The ruins of Sector 18 stretched out like the bones of a forgotten beast, jagged spires of rusted metal clawing at the overcast sky. Arthur Cousland led the fractured group through the labyrinthine wreckage, his goddesium prosthetic legs propelling him forward with unyielding precision. Beside him, Scarlet moved like a predator, her SMG gripped tightly, eyes darting to every shadow. Maxwell flanked him on the other side, her intellectual poise cracked by the chaos. Laplace trudged ahead, her laser cannon slung over her shoulder, idealism warring with regret in her furrowed brow. Drake brought up the rear, her shotgun held at the ready, a storm of bravado masking deeper unease.
The bridge's collapse echoed in their minds, a thunderous betrayal that had severed them from the rest of the squads. Shouts and gunfire from across the chasm had chased them into this maze, Eunhwa's sniper rounds and Vesti's rockets a clear message: trust was shattered. Arthur's Omni-Tool buzzed intermittently, Shifty's voice a lifeline amid the isolation.
"Commander, I've got something," Shifty's tone cut through the static, urgent but composed. "Incoming transmission from Elysion. They're demanding an explanation for Matis' presence—and that little fireworks show at the bridge. Patching it through now."
Arthur halted the group in a sheltered alcove formed by collapsed girders, signaling for silence. The Omni-Tool projected a holographic interface, flickering to life with the stern visage of an Elysion operator. But before words could form, the feed shifted, revealing Ingrid herself—CEO of Elysion, her presence as commanding as it was unexpected. Her tailored suit and sharp features radiated authority, but her eyes burned with barely contained fury.
"Matis," Ingrid began, her voice steady like a blade being drawn. "Explain yourselves. Immediately."
Laplace stepped forward, her voice trembling but resolute. "Ma'am, it was an accident. A Rapture attacked from above—I fired to defend us. The debris hit the bridge's support. We didn't intend to sabotage anything. We're all on the same side here, pursuing the Heretic fragments for the greater good."
Ingrid's expression didn't soften. "An accident? Convenient, isn't it? Cutting them off while you race ahead with the Commander as 'insurance.' This reeks of sabotage, the opening salvo in open hostilities between Elysion and Missilis. Do you have any idea the ramifications?"
The feed stuttered as another figure forced her way into the frame—Syuen, CEO of Missilis, her petite form shoving into the cramped operator room. Shifty's voice yelped in the background, "Hey, this space is for one person! You're squishing me!" The room, designed for solitary operation, now held a chaotic trio: Ingrid towering, Syuen elbowing in, and Shifty wedged against the console, her face a mask of discomfort.
"Sabotage?" Syuen snarled, her voice pitching high with indignation. "Your precious Absolute probably botched the crossing themselves! Matis is out there risking everything for intel you Elysion hacks couldn't dream of obtaining. Back off, Ingrid!"
Ingrid turned, her composure cracking into a sardonic smile. "Oh, please. If 'Missiles' Industries spent less time playing with toys and more on actual innovation, perhaps your squads wouldn't need to poach our missions."
Syuen's face flushed crimson. "It's Missilis, you arrogant cow! Say it right, or I'll—" She balled her fists, inching closer as if contemplating a swing, her small stature belying the ferocity in her eyes. Ingrid leaned in, unflinching, their faces mere inches apart in the confined space.
"Or you'll what? Throw one of your tantrums? Your 'Missiles' are nothing but overpriced fireworks. Face it, Syuen—your meddling is the real threat here. Pull Matis back, or Elysion will consider this an act of war."
The argument devolved into a barrage of insults, voices overlapping in a cacophony that echoed through the hologram. "Entitled relic!" Syuen shot back. "Childish upstart!" Ingrid countered. Shifty, pressed against the wall, muttered pleas for calm, her hands fumbling at the controls. On Arthur's end, the group watched in stunned silence, an unintended audience to the corporate catfight. Scarlet leaned against a girder, arms crossed, a wry smile playing on her lips.
"Well, aren't you Matis girls the favored ones," Scarlet remarked idly, her tone laced with sarcasm. "Your CEO's going all out to cover for you. Must be nice having that kind of pull."
Maxwell sighed, rubbing her temples as the hologram flickered with the ongoing spat. "Syuen does value us—our capabilities, at least. But let's not romanticize it. To her, we're just high-performing assets. She's called Nikkes worse than rust buckets on bad days. Remember, she sent us straight here after our last op, no resupply, no downtime. We ran dry because of it—that's how you, Nyx, and Lyra found us. We're her shiniest toys, paraded around until something newer catches her eye. Then? Discarded without a second thought."
Laplace nodded vigorously, her idealism flaring. "That's why we push forward. We retrieve that Heretic fragment, prove our worth beyond her whims. And to show good faith, we'll split the credit fifty-fifty with Absolute and Monarks. It's the heroic thing to do—unite against the real enemy."
Scarlet muttered under her breath, just loud enough for Arthur to hear, "How honorable, offering scraps after blowing the bridge. Real generous."
The hologram finally cut out as Shifty managed to end the transmission, her exasperated voice lingering: "Call terminated. Please, no more surprise guests!" The group stood in the ensuing quiet, the weight of the exchange settling like dust.
Arthur deactivated the Omni-Tool, his mind racing. The corporate feud highlighted the fragile threads binding their world—Elysion's rigid structure clashing with Missilis' volatile ambition. It mirrored his own struggles at the Outpost, building sovereignty amid such chaos. He glanced at Scarlet, her loyalty a constant in this storm.
"We keep moving," Arthur said, breaking the silence. "The crater's ahead, but we're not rushing blind. Scout for Raptures, watch our flanks. Whatever happens with the CEOs, we get those fragments—for Marian, for all of us."
They pressed on, weaving through the debris-strewn paths. The terrain grew treacherous, craters pockmarking the ground like scars from ancient battles. A pack of Ant-type Raptures skittered from a derelict warehouse, their chitinous forms glinting under the dim light. Arthur's N7 Typhoon roared to life, bullets tearing through exoskeletons in controlled bursts. Scarlet flanked left, her SMG spitting fire in precise volleys, dropping two with headshots.
Maxwell coordinated with a scientist's precision, directing Laplace's laser cannon to carve through the horde's center. "Laplace, wide beam—clear the path!" The energy lanced out, vaporizing a cluster and leaving smoldering husks.
Drake charged in, her shotgun rounds destroying mandibles with thunderous impacts. "Come on, you bugs! That all you got?" She laughed, but her eyes flicked nervously to the horizon, where the chasm's echo still loomed.
As the last Rapture fell, Laplace wiped sweat from her brow. "See? Teamwork. If Absolute could see this, they'd understand it was no sabotage."
"They saw laser and a collapsed bridge," Scarlet retorted, reloading. "Actions speak louder."
Arthur mediated, his voice calm but firm. "Focus on the goal. Infighting helps no one—least of all the Nikkes caught in the crossfire."
Hours blurred as they navigated, the sun dipping lower, casting long shadows. They encountered sporadic threats—a lone Scout-type Rapture dispatched by Scarlet's stealthy approach, its sensors fried before it could alert others. Conversations turned introspective amid the lulls.
"You ever wonder about the before?" Drake asked, kicking a shard of metal. "Pre-Raptures, when bridges didn't crumble under our feet."
Maxwell chuckled bitterly. "Before we were 'assets'? Yeah. But dwelling changes nothing. We adapt, survive. Like the Commander here—prosthetics and all, he's more human than most."
Arthur met her gaze, recalling their night by the fire, bodies entwined in a dance of trust and desire. Her loyalty felt genuine, but Syuen's shadow lingered. "We're all adapting," he said. "Outpost proves it—Nikkes as people, building something."
Laplace's eyes lit up. "That's heroic. Maybe after this, Matis could... collaborate more. Beyond corporate lines."
Scarlet snorted. "Dream big, laser girl. But first, survive the pursuit."
As dusk approached, they crested a ridge overlooking a vast expanse of twisted earth. The crater loomed in the distance, a dark maw promising answers—and dangers. But fatigue set in; pushing on risked errors. Arthur called a halt in a defensible ruin, fortifications hastily erected.
Around a low fire, tensions eased slightly. Scarlet sat close to Arthur, her hand brushing his prosthetic arm—a subtle reassurance. Maxwell shared rations, her mind clearly on the fragment's value. Laplace sketched plans in the dirt, insisting on the split. Drake kept watch, her bravado a shield.
Arthur pondered the path ahead, the Vapaus bullet a beacon. Alliances hung by threads, but in this fractured group, seeds of change stirred.