December 27th, 2880
Matanuska Glacier Cave
07:05 PM
"Any luck?"
In the depths of the glacier, once a famed tourist spot, a group of orange-parka and balaclava wearing figures huddled together around an electric heater. To one side they had set a radio, to the other... machineguns, set in a small pile. There were other... shapes as well, ones that loomed overhead, casting strange shadows from within their icy prisons. One of their number was probing the floor beneath them with a stethescope, a section of it revealing the glimmering, multicolor-hued surface of a dormant Plate.
After some time, he rose to his feet, and shook his head sadly.
"Nothing." He said, dropping the stethoscope in the pile in disgust. The assorted Reclaimers, the only survivors of their number, exchanged concerned glances.
"You're kidding me. We can't get a single reaction?!"
Reviving a Plate was the most fundamental of fundamentals among their ranks. Even the most baseline ought to have been able to do so. Why now, then, did it refuse to move? Barely did they time to ponder this question, when there was a distinct tin rattle in the distance. Someone stepping through the alarm they'd strung across the cave entrance, no doubt. At a glance, the Reclaimers fanned out, grabbing their rifles... and waited, with baited breath.
The seconds ticked by anxiously... until a familiar, violet-haired figure emerged, wrapped in a similar coat as she rounded the corner, a scarf wrapped about her neck. Instantly the guns were lowered, and a relieved sigh went up from the men.
"Jesus! Thank God it's just you Dahlia! You really gave us a scare."
There was something about the way she looked at him, at them that caused a momentary twinge of doubt in the leader's gut. The bags under her eyes. The slow steps she took, with sunken shoulders and ragged breaths.
"...What's going on here?" She asked aloud, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
"We're going back to Orphan... Or, trying to, at least." Said the leader, gesturing to the inert Plate.
"Maybe there we can... figure something out, you know?"
"Figure what out?"
The frigid nature of her tone was enough to set him on guard, moving one finger to the safety on his rifle as Dahlia leered at him in open disgust.
"Maybe... some way to make things right?" He hazarded, "We don't want to fight our friends. Do you? Because that's the only way we see this going-"
"Friends? FRIENDS?" - Dahlia's voice interrupted him, rising in pitch into a shrill scream, her pupils dilating into tiny pinpricks as she exploded, her voice echoing off the walls around them.
"They're not FRIENDS! They're TRAITORS! Traitors! ALL OF YOU!"
Too late, he registered that she was hiding something in her pocket. The click of the pins hitting the ice, a sound so fragile, yet it echoed so clearly in the silence as the young girl pulled free the grenades she'd held in her jacket, flinging them towards the group through the air, roaring as she did so, as if possessed by a demon:
"All Hail Britannia! ALL HAIL BRITANNIAAAAA!"
The sudden onslaught of sound and light alone was deafening enough. Rose, still hardly at her best, reeled back from the detonations, with a victorious shriek of laughter. As the smoke began to clear, she rose from her crouch. Blood now caked the walls of the cavern, strands of gore, piles of misshapen organs and flaming fabric were all that remained of the traitors.
"I did it... Lord Lemuel, I did it...!" She laughed, hoarsely... and then, coughed.
An inexplicable, sharp pain began to well up in her chest. She coughed again, and felt... wetness. A taste of iron on her lips.
The ice beneath her was soaked crimson too, dripping from her vest. Her glove brushed it, and she stared at it on her fingers in shock. She hadn't even heard the gunshots.
The world swam, and Rose Elwren sank to her knees.
Yes, she thought dimly. They had been her friends. She knew all of them by name. Ricardo. Maria. Amrish. Hendrik. They'd flown together. Fought together, all for Orphan. All for a place they could all belong. For a home.
And she'd killed them. Why? Why?
She couldn't even remember.
So tired. Her face hit the frozen ground, the blood below splashing across her features gently as she blinked. The haziness in the world just wouldn't go away. Her Mother's face was there somewhere, in the back of mind - always peering with that weary, half-lidded look of vague disinterest. Where was she now? Would she ever know what happened to her? Would she even care?
It didn't matter, she thought faintly.
Not anymore.
I really did become just like you.
Rose closed her eyes... and went still.
Matanuska Glacier Cave
07:05 PM
"Any luck?"
In the depths of the glacier, once a famed tourist spot, a group of orange-parka and balaclava wearing figures huddled together around an electric heater. To one side they had set a radio, to the other... machineguns, set in a small pile. There were other... shapes as well, ones that loomed overhead, casting strange shadows from within their icy prisons. One of their number was probing the floor beneath them with a stethescope, a section of it revealing the glimmering, multicolor-hued surface of a dormant Plate.
After some time, he rose to his feet, and shook his head sadly.
"Nothing." He said, dropping the stethoscope in the pile in disgust. The assorted Reclaimers, the only survivors of their number, exchanged concerned glances.
"You're kidding me. We can't get a single reaction?!"
Reviving a Plate was the most fundamental of fundamentals among their ranks. Even the most baseline ought to have been able to do so. Why now, then, did it refuse to move? Barely did they time to ponder this question, when there was a distinct tin rattle in the distance. Someone stepping through the alarm they'd strung across the cave entrance, no doubt. At a glance, the Reclaimers fanned out, grabbing their rifles... and waited, with baited breath.
The seconds ticked by anxiously... until a familiar, violet-haired figure emerged, wrapped in a similar coat as she rounded the corner, a scarf wrapped about her neck. Instantly the guns were lowered, and a relieved sigh went up from the men.
"Jesus! Thank God it's just you Dahlia! You really gave us a scare."
There was something about the way she looked at him, at them that caused a momentary twinge of doubt in the leader's gut. The bags under her eyes. The slow steps she took, with sunken shoulders and ragged breaths.
"...What's going on here?" She asked aloud, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
"We're going back to Orphan... Or, trying to, at least." Said the leader, gesturing to the inert Plate.
"Maybe there we can... figure something out, you know?"
"Figure what out?"
The frigid nature of her tone was enough to set him on guard, moving one finger to the safety on his rifle as Dahlia leered at him in open disgust.
"Maybe... some way to make things right?" He hazarded, "We don't want to fight our friends. Do you? Because that's the only way we see this going-"
"Friends? FRIENDS?" - Dahlia's voice interrupted him, rising in pitch into a shrill scream, her pupils dilating into tiny pinpricks as she exploded, her voice echoing off the walls around them.
"They're not FRIENDS! They're TRAITORS! Traitors! ALL OF YOU!"
Too late, he registered that she was hiding something in her pocket. The click of the pins hitting the ice, a sound so fragile, yet it echoed so clearly in the silence as the young girl pulled free the grenades she'd held in her jacket, flinging them towards the group through the air, roaring as she did so, as if possessed by a demon:
"All Hail Britannia! ALL HAIL BRITANNIAAAAA!"
The sudden onslaught of sound and light alone was deafening enough. Rose, still hardly at her best, reeled back from the detonations, with a victorious shriek of laughter. As the smoke began to clear, she rose from her crouch. Blood now caked the walls of the cavern, strands of gore, piles of misshapen organs and flaming fabric were all that remained of the traitors.
"I did it... Lord Lemuel, I did it...!" She laughed, hoarsely... and then, coughed.
An inexplicable, sharp pain began to well up in her chest. She coughed again, and felt... wetness. A taste of iron on her lips.
The ice beneath her was soaked crimson too, dripping from her vest. Her glove brushed it, and she stared at it on her fingers in shock. She hadn't even heard the gunshots.
The world swam, and Rose Elwren sank to her knees.
Yes, she thought dimly. They had been her friends. She knew all of them by name. Ricardo. Maria. Amrish. Hendrik. They'd flown together. Fought together, all for Orphan. All for a place they could all belong. For a home.
And she'd killed them. Why? Why?
She couldn't even remember.
So tired. Her face hit the frozen ground, the blood below splashing across her features gently as she blinked. The haziness in the world just wouldn't go away. Her Mother's face was there somewhere, in the back of mind - always peering with that weary, half-lidded look of vague disinterest. Where was she now? Would she ever know what happened to her? Would she even care?
It didn't matter, she thought faintly.
Not anymore.
I really did become just like you.
Rose closed her eyes... and went still.
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