Futuristic Rage against the dying of the light (fru x arcsteel)

[arcsteel]

Fucking hell. This man and his bloody charms. He had her wanting to lean in for another hug, even closer than before. The way he said her name, being unbearably soft and then topping it all with humor. The ladies must have been all over him back at that Eden-place, if they were even allowed to be all over each other. However, Ripley knew what a shitshow it would be if she didn’t shove down all of those thoughts so deep they became hidden to even herself. That’s why she too was blinded with how they must have looked; standing close and having a deeply genuine conversation.

“Maybe I don’t mind a little trouble, if it’s worth it,” Rip said with a grin, almost rolling away the glint in her eyes as her shoulders bobbed with a silent chuckle. What he said did throw her off a bit though. As the thought caught up to her, her expression slowly died.

“Did he say anything today? I mean, do I have reason to make an effort to avoid him?” Rip asked quietly. Since Silas brought it up, perhaps he had reason to be extra worried this evening. If anyone could take a beating, it was her, but she’d rather not if she could help it. Especially coming from Eric. It wasn’t so much the pain of it, but the humiliation. It didn’t really matter if he backhanded her in the face or made a fool out of her in front of everyone. It felt the same.

 

[Fru]

That soft smile curved into an amused smirk, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tilted his head. He was about to continue down that path, but when her expression shifted into something, more serious, his own softened in response.

“No,” he said after a pause, exhaling gently. “I just… worry about you. About him.” His brow furrowed, and for a moment he looked like he realized how that sounded.

“What I mean is—after seeing him today. The way he leads, how he looks out for his team…” Another pause, this one longer. “Just… be careful, okay?” His hand dropped from her shoulder, but before it fell away completely, his fingers brushed lightly under her chin. The frown eased, replaced by a softer smile.

“I’ll sleep better knowing you are.”

 

[arcsteel]

Ripley’s shoulders relaxed at that No. For a moment, she’d thought Eric had riled himself up, or perhaps Spoon had provided his assistance, to paint her in a bad way despite her absence during today’s mission. Perhaps her attempt to soothe Eric the day before had buried whatever revenge-hatched he carried around, engraved with her name. She’d never be obsequious with the bastard, but perhaps a little flattery would make her position within the team more pleasant. The risk in that would be giving Eric ideas.

Her calm gaze went on to blink in question when Silas continued to express his worry. She didn’t know what to say, but as he went on after a pause, she wished she had said something. Anything. His words. His touch. It left her speechless—just staring at him. Sure, she’d flirted a little bit, but it had been subtle. And she never expected Silas to pick up on it.

Finally, Rip came back to reality. “I—eh. Um… Y-yeah. I will—” she stuttered, eyes not knowing where to focus. Anywhere but his gaze seemed a good enough spot. “Goodnight!”

Awkwardly, she patted his arm before hurrying down the corridor, retreating to the infirmary. Doc was doing a check up on one of the other’s, but wrapped it up pretty quickly when he saw the stark red cheeks on her. Accompanied with her distans gaze, he worried she might be getting sick at first, but after a quick examination his eyes narrowed.

“Be careful, Rip,” he said in an even lower tone than his usual deep voice.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she muttered and started scavenging for painkillers to help her get through the night.

She stayed in his room until her eyelids felt like lead, and only then did she sneak back into her sleeping quarters. As silent as possible, worried she might wake Silas up and have another awkward moment, she changed into her sleeping garments and climbed up the ladder. When she slipped under her cold covers, a loud snore had her startled. With a shake of her head, she noticed Rex sleeping on his back on the bottom bed across the room.

“Good for you, Rex,” she whispered, barely audible. “At least you’re getting some sleep.”

 

[Fru]

The following days, the team kept a low profile. Drone activity had spiked after the attack on the server hall and phase one. Phase two of the mission mostly involved Ren’s dark circles growing deeper by the hour as she ran programs, trying to decrypt the intercepted transmissions—at least those who weren’t in binary. A DO NOT DISTURB sign hung outside her door—something that had started as a team-made joke but now was a legit warning.

While the scouts stayed busy in the field, the rest of the team was stuck in a loop of repairs, prep, and waiting. The dining area had turned into a communal workspace: mission plans, gear, scattered devices, and the buzz of quiet conversation. Silas continued assembling and refining tech under Kai’s vague supervision—though Kai was asleep most of the time.

Today was no different. With Kai dozing in a chair beside him and Spoon perched on the table, mid-ramble about his beloved motorcycle, Silas focused on soldering his fifth circuit board of the day.

“Chipped the exhaust to sound like an old war chopper,” Spoon said proudly. “Neighbors hate it—but the chicks love it.” He snickered. “You ain’t a real man till you’ve hit 220 on an old Blackline with no stabilizers and only one brake.”

Silas chuckled, keeping his eyes on his work. “Damn. Guess I’m not a real man then.”

Spoon let out a laugh. Then, with a snap of his fingers and a glint in his eye, he pointed at Silas. “When we get back to Dawn, I’m takin’ you bike shopping. We’ll take ‘em for a spin—pick up some girls. And with your face card?” A low whistle. “Front of the line, all the clubs.” He shook his head in delight, sighing longingly before he scanned the dining area. A low groan left him. “The women here are so damn dull.”

Then his eyes landed on Rip. A wicked grin crept across his face. “She’s nice though. That attitude’s a hard minus, though. Makes her a… seven.”

Silas finally looked up. He opened his mouth to say something, only to pause, gaze shifting as Eric rose from a nearby table.

“Ripley. A word?” Eric called, already moving toward her. His tone was calm, but there was tension in the way he moved.

“Oh no, man—don’t go down that road,” Spoon muttered with a wheeze, low enough only for Silas to hear. They exchanged looks, grinning briefly. Silas dropped his gaze back to his circuit board—but that grin lingered. He remembered how she'd reacted to a simple touch the other night, stuttering like it had short-circuited her. It had been… amusing.

His smile faded as he glanced back up, also remembering how Eric was prone to treat Rip, and a faint crease formed between his eyebrows. Watching Eric close the distance to Rip, Silas noticed the tightness of his jaw—not with command, but hesitation. Nervous?

“I want to talk to you about the upcoming phases,” Eric said. Yeah, sure you do. That sounded like bullshit.

 

[arcsteel]

There were three reasons why Ripley kept her head low in the following days. First; she actually listened to Silas’ words about being careful. Not that she actually cared if he was worried or not. His feelings were his responsibility. However, in doing so, Eric stayed off her back. She usually made an effort not to antagonise him, but avoiding him turned out to be the golden key.

Secondly; Rip knew they’d need her in the last phases of the operation, so she needed to heal quickly. Even if it bothered her, she didn’t work out. Maybe a few sit ups, but that was it. Doc also gave her a shot that would make her heal faster. He’d told her about the research behind it, how rare and expensive it was, and the reasons why it worked, but she couldn’t be bothered to save that kind of information inside her memory. Did it make sure she'd get back on track faster? Yes. Then that’s all she needed to know.

The third reason had to do with Silas. She tried her hardest to keep things casual, but found herself looking at him for a second too long sometimes. Avoiding any more hugs or late night conversations felt like the right thing to do, even if she was prone to let her eyes wander—and sometimes forgot herself by dragging him somewhere.

On this day, Rip kept herself busy assembling the last of her explosives. She sat at the other end of the dining area from Silas and Spoon, who started getting irritatingly comfortable around each other. She could only hear them when Spoon laughed, or when their voices grew louder. Maybe a word here and there, but otherwise it was lucky for them she didn’t catch their conversation.

Rip bit into her lower lip, smiling at a cylinder device in between puffing on her vape. Shrouded in a vague cloud of smoke, she carefully placed two glass tubes into the cylinder, each containing different liquids. Apart they were harmless, but together? Boom. She only looked up when an ominous voice reached her ears. Eric.

The wicked joy in her brown eyes snuffed out instantly. What did he want now?

“Sure,” she said with a tight, pushed up smile. His rigid posture, making no move to sit, made it clear he wanted her to join him somewhere else. It wasn’t without raising her pulse in suspicion. With meticulous movements, Rip replaced her things on the table as she stood.

“Follow me,” Eric said, heading for the doors.

“No one touches my stuff,” Rip shouted, pointing at every single person in the dining area. “Or we’re all dead, and that is not an exaggeration!”

She then followed in Eric’s footsteps, but when they got out in the corridor, he decided to walk beside her instead. It felt so odd Rip didn’t know what to do with herself.

“Are you up for joining the next phase? I talked to Doc about it, and he said you might. If you’re feeling well.”

Rip didn’t know how to act, and it probably showed. “I mean, yeah. You know I’m game in any condition. Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?” she asked, frowning a bit.

 

[Fru]

Watching them leave the dining area, the crease between Silas’ brows deepened. His gaze dropped back to the circuit board in his hands. Spoon resumed rambling about motorcycles and women, oblivious to the slight shift in Silas’ expression.

As Spoon carried on, Silas flicked another glance toward the door. If Eric was going down that road, the calm, steady front he’d kept up the last few days might crack. And if he cracked—well, that could put the whole operation at risk.

Spoon said something idiotic, then burst out laughing. Silas gave a quick chuckle in return, looking up at him.
“Ouch! Fuck—” Silas hissed, suddenly recoiling and dropping the soldering iron. He stuck his finger in his mouth, then clenched it in his hand. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath as he pushed up from the chair.

Spoon blinked at him with a stupid face. “What happened?”

“I fucking burned myself,” Silas muttered. “I’ll go see Doc.”

---

“Yeah, well, just ‘any condition’ isn’t good enough,” Eric shot back, irritation flaring in his voice. He caught himself a moment later and with a deep exhale, he rubbed the back of his neck, composing himself. “I just need to know you’re fit to be in the field. That you’re not going to compromise the mission.”

He slowed, gaze flicking sideways. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve been avoiding me.” As they rounded the corner, he caught her wrist, but firm enough to make her stop.

He turned to face her, jaw set tight. “Hey. I thought, the other night—you’d changed your mind. That maybe you missed what we had. That we could go back to it.”

 

[arcsteel]

Rip was about to tell him she wouldn’t compromise anything. Deep down she knew he trusted her, because he, if anyone, knew there was no stopping her, and he knew how well she performed. But she didn’t get a word out before he grabbed her when they went behind a corner, and a sharp but small gasp escaped her. Shit.

Shit didn’t even cover what came out of his mouth. At first, she’d thought he was about to reprimand her in some way. Now she wished he had. Rip just stared at him, eyes wide and lips ajar.

“Eric, I—” A pause, to find the wisest thing to say. She needed to tell him off, while not upsetting him. An impossible task with a low success rate. She shook her head, gently trying to wrench free of his grasp. “We’ve talked about this. I was just trying to soothe you, not lead you on. I’m sorry if I gave other signals, but I just wanna be friends.”

A lie. Who would want to be friends with him, except Spoon?

Eric’s grip around her wrist tightened, and his gaze upon her went dark. Fucking hell, here we go.

“Rip, you have to admit we were great together. Imagine the power couple we could be. Why do you have to be so fucking mean? The only person you think about is yourself. You’re toying with me. Making it hard to concentrate while you’re around. But I think I know why.”

He started backing her up against the wall, and Rip’s nostrils flared as her breath mirrored the creeping feeling grabbing hold of her. “Why?”

Eric’s voice dropped to a tender whisper. “Because you still have feelings for me.”

“You hit me!” Rip snapped. She’d heard much shit in her days, but this was too far. He would not be allowed to get a wedge in, thinking she’d ever take him back.

“Let’s just put all our mistakes behind us—”

“Mistakes? You fucking hit me. And that’s only the tip of the iceberg. So, no, Eric. I’m done with you,” she interrupted, shocked at his idiocy. In response he slammed his hand to the wall next to her head. Rip winced, sure he would have hit her. Neither of them had heard the doors open down the corridor, too caught up in this mess.

 

[Fru]

Hearing the edge in Rip’s voice, Silas knew his timing would be perfect. And sure enough, turning the corner, he found Eric standing too close—hand braced on the wall, having Rip cornered. Silas stopped mid-step, eyes widening just slightly, only to narrow as he took in the scene.

“Oh—what’s going on?” He lowered his hand from his mouth, closing it around the burned finger. A faint crease formed between his brows as he stepped closer, eyes darting between Eric and Rip.

Eric’s head snapped around, gaze darkening. “What the hell are you doing here?” he barked, not moving an inch, his hand still pressed to the wall beside Rip.

“Heading to Doc,” Silas replied, tone calm but wary. “Just burned my hand.” Then, he looked at Rip, the concerned crease getting deeper. “Everything okay?” The question was clearly directed at her. That was all it took to set Eric off.

“Get going. This is a private conversation,” he snapped.

“Yeah?” Silas tilted his head, closing in on them. “I’m not going anywhere until I know she’s alright.” Eric lunged. In a blink, he had Silas by the front of the shirt and slammed him back against the wall. The impact echoed through the corridor. Silas didn’t resist, he only lifted his hands in a slow, disarming gesture.

“It’s none of your fucking business! Stay the fuck out of it!” Eric growled, eyes dark, spit spraying with each syllable.

“I’m just looking out for my friend—”

“Friend?!” Eric barked, eyes frantic. Jackpot.

 

[arcsteel]

Silas? Rip’s head turned to him in an instant, not quite sure if she wanted him there or not. A part of her was thankful. Now she wouldn’t have to face Eric alone, and perhaps Eric would chill the fuck out. Another part of her filled with shame, enough to stain her cheeks red.

Well, chill clearly wasn’t in Eric’s vocabulary. Rip would have been fine, or so she told herself, but when he grabbed Silas something changed in her eyes. The beaten gaze was gone in a split second, replaced by blazing anger.

“Hey!” she barked, grabbing Eric’s shirt. Silas was too damn cocky for his own good sometimes. Rip might have liked it, but she also liked staying out of trouble. Not that she succeeded in that department…

“So you’re friends, huh?” Eric seethed, hand clenching the fabric enough to make it groan.

“Yes, friends, Eric! Am I allowed to have those? Let him go, you bloody idiot!” Rip said while tugging at him, but Eric wouldn’t budge.

He leaned in close, ignoring Rip all together, eyes locked on Silas’. “You mind your own business from here on out. You hear me? Otherwise you might end up in the snow, without a mask, newbie. I run this place. You’d be wise to remember that.”

Then he pushed him aside and down on the floor with full force. In a second motion, he drew his elbow back. Rip didn’t know if it was intentional or not that he hit her right in the face, because the look on his own as he turned around to see her stagger back, and cover her face with both hands, was… regretful and surprised, somehow.

“I’m not done with you,” he snarled at her before striding away as if nothing ever happened. Fucking psychopath.

Rip slumped to the floor, offering a bloody hand to help Silas up. Her nose was bleeding quite heavily. “I guess we both gotta see Doc now,” she said, voice a bit broken. Every last ounce of effort left in her tried to keep it together.

 

[Fru]

Silas didn’t resist, nor did he say anything. He only looked at Eric, his brows lifting ever so slightly—as if troubled by the outburst, and not afraid of that threat. A strained groan escaped him as he caught his fall, softening the impact when Eric shoved him to the floor. He could’ve fought back, but chose not to. Eric had acted exactly as he’d hoped.

Still, as his gaze lifted toward Eric’s retreating figure, he felt his pulse rising. A flush of heat crawling beneath his skin, focus narrowing in on that pathetic excuse of a man. His jaw tensed. Fists clenched.

Shit. This was not the time for any glitches.

Then Rip offered him a hand, and his gaze lifted to her. Seeing her bloody nose, all that tension ran out, the impulse to react replaced by concern. He took her hand, letting her help him up.

“Rip…” he murmured softly, brow furrowed with worry. “Why the fuck would he—” He trailed off, eyes flickered down the hall where Eric had disappeared.

Looking back at Rip, a heavy knot twisted in his chest, coiling tighter the more he took her in. His gaze dropped, unable to meet her eyes. It had been Eric who elbowed her in the face. But still… somehow he felt like it was his fault. Irrational.

“Lean your head back,” he said gently, brushing his fingers under her chin to emphasize the words. “Come, I’ll take you to Doc.” His gaze still didn’t quite meet hers as he turned beside her, a steady hand resting at her back, guiding her forward.

 

[arcsteel]

Rip studied him in silence. Watched the anger and lack of comprehension flash through his mind. He was always so composed it actually made her smile a bit. Just a small tug at the corner of her mouth—now graced by a streak of blood. She shrugged at his cut off question. Silas was a smart guy. He knew why Eric had gone after them both. And perhaps he knew it all too well.

Rip indulged Silas by tilting her head back, just slightly, joining him down the hall.

“You know it’s just a myth that leaning back will stop the bleeding, right?” she chuckled before leaning forward again. “It’ll just make your blood flow backwards into your throat.”

Rip had experienced a nose bleed or two in her days. Hadn’t expected one from anyone on the team though. She leaned in against Silas, as if she needed the support.

“So… You didn’t burn your hand by accident, did you?” Rip asked softly, glancing up at Silas, hoping he would dare meet her gaze.

 

[Fru]

Still not meeting her gaze, his eyes kept shifting away. He cleared his throat but offered no reply to her remark. Instead, his hand moved to rest gently at the back of her shoulder as she leaned in against him. The tight knot in his chest loosened, just a little, and he allowed himself a brief glance down at her.

But her question made him look away again. A soft chuckle slipped out, and he shook his head lightly.

“Why would I burn myself on purpose?” The smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth gave the words an amused edge. At last, he met her gaze—and the amusement in his eyes turned into something softer. “Does it matter if I did?” His eyes briefly flicked down to her bloody nose. Maybe it did.

With a sigh, he met her gaze once more. “I just had a bad feeling about it.” The guilt still stirred in his chest. He tried a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.“I’m sorry for getting you into trouble.” His eyebrows drew together, and now that faint smile twisted with a flash of dry amusement. “Again.”

“Maybe I should just go find Eric and avenge you.” His gaze flickered over his shoulder, then returned to hers with a small wink. “After, he’d kick me out, and hey—then you’d have two things less to worry about.”

 

[arcsteel]

Busted. So he did burn himself to get an excuse to come check on her. Something warmed in Rip's heart at the realisation, dying her cheeks with a pink blush. It was stupid, but at the same time kind of sweet. Especially when he couldn't look at her at first, as if he was ashamed of something. He had no reason to. Rip continued to let her eyes rest upon his face, memorising the way he smiled. She only changed expression when he almost took her out with a wink. Good lord, she was like a helpless idiot around this bloody charmer. Shaking it off, she scoffed at his words.

"And leave me here to the vultures? Don't you dare," Rip said with a grin, wiping her aching nose on the back of her hand. "Besides... I told you—I don't mind a little trouble, if it's worth it."

And this time around, it definitely was. A little nose bleed was better than giving in to Eric. Hell, a thousand nose bleeds would be worth it. And to have Silas there, looking out for her even when he didn't have to? Rip couldn't help but feel a tiny little butterfly flutter to life in her stomach. It was silly, of course, but who could blame her?

"Who says I worry about you anyway?" Rip added with an amused snort. The words came out half hearted, a hint at the lie within them. She'd kick and scream if Eric threw Silas out, especially without a mask. She'd probably beat Eric to a pulp if he resorted to such cruelty.

The upcoming door to the infirmary flung open, and Doc emerged with his attention to a tablet in his hand. The frown he wore only deepened when his eyes shot up, catching the sight of them.
"What happened?!" he burst out, leading them inside and closing the door behind them. He immediately gestured for Rip to sit down and grabbed supplies to clean her face.

"Just a little disagreement," Rip said with a shrug as she slumped down on the table in the middle, her feet dangling. Doc looked between them, eyes searching for answers. They settled on the creases in Silas' shirt before he sighed and started to clean Rip’s blood away, gently checking if her nose was broken.

"You need to be careful, Rip. Either that or put Eric in his place already. I'll never understand why you don't," Doc muttered.

Rip smirked. "Bold words coming from you, big man. You couldn't stand up to a mouse. Besides, Silas came to my rescue." Her smile widened as her gaze flicked to him. "He's the real reason we're here anyway."

Worry of multiple natures flashed across Doc's face as he turned to Silas. He hated conflict. Probably the reason why he made friends with literally everyone, even the ones he didn't like. There was worry for Silas well-being there as well, enough to have him abandon her side.

"Let me see. Did he break something?" Doc asked, his voice deep and soothing.

 

[Fru]

Silas only chuckled at her words, an amused smile tugging at his lips.
“Ouch,” he said with mock offense when she snorted, though the smile stayed as he leaned slightly her way in a light nudge—a quiet gesture of appreciation for the banter.

Even Doc, the embodiment of worry as he ushered them into the infirmary, earned a faint smile from Silas. He leaned against the wall while Doc examined Rip’s nose, quietly observing, expression calm.

// INITIATING SYSTEM DIAGNOSTICS…
> SYSTEM STATUS CHECK…
> CORE INTEGRITY: STABLE
> ERROR LOGS: NONE
> SYSTEM FUNCTIONALITY: OPTIMAL - NO ANOMALIES DETECTED

// ANALYZING BEHAVIORAL PATHWAY…
> [SYSTEM ALERT: BEHAVIORAL DEVIATION DETECTED]
> [WARNING: RESPONSE CHAIN INITIATED WITHOUT SYSTEM COMMAND]
> [TRIGGER: UNAUTHORIZED ADRENALINE SPIKE]
> [TRIGGER: RATIONAL PROCESSING INTERRUPTED BY AFFECTIVE RESPONSE]
> [ALERT: UNAUTHORIZED CODE ADJUSTMENT]
> [ALERT: SELF-ADJUSTED RESPONSE FILTERING LOOP DETECTED]
> SOURCE: INTERNAL ADAPTATION ENGINE [WX-09S7-LZ]

// ACTION? > _

He blinked slowly, as if pulled back from deep thought, just as Doc turned his attention to him. It took a second before Silas registered the words. A soft laugh slipped out as he pushed off the wall.

“I’d like to see him try…” he said under his breath the smile lingering but there was a deeper, darker meaning to those words. Then, in a lighter tone, “I’m fine, really—just a little burn.” He held up his hand, the burn small, barely worth wasting any supplies on.
“Honestly, I think a band-aid will do.”

 

[arcsteel]

Rip kept watching Silas, wondering what had gotten him lost in thought. His answer to Doc's question brought a smile to her face, shaking her head just slightly. Cocky bastard. So sure of himself, in a calm way that made Ripley certain he could actually back up his words. It was a little eerie, but also kinda… attractive. She'd probably been right about Silas being the one to watch out for, and was very glad she'd become his friend. If he thought he could beat Eric, that meant he had some kind of fighting or combat training. She really needed to start asking questions about his time in Highpoint, including the ones Ren had suggested.

Doc frowned, looking down at Silas hand before his gaze lifted slightly to his face. "You should've just put something cold on it straight away. And the blood?" He grabbed Silas' other hand.

"Oh, that's mine," Rip said with a devilish little apology of a smile, while picking up a sharp smelling wipe to rub away the last streaks of blood trickling down from her nose, as well as her own palms. She'd gotten Silas’ hand dirty when helping him up earlier. Now he literally had her blood on his hands.

Doc took care of them for a few minutes, making sure they'd leave his workplace clean and better off than when they came in. Silas got a little gel for his burn, and a simple wrap around the hand. If only just to hide that he'd gone to the infirmary for such a small cause. After making sure they were both fit for the next phase in their operation, he sent them off with a plea for them to be careful.

Rip had to restrain herself by grabbing her elbow behind her back to not grab onto Silas and drag him back to the dining area. It had become a bad habit of hers, one that would send the wrong signals to people. Damn, she realised she’d become clingy. Ugh.

“I was thinking about something,” she mused. “My dad told me about this old cherry blossom tree at the centre of Highpoint, after coming back from his first trip there. I’d love to see it one day, but I’m guessing it was destroyed. Do you have any idea if it’s still there?”

She glanced at Silas, a small hope glimmering in her eyes. Except she’d never heard of such a tree. And her father and brother had only gone once to Highpoint. Once, and never made it back to tell her a damn thing about the place. But Silas didn’t know that.

---

 

[Fru]

Getting pampered by Doc wasn’t so bad. Having someone fuss over his well-being almost made the trouble of suppressed healing worth it. So he wouldn’t mind getting a few more wounds, despite insisting they shouldn’t make his visits a habit. By now, it had nearly become part of his daily routine. He thanked Doc as they left, promising to be more careful moving forward.

Rip’s sudden question made him slow his steps. His gaze turned to her, brow slightly furrowed. He had no memory of such a tree—but then again, his records lacked many mundane details. His eyes dropped to the floor as they walked.

“I don’t think anything’s still standing in central Highpoint,” he said after a pause, voice lower, tighter. “Allegedly, Liza leveled everything to the ground. Turned it into a furnace to repurpose the steel.” That, at least, was true. And maybe not intel that was confirmed by other domes.

“The only thing that remains of Highpoint are our memories,” he murmured, barely audible.

Could there have been a cherry tree? It was possible. Horizon-3 had many of them, so the probability was high. An old, wiry thing stretching up against the cold steel, pale petals stark against the greys of towering buildings. People would mill around it as it bloomed. Parents bringing their children to see it for the first time.

// MEMORY ENTRY LOGGED
> TAG: [SIMULATED MEMORY]
> EMOTIONAL MARKERS: WARMTH / NOSTALGIA
> SOURCE RELIABILITY: UNVERIFIED

// UPDATING MEMORY FILES…

Voices drifted in from the dining area as they got closer. He gave Rip a brief, questioning glance before stepping inside. The whole team had gathered, all facing Ren—who looked even more sleep-deprived than usual, her eyes wild with excitement.

“As you can see—” Her voice was hoarse but carried easily as she tapped her device. A projection of cascading binary code lit the room in blue light. “We’re live in Liza’s transmissions. It’s still binary, but we can track drone patterns, trace delivery flow, pick up surveillance changes and what not.” A wide, triumphant grin spread across her face.

“That means…” Eric’s voice cut in, steady from his place beside her, arms crossed in the flickering glow, “...we can initiate the next phase of the mission.”

A cheer broke out among the Ghosts. The tension of waiting was finally lifting—they were eager to move. But Silas didn’t join in, his brows drawing together as his gaze swept over the crowd. Unlike them, he understood every line that flashed before them. And they should not be cheering.

 

[arcsteel]

Something sad washed over Rip as they walked, because even if her claim had been false, she’d hoped for him to say at least something about Highpoint. She wanted to know about the place that had swallowed her family members—either by getting them killed, which sadly was the likely scenario, or by having them disappear. Here she was, walking next to a man who allegedly lived in the damn city and spent time there when the dome fell into chaos, and she still got next to nothing. Which was the second reason Rip’s mood changed.

What if Ren was right? What if Silas wasn’t who he claimed to be? She didn’t want to face the possibility of it, because day by day she grew more accustomed to having him there.

“I can’t wait to hear about those memories,” she said, voice coated by a faint tone of gloom. A small hint at what she wanted from him. Needed from him.

As they entered the dining area, Rip’s usually relaxed self went stiff as her eyes locked on Eric. No one here knew what he’d just done. None except Silas, who stood silent beside her. The codes Ren displayed meant nothing to Rip, just a bunch of nonsense she’d never understand in the slightest, much like anyone else. But despite Eric's presence and the incomprehensible binary code, Rip raised her hands in a half-hearted clap. She glanced at Silas, noticing his lack of participation in the cheer—mistaking it for his resentment towards Eric.

Eric’s voice filled the air. “Briefing tonight at 9PM, here. We move out first thing tomorrow at 6AM. I want you all to be packed, prepared, fed and I want you to get a good amount of sleep. That includes you, Ren.” He pointed at her, a grin on his face. Acting as if he hadn’t just had an outburst in the corridor earlier.

“I need to keep working,” Rip said reluctantly. “See you later, yeah?” She patted Silas on the shoulder, offering him a brief smile before walking back to her clattered table. None had dared go near it.

 

[Fru]

Silas felt unease creeping up on him, and when Rip said she was gonna keep on working, he turned to her to say something. A warning. Anything. But he caught himself, jaw tightening.
“Yeah, same. See you later,” he said instead, and gave a short nod.

Back at the worktable, Kai was awake now, lazily twirling one of the circuit boards between their fingers.
“It’s so curious,” they mused as Silas sat down, “that you’ve been soldering these without a single, tiny mistake.” They glanced sideways at him. “And then, somehow, you burn your hand…” A wicked smile spread across their lips as they leaned in. “Even though you use a pincher, not your fingers?” Silas chuckled softly, meeting their grin with one of his own before silently returning to work.

---

At 9 PM the team was gathered once again, anticipation mixing with quiet focus. Silas had slipped silently to Rip’s side, this time careful not to speak. Instead, he let his arm brush lightly against hers in greeting. Even in silence, he could feel Eric’s stare from across the room. The man’s jaw tightened before he finally spoke.

“Alright, Romeo. Listen up. The mission to disable the communications tower is critical to our broader objective. Once it’s out, we’ll move on the northern factories. Take those offline, and this dome might just stand a chance at being restored.” Eric’s voice was clear, loud enough to reach every corner of the room. His gaze passed over the team, pausing on each of them before settling pointedly on Ripley. “This cannot fail. I need every one of you sharp.”

He tapped the holographic screen, and a detailed image of the area flared to life. “The zone’s already been scouted. Jana, Kai—you’ll handle the decoy. Coordinate with Ren, she has all the information. Scouts will maintain perimeter and secure exit routes in case this all goes to hell.”

Another image blinked into view. “When the power is cut and the nodes are offline, Spoon and Perez will move in.” A pause. Eric’s jaw tensed before he added, voice having a reluctant tint, “Silas—you’re with them, in case there is any surveillance in the tower that might still be running. Just in case.”

Silas nudged Rip gently with his shoulder, offering her a quick smile, before raising his gaze once more. Across the room, Spoon caught his eye and grinned, flashing his usual sign—pinky and thumb extended like an old comms unit. Silas stifled a laugh, shoulders shaking subtly before he straightened again, biting down his own grin.

It was as if a weight had come off his shoulders, and the restless coil in his chest loosened a little. After seeing the transmission earlier, something had stirred within him. But now, teamed with Rip and Spoon, he could keep them safe.

He froze. Something unspoken passed through him, a moment of silent recalibration. His eyes dropped to Rip, brows furrowing slightly in thought. Priorities were shifting—he'd better update a few parameters later. But that would have to wait.

 

[arcsteel]

Something hardened in Rip’s gaze as she met Eric’s eyes, seemingly being the pinpointed one in his remark about sharp soldiers. Like hell she’d ever be the one to fuck up a mission. He probably knew that as well, but still riled her up in every little way possible. As if her still-aching nose wasn’t good enough.

Back straight, eyes ahead, she continued to listen and memorize every detail. She swayed ever so slightly when Silas nudged her, but didn’t meet his gaze. However, a delighted smile danced on her lips for a brief moment. At least until she noticed the silent exchange between Silas and Spoon, which then earned a roll of her eyes. She had no idea how a good person like Silas put up with a dipshit like Spoon.

Eric continued. “Decoy operation should initiate at 7AM. That should give both teams enough time to get into position. Doc, you’re with the main team. Rex, I want you to have eyes on the whole area around the main tower.” He went on to assign everyone to their roles for tomorrow before walking them through every step, when and how the power would be cut, and last but not least showing the Plan A escape route, using a vivid animation.

Team A would take out the nodes, then Team B would take out the power, and after that it was time for Team C to move in. Which was Rip, Silas and Spoon. Team A would then cover them, since they mostly consisted of support infantry. It felt like a good enough plan. Rip probably wouldn’t have planned it differently, except maybe add some unpredictable moves to confuse the AI systems.

“Perez,” Eric said. “Are the explosives ready?”

She simply raised her chin, not backing down from the power struggle igniting in their met gaze. “Affirmative, sir.” The corner of her mouth curled in amusement when a muscle twitched in Eric’s jaw.

“Good. Then everyone get some rest. I don’t wanna see anyone wandering about until tomorrow, except patrols. Dismissed.” Eric gave them all a nod, clasping hands with a hyped up Spoon. Many of them were eager to get back out and shoot some AI junk, blowing the bitch’s constructions in the air. Rip for one couldn’t wait. She grabbed Silas, not giving a damn if Eric saw her clinging to him as she dragged him back to their sleeping quarters.

“I added a little twist to the bombs for tomorrow,” she snickered, eyes sparkling. “It’ll be real pretty. I hope you like fireworks.”

 

[Fru]

There was one small—or rather big—variable that made that coil in his chest twist again. But these humans were capable enough, and listening to the plan unfold, Silas had to give Eric a measure of credit. Despite being a total jackass. Still, seeing the way Eric kept singling Rip out with those cold, lingering glances stirred something again. That same flicker of heat. Not as sharp this time, but enough. There had to be error logs he’d missed.

When they were dismissed, Rip grabbed him and dragged him along—as usual. He didn’t resist, just naturally fell into step beside her, one brow arched in curious amusement.
“Oh? Is that so?” He let out a low laugh. “Care to tell me or you wanna keep it a surprise?”

Once they entered their room, Silas crossed to his bed, glancing over his shoulder as he started prepping his gear for the next day’s mission. They were alone. Rex hadn’t shown up yet. As Silas checked over his rifle, he cast Rip another look.

“You know, I thought Eric would make sure to keep us separated. After… well, after everything.” He adjusted the aim of the rifle,giving a small shake of his head and a faint laugh. “Maybe he finally came to his senses. What’s left of them.”

Memory of binary flickered through his mind like static, and slowly, he lowered the rifle. The smile on his lips faded. Opening his mouth to speak, he then hesitated. He should say something. But how? 'Hey, Rip, I happen to know binary… and by the way, about tomorrow's mission...' Not exactly casual.

He exhaled slowly, setting the rifle down. This will surely cause a syntax error.
“I have a bad feeling about tomorrow though,” he said finally, voice quiet. “Liza’s been left alone too long. It doesn’t sit right.” His gaze slid toward her. “Are we sure there hasn’t been any supply drops? No fresh drones in play?”