GTMS:Red is currently in the process of being written and ironing all the lore but should be considered a seperate continuation successor timeline of the GTMS Story covering short stories at first and events and then full on main story, I also have art planed but I want make sure everything lines up so expect stuff soon!!!
Chapter Warnings: cussing, feelings of guilt, memory loss, mentions of death
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
Bagley sat back on his knees, grasping at the twigs collapsing across the canyon floor. Angrily, he wiped the sweat from his brow onto his shirt. He’d removed the top half of his blue pilot’s uniform and left the jumpsuit sleeves tied around his waist. His undershirt looked like it might’ve been white once, but was now stained with sweat and grime. His scuffed boots sat in the corner under the overhang, long discarded.
Obermann squinted against the evening sun and peeked under the overhang to get a better look at him. “Need some help?”
Bagley waved his hand in dismissal, again wiping away sweat and re-stacking the twigs. “I’ve got it, gigantor. Your hands are probably too big anyway.”
Amused, Obermann exhaled sharply through her nose. She pinched the stray twigs rolling away from Bagley, offering them to him between two fingers.
He looked up and let out a nervous chuckle, sucking in a breath before taking them tentatively. “Ah, thanks.” He quickly turned back to the failed fire as she let go of the twigs.
Obermann rolled her stiff shoulders, sitting back against smooth canyon walls. After they’d fled the cliff side base, Obermann took off through the sunburnt hills, pursued by helicopters. They’d kept their distance, circling above until Obermann took them into the canyon where the steep walls proved too treacherous to follow. They were safe—for now. The canyon seemed peaceful; a narrow stream bubbled in a gentle rush through the center, clumps of vegetation growing along the bank. A few birds circled above, riding the last thermals of day. In the early evening light, the sandstone walls glowed. And yet, the walls felt a little too closed in, a little too familiar.
Obermann’s gaze settled on the ridge of the canyon, expecting to see the face of a monster or mech climbing down the rockface. Her shoulders tensed, waiting to hear helicopters, radio, alarms, something. But nothing came; just the horrible silence.
Her attention returned to Bagley. He was muttering to himself as he fidgeted with their soon-to-be fire, glancing up at her nearly every thirty seconds to check if she was watching. He tensed as he realized her eyes were on him, nearly dropping the stick in his hand. “Shit…”
Her heart sank. Obermann knew she made him nervous. He cracked jokes and stayed lighthearted, but Bagley still flinched when she moved and avoided her gaze. Of course things were different face to face, but he’d seemed so…relaxed. Within the mech’s helm, he’d just been the voice in her head, comfortable and confident in what he was doing. There were moments when Obermann could ignore everything else and just listen, pretend for a minute that maybe they were friends. Now Bagley was in front of her, she could reach out to touch him—he was real. She was free. She could feel the wind against her skin, the sun in her eyes, stone under her fingers. Most importantly, Bagley was right there. Not a voice. A person. Obermann squeezed her hands, remembering how it felt to carry him.
“For fuck’s sake!” Bagley hurled a stick against the wall. It snapped and fell to the ground, rolling by Obermann’s feet. Bagley sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “Looks like no fire tonight. Sorry, gigantor.”
Obermann tried to smile. “It’s okay, the smoke would’ve made it easier to find us anyway. We’ll just have to make do until we pick up again tomorrow night.”
Bagley shrugged, sitting back under the overhang where her view of him was partly obscured. “We should be alright as far as mechs and Cassandra go. It’s the rogues we have to look out for.”
“Rogues?”
Bagley nodded. “They reject the state, live beyond the borders. Most of them are just desperate and starving. They’re not too much to handle on their own, but when they form in numbers things can get messy.”
“Right. Rogues. I think I remember them.” Obermann could feel her shoulders tensing again—yet another thing to worry about.
Bagley tossed a pebble into the brook. “So you were listening, right? From inside the—the suit, I mean.”
Obermann nodded. “Yeah. It sounds creepy when you put it like that, but yeah.”
Bagley ran a hand over his face, laughing. “God, you must’ve heard me sounding like a dipshit.”
Obermann laughed too, relieved to hear him relax, even if it was just a little. “Yeah, sometimes you said some pretty dumb stuff.” She tilted her head. “But there were good moments too.”
“Yeah?” Bagley grinned, crossing his arms. He met her gaze, though he still shrunk back, however little. “Am I what you pictured?”
Obermann gave him a once over, ignoring the twitch in his face. “Didn’t expect the freckles, but I don’t know; I didn’t really think about it. You suit your voice, I suppose.”
Bagley shrugged, hand falling to his leg. He perked up, grasping at something in his pocket. “Your file!”
“My what?”
Bagley wrestled with his pocket for a moment before producing a very creased folder. “I uh, grabbed it while in Cassandra’s quarters.”
“What does it say?” Obermann leaned forward, trying not to overwhelm him.
“It’s hard to read concussed, but Cassandra showed it to me while I was in the infirmary.” Suddenly, Bagley’s face darkened and he hesitated. “Obermann, how much do you remember?”
She frowned. “Not much. I remember my name, but I can’t really think of anything other than that.”
“Do you remember where you were before?”
Obermann didn’t like the way he stared at the beige folder in his hand. She hesitated. “No. Why? Should I? Is it bad?”
Bagley swallowed. “You… might not like this.”
Her face hardened, fingers gripping her arms. “Bagley. What is it? Just tell me.”
Bagley wet his lip. “You were uh—you were an inmate. On death row.”
Obermann stared at the rock wall, face hot. In the moment, she supposed she should have been wondering what she did to deserve such a fate, but all she could think about was how the fading light of dusk turned the rockface blue. “Oh.”
“I—Obermann—”
“Does it say what I did?”
Bagley sighed. “No. No, I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. I don’t want to know what I did.” Her face twitched. God, what a lie. In the absence of answers, her mind scrambled to fill the gaps. Death row… I must’ve done something terrible, what if I hurt somebody? Obermann swallowed hard, trying not to think about it. “What else does it say?”
Bagley scanned the file. He seemed almost panicky, flipping through the pages so quickly, they tore a little. “I—well, you were five foot nine, so I used to be taller than you, that’s funny—you’re Canadian and born in ‘34 so you’re—” He paused to count on his fingers. “Twenty nine, you beat me there.”
Obermann smiled weakly at his worried expression. He might be scared of her, but he still cared enough to calm her, though a small voice in her head told her it was out of fear.
Bagley continued rambling. “I know you’re not supposed to talk to a lady about her weight, but you were…176 pounds, and now you’re—Jesus fuckin’ Christ, 418 tons.”
“Bagley,” Obermann said gently.
He kept flipping back and forth through the file, squinting through his concussion.
“Bagley.” Obermann repeated, reaching down to pinch the file. He went stiff as she gently pried it out of his frozen grasp, leaving it next to his boots. He stared up at her with wide eyes. She gave him her best warm smile. “It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m not that person. I don’t care what I did.” It was a lie, but she oddly cared more about comforting Bagley than herself. The discovery was insignificant to the furrow in his brow. “Tell me something funny, or something dumb. I don’t care. Tell me something about you.”
“Okay.” Bagley frowned, settling back down. “Well, my first name is Aaron, but nobody calls me that.”
Obermann smiled reassuringly. “I’m familiar. You said I’m Canadian. Where are you from?”
Bagley nodded. He picked up one of the twigs, fiddling with it. “East coast.”
Obermann tilted her head. His shoulders had started to drop, but there was still tension in his face. Keep him talking. “What’s it like?”
Bagley frowned, thinking. “It was… I don’t know how to describe it. Just regular life, y’know? Bits of talk of war here and there, but I was only nine when the Start—y’know, started, so I don’t really remember all that old political bullshit.”
Obermann nodded. “So... how’d you end up on the west coast? Not that states are around anymore, but this has gotta be… California? Uhh… Nevada?”
“Yeah.” Bagley shrugged. “We moved around a lot. Lost our dad pretty early on, but…” he rubbed the back of his neck, “everybody’s got a story like that. Heard about an alliance forming between cities out west—less portals, more people, ‘stronger together’ n’ all that, so we decided it was our best shot. A couple weeks here, a month or two there—picked up a couple people, lost a couple people…finally, we got to settle somewhere and it was…for a year or two, it felt almost normal, ‘til the city was overrun. Cass n’ I…we had each other, but we couldn’t find our mom or gram.” He hesitated. “We still don’t know what happened to ‘em. The military picked us up and the rest is history.” Bagley faltered. “At least, I thought it was history. Cass…I guess the wasteland changes a person. She used to be…fuck, she used to be a little punk teenager.” Obermann snorted and he grinned, gesturing over his eyes. “You shoulda seen her. Smeared charcoal all over her face ‘cause it ‘kept the sun outta her eyes’, but I think she just wanted to look cool.”
Obermann laughed softly. She leaned her chin on her knees. “What happened?”
Bagley frowned again. “I dunno, thought we were close, but… I guess people you’re close with don’t get away with war crimes under your nose.” He tossed the twig, picking up another. “I’m not really fit for the military, and I know that. But Cass…? Cass really flourished, y’know?”
Obermann gave Bagley a small nod, even though he wasn’t looking. His shoulders had tensed up again, but she didn’t stop him.
“I followed her, ‘cause… well, we didn’t have anywhere else to go, and it was just the two of us. She always took care of me, and I guess I thought I’d pay her back, make sure she didn’t get herself killed.” He chuckled bitterly. “Not that she needed it.” He snapped the twig. “I was just a scared little kid, and she was all I had left. But she’s a good person, underneath all that…cold, she’s just...just a bit fucked up.” Bagley dropped the broken stick and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, didn’t mean to get all down on you.”
“I understand.” Obermann gave him a sad smile. “Things between you and the Captain are strange.”
Bagley nodded and Obermann sighed, leaning back. “It’s getting dark. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired.”
“You could say that again.” Bagley scoffed, shoulders drooping. “I feel like I’ve been run over.”
“Yeah.” Obermann groaned, cracking her neck. “I don’t know exactly what they did to me, but my muscles are a—damn mess.”
Warily, Bagley watched from the other side of the bank as Obermann shuffled into a comfortable sleeping position. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “I—ah, I’m gonna keep trying for that fire. You get some shut-eye.”
“Alright.” Through half lidded eyes, Obermann watched as Bagley gathered the twigs and started rearranging them again, muttering to himself.
She hesitated. “Hey, Bagley?”
He jumped, twigs scattering. Bagley looked up and blinked. “Yeah?”
Obermann inspected him again, hunched over the pile of sticks beneath the overhang, grime smeared across his freckled face and once-white shirt. He met her gaze, brown eyes wide, but curious instead of afraid. Obermann gave him an appreciative nod. “Thanks.”
