decided against catching up with Whip though, putting that conversation aside for later and instead turning her gaze to Midas as he peeked his eyes over the shoulder he was buried in.

“Hey babe. It’s good to see you again,” Crystal greeted, her voice softening and expression growing slightly sorrowful as Midas’ own expression lacked recognition. “You can’t remember anything, can you?” she asked, gaining a slight smile when Midas looked faintly panicked at her pointing out what he’d subconsciously thought about trying to hide. “It’s okay. We had a hunch. I’m just surprised you ended up with these two,” Crystal consoled, turning her gaze back to Whip and Ian. “It’s funny, because I almost tried to contact you for a rescue mission a while ago. For the same kid.”

By now Whip was used to Crystal not starting from the beginning when talking about events, and he could only shake his head with a wry smile. “You gonna get around to telling us who this guy is? Or are we going to have to play guessing games instead of bodyguards like you initially wanted?” he asked, shifting his hand that had never left the hilt of his sword to let Crystal know he was uneasy with this stranger smothering his friend.

Luckily for both of them, the man realized the pieces of the situation he’d initially glossed over and gave a sheepish cough while reluctantly straightening slightly. “Sorry,” he apologized quickly, raising a hand to rub his eye under his glasses but still remaining reluctant to fully let Midas go. “I was… overwhelmed. Thank you, so much, for taking care of Midas and bringing him back.” For a moment he bowed his head low in gratitude, shifting Midas to the side before rising again and wrapping Midas close to his side this time. “I’m Hesopher Clandel. Midas’ father.”

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First

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Extra long post again because I wanted 2 pics for this one but I didn't want to spoil by having that 2nd pic on the top of a post X'D

I finally reached the scene that motivated me writing this entire story |D It feel so strange to reach that goal, but I can officially say that Midas' daddo is still alive and well, and full of hugs and kisses.

[aealrizen]

It was well into the afternoon of the next day by the time the group reached the western gate of Eutoli. The remainder of the trip had been relatively uneventful compared to the day before, with only a short excursion with vulture bats leading the group into having an early and cheerful lunch. The crowd had noticed a group of them in the distance, and while Zeera had wanted to detour slightly to avoid them Ian instead offered to hunt the beasts for a fresh meal for everyone. The creatures were too large for most people to risk hunting them, attempts usually resulting in large injuries. But Ian’s sniper rifle was able to make short work of them from a safe distance, and sharing the resulting food with the group ended up solidifying the change in the opinion of most of the group towards the three cyborgs. Having been given an easy ride through brigands, and then fed fresh meat for lunch meant that a good portion of the group was cheerfully waving goodbye when they left them at the gate. An action that Ian and Whip gratefully returned as most of the group left to take care of their next jobs, leaving the rest to ride through the first gate to Eutoli.

The entrance to the last of the domed cities was similar to Andapos, with layers of heavy gates and security personnel separating the wastelands outside from the protected civilization inside. Those who had the proper paperwork for an extended stay were allowed to follow the trucks into the enclosed dock within the walls, locals directing the escorts to park the vehicles and showing the volunteers where to unload the different types of equipment. It was a streamlined process, each item being checked against the documents, and inspected for any potential hazards to either people or the internal environment.

Since Benjamin had filed their paperwork as people who were to help unload, Ian, Whip and Midas had to delay entering the city until all of the transported supplies were organized into their proper containers to be delivered to their end destinations. It wasn’t hard work, especially since they were all capable of easily lifting way more than the average person. A feat that earned a chorus of surprised noises from the locals, which soon turned into amused chuckling and compliments.

Midas found it was hard to completely focus on his work, even if the machines he was helping to unload were interesting to look at and consider their potential functions. There was an odd smell that permeated the air ever since they’d passed through the first gateway. Rich, heavy, and settling in the back of his nose, practically resting on his tongue. Foreign, yet not. And Whip ended up sputtering a small chuckle when he caught Midas absently smelling his own arm while setting a broken generator down on a conveyor.

“What are you doing?” Whip asked, the mirth still in his voice as Midas raised his head to smell the air again.

“I’m trying to figure out what that smell is,” Midas admitted, brows scrunched in confusion.

“Sme- oh,” Whip started to repeat before he realized exactly what Midas was talking about. Right, as far as the kid’s active memory knew this was the first time he’d been to Eutoli. Which meant he’d definitely notice the one thing that marked Eutoli different from the other cities. “It’s the plants.”

“What?” Midas asked, brow furrowing more. He couldn’t even see any plants in here. Well, except maybe the little desk ivy one of the security personnel had. Surely that wasn’t the cause of such an all consuming scent that permeated the entire garage.

“On the other side of that wall are the open fields and forests of Eutoli. When you get so many plants clustered together everything smells different,” Whip explained, spreading his hands in front of him slightly after gesturing to the wall the conveyors were leading through.

The face Midas gave Whip betrayed that he didn’t quite understand or believe what Whip was saying, but Whip could only chuckle. “C’mon, we’re almost done. Let’s just finish up and go see for ourselves, okay?” Whip prompted, gesturing to the last truck that only had a few more items in it.

It seemed this was a common enough occurrence that the people of Eutoli had learned how to heavily streamline the unloading process. Something Midas found he was grateful for as it was becoming increasingly harder to focus on anything in particular. He just wanted to run through the last gateway and see the city for himself. See if there was anything at all that triggered some of his memories to return. Maybe even catch sight of that cathedral that had been in the database in Mortenheim. He figured that could be his starting point. Just find the cathedral and work out from there. Someone had to know something, right? It wasn’t just baseless hope that he had.

Soon enough they were standing at the last checkpoint before being allowed into the city, and Midas didn’t notice at all how the employee gave him a confused expression when Ian was the one to hand him their papers and passes. Nor did he notice when the guard stamped the passes and let them through with a “Welcome back,” comment instead of “Welcome to Eutoli,” like he had with the others who had permission to stay longer. A comment that made Whip frown slightly, but after looking at Midas and how absent the lad’s expression looked, he didn’t voice any of the questions in his mind. Surely if the guard knew Midas he would have said something, yeah? Maybe they just had a record of Ian or Whip having been there before, and that had prompted the change in greeting, as well as the way people seemed significantly less concerned with their foreign presence than with others that had been there.

The questions in Whip’s mind were decidedly filed away for later considering there was an entire city of people they could talk to just beyond the next set of doors. They could come back to the security worker as a last resort, and not hang up the line asking odd questions that would make his job harder.

It wasn’t the first time Ian or Whip had walked through the last set of doors leading to the inner city of Eutoli. But it had certainly been a long time, and the view was just as breathtaking. Frosted glass doors opening to rolling slopes of green as far as the eye could see. A humid breeze pushing into their faces as Midas sucked in a gasp and absently rushed ahead a few steps, running to the edge of the patio and onto the slightly shaggy wild grass. It was completely different from the other cities. Where Andapos opened into concrete streets and tall buildings painted with cool blues and artificial browns, and Cerah’s pale streets picked into sterile cleanliness by machines boasted the presence of humans, Eutoli was predominantly green and full of texture. Cascading hills of grass led into fields of wildflowers right next to steps of rice paddies leading into farmlands that intermingled with orchards flowing into towering forests. Anything that wasn’t green was dirty brown or irregular grey from unshaped stones. Even the city of humans looked less like a city and more like countryside houses built around the natural curves of trees and hills instead of clearing the way for structures. And the only ones that remained functional were small. Any towers of glass had long since fallen to rest and be reclaimed by the precious foliage that Eutoli now coveted.

Midas stared in stunned silence for a stretch of time, his eyes scanning the entirety of the world inside the dome that contained its own clouds. Everything looked remarkably unremarkable. Everything was new, yet just as it should be. The rustle of wind in the leaves and grass, and a hustle of sounds from living creatures that weren’t human. A pocket of fairytale forest wrapped up in a protective shield of technology keeping it separate from the wastelands outside. Such a peaceful place that warranted a sense of serenity.

Which meant that Midas’ sudden exclamation was a lot quieter than he usually was. “Rice fields!” Midas suddenly gasped when he noticed them, raising a hand to point while glancing back at Whip and Ian before he started sprinting down the hills towards them.

There were no pathways that weren’t overgrown. People here didn’t like to trample the ground into barrenness. So the grass whisked past their legs as Ian and Whip gave startled noises before quickly following Midas’ path to the flooded paddies. It took less than thirty minutes for them to reach them, the green stalks of rice only being so easily identifiable because of the blanket of water they rested in. And when they reached the edge of one of the pools Midas paused only for a moment, just long enough to raise one foot at a time to yank the boots off his feet before he splashed into the clear water.

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” Midas commented, a little breathless as he started almost shuffle walking along the channels between the sections of rice. “The mud under the water is so soft, just like they said it was. Because they keep fish in the water too, and if you stand still they’ll sometimes come and - snrk- nibble your legs.” The explanation came through barely smothered excitement as Midas wandered a little further away before he forced himself to stop, standing still as he said to and almost immediately getting the small carp to swim out from the rice and bump against his calves, causing him to snicker and giggle. And as he kept looking back at the other two, Ian and Whip exchanged a look with each other.

They were hesitant at first, not sure if they would get in trouble for just walking into the rice paddies without permission. But no one was yelling at them, or running to tell them off. There was even a woman with a wide hat that looked to them, but only raised a hand in a pleasant wave before she continued wading through the fields, checking on the plants and fish. It was enough to convince Whip and Ian that it was okay for them to follow Midas’ beckons to join him, taking their own shoes off and stepping into the surprisingly cool water. The mud at the bottom squishing between his toes earned a snicker from Whip as he suddenly understood why Midas had been so excited to get his feet in the water. And Ian found the cool water and resident fish paying him no mind to be strangely calming. It was easy to catch up to Midas, and they ended up falling silent as the lad started to babble facts about the farming methods there, all of them holding their shoes out of the water as they aimlessly wandered the fields.

“They raise fish in the paddies because they can be used as food, but also because they act as natural pesticides for bugs and snails that are harmful for the rice. So they’re able to grow more healthy plants since they don’t have to worry about chemical pesticides.” Midas’ sounded proud to know what he did about the rice fields, happily sloshing through the rows and rows of crop while looking at the fish, the plants, the small birds that would land on the plants from time to time to eat the seeds and the bugs. “The fish make for a great dinner too. I think they have carp and also tilapia, which is really good with lemon- Ah! I’ve had lemon carp before!” The realization caused Midas to abruptly turn around to face Whip and Ian, a huge smile lighting his eyes as he realized it wasn’t because he was regurgitating an encyclopedia that he knew all that he was saying. He could remember having a whole, braised fish for dinner before, seasoned with lemon juice and herbs. He was about to ask if they could look for a place to get some for dinner that night, but Whip suddenly reached out to caution Midas as he continued walking backwards.

“Ah, Midas look out!” Whip called hurriedly, moving forward to try and grab Midas before he stepped back further. There was someone behind Midas, hunched over in the fields catching some of the fish and putting them in a basket. A huge straw hat was blocking their features, and Midas seemed to be paying less attention to his surroundings now that he was thinking about the fish. Whip ended up too late in his warning, but thankfully the girl broke out of her working trance soon enough to stumble out of the way with only a slight bump from the distracted lad. She gave a tiny yelp as Midas bumped into her, but didn’t seem too upset.

“Sorry!” Midas immediately blurted, dropping his shoe and reaching out to catch the girl’s arm to keep her steady. As she raised her head, Whip noticed quite the length of blonde hair tied in two braids pinned up where they wouldn’t dangle in the water, and strikingly blue eyes above faintly freckled cheeks. She must have been only a teenager, and incredibly shy since she had yet to say anything.

At first Ian thought it was just because she wasn’t used to seeing strangers, but then he noticed how her expression changed from anxious surprise to open shock. And after that Ian was quick to notice Midas had frozen as well, staring at the girl’s face in frozen silence as his mind screamed empty thoughts at him. His grip on her arm went slack, and she raised her hands to cover her mouth in a smothered inhale.

“......Meri?” Midas suddenly asked, the word sounding foreign to his ears but right in his mind, his eyes still openly staring at the girl.

She didn’t respond verbally, the hands covering her mouth starting to shake before she suddenly gasped, turning around to run in the opposite direction in borderline panic, leaving her basket behind without a second glance.

“Ah, wait!” Whip called out, stumbling forward to try and grab the girl and keep her from running. Meri? Was that her name? Did she and Midas know each other? She couldn’t just run away and not say anything. Why did she look so scared?

And yet it was Midas who reached out an arm to block Whip’s path, holding him back. “Don’t. You’ll just… scare her- she’s very… shy…?” Midas cautioned, his comments as broken and the headache scramble of thoughts flooding his mind, causing him to raise a hand to his temple and squint an eye. There were broken pieces of images in his mind. A little girl with a stuffed bear that she always carried with her, hiding half her face as she peeked over the top of it. Knowing that she always spoke incredibly quiet, often not saying anything at all, especially in crowds. Her name was Meri. He was pretty sure it was Meri. But… he couldn’t sort through the other thoughts to remember who she was exactly. Was she someone’s sister? A daughter definitely, but to who? She was friends with… who again? There were so many faces popping into his head now. Some didn’t seem to fit, some came to mind without a reason to be there. It was like shortly after he first woke up. Everything dumped into his mind like a trash bin with no organization, and the labels all ripped, faded, or missing completely and potentially replaced by something else. It was headache inducing, and he winced as he dropped his other shoe in favor of holding his head with both hands.

“Midas?” Ian prompted, concern saturating his voice that was deliberately kept quiet as he moved forward to lean down in front of Midas, hands resting on the lad’s shoulders gently.

“Give me a minute,” Midas requested in almost a whisper, leaning forward to bump his head against Ian’s chest and taking advantage of the semi shade he was providing. “Too much. Just… give me a minute.”

He sounded pained and overwhelmed, so Ian just relented to wait, and keep him close. “Okay. Take your time,” he bid quietly, keeping an eye on only Midas now as Whip took the role of watching their environment.

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First

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Forget the 1500 word limit I'm too excited to post all of this at once ahhhhh X'DDDD

[aealrizen]

The way Midas came scurrying back to their camp with the package of produce tucked close to his chest earned a laugh from Whip. “You would suck at smuggling,” he commented when Midas and Ian reached him, Ian nudging Midas to sit down near the small fire. The rest of the escort group were also settling down around their own fires, gathering their own food and deciding who had night watch at what times. Whip already had three cups of boiled water flavored with chicken stock for a nice warm broth that was actually liquid instead of gelatin consistency, and held one out for each of them as they got settled.

“Euh, salty,” Midas complained after taking a sip of the broth, pulling a face but nevertheless drinking more after blowing on it a few more times.

“Yeah I dunno if I like this brand,” Whip agreed. They would all still drink it, but there were definitely other brands they had gotten before that were much more tolerable. “So what did they have in there?”

“Expensive stuff,” Midas responded, feeling hesitant to be the one to open the package even after Ian gestured for him to do so with a nod. He felt like he had to be careful when unwrapping the produce, so instead of tearing the paper he picked at and peeled back the sticker keeping it closed.

Whip could only laugh at the unexpected answer. “Sounds about right,” he agreed, reaching out to take one of the smaller packages when Midas held it out to him to help with opening them. “Oooo carrots,” Whip chimed, picking one of the orange vegetables up to examine before he started dividing them up as equally as he could. It wasn’t like Old Bira counted the produce to be divisible by three. As soon as they were spread out on the paper, and another package handed to him while the other two did similar with other bags, Whip popped one of the carrots in his mouth. “Mmm, yeah. These are definitely from Eutoli. Got that good old natural flavor instead of science lab sterile,” he hummed happily.

“Natural flavor?” Midas repeated, following Whip’s lead to divide up the berries he’d opened.

“Yeah. Eutoli is the only place where the earth itself is able to sustain plants. Cerah has produce too, but their farms are unsustainable outside of the labs, and it affects the flavor of what grows there,” Whip clarified, casually popping more of the food in his mouth.

“Hmmm,” Midas couldn’t help humming in contemplation at the comments, absently remembering the last time they had gotten a rare shipment of vegetables from the city instead of the usual bare minimum soylents and other heavily processed artificially nutrient dense food. Biting off a piece of cucumber, Midas had to blink in mild surprise. It tasted clean in a way. Light, crisp, juicy. Just like a cucumber should taste. Which was a confusing thought because when he tried to remember the last time he’d eaten a cucumber that tasted like this before he couldn’t. He could only remember the once produced by Cerah, which had tasted heavy and almost powdery instead of full of water. It ended up making him even more curious about the other foods, and he reached over to grab one of the strawberries and bite a piece off.

It caught him off guard. The sweet flavor touching his tongue and texture of the fruit in his mouth. It was so familiar, and yet there was also something completely missing that he remembered should have been there. This was right, but also not quite right. But not in the same way as the cucumber where it just tasted different on its own. The cucumber didn’t need anything extra. The strawberry was supposed to be eaten with something else.

Ian and Whip had both been watching Midas while enjoying their own treats, so it was easy to notice the way Midas almost froze after trying the strawberry. The way he stopped and lowered the bitten fruit to stare at it. Trying to glean some sort of answer from the hint that it had given him. The other two glanced at each other, wondering if this was one of those times where they just needed to stay quiet, or if it was one where they should ask questions to see if they could help him figure something out. Just a few more seconds of Midas blankly staring, and then his brow started to furrow and they knew he wasn’t going to figure out what was bothering him on his own.

“Is something wrong?” Ian asked, leaning slightly to be more in Midas’ field of view.

The question caused Midas’ head to snap upright, his gaze locking onto Ian as the vague missing memory thankfully didn’t flee this time. “N’no, it’s good, it’s just…” Midas assured, trying to put words to the sensation he had. “It’s… missing something,” he admitted, raising the strawberry up to try and get a better look at it in the fire light, as if that would help stir the answers from his buried mind. “There was… something. A different texture, and flavor. Something creamy- AH CREAM!” His vocalized thoughts broke off with a gasp as Midas suddenly realized what was missing based on the description of the texture, and he ended up slightly jerking forward in a half shift to his knees.

“I had these with cream before! In a bowl- it was green, like… pastel green, about this big. There was other fruit in there too. Cantaloupe and blackberries. And th- h- .. ‘d put cream over the top of them, and we’d eat them with spoons.” The memory was fuzzy, and broken, and vague to the point all Midas could remember was the little bowl of fruit and cream, and how it would fit in his hands. But while he knew someone else had been there with him he couldn’t remember anything about them. Just trying to think of a pronoun to use sent his mind in loops long enough to give him a slight headache, causing him to put a palm to his temple.

“...berries and cream? Like… actual milk cream?” Whip repeated and questioned with a wry grin while Ian tried to smother down his own excitement about Midas having remembered something that had gotten him so excited.

“... Yeah,” Midas confirmed, though he was starting to sound a little absent minded again as that part of the memory was less vivid.

Whip could only smile wider though, narrowing his eyes as he looked to Ian. “Oh yeah, he’s definitely from Eutoli,” he commented, earning a soft chuckle from Ian in agreement.

“Def-... what makes you say that?” Midas asked, scrunching his brow in confusion.

“Milk cream is something you can only get inside Eutoli’s walls. The vulture bats around here love cow milk, and it’s impossible to mask the smell of it from them. People tried for a long time, but eventually everyone gave up trying to transport it. So the fact you regularly had fruit with cream could only be explained by you having lived in Eutoli for a while,” Whip explained, popping one of the grapes in his mouth.

It was strange to have something like that confirmed with such certainty. It should have been a more significant revelation, to be told they knew where he had lived before. Yet Midas found the almost fact to be rather unremarkable. So he was probably from Eutoli. So what? It didn’t help him remember anything, and didn’t mean anything to him since he wasn’t all that familiar with the other cities either.

The concept of where he was from did end up leading into thinking about where the others were from, and Midas absently recalled what he knew. Most of the people from the slums had traveled there from other wasteland inhabitants, or had left Cerah’s main walls for one reason or another. Whip was the odd one who was from a dead city, but that was hard to achieve these days since one had to be over a hundred years old to achieve that. And Ian was apparently from Andapos, and was yet another oddball of the group.

And thinking about oddballs, Midas’ thoughts circled back to something he’d thought about just that morning, but hadn’t had the chance to ask until now. “So I’ve been wondering,” Midas spoke up, derailing the conversation without quite noticing. “Ever since the whole thing with Benjamin. What’s up with Aina?”

It was hard for the other two to follow his thoughts, so Ian ended up lowering the food he had mid bite to look over in mild confusion. “What’s up with Aina?” Ian repeated, not quite sure what Midas meant by that.

“Yeah. Why does someone like her still live in the slums despite being an employee to C-Tech, but also seem to not even care that she works for a company like C-Tech?” Midas clarified around another strawberry tucked into his cheek. He seemed to be favoring the strawberries, but neither Ian or Whip minded. Whip was even trading the grapes on Midas’ paper for strawberries while he wasn’t looking.

“Mmm… I’m not too sure since she doesn’t seem to want to talk about it much,” Ian started thoughtfully, no longer avoiding addressing topics around his great granddaughter.

“Not like you asked either,” Whip muttered as a quiet jab as Ian’s prior avoidance of Aina. It didn’t seem he was going to let that go any time soon, and Ian could only give him a huffed and pouted glare at what he knew was a tease just to get his reaction.

Instead of answering Whip verbally though, Ian looked back to Midas. “From what I’ve gathered from hearing it from others, her parents were pretty capable scientists at C-Tech before she was born. Lucia, her mother, moved from Andapos, and met her father Jay in Cerah. They worked together on projects, but I’m not sure what ones. Aina has just mentioned before that she and her family weren’t very well liked by the rest of C-Tech.”

“Probably because they dabbled too close to cyborg related topics,” Whip interjected his own thoughts, causing Ian to give him a look of mild annoyance at being interrupted.

“What makes you think that?” Midas asked, tagging along with Whip’s mild divergence.

“Just peeking at what she does under those goggles,” Whip shrugged. “She’s a bio mechanical engineer. It’s hard not to get involved in cybernetics in that field. Not to mention she knows how to take care of us fairly well when we get hurt. That’s why I brought you to her when we first met. After I dragged you out from having your leg chewed on by a baby morrillo of course.” The explanation ended with a teasing jab at Midas this time, and Midas could only scrunch his nose in irritation before sticking his tongue out at Whip briefly.

“It’s possible that she only started getting into it after her parents passed though. She did mention before that she had some interest in cybernetics because it might make her leg easier to manage,” Ian slightly countered.

“Oh yeah. She’s totally just reading the footnotes,” Whip grinned, shaking his head slightly. He could appreciate Ian trying to play dumb, but at this point he'd seen way too much of what Aina could do to be willing to believe she was only skimming the surface when it came to human integrated cybernetics. Aina was the only one Whip trusted to help with his machinery ever since Crystal went missing after all.

“...What happened to her leg and parents? Did she ever say? - Is that too rude to ask?” this time Midas ended up steering the conversion to a slightly different path. The mention of Aina’s prosthetic leg and parents being dead made him curious.

“Ah…Yeah, she said some things in passing,” Ian confirmed, pursing his lips in a sympathetic grimace for a moment. “There was some sort of accident in the lab while she was visiting her parents. Her mom ended up critically injured from it, and died shortly after. And Aina lost her leg from it. Then her dad ended up working himself to death a while after, trying to keep the company happy on top of making the prosthetic for Aina as easy to use as he could. It’s one of the reasons she’s so adamant about taking breaks.”

“Hmm…,” Midas gave a small hum, thinking over the data he’d been given in response to his questions. It sounded like C-Tech didn’t like Aina because she and her parents dabbled in human applicable cybernetics, and also seemed to be problem causers for the company. Considering they had a rather drastic lab accident anyway. And as Midas thought about C-Tech and their potential reason for ostracizing Aina, but still making use of her, he couldn’t help remembering something from the memory he’d recently shared with Whip. “She’s not part of the necromancy experiments, is she?” he asked bluntly, looking first at Ian, but switching his gaze to Whip when the sudden question caused Whip to slightly choke on his drink.

“The what?” Ian asked, not able to understand what Midas was asking about at all. “Necromancy experiments?” he repeated before shifting his gaze to Whip as he coughed.

“I dunno,” Whip managed to respond after he’d got his breath back. “Considering how closed off they are about them, to the point I’d never even heard of them before you, I doubt it. She’s not that secretive with us, and I’ve never seen anything about human cybernetics in her assignments from C-Tech.”

“Oh… that’s good… I guess,” Midas hummed, taking another sip of his own broth and ending up wrinkling his nose again. Maybe he should just chug it so he’d only have the more tasty food left.

It was a rather neutral response that Whip found a little surprising, but he ended up distracted by Ian still staring at him expectantly. ‘It’s what he’s calling the C-Tech experiments with trying to reanimate the dead. The thing they mistook him for being in that memory I showed you,’ Whip responded silently to Ian, earning a tiny nod of sudden understanding from the latter.

As Ian reached for another cucumber Midas caught him mildly off guard once more by making another comment. “...You should tell her Good night.”

“What?” Ian asked, yet again looking up from his meal.

“Aina. You should tell her good night too. She’s probably lonely without you two there,” Midas clarified around more food in his cheek.

It was a little surprising to hear such a comment from Midas, but it only made Ian grin as he realized it wasn’t just out of concern for Aina that Midas was requesting such a thing. Looked like he was finally admitting just a little that he was fond of the girl as well. “Alright… I can do that,” Ian agreed, quickly sending the quick message to the girl.

It naturally took some time to get any sort of response. But when he did it was sent to both Ian and Whip, and earned a sudden snort from Whip. “She says to tell her yourself and stop shutting her out all the time,” he relayed with an amused chuckle and pointed grin at Midas.

“Oi,” Midas huffed in protest, a response the other two had come to expect. What was a surprise though was Midas growing a little sheepish, his lips pouting slightly as he averted his gaze and muttered, “...I’ll think about it.”

It was an unexpected response, and took a moment for them to realize what it meant. But after he did, Ian couldn’t hold back a short, sputtered laugh. So Midas was admitting he was part of the reason Aina couldn’t directly message him like she could with the others? One more welcomed sign that Midas was feeling more comfortable with someone. “Good night, Midas,” Ian snickered, deciding not to harass him about anything for now. Their dinner was pretty much done anyway, so it was fine to start ushering all of them off to sleep.

“Mm, night,” Midas almost mumbled, setting his empty cup aside and flopping over onto one of the mats Whip had laid out for each of them. It was a stark difference from the warm, soft bed they had the night before. But it wasn’t unfamiliar, and would still be easy enough to fall asleep on. Especially with the familiar feeling of a warm fire crackling behind him. So tomorrow they would reach Eutoli, huh? At least he didn’t have to wait much longer to see if they were correct in their guess about him being from there.

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First

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I had a holiday, so I spent it finishing up this section since I had 2 whole days to work on it instead of being dead from work =7=

And it ended up twice as long as I usually do for a post, but I have zero ideas on what to draw for it if I split it so all at once yeeey |D

next stop is Eutoli * flails hand a lil * I'm so excited, time to start info dumping about Midas

[aealrizen]

They had known from the beginning that it would take at least two days to get to Eutoli, even if they never stopped. But Ian and Whip were surprised when Zeera directed them towards a tiny, patched together building in the distance. As they approached a figure exited the building, and Zeera motioned for the group to hang back a little as she and her driver met them on the stretch of stone ground.

“...What’s going on?” Midas asked quietly, managing to get his vision to zoom in on the exchange as he knew Ian and Whip were already doing. There was an elderly man with dark hair in two braids, but Midas couldn’t figure anything significant out about him through appearance alone.

“Must be an outpost,” Whip answered, equally as quiet. “They’re rare, but sometimes people will build ones where the ground is stone far enough down and in a wide enough area. The morillos can’t dig underneath, so it’s safer to camp out with less watch. And people that aren’t too attached to civilization will stay there to watch over a store of common supplies. Zeera is apparently wanting a mechanic to check on the vehicles to make sure they didn’t get too damaged from the brigands earlier.”

Midas hadn’t even tried enhancing his hearing to listen in on the conversation, not sure if he’d be able to isolate the comments or just give himself a headache from the idling engines, so it was nice to hear the conversation relayed by Whip. After a currency chip was tapped on a palm tablet, Zeera turned to look at the rest of the group and raised a hand to wave them down. And with that signal Whip and Ian brought their bikes to easily coast onto the stone along with the other escorts. The trucks were parked separate from each other so they wouldn’t be easy to target all together, and the bikes were scattered throughout the grounds.

“Let’s make camp folks,” Zeera directed once everyone had joined her. “If any of you have some spare digits, the old guy here apparently has some fresh fruit. You’re free to shop around at your leisure, but no fighting over the supplies.”

The revelation of the rare treat caused a ripple of mildly excited murmurs to ripple through the crowd, even as the company started popping open compartments to retrieve cooking supplies and sleeping arrangements. As Ian and Whip parked their bikes somewhat near the group and swung off, Zeera approached them on her own, grinning. “As for you pups,” she started, causing Midas to narrow his eyes at her suspiciously. “You did good. Never seen a sniper that could be effective in a traveling battle, and you’re surprisingly reckless. But effective,” she complimented, taking note of their wariness as she nodded to Ian first, and then Midas before shifting her gaze to Whip. “I have to admit I thought you had a hidden firearm with you. Didn’t think you were only close range.”

“Ranged weapons are a skill set I haven’t bothered to develop,” Whip answered with forced casualness.

“Really?” Zeera huffed, mildly amused. “Even though most of the world relies on them now? You’re at a severe disadvantage.”

“I’m aware,” Whip responded, maintaining a pleasant smile and apparently relaxed demeanor. “But the nice thing about close-ranged weapons is that by the time someone is in range of me they’ve already had plenty of chances to change their mind.”

For a moment Midas saw Zeera’s expression falter. That perpetual partially hidden sneer towards them falling into a slightly wide eyed stare towards Whip. Somehow, those simple words spoken from someone so casually standing with his hand resting on the motorcycle’s front shield and a decided smile, caused her formerly secure confidence to break.

She tried to recover with a chuckle, but all three of them could hear the slight tremor in her tone. “Fair enough. I’ll tell my people to keep their distance then,” she accepted, turning to the side to demonstrate her surrender in this exchange. “I’ve also let Old Bira know about you. He said you’re free to do business just like the rest. Feel free to browse if you’d like,” she bid, raising a hand in a slight dismissive wave as she fully turned to leave.

The others said nothing to encourage her to stay, and once she had returned to her mercenary group Ian turned his attention to Midas, long used to Whip’s antics. “Have you seen a shop before? That you can remember?” Ian asked, a bit quietly to avoid drawing attention from the surrounding people making camp.

  “Hm…,” Midas hummed in response to show that he had heard, but took a moment to consider his response. Had he seen a shop before? Honestly, not that he could remember. The only kind of goods exchange he’d ever been involved with was standing in the background as Whip, Ian, or one of the other representatives from the slums conversed with traveling merchants. And most of the time it was an exchange of materials rather than money. “Do we even have money?” he asked, forgetting to vocalize his negative answer to the question.

Ian could only chuckle, figuring he was guessing correctly that Midas hadn’t seen a shop before. “A little,” he confirmed, gesturing towards the main building. “C’mon. Let’s go see what they have,” he prompted, glancing towards Whip to make sure they were on the same page about him staying behind to watch their currently owned supplies.

There were a few others from the escort crew that seemed to have managed to scrape together some extra funds to check out the shop, partially for treats but also for parts for minor repairs on the vehicles. It was still easy enough to slip inside the somewhat small building, and Midas was quick to notice that it seemed to be more of a repurposed tavern than a convenience store shop. There were still tables and chairs set up, but half of them were covered in various goods for display. And the bar counter had been restructured to hold a transaction machine while also putting a barrier between customers and the potentially more valuable merchandise. It was a little overwhelming on the smells too, for the grease and metal from scrap machine and spare parts mixed with the dried herbal scent of seasonings and dehydrated foods. But the main source of attention was the fresh produce that was in only a few chilled crates on the bar counter top.

Ian was quick to usher Midas over to the crates, uncertain if the current crowd of three would buy all the produce up before they could get any. But it seemed like they didn’t have enough money on hand and could only buy a few pieces, cradling their coveted bags of fresh fruits and vegetables in their palms as they scurried away. The elder man behind the counter couldn’t keep the grin from his features as they left, his gaze gaining a knowing glint when it turned to lock onto Midas and Ian. “...You must be the cyborgs Zeera was so adamant about warning me were here,” Old Bira commented as a greeting. “Thought there were three of you.”

Midas felt Ian tense slightly behind him, the hand on his back moving to his shoulder. He shared the sentiment, but… for some reason he didn’t feel as on edge with Old Bira as he did with Zeera. Something about Old Bira felt more amused than accusatory in his tone. “There is,” Ian answered simply, letting Old Bira direct the course of the conversation from there. Would he ridicule them like the rest of the people around here? Or perhaps choose a more civil approach?

To their mild surprise, Old Bira just laughed a low chuckle, “Well, better pack some up for your friend as well then,” he commented, continuing to sound like he was enjoying the presence of the rare kind of visitors. “That is what you’re in here for, I bet,” he added, gesturing his hand to the produce next to him.

Midas couldn’t help the slight smile that briefly flashed across his features before falling back to nervous anticipation. He was always nervous when Ian and Whip got super excited about having him try new things. Afraid his reaction would disappoint them. They never seemed to mind though, and Ian slowly relaxing next to him helped to ease some of the anxiety.

“Well… we’ll take a bit of each then. I don’t want to buy up everything in case someone hasn’t made it in yet,” Ian requested, his tone much softer and more open than before.

“Oh? That’s very generous of you,” Old Bira chuckled, but nevertheless started carefully plucking the produce into specially sized bags, weighing each one to be able to price the purchase. Midas watched in silent fascination, being able to name each of the foods but not sure if he was remembering an accurate flavor for them. Strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, and green grapes. And also some small carrots, and cucumbers. All of them being gathered up into one bundle that was neatly folded closed. “That’ll be three thousand,” Old Bira announced after keying in the last item and weight into his device.

Midas half coughed at the cost, gaze snapping over to Ian. They didn’t have that kind of money. That was several months worth of wages if he used the payment for this escort mission as a gauge. And yet Ian didn’t seem bothered at all, giving Midas a quiet shush as he hooked his fingers under a chain hidden under his shirt to pull a small chip forth. As Ian leaned forward slightly to let the chip dangle, Old Bira moved his handheld device up to meet it, letting the chip rest on the surface. After a moment there was a tiny beep, and Old Bira pulled his device back to look at the screen. He ended up huffing a chuckle and shaking his head at the sight, looking at Ian with a slightly different gaze. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you Lieutenant Colonel. Thank you for your service,” he chuckled, setting his device back down. “Can I get you anything else, lads?”

“Thank you,” Ian returned, a bit quietly before looking to Midas when Old Bira asked if they needed anything else.

It took Midas a second to realize Ian was letting him choose something else if he wanted, but he couldn’t manage to even glance at the rest of the store. “N’no thanks. I think I’m just gonna eat sand for a week after that price,” Midas blurted, reaching out to take the parcel of the most expensive food he could remember having, but then faltering as he wondered if Ian would be upset or not with him being the one taking it.

“No you’re not,” Ian corrected calmly, carefully reaching out to pull the parcel from the counter and push it the rest of the way into Midas’ hands. “Thank you again, this’ll be all for now,” Ian directed to Old Bira as he used a hand on Midas’ shoulder and back to direct him outside once more. As they left the establishment, Ian leaned closer to Midas and spoke quietly to reassure him. “Don’t worry about the cost. I have a lot of money because I still get a salary from the Andapos military, and it’s only useful in some situations because a lot more people these days prefer goods to coin.”

Midas ended up wheezing again slightly when Ian hinted that three thousand cash was nothing for him. But the rest of the explanation helped calm his growing feeling of guilt. “Wait… so you get paid for doing nothing but can’t really use it most of the time anyway?” he asked for clarification.

“Yup,” Ian confirmed, moving them quickly back to Whip so their bag of goodies would hopefully go fairly unnoticed. “I usually end up buying a lot more than that from places that will take it since it’s a good chance to resupply. But we can worry about that later, we still have more than enough to reach Eutoli.”

Midas was quiet for a moment before he ended up huffing in amusement, shaking his head slightly. “Rich bastard,” he joked with a slight grin.

The comment caught Ian slightly off guard, but in a good way. He wasn’t used to people playfully insulting him like that. And honestly the comment meant little in the present day compared to long before. “Save a little here and there for a hundred years and you too can end up with a pile of trash collecting digital dust, just like me,” he chuckled, reaching up to ruffle Midas’ hair as they joined Whip once more, taking a seat on the rare stony ground around a small fire Whip had already started in the waning sun.

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First

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Guuuhhhh something that used to take me only 2 days after work, 1 to write and 1 to draw now takes me like a week and a half |DD I hope stuff settles down soon.

[aealrizen]

The reward for the slight delay on trading places was neigh instantaneous as Midas let go of the bike controls in exchange for slipping his twin pistols from their holsters. His left foot shifted up onto the seat as he twisted to look behind them easier, one gun swiftly raising to blast another mini missile mid-flight as the other hand near blindly blasted a pulse into the knee of one of the nearby brigand drivers. Normally Midas would have targeted the hydraulic forks, or some other part of the front of the machine. But without metal bullets to back up the blast he knew the plasma wouldn’t do enough damage. So it was better to take out the driver, and joints were effective sweet spots. A shout of pain and jerk of their hands caused the vehicle to veer off course and shake their companion from their aim. It was enough of a distraction for a member of the escort team to toss a tiny bomb into the front hydraulics and burst the tire free from the frame.

One down. How many more were left? Sixteen?

A shout from a nearby driver was all that alerted Whip of another brigand pair swerving towards him and Midas, trying to ram into them to cause them to crash. Since this was his first time driving Midas’ bike, Whip didn’t fancy getting yelled at and opted to swerve out of the way, pressing the brakes for a sharp slowdown to avoid them. He heard Midas give a mildly annoyed grunt, and felt Midas’ weight shift to stay balanced on the back of the bike. But at least one hand stayed raised to blast another mini missile in the air, picking off the ones Ian wasn’t able to shoot from his position.

As three more targets were disabled by their companions, Whip was feeling even more confident in their odds. The mini missiles and mines the brigands were dropping were annoying, but Midas took the role of backseat weapon better than he’d thought the kid would. So Whip started focusing more on keeping him in range of the brigands so it would be easier for Midas to take them out.

He wasn’t expecting Midas’ weight to suddenly leave the back of the bike.

At first Whip was afraid Midas had gotten knocked off, but a sharp gasp and quick glance over his shoulder gave him the sight of Midas launching himself over to the brigands Whip had brought them close to, kicking the second passenger from the bike to roll in the sand. And while crouched in a swaying balance on the seat Midas arched his hand back to point blank fire a pulse of low intensity plasma into the back of the driver’s neck. It wouldn’t be fatal, but it caused the driver’s muscles to spasm before locking up, effectively causing them to tip the bike into a sand dune producing slide.

As soon as the blast was fired Midas was leaping off the bike, latching onto the side of one of the trucks they were protecting until Whip could coast in close enough. The pistol that was originally in his hand was being held with the handle in his teeth, and Midas hissed slightly as some of the brigands took the chance to fire at him. Curling his legs up, Midas took the chance of them being close enough and kicked off the side of the truck, crashing into the driver’s shoulder even as Whip cut off another pair by swerving in front of them and throwing a sand cloud in their way. For a moment Midas locked eyes with the secondary passenger, watching as realization caused her eyes to widen as she sucked in a breath. Midas cut off her response though by snatching her collar and bodily tossing her from the bike, kicking off as well to return to his own bike and let her tumble in the sand.

As Midas returned to his place, Whip had to internally chuckle. The kid was impressive. Even if cybernetic enhancements made inhuman feats achievable, it was still fun to see how Midas put the skills to work. Yet the borderline terrifying thing was he knew Midas wasn’t using any tech to assist with his aim. Whip had found out early on that Midas had impeccable skill with pistols without the use of his cybernetic enhancements, but he was starting to realize it wasn’t because Midas had just one day decided to try not using assisted aim. There was too much muscle memory in the kid’s movements, betraying that he had learned to shoot long before he’d become a cyborg. It may have been a concerning fact for others to learn, but all Whip could think was Midas would have been a menace if he’d been in the military back with him and Ian.

It wasn’t a thought he could focus on for long though, a few of the riders Midas and he had knocked off standing to shout into headpieces.

“They have cyborgs!”

Whip barely heard the cry from the woman Midas had thrown, but noticed how several others reacted to hearing the same message being delivered through their comms. Yet he could only snort in amusement at how long it had taken them to realize that. As Zeera had already pointed out, it wasn’t like he worried about covering his back. There were many creatures that still displayed their markings as a warning to others not to mess with them after all.

“Fall back!”

An order instead of a warning. One that was acted on immediately as the brigands realized they were in over their heads. The remaining bikes that were still in line with the escort group put on their brakes, rapidly falling behind and curving off to pick up their fallen comrades as they fled. Midas fired a few more shots their way along with the rest of the escort group, making sure no one hesitated any longer, before he lowered his barrels towards the ground.

Where normally there would have been a tense silence, waiting to see if the enemy would come back, Zeera’s laughter instead came quickly after the brigands had retreated. At a tap on the shoulder and direction to her driver, her bike pair slid up near Whip and Midas. “Nice shooting, kangaroo. You two- well, three apparently- made that a heck of a lot easier than normal. And gave us a show to boot,” she somewhat complimented, chuckling in amusement.

It felt like a backhanded compliment, and Midas could only furrow his brows in confusion as Whip gave a mix between a sneer and fake smile. She wasn’t the worst he’d dealt with before, but he could still tell her comments held barbs instead of playfulness. At least Ian coasting back into the group near them helped to calm both their nerves. He was always much better than them when it came to dealing with others in a cordial manner. Apparently he’d had years of practice even before being in the military, having dated Aina’s great grandmother and all.

As Ian gave Zeera a polite raise of his hand, Midas crossed his arms over Whip’s back and leaned on them, pinning Whip’s hair under them and not ready to put his guns away just yet. Zeera grew bored with their non answer, getting her driver to move them back to their starting position as well. Which also helped the three calm to a tense stillness. And after a moment of silence, Whip glanced over his shoulder. “...Want me to move?” he asked, thinking Midas would want to take the controls back as soon as possible.

“...Do you want me to take over?” Midas responded, somewhat confused that Whip would bring it up after all the nagging and complaining he’d done so many times before now about never getting to drive.

“...Not really,” Whip admitted with a slight laugh. He’d be lying if he denied any questions about wanting to take the bike over a few jumps and other obstacles. It rode a lot smoother than he’d been expecting, and getting to pilot it was fun.

“Then go ahead and keep driving,” Midas permitted, keeping his gaze out on the horizon. “...It’s nice to not have to drive for once,” he admitted, a little quiet, just loud enough for Whip’s ears to pick up among the wind.

Whip could only chuckle again, giving a nod of understanding. “Sure thing. Enjoy the ride,” he agreed, turning his attention back to the course in front of them once more. They wouldn’t reach Eutoli until sometime the next day, so he saw no problem in letting Midas have time to relax for once. Even if he’d caught Ian grinning like an idiot behind them. No doubt the chronic dad was stewing in pride about Midas having opened up to them a little more. Not that Whip minded. He’d have to agree that it was nice to have someone else like them, and be able to add one more to their ancient duo. And it was nice to see that Midas might actually, finally, trust them enough to let them through his walls. He just hoped it would last even if they didn’t find anything in Eutoli.

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First

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I realized after I finished drawing that I drew his hair/the wind blowing in the wrong direction 'cause he was supposed to be facing towards the back of the truck X'DDD Oh well, I'm too lazy to fix it for a first draft thing.

[aealrizen]

Several hours into the trip, Midas had distracted himself with a side project that was unnoticeable by the rest of the group. A group that honestly would have been nerve grinding if Midas, Whip and Ian hadn’t learned to tune them out near the beginning of the trip. Snide comments shouted their way, jokes made at their expense, sending them off to scout an area so they wouldn’t risk their own people. Mida quickly learned what Whip had meant about not getting too feisty with them. The more he pushed back the more they tormented them. It was only when he’d stopped reacting that they grew bored and focused on their task. One thing Midas did notice was that everyone there but Whip had a gun of some sort. Which Midas knew wouldn’t put Whip at a disadvantage if they turned violent, but it would be an inconvenience. And that line of thought was what brought his little project to the front of his mind.

A project he wasn’t able to finish before they had newcomers.

The extra bodies in the wasteland were first noticed by Midas by the tingling sensation crawling down the back of his neck. Something about the environment not quite feeling right. A warmth where there should have been barren stillness. Whip growing tense behind him and raising his head to scan the horizon around them. There was a silenced blast in the distance, too far for average ears to hear, but that was enough for Midas to confirm he wasn’t just paranoid.

Something was speeding their direction, and unfortunately Midas seemed to be within the target area as a few more muffled bursts hissed somewhat behind them.

“Shit!” Midas cussed, swerving the bike with a jerk of his hands and earning a slightly startled huff from Whip as he was nearly tossed from the bike. They barely managed to dodge a clump of metal thumping into the sand close to where they had been, exploding upon impact and throwing a haze of dirt and mild flames in the air. Other members of their group had to pull similar maneuvers to avoid the other objects fired their way, and as Midas caught sight of one briefly before it exploded in the dirt he had to hiss. Were they seriously using mini missels on them? Anti human, compact explosives developed during the cyborg war?

“We got brigands!” Zeera hollered over the sand bursts from two more shots fired on them, her hand raising to signal to her companions before she raised her plasma submachine gun as forms that didn’t belong to the crest of the hills showed themselves.

“Are those missiles?!” Midas guaffed, returning to his earlier thought while glancing back over his shoulder as he heard more muffled hisses, catching sight of Ian already breaking away from the group as he did so. He wasn’t worried about Ian’s motive, but he would admit he didn’t like having one of their own, smaller group so far away. But he didn’t comment. Already knowing Ian needed distance to be the most effective.

“Time to earn your stay, pups,” Zeera called back to the three of them, watching Ian detour to higher ground for a moment with distrust before she realized his motive and turned back to tap the driver in front of her. “Take us in range.”

Several of the other motorcycles peeled off at Zeera’s directions, looping around in wide arcs towards the source of the enemy fire to either engage them or chase them away. They didn’t have to go far since the group raiding their caravan was large enough to split into two, half approaching and half staying further back.

Whip had to silently curse at his lack of ranged abilities this time, noting how all of the raiders were staying too far out of range for him to be effective without risking getting left behind. He could try throwing things at them, but he knew that Midas would be way more efficient than him. And yet the lad had stubbornly refused to allow his precious bike to be piloted by anyone but him. He’d just have to goad Midas into bringing him into range then. Which led him to flattening down against Midas’ back so he could call into his ear. “Midas!” he shouted, to get Midas’ attention, not sure if he wasn’t reacting because he wasn’t used to fighting other humans. They probably should have thought about that beforehand. Whip knew Midas had fought against C-Tech security, but had he had to deal with anyone else since then?

Midas winced at the noise in his ear, flinching away and swerving to dodge another missile slamming into the ground nearby. He chose to wait until the resounding boom died down before shouting back an answer that completely derailed Whip’s thoughts. “I haven’t finished programming it for you yet!”

The breath Whip had drawn shout directions caught in his throat as he fully registered what Midas said. Hadn’t finished yet? He’d actually started reprogramming his bike to be able to accept other users? When had he done that? Was that why he’d gone strangely absent minded awhile ago? Regardless, Whip wasn’t going to complain. “Well hurry up! I’m useless here!” he shot back, a mild tease at both of them through a grin that kept growing in anticipation. The prospect of actually getting to drive Midas’ fancy custom bike just made this crazy raid a lot more exciting.

The only response he got was an irritated ‘tch’ as Midas elected to finish what he was doing rather than waste time responding. They had been through enough road trip fights for him to realize Whip did alright with beasts and other enemies they could swing in close to. But humans were a lot more intelligent, and would know to keep their distance. It would be much more effective if they switched places.

“This isn’t a joy ride, pups,” Zeera called as her bike swerved close to them, her own return fire catching one of the raider’s bike’s front wheels and jostling the connection enough to destabilize the tire, causing them to swerve off to slide gracelessly into the sand.

He was so close to finishing the code, and having one more person snapping at him instead of leaving him alone made Midas retaliate. “Do one of you want to try reprogramming a single user system to allow for multiple users in the middle of a missile fight? No? Then shut the hell up!” he snapped, earning a smothered snort from Whip trying to hold back laughter. No need to pick a fight, but that was still funny. Even if the situation was a little tense. They were supposed to be helping, and Whip was starting to get worried they would accuse them of slacking off deliberately.

A concern that was quickly abated as Midas raised his voice again. “Try it now!” he ordered, pulling his left hand from the grip and leaning slightly out of the way.

Whip was quick to comply with the order, leaning forward and threading his fingers into the controls. The green hued circuit connection from Midas was replaced by blue before it could completely fade, and Whip felt the rush of a new system linking to his mind beyond his hermetic code wall. His mouth ended up breaking into a wide smile not only because his access was granted, but also because the system behind the machine was surprisingly clean and well organized. Whip felt like he knew how to operate the bike much faster than almost any other machine before in recent years, and eagerly started shifting more to replace Midas. “Got it! Go,” he announced, trying to keep the bike steady as Midas squirmed out from under him and to the back seat.

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First

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This part and the next one was an effort I had to almost completely rewrite once or twice. I don't remember, but it was enough read through that I didn't read through this again after drawing and before posting X'D ugly first draft for a reason

[aealrizen]

After bidding Benjamin and his family farewell for now, and Berko giving Ian a huge hug after waking up just in time to see them leave, Ian led them back to the eastern gate. They would have to pick up their own transport vehicles before taking the outer tunnel connecting to the south eastern gate, emerging back above ground a short distance away. There was already a group gathered in the street leading to the exit, three massive open top trucks and a scattering of motorcycles of various quality and repair. The people gathered there wore a smattering of partial soldier uniforms as well as attire common for wasteland mercenaries. It wasn’t hard to find Zeera, standing among the workers with practiced and overly familiar watch, barking orders as needed. It only took her seconds to notice the trio of newcomers to her party, and she cracked a snide grin as they approached, Ian holding the paper authorization in his hand, ready to give her.

“Heh. Secretary Morna must think we have platinum in our trucks if he’s sending a bunch of cyborg mercenaries to help guard it,” Zeera’s greeting came as a scoffed sneer as she looked over her assigned assistants. She didn’t look impressed, but she also didn’t look hostile. More like she was dealing with a bunch of pets that needed proper handling.

“Got a problem with it?” Whip asked in return, his eyes narrowing in unamused distaste saturated with boredom from having heard the same complaint too many times.

“What makes you think we’re cyborgs?” Ian cut in, giving one last chance for Zeera to retract her position and start again in a more amicable manner.

She didn’t take the offer though, just huffing and giving Whip a sideways glance before looking back to Ian. “Please. All three of you have the halo eyes. And it’s not like bluebell here even tries to hide anything on his back,” she scoffed, nodding her head towards Whip. “I ain’t gonna pick a fight though. More just surprised your kind even exists anymore. Thought you’d all gone berserk and gotten put down by now. But, I can’t deny you’ll be useful. Just don’t do anything crazy and I won’t have to put you down myself,” she offered as a scathing withdrawal, shifting the rather bulky plasma submachine gun to her shoulder and turning back to her team. “Alright kids, let’s head out in five. Those who don’t make it by then don’t get paid. The puppies can drive themselves, and I better not see anyone provoking them. We don’t need to give them a reason to bite.”

Midas had to sneer at her disregard of gun safety, even if the power cell had been removed for now, and had a half consideration that he might just accidentally forget to protect her if she ended up being a target. As Whip wordlessly ushered him to his bike, Midas obediently followed, noting how Whip’s protective shielding arm around him was also acting as a sort of cover.

‘Remove the bullets from your pistols,’ Whip directed Midas silently, flicking his eyes to meet one of the truck drivers that was staring at them and getting him to flinch and return to his task of starting the engine.

‘Why?’ Midas returned, irritable because of their treatment as well as the idea of not being able to use the more effective metal beads. Plasma did nothing against the larger wildlife around here.

‘Don’t give them a reason to blame us if one of them ends up dead,’ Whip returned. He already knew Ian had the same idea, the pack of bullets for his rifle being subtly removed from his pouch and stowed deep in his bike’s compartment. Physical bullets were illegal in all three cities, but they all knew the further away from the cities people got, the more loose laws became. Neither Whip or Ian was going to give these soldiers or mercenaries a reason to use them as scapegoats.

As the others started mounting their bikes, Whip swung onto the back of Midas’ bike, taking the bullet case Midas passed to him and storing it as well. Midas still seemed grumpy, but he took his usual position at the front, looping his fingers into the rings that made up one of the controls.

“Nice Cerah loot. Where’d you steal that from?” a gruff mercenary asked, staying a few feet away from them but still nodding at Midas’ bike.

Giving him a half glance, Midas huffed. “Garbage heap,” he answered shortly.

The mercenary grunted in amused disbelief. “Sure. Let me just look up the serial number registry and see where it’s supposed to be in service,” he pressed, seeing if threatening to report Midas would get him to talk.

“Sure. The bulk of it is from model S7-24-12-11, but the shocks I had to pull from model SC24-72,” Midas shot back, unfazed. “And I had to construct the interface from various parts of an old high wire transport compartment, a neural link motherboard manufacturing device, and a broken vending machine. Do you want the serial numbers for those too?”

The mercenary ended up twitching his head back in surprise at Midas actually talking back to him instead of stammering under the hazing. But he recovered quickly and half forced a short laugh. “Damn kid, that’s a lot. Bit of a handyman there, I see. Might actually be useful to have ya around then,” he chuckled, waving his hand dismissively as he casually left to join his own riding buddy.

Midas could only squint in annoyance after him, giving an unimpressed breath at the return comment and shifting to get comfortable while they waited for the direction to leave. Whip couldn’t help adding his own genuine chuckle though, leaning over to mutter quietly. “Nice one. Just don’t get too feisty, or they’ll stop playing fair,” he cautioned, giving Midas an approving pat on the upper back.

“Then they better be ready for me to meet them on the playing field they set,” Midas scoffed back, reaching his free hand into the other controls as Zeera shouted and gestured for the group to proceed.

“HA. We’ll see if you can keep that claim. Mister ‘I can’t tell the difference between coffee and mud’,” Whip teased back, adjusting his weight to his usual position for a long ride.

Midas’ mildly flustered protest was half lost to the roar of slightly over twenty engines, and Whip ended up just flashing him a toothy smile before quickly raising a brow and nodding his head towards their departing group. The response he earned was just Midas punching too much power into the bike’s gears to cause it to jerk both of them to harass Whip, then smooth out into a steady ride to keep in line with the others. Whip could only laugh again, being more than used to this method of attempted torment from the lad. And just like always, Ian slid in diagonally behind them, rolling his eyes at their antics even as their tires scuffed up clouds of dirt that forced them to keep a bit more distance.

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First

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I enjoy designing the extra characters for this sometimes =u=

[aealrizen]

“You’ll be under the direction of Zeera Viden,” Benjamin continued, breaking the three away from their silent, internal conversation. “She’s a rough lady that used to follow Brigadier General Valin quite heavily, but I think she’s started to come around and not be as prejudiced. Don’t give her a reason to think you’re up to something, and she should remain cordial. If not, then just ditch her and come back. We can think of something else.”

The names meant nothing to Midas, but he didn’t miss the grimace Ian made when the general’s name was mentioned. Nor did his miss Whip’s obvious eye roll and noise of disgust. Peering over to the tablet Ian was looking at, Midas could only notice that the woman in the picture had a split eyebrow from a small but noticeable scar, and a nose piercing. Which was odd considering how much metal was coveted. She must be rather high rank. Or at least somehow rich enough to afford such trinkets. “Who’s Valin?” Midas asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Euh. Cyborg hater,” Whip huffed, sagging into his hand as it supported him by his cheek.

“We used to work with her during the war. She was never very fond of the idea of cybernetics in humans,” Ian clarified, forcing himself to be polite to not cause trouble.

“What was that she always said? ‘Humans were meant to use machines, not become them’,” Whip added, his voice growing forced in mocking as he repeated the words he’d heard so many times. “She was the reason we were on the front lines as often as we were. Stupid woman thought we were just tools and not actual people.”

Ian could only purse his lips in bitter memory, but still couldn’t bring himself to blame her for her actions. He and Whip had made an impressive team that was hard to match afterall. “Her words ended up motivating a lot of dehumanization propaganda towards cyborgs in the past. It was… easier for people to accept the war when it wasn’t against people.”

“Hmmm…,” Midas hummed, not quite sure how he felt about either side of the topic. He wasn’t sure Brigadier General Valin’s concerns were warranted considering the specialists of old had long ago learned there was a limit to how much cybernetics could be pumped into a person. There was a reason that full body cyborgs were considered as such despite only being 40% mechanical. Any more and the body started to shut down. Humans could be supported by machines, but they could never become them.

Or at least that was what he could remember from databases he’d examined of the old world. Where he’d gotten access to such databases was beyond his memory, but the facts were still there. Apparently there was still a concern though. Ignorance often did bring fear. Which made Midas have a question he didn’t think twice about asking out loud.

“What about you guys?” Midas spoke up, looking at Chipo and Benjamin. “Do you think we’re human?”

He didn’t realize it wasn’t an appropriate question to ask until Whip sat up from his slouch, and Ian tensed uncomfortably. “...Midas, that’s not really something you should ask…” Ian hushed, eyes flicking to the others.

“Why not?” Benjamin asked in return, breaking out of his own stunned surprise. “I think it’s one that should be asked more often. Maybe I’m not one to talk since I wasn’t even alive when cyborgs were more than just a rumour most times. But I think you’re all human enough to warrant being treated as such. It’s not like cyborgs have done anything worse than what some non cyborgs have.”

The response was somewhat surprising, but also reassuring. Enough that Midas gave Benjamin a more confident grin, not having much more to say after that. Even Whip seemed strangely softened by the comments, a faint smile as he also chose not to respond.

“...Thanks,” Ian spoke up quietly for the three of them, sliding the tablet slightly to let Benjamin know it was okay to continue.

Benjamin only gave a nod in response to the gratitude, reaching over to swipe the tablet to the next page of the file. “She’ll meet you at the south eastern gate in an hour. I’ve already notified her of the additional support, and let her know that you’ll be staying in Eutoli to help the citizens unload and store the supplies. That should be enough to let you stay for a while.”

“It’s perfect,” Ian acknowledged, skimming over the details listed in the digital documents. It seemed it was a standard shipment for the most part. But there were some items on the list that Ian knew would be worth a good enough price for scavengers to risk stealing. “Is there anything else we should know?”

The pause Benjamin made when asked to continue started to spike Midas’ anxiousness about him and this place again. But it seemed that he was just nervously considering if he should speak up or not. “Everything about the task is in the files, you’re free to copy them to a secondary device. But… I do have a more personal request, if you don’t mind,” he explained, hesitating long enough to get a response.

It made sense. Benjamin was doing them a huge favor by assigning them this job. It was fair for him to ask for something in return. Ian just hoped it was something they could give him, while Whip was expecting it to be reasonable. “What is it?” Ian prompted.

“My niece,” Benjamin started, getting a mix between a worried and amused grin. “If you see a girl named Aina Morna while you’re out and about could you give her a message for me? Let her know that she’s still welcome in our house any time, regardless of what the rest of the family says?”

It was a surprising request, and after a moment's shock Ian could only chuckle. “Sure thing. I’ll just send her a message now,” he agreed.

Before Benjamin could fully register what Ian had said, Midas was able to realize what Benjamin had just confirmed for him. “I knew it!” he burst, jumping to his feet and pointing his fork at Ian. “You act like a weirdo around her because you know her! Aina’s your-.... Uhhh,” he blurted, trailing off as he had to pass the family tree through his head to figure out the relationship. “Granddaughter?”

“Weirdo?” Ian repeated, mildly offended.

Whip could only snort in amusement. “Absolutely weird,” he confirmed to Ian. Considering how readily all the other kids had been adopted by Ian, it was strange that he’d always kept Aina at a distance. Most people just assumed it was because she had the C-Tech brand despite being largely ostracized by them as well. But apparently it had been because Aina was a relative to the woman that had demanded Ian not interact with her family line. Which Whip then tried to confirm the relation to Midas. “It would be granddaughter. But only if they’re from the same person.”

“Uh, she’s technically a great granddaughter like Olie,” Benjamin corrected, mildly confused. “Her mother is my sister. You know her?” HIs question didn’t sound upset, just horribly confused.

“Yeah, she fixed up my leg after a morillo bit it, and is always trying to get in my brain,” Midas answered bluntly, causing Whip to snort once again while Ian sighed and lowered his head to his hand.

“Midas. Phrasing,” Ian chided gently, shaking his head.

Benjamin flipped between being shocked with concern, to disgruntled confused, and then ended up snorting and laughing as Midas hummed in a half frozen state of recalibrating his mind.

“Uhhh. I mean she’s trying to figure out a way to directly communicate with my internal network like she does with Whip and Ian,” Midas clarified, staring at the table as he tried to figure out the more proper way to describe what his relation was to Aina.

“You two must get along great then,” Benjamin laughed heartily, not bothered at all by the weird comment once he realized what Midas had actually meant.

“Not really,” Midas admitted with a mildly scrunched nose, only able to remember them being awkwardly quiet around each other when they weren’t stumbling over words as he tried to talk to her without scaring her.

“Really? You’re so similar though,” Benjamin chuckled, rubbing a tear from his eye.

The comment caused Midas to scrunch his nose even more in bafflement, and Ian reached over to gently pull on his shoulder to get him to sit down again while Whip laughed loudly. “Finish your breakfast, we have to leave soon,” Ian prodded with a mild sigh.

That was enough to motivate Midas to return to his omelette after a short “Oh,” scooping another fork full into his mouth.

----

It would take awhile to transfer through the satellites, and Ian wasn’t sure if she would even get the message. But eventually Aina would get a notification for a message drop that would prompt her to break away from her current task to touch with a finger tap.

‘We met your Uncle Benjamin. He says you’re welcome home any time. Thanks for always watching out for us. And I’m sorry.’

It was a simple message, but one that caused Aina to stare at it for longer than necessary. They were words she felt like she’d heard before. At least the first part. But for some reason the last two sentences made everything seem different. Albeit confusing. Like they weren’t just words said to be polite, and the people who said them actually meant it. It was too much to consider right then though, so the message was left without a response as she flicked it back to a minimized state, commenting to no one that it was strange.

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I was halfway through the first picture before i realized it was a scene from the previous section X'DD So I gave up and just did 2 pics for this one.

[aealrizen]

Morning crept into the room beyond the drapes as sluggish as Whip’s brain roused from sleep. He had stayed up a little later than it had been apparent, just talking to Ian cybernetically and catching him up on all that he’d missed out on. Which meant the hours of sleep he’d gotten were significantly lacking, regardless of if it was later in the day than he’d planned.

‘So do you think he was a mole?’ Ian’s question had come through a temporary connection after Whip had explained why Midas had panicked earlier that day. The memory Midas had shared with Whip had almost guiltily been shared with Ian to keep him in the loop. Whip could have just explained the event, but he had wanted Ian to see for himself. Maybe he would notice something Whip had missed.

‘No,’ Whip could still answer that question firmly. ‘It is strange that C-Tech took him in, but if Crystal was taking care of him then I’m confident everything was just coincidence. She would never approve of turning someone into a mole like that. It’s much more reliable to have a conscious expert break into Cerah than hope they picked up a comatose body. I really think C-Tech heard about him from scavengers and panicked thinking someone might overthrow their monopoly as the leading technological power. Or something like that’

Whip had known Crystal for a long time now, having used her services many times before for maintenance as well as running errands for her in return. She was the beloved doctor in an underground network of cityless mercenaries who jealously guarded her whereabouts. It had been a shame to learn she had gone missing more than two years ago. But apparently she had been involved with something that had included Midas if the video data they had found held any truth to it.

There were a lot of questions Whip had, but he’d quickly come to realize they would be easily answered by helping Midas figure out the answers to his own questions. A strange, biologically stupid yet technically genius kid who was apparently pretending to still be asleep even after Whip had already opened his eyes to stare at the wall for a bit. Was he actually that comfortable?

Giving a slight grin, hearing small feet tromping down the hall, Whip reached up to ruffle Midas’ hair. “Morning kid. Did you get eaten by the bed?” he greeted, sliding in a mild joke in to test the mood.

Midas just snorted before drawing a relenting sigh and stretching his legs out while refusing to release his hold on the coveted pillow. “Maybe,” he huffed in response. He at least didn’t feel trapped. Just smothered in cushy comfort that made him reluctant to choose to leave.

“Oh, I guess I’ll have to rescue you like I said I would then,” Whip chuckled, sliding his hand down, then under Midas’ side and wiggling his fingers to tickle him. It earned a mixed noise of protest and amusement as Midas started squirming; kicking his legs and swinging his hand out in an arc to bring the pillow crashing down on Whip’s face.

“PF- OI!” Whip protested, lurching his limbs forward to protect his features from the plush offense. As revenge he hooked his arm fully under Midas’ torso and bodily hefted him up and over himself, heaving the kid off the bed towards the floor. The startled noise Midas made as he twisted his own limbs in an almost cat-like manner to be able to land on his palms and feet was all Whip needed to quench his desire for revenge.

Snickering as Midas watched him in playful wariness, expecting another retaliation, Whip just dropped the pillow back to the bed and relaxed slightly. “Don’t worry, I’ve had enough. Let’s go wash our faces and get some breakfast before we have to go back out into the dust,” he prodded, hefting himself to his feet and heading for the door.

“Wash our faces?” Midas repeated in confusion, rising upright as well and tilting his head to the side. He still followed behind Whip despite the lack of understanding, noting the neatly stacked clothes in a small basket right outside their door.

“Oh, right. You young people aren’t used to doing that everyday,” Whip snickered, noticing the basket as well and leaning down to dig out his own clothes. “It’s good for your skin,” Whip explained, lightly patting his own cheek. “Gets rid of all the grime you smashed your face into during the night. Like drool.”

“Oi. If anyone was drooling last night it was you,” Midas shot back with a huff, the wry grin letting Whip know he didn’t mind the jab at him.

They took turns borrowing the bathroom one more time to get dressed and otherwise ready to head out before making their way downstairs when they noticed that’s where everyone else probably was already. The empty rooms upstairs almost felt eerie in their pristine yet vacant state, and Midas felt a slight chill down his back as he slightly hurried down the stairs to the ground floor once more.

“In the kitchen!” Chipo’s voice called out, having heard their footsteps descending.

The unfamiliar voice caused Midas to flinch in surprise, pausing for a moment halfway down a step before shaking it off and forcing himself to continue. There were a lot of familiar yet unfamiliar sounds coming from the kitchen. Clanking of cooking utensils, iron and wood, wire in glass, a blade thumping against marble. A busy morning kitchen. Busy, yet somehow quiet. Not at all like the mornings in the slums where everyone’s activities echoed through the holes in the walls, easily carrying between half broken buildings. Some people there didn’t bother cooking inside at all. Building fire pits with cast iron pots directly over the blaze. It was a different kind of feeling of home, but one Midas was more used to than the polished bare countertops and sealed wooden table.

A table that Ian was already seated at with the kids, falling into his position as grandpa as easily as he became the uncle, or big brother, or even dad to the younger kids that collected around him back home. He only had to gesture at the two plates of food that had already been set for the late risers. 

Taking the seat further away from Ian so that Midas could sit between them, Whip had to mentally chuckle as Midas squinted at the yellow orange lump on the plate while leaning over the back of the chair slightly.

“I hope you two slept well. You looked so peaceful when I checked to see if you were doing okay, I didn’t want to wake you earlier than I had to,” Chipo commented from where she was monitoring the pan on the stove with the next omelette cooking inside. Seeing Midas’ reaction to the breakfast made her pause though, worried. “...You’re not allergic to eggs, are you? It’s just a cheese and pepper omelette.”

“He’s just not used to food that isn’t soylent tofu bricks,” Whip answered quickly, the mirth bleeding into his tone as he ushered Midas to take a seat while scooping a spoonful of omelette into his own mouth.

Chipo’s expression was a myriad of concern and pity, but Midas spoke up before she could say anything. “You checked on us while we were sleeping?” It sounded weird to him. He didn’t think it was out of malice or distrust, surprisingly. But he still couldn’t see why she would bother. It wasn’t like they really knew each other.

“She’s in a habit of checking on everyone to make sure they’re sleeping well, ever since we had kids,” Benjamin responded quickly, not wanting anyone to put judgment on his wife. “It’s just hard for her to sleep peacefully if she doesn’t know everyone else is as well in our home. Please don’t think anything of it.”

Midas hadn’t meant to start any arguments between anyone, so just gave a mild hum in response as he slid into the chair. Since Whip and Ian were eating the food without question he figured it would be fine, and therefore occupied his mouth by scooping his own bite in, to keep himself from saying something else stupid.

At least for half a minute.

“Where are you able to get so much fresh food?” Midas then asked around a mouthful of omelette. His plate was already half empty, and Whip couldn’t decide if he just didn’t like the omelette as much as the gumbo, or was just too hungry to savor it like before. Or maybe he liked it too much and wasn’t aware of how fast he was eating.

“Eutoli. Just like everyone else,” Chipo answered, glad for the change in subject and wordlessly taking the initiative to just add another omelette to Midas’ plate, bringing it over directly from the stove. He was a little startled to see her approach him, but after she slid the fresh omelette onto his plate he just stared at it while his brain caught up with what he’d seen. The action earned a confused blink from him, but after a moment of being surprised he looked up to Chipo with a hesitant grin next to a food stuffed cheek. Which in turn just earned a beaming smile from Chipo. “I’m glad you like them,” she mentioned, returning to the stove so the next one could be cooked as well.

“Eutoli is still the only place that can grow a significant amount of fresh food. So Anadapos trades supplies with them to import some for its people,” Benjamin explained further, not sure if Midas knew that fact since he’d asked where the food came from in the first place. It was a good lead into talking about the job they’d asked for anyway. “Which is actually what your jobs will be today. We have a shipment of outdated parts heading there since the people in Eutoli still have a use for them. You’ll be part of the guard making sure nothing gets stolen on the way.”

The details of the job they had been assigned caused Midas to blink, a realization budding in his mind. After a second he wordlessly looked at Whip and Ian, trying to judge their reactions. They seemed calm though, as though there was nothing out of the ordinary, so Midas sent an awkward attempt at a message to them. ‘Don’t we steal from shipments like this?’ He could remember running scavenging trips far out in the wasteland, and rummaging through what looked like trash piles in trucks to grab a few items while they were driving.

Whip’s response was just to give a subtle wink and grin to Midas, while Ian grimaced slightly. ‘There are people who would steal the entire shipment to sell for profit, and those are the ones we’re going to be guarding against. We only ever take what’s needed for survival. Comfortable survival, not the bare minimum to not die.’ Ian responded. He didn’t like stealing in a broad sense, but what the people of Sector 1109 did was such a grey area of necessity that he didn’t consider it stealing. Which Midas could understand now why everyone had always called it scavenging.

Giving a slight snort at the mild hypocrisy, Midas shrugged. Saints didn’t exist in this world, and he already knew that. ‘As long as we’re not condemning the people of Eutoli instead,’ he replied firmly.

‘Eutoli is given scrap supplies by both Cerah and Andapos in exchange for food. Most of it is excess they recycle to sell back for non scrap goods. Whatever we take wouldn’t make a difference.’ Ian explained, outwardly turning his attention to the tablet Benjamin slid towards him.

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HHhhhhhhhh gwweeehhhhh this one too way too freaking long I couldn't focus and then Whip's face was so hard to draw ;A; I ended up having to spam Kakariko is Saved from LOZ:TP music to finish writing and then Nier peaceful music to be able to focus on drawing.

RIP, glad this one is done OTL

Kind of an awkward cut point, but it was nearing 2k words and I don't like to go over that for tumblr posts |D

[aealrizen]

The rest of the meal was spent with idle chatter between the hosts and Ian, with Whip chiming in mostly only when he was addressed. Midas remained quiet, though not because the others were ignoring him. It had been easy to tell he was overwhelmed already, so Chipo had thought just having time to watch, listen, and not have to respond would have been nice for him. As Benjamin took care of cleaning up the dishes, Chipo led their guests back up the stairs, Olie in her arms and Berko obediently holding onto her skirt. Despite already yawning, Berko kept looking back to make sure the others were following which caused Ian to chuckle softly and wave to him.

“Sorry in advance,” Chipo apologized once they reached the top of the stairs, turning slightly to talk to them without having to raise her voice too much. “We don’t usually have a lot of guests, so we only have one room with two beds-”

She broke off when Berko threw his hands up, reaching towards Ian while also remembering to stay near his mom. “Grandpa can stay with me then!” he chimed abruptly, then his excitement grew too great and he reached over to latch onto Ian’s hand and pull him towards the door with his nameplate on it. Whip couldn’t hold back a sputter of amusement, but refrained from commenting.

“...Honey, I think your bed is too small for him…,” Chipo tried to decline gently, giving Ian an easy way out if he didn’t want to spend the night dealing with a younger child. They had an escort job to get to early in the morning afterall. Ian didn’t need to be kept up late by her son’s chattering, and incessant wiggling in his sleep.

To her surprise though, Ian just chuckled softly, allowing Berko to drag him around. “It’s alright. I’ve slept in worse situations. If it’s alright with mom I don’t mind staying the night with him,” he agreed, putting the condition that Chipo had to be okay with it since he wasn’t sure how she would feel about an essential stranger staying with her son. Family or not, they had only met that afternoon. He wouldn’t blame her at all for not trusting him.

It seemed it was Ian’s turn to be surprised though, for after getting past her initial shock Chipo just gave a relenting sigh and smile. “It’s fine,” she agreed, a strange softness in her expression. “He doesn’t get to see family much, and it’s been awhile since he’s gotten so attached to someone. If you don’t mind, it would be nice for him to get to enjoy himself for a change.”

It was unexpected for Chipo to comment about Berko not getting attached to people, and Ian was stunned silent until his memories could supply a possible answer. “...Military life can be quite stifling, huh,” Ian sympathized, shifting his grip to give Berko’s hand a gentle squeeze. It was common for those who lived with people in the military to have a more isolated life. What with having secrets to keep and eyes boring holes through their walls to make sure they did so. He wouldn’t be surprised if Berko didn’t have a lot of friends simply because other kids were subconsciously scared of him, channeling their parent’s unease. “There are kids where we usually stay that use me as a pillow all the time. I don’t mind letting him do the same,” Ian assured, giving Berko a warm smile. Anything to give comfort to others in this barren world.

The comments earned a chuckle from Chipo, and she leaned over slightly to address Berko. “Go get your pajamas and come to mommy and daddy’s room for a bath. We’ll let the guests use the bath in the hallway tonight.”

“Yay! Big bath!” Berko cheered, swinging his hands up for a moment once more before rushing into his room. The childish antics earned chuckles from the adults aside from Midas, who was too busy zoning out in a daze from the antihistamines while following Whip around.

“Big bath tonight,” Chipo repeated with a chime, reflecting her son’s excitement as he ran off. Stopping by a sliding door closet in the hall, she used one hand to pull out a towel and spare set of sleeping clothes for her guests. “Luckily since Benny is in the military we get guests often enough that they provide us with a set of sleepwear in a couple different sizes. So hopefully some of these will be comfortable enough for you all, and I can put your clothes in the wash tonight to be ready in the morning.”

“That would be wonderful,” Ian responded, already basking in the idea of having clean clothes.

“Thanks,” Whip grinned, catching the towel and clothes Chipo handed him and also making sure Midas didn’t drop the ones that were passed his way. “Go ahead and shower first,” he directed, a mild chuckle behind his voice as he gave Midas a nudge towards the bathroom. “Before you fall asleep where you’re standing,”

He only earned a soft grunt in return as Midas waddled in a half asleep haze into the bathroom, fumbling slightly to close the door behind him. It was small, with only a shower and half bath one could only sit in, but it was still something strangely fancy to him. Something other than a bucket and a curtain over stone. It was nice though. Just turning handles and having whatever temperature of water he wanted. Not being covered in a layer of sand and dirt for once. He found that lukewarm water was the most comfortable, and this time the soap didn’t bother him as much. Chipo had mentioned something about getting a brand with a more simple ingredient mix this time, and it strangely smelled more like the soap that was used in the slums. He knew not to take too long though, there was always a line. And after he was dressed in the soft fibers of city clothing he stumbled out of the bathroom and by the other two with the towel still over his head and weapons loosely in his hands. They would have to store them somewhere the kids wouldn’t get into them, and he didn’t really feel like letting them out of his sight anyway. Not because he felt unsafe without them, but simply because it had taken a lot of effort to find the parts to build them. He didn’t fancy having to start over.

Whip and Ian had been quietly chatting in the hall while they waited, but once Midas opened the door Whip just had to snicker. A quick direction to the guest room they’d be staying in before he got his own shower, cranking the shower a little warmer than necessary to enjoy the rare experience of steam and prickly clean skin before the luxury was relinquished to Ian.

Rubbing the towel on his head, Whip came back to the room to find Midas tucked away in the corner, a plush pillow squished close to his chest, almost hidden by his curled form. Whip ended up giving yet another soft snort as he moved to the bed and plopped down with little grace. “What are you doing?” he asked, keeping quiet just in case someone in the neighboring rooms had already fallen asleep.

The question went unanswered as Midas continued to stare at the air in front of him, lost in his own thoughts like so many times before. After a stretch of time being filled by Whip massaging the water from his hair, Midas finally spoke up. “... Hey Whip?... Do you think I’m weird?”

The question caused Whip to blink, finding it rather sudden and without context. His immediate thought was to answer ‘yes’, Midas was a rather weird kid when compared to other people his age. But there weren’t any other kids Whip knew that had to deal with losing their identity on top of being turned into what half the population considered a monster. The weirdness Midas had had never bothered Whip, but he refrained from voicing his first thought out loud. Sometimes when Midas asked questions he used different words in place of what he was really asking. Unconsciously watering down the question to make it more palatable for others.

“Weird in what way?” Whip instead asked in return, keeping his focus on drying his hair. He didn’t usually like to take a shower so close to bedtime, but he was glad to have something to focus his attention on so that Midas didn’t feel stared down.

The response was slow to come, and Whip wasn’t sure if it was because Midas was reluctant, or just extremely drowsy because of the antihistamine. But eventually he drew a long breath, rolling his head slightly to the side. “...Unwanted,” he clarified. People didn’t like weird things. Unpredictable was dangerous, and therefore undesirable to have around.

“No.” Whip was quick to answer this time, brows furrowing as he was a bit perplexed what brought this up yet again. “Why do you think you’re weird this time?” So far nothing in this new environment had made Midas comfortable. While most other people Whip knew would have been ecstatic at being there, getting to experience the clean rooms, soft clothes, warm meal, and all the other luxuries the city folk took for granted, Midas just seemed either afraid or discontent. Other than the food of course. And while the response was unusual, Whip was quickly coming to learn it wasn’t unwarranted. Emotions were confusing enough as it was, and without the memories behind them Whip was starting to learn that talking Midas through his confusion seemed to help considerably.

“.... The bed,” Midas admitted succinctly, drooping gaze shifting over to the bed he was deliberately sitting away from. The floor was more closely familiar to the ground he’d slept on for as long as he could remember. Even if it was smooth wood instead of gritty dirt covered stone. “I’m… afraid to use it. Chipo said it’s fine. I can’t imagine she’d rescind her offer. I don’t want to think she would. She’s a nice lady. But… it’s weird…. If I sit down…” he faltered, mouth trying to find the words his mind couldn’t quite come up with coherently. “I… would I even be able to get up again? It’s strange, I feel like I’ll end up trapped there. Like always…”

Like always? Whip turned to stare in confusion at Midas, but the question died before it was voiced. Midas looked like he was moments from falling asleep, and Whip found he couldn’t blame him. This had been an unintentionally exhausting day for him, and while Whip was intensely curious what Midas meant by ‘always’ he knew he most likely wouldn’t get a coherent answer. Breathing a short noise of relenting amusement, Whip slipped his hair into a low ponytail to keep it out of the way before he pushed off the bed and approached the sulking, awkward child in the corner. “C’mon kid. Let’s go to sleep,” Whip beckoned, offering his hand to Midas. A short time ago he wouldn’t have thought Midas would have taken it. But now he wasn’t surprised when Midas reached out after blinking blearily at the hand for a moment.

Pulling Midas to his feet for just long enough to drag him over to one of the beds, Whip carefully shoved him over onto the mattress. Midas only gave a noise of complaint, but found it hard to sit back up once his face squished into the soft material. It was so enticingly comfortable. Being cradled in a cushion of foam instead of balanced like a board on hard ground. A strain of panic was starting to rise from the concern his fears were manifesting. But it halted when Whip gracelessly flopped over next to him, mercilessly shoving him around to make room and almost ending up with Midas’ back against the wall so they both could get comfortable. It earned some pathetic snickers from Midas, and Whip grinned before reaching up to pat the boy on the head. “If you find the bed has stolen you when you wake, just give me a shove and I’ll pull you back up,” Whip half joked, giving Midas a gentle ruffle before shifting into stillness.

For half a second the voice sounded like someone else in Midas’ nearly sleep stolen mind. The words were different, so Midas couldn’t quite hear the voice behind them. But the feeling was still there. The intent to pull him away from being trapped in what normally brought comfort to others. Who was that? It was too warm and peaceful to focus for more than a heartbeat before his mind was shutting down for rest. The weight of a quilt on his form after Whip pulled it up, and his face squished into a pillow held close to his chest as he curled around it. The figure of someone else right next to him, soft breaths and warmth making their presence known. This had happened many times before. Midas couldn’t actively remember it in his mind, but he still felt comfort built up from familiarity cultivated over many years seeping into his bones. The last thought he had was more of a feeling before he drifted off.

He’d be alright. Tomorrow might be an effort to wake up, but he would still be there to greet the morning. Like always.

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Let me just crash over the hurdle that was the first part of this post with all the grace of a baby giraffe new to it's legs OTL That was such an effort, eugh.