“Looks like someone’s here, after all.”

“So it seems…” Saito muttered as he crawled across the rocky ground and stopped next to Captain Travis, who currently was peering through his binoculars at the coastal waters of Treséd below. About an hour had passed since the group landed their shuttle in the foothills of the Eastshield Mountains and then drove their hovercar through the hills to the coast; now, they all laid on the ground at the top of a hill overlooking a long beach… and in so doing, were easily able to spot the vast swathes of garbage and mechanical refuse that covered the coast for as far as the eye could see. The beach looked more akin to an industrial landfill, covered as it was in filth and broken machinery, while the coastal waters bore the froth and shiny, rainbow film of dumped oil and other chemicals.

“…So this is what the Dumpin’ Grounds look like…” Liask muttered from the side.

“Smells like shit,” Obra remarked with a pained grimace.

“The Relédiakian Dumpin’ Grounds smell even worse,” Ralak replied. “They actually dump sewage and bio-waste over there. At least here, the Tekdecénians only dump industrial trash.”

“Th-that’s still dangerous…” MacTavish pointed out. “L-leaking chemicals and fumes c-can be, um, d-deadly…”

“I never said it wasn’t dangerous. A lot of Bleeders and Tresédians alike have died while lookin’ through the Dumpin’ Grounds. Won’t stop folks from diggin’ for gold, though.”

“So Selind found her laser sniper in this dump? Damn…” Travis mused, “how the hell did she find a working gun in all of that garbage?!”

“That’s a question for another time,” Saito stated as he pulled out his own scope and began peering down at the coast alongside Travis. Amidst all of the trash, there was one portion of the beach that had been cleared out, making enough space for a Plell-3-L shuttle to land. Around the shuttle were a handful of individuals keeping watch — Bleeders, by Saito’s guess, based on their haphazard attire and untrained manner of guarding the shuttle.

“What are we looking at?” Hackett questioned.

“More Bleeders…” Saito replied. “I can’t tell from here if any of the guards are Chaotics, but… they seem to be more alert than the guards we took out at the base.”

“Looks like they’re waiting for someone,” Travis said. “But… that’s all I can tell.”

“What’s in the shuttle?” Obra questioned.

“If I knew, I would’ve told you,” Travis remarked. “These binoculars can’t see through walls.”

“What’s the likelihood that they’re on alert because they knew we were coming?” Hackett asked.

“…Impossible to say,” Saito responded after observing the Bleeders for a few seconds more. “They could just be waiting for someone else. However, given what happened at the base, we should expect them to have some warning about us.”

“What? That’s bullshit,” Obra declared. “Since when are the Bleeders that organized, huh?”

Saito and Hackett both turned to give Obra a level stare.

“We’re only here because the Bleeders are more organized than usual, you dumbass,” Ralak stated while rapping Obra upside the back of his head. “And you and Liask attackin’ that base gave ‘em a chance to get a warnin’ out about us.”

Obra opened his mouth to retort, only for Liask to place her hand on his shoulder and gently squeeze. He looked back at her, at first in surprise, only to scowl and look away.

As Saito watched this, he beaconed for Hackett to lean in. “…Watch those two,” he whispered quietly. “Start up a CENT field here, too, just in case.”

“Already did,” Hackett responded in kind.

Saito nodded back at her before turning back to observe the Bleeders — just in time for a small aircraft to fly in, skimming low across the surface of the coastal waters. As it approached, some of the Bleeders guarding the parked shuttle turned to face it, but made no overt motions to attack; instead, they allowed the craft to quietly land on the dirty sands.

“Looks like we got lucky on the timing, sir,” Travis remarked.

“Maybe. We don’t know how many times that craft might have been here before we got here,” Saito replied. “But that craft… do you recognize it, Captain?”

“Not the specific make and model, no… but it does look like a more modern version of the aircraft I’ve seen at Compound Tresnon.”

“Some of the aircraft at the Tresnon airport were made by Kaoné,” Ralak said. “Most of ‘em were put together with parts from the Dumpin’ Grounds. Though I think we got one or two from Kievkenalis…”

“I don’t see any identifying marks on the craft, either,” Saito commented. “Which makes sense for this kind of deal…”

“Well, if we wanna know who they are, then shouldn’t we just go down there and capture them?” Obra pressed.

Saito turned to give Obra an impatient glare. “Look, kid, I only have so much patience, so I’m only going to explain this once. The reason we’re taking things slow and carefully is because we don’t know exactly what forces they have down there. We don’t know if any of them are Chaotics, or what type of Chaotics. We don’t know what’s in that shuttle — it could be the captives we’re after, or it could be an entire squadron of elite Chaotics. Hell, we haven’t even seen firm proof that those are Bleeders, down there.”

“What? That’s stupid—“

“What’s stupid is assuming anything but the worst, especially on a mission like this. Charging in without info is the quickest way to fucking die, kid — or to kill innocent people. You got that?”

“Bullshit, you’re just—!”

“Obra,” Ralak cut in, “behave, now. Remember, we only brought you along ‘cause you agreed to not get in our way. If you break even that agreement, then there’s gonna be hell to pay when we get back to Tresnon.”

“Ngh…” Obra growled, but went silent once more.

…Figures that even Tresédian kids only shut up when you phrase a threat in a way they can understand… Saito thought bitterly as he turned back to observing the meet — just in time for Travis to speak up.

“Shit, that’s him!” the Captain exclaimed, albeit in a hushed voice. “Strén just stepped out of the shuttle! And he’s got Feral with him!”

“So we really did find him…” Ralak muttered.

“At least we know we’re dealing with Bleeders, now,” Hackett remarked. “But what is Strén doing?”

“…It looks like he’s meeting with someone from that aircraft that just landed,” Saito replied, watching through his scope as the giant, muscled frame of Strén sauntered across the beach, followed by Feral. Approaching them from the landed aircraft was a tall, lithe man with blond hair and a pale complexion, wearing what appeared to be an impeccable white longcoat with green trimming. “Is that… a uniform?” Saito questioned in disbelief. “What idiot wears a uniform to a meeting like this?”

“Can you tell what org that uniform belongs to?” Hackett asked.

“Can’t say I’ve ever seen it before… but this is definitely worth recording.”

“Already on it, sir,” Travis remarked. “My binoculars have been recording everything since we landed. And I think I recognize that outfit, too… I think it’s the SFC.”

“The what?”

“The Stealth and Force Corps. They’re a PMC based in Riverana,” Travis explained. “I’ve seen ‘em around Tresnon once or twice.”

“They’ve tried makin’ deals to get land in Treséd several times over the past decade,” Ralak stated. “And now that you mention it, I remember seein’ ‘em with white longcoats…”

“So we’ve found out who the Bleeders are workin’ with, great!” Obra remarked, “why ain’t we attackin’?!”

“We found evidence that the SFC is working with the Bleeders, yes,” Saito countered, “but that could just as easily be a non-SFC person dressing up in an SFC uniform just to throw off any observers. To know for sure, we’ll need to capture that man, as well as the aircraft he came on.”

“I agree, but that might really, actually, be the SFC,” Travis said. “Gavon didn’t speak very highly of them. And they somehow couldn’t stop that Bleeder from accessing the Ayas in Riverana a few months ago, too. I think they’re just incompetent.”

“If they really are working with the Bleeders, then chances are, they intentionally allowed a Bleeder to access the Ayas,” Hackett pointed out.

“I guess… hey, wait, something’s happening.”

Saito continued watching the scene in silence as Strén and the other man appeared to exchange words, followed by Feral retreating to the parked shuttle. A minute later, Feral returned from the shuttle — this time with three individuals in tow. Each of them had their feet and hands bound, and their mouths gagged, while their movements were sluggish, as though they had been drugged. All three appeared to be on the younger side; one a young, tanned man with scruffy auburn hair, another a young, dark-skinned woman with short black hair, and the third a short, pale-skinned woman with long black hair, that seemed to drape partially in front of her face.

“…That’s her!” Travis remarked. “That’s the girl!”

“You mean Minilas?!” Liask pressed. “She’s here?!”

“Then what the hell are we waitin’ for—?” Obra began as he started to stand, only for Ralak to grab Liask and Obra both and force them back to the ground.

“Sit. Still,” Ralak ordered.

“But she’s right fuckin’ there!” Obra protested, “don’t let our fuckin’ friend slip through our fingers!”

“And I… what’s goin’ on?” Liask said with a confused look as she struggled against Ralak’s grasp. “Why… since when were you stronger than me? …Wait…!”

“You!” Obra’s lip curled as he turned to glare at Saito and Hackett. “Did y’all seriously use CENT Fields on us?!”

“If you knew how to behave yourselves, then it wouldn’t be necessary,” Hackett snapped back. “This is for your own good. If the two of you go charging in without a plan, then you’ll put your friend and all of the other captives at risk!”

“And if they escape because you were sittin’ on your fuckin’ asses?!”

“The fact that you think we’re ‘sitting our our asses’ shows how little you’re prepared to deal with a situation like this,” Saito countered. “They won’t be able to leave without us acting. Aircraft take time to launch, after all. On top of that, it’s possible there’s CENT Fields down there, especially if they have Chaotic captives, which would make you less than useless. Not to mention we’re up against Strén and Feral. Feral alone put up a heavy fight against three of the Deans, and Strén is supposedly stronger than her.” Saito passed Obra a glance. “If you think you can take them on all on your own, then you’re being nothing short of arrogant.”

Obra glared at Saito, but didn’t speak any further as he attempted — fruitlessly — to struggle against Ralak’s hold.

“Not many of the Bleeders have armor, though…” Travis mused as he continued to watch the scene below through his binoculars. “It looks like only one or two of the guards have powered armor. Strén and Feral don’t even have any!”

“According to Davídrius, Feral had a cybernetic prosthetic,” Saito said as he turned back to watch the scene through his scope. “One that had an integrated energy shield, supposedly. We have to assume she still has that — and that Strén probably does, too. The other guards might, as well.”

“This is going to be tricky, then…” Hackett muttered, turning away from Obra and Liask to leave the two in Ralak’s hands. She gripped her assault rifle and carefully began scoping out the meeting area herself before asking, “so, what’s the plan? Try to take them all out from afar?”

“We’re still a kilometer out…” Saito mused. “All of our guns can reach from this range, but Travis is the only one who can guarantee a hit on a target. There doesn’t seem to be much cover on the slope, but… it looks like the guards on our side aren’t paying attention, anymore. They’re focused on the meeting. That gives us an opening. Even so, the fact that Strén and Feral are likely shielded will be a problem…” He then turned toward Ralak, who was still occupied with holding Liask and Obra down on the ground. “…How likely are the Bleeders to kill the hostages if we attack?”

“Never underestimate the lengths a Bleeder will go just to spite someone,” Ralak replied.

“Figures. We’ll need to approach this carefully, then…” Saito muttered, turning away to continue scoping out the meeting area. Feral had since disappeared back into the shuttle, bringing the three hostages with her; Strén and the supposed SFC soldier now seemed to be negotiating something, as a second SFC-dressed soldier began pulling large crates out of the aircraft that had most recently arrived. “…Alright, it’s time to get moving,” the Colonel stated. “Travis, hold position here, and don’t fire until I give the signal. MacTavish, you hold here, as well. Hackett, you and I—”

In the midst of his sentence, both Obra and Liask suddenly thrust their hips upwards, successfully throwing a surprised Ralak off-balance. In that split-second opening, Obra ripped himself out of her grasp, rolled over, and scrambled to his feet; Hackett was already rising to tackle him back to the ground, but he managed to duck around her, instead grabbing the small mechanical device laying on the ground between Hackett and Saito — the portable CENT Field generator.

“Wait, you idiot—!” Saito began to shout, only for Obra to ignore him and chuck the device off of the hilltop. As soon as the generator was more than a few meters away, Obra raised his barriers, temporarily immobilizing both Ralak and Hackett as Liask jumped to her feet, grabbed him, and then bounded toward the parked shuttle on the beach below.

“Those fucking…!” Hackett swore as she quickly climbed back to her feet, Obra’s barriers disappearing as the distance between him and the hilltop grew.

“They’ve been noticed!” Travis declared, watching as the Bleeder guards around the shuttle began to turn toward Liask — right as she landed on top of one of them. “Sir—?”

“Damn it, open fire, now!” Saito ordered, already climbing to his feet. As he did, Ralak rushed by, slamming her forearms together and then lifting into the air.

“I’m sorry, Colonel!” she shouted back at him, “I should never have allowed them to come with us!”

“Just— watch them!” Saito shouted after her, as she and Hackett rushed down the hillside. “We’ll secure the hostages! Hold off Strén and Feral, if you can!!”

Ralak offered Saito a quick nod before turning towards the emerging battlefield herself. Travis’s sniping had already dispatched two of the guards, while Obra and Liask both tore a path straight toward Strén. Amidst the chaos, the SFC soldiers quickly retreated to their aircraft, and its engines began spooling up — but just before it could take off, Liask bounded towards it and smashed one of the engines with her bare fists, thereby grounding the aircraft. As soon as she landed, however, the sand beneath her feet exploded as a spire of rock shot upwards, seeking to impale her. In the second before it could, Ralak zipped up next to Liask and slammed her forearm into the Forcetechnic’s back, seizing control of her body to whip her out of the air and back to a safe part of the beach. Ralak then quickly scanned the meeting place herself, only to wince as a guffaw sounded from a short distance away. Turning towards the source of the laugh, she felt herself reflexively tense, as her eyes fell on the form of a large, muscular man, sporting a brown goatee on his broad, lightly tanned face, rounded out by long, coarse brown hair tied back into a low, rough ponytail.

“Strén…” Ralak muttered apprehensively.

“Puahahahaha!!” Strén let loose a hearty laugh as he planted his hands on his hips and stared down at Ralak and Liask. A bullet immediately slammed right into his head, but shining golden shields appeared to block the projectile while Strén remained standing, as if he had been hit by no more than a fly. “Looks like we’ve been followed, after all!” he remarked, slowly crouching down into a combat posture — followed by a pause as he squinted at Ralak. “…Wait…” A slow smile crept across his face. “Well, well, well, if it ain’t the Willthief! It’s been a while!”

“…So it has,” Ralak acknowledged through clenched teeth as Liask jumped to her feet beside her.

“Ooooh, and you brought more Chaotics with ya!” Feral cooed as she skipped up next to Strén. “How nice of you! You tryin’ to join back up with us?”

“Ralak…!” Liask muttered, taking up a defensive stance herself but still warily eying Strén and Feral, who casually watched Ralak and Liask even as Travis picked off the final guards around the shuttle.

“…No response, eh?” Strén said after a second of silence. “Shoulda figured. Not that I would’ve let a weakling like you back into—“

In the middle of his sentence, he stopped himself to duck to the side — just as a vertical barrier manifested in the air right where Strén had been standing. While the Bleeder was able to avoid being instantly killed via bisection, he wasn’t fast enough to avoid the barrier completely; it instead cut through his right shoulder, completely severing his right arm from his body.

…His sparking, mechanical arm.

As the prosthetic fell to the ground, Strén stared at it for a second before turning around to look at Obra — who was looking back at him with a triumphant grin. In that split-second, however, Strén used his Forcetechnic strength to pounce on Obra, grabbing the student’s right arm before he could react and whipping him around in the air before slamming him into the ground with a sickening crack. Obra’s shields flared, protecting him from most of the force — only for his shields to break a second later, allowing the rest of the impact to go through and knock him unconscious.

“Obra!” Liask shouted, but Ralak thrust an arm out in front of her to prevent her from running forward.

“…You’ve gone too far, Strén,” Ralak said, watching warily as the Bleeder fully stood up and turned back to face her. Further back, she could see Saito and Hackett rapidly advancing on the Bleeders’ shuttle, but neither Strén nor Feral seemed to have noticed them.

“More like I ain’t gone far enough,” Strén remarked as he stepped up to his severed arm and crushed it underfoot, rendering it completely unsalvageable. He then slowly approached Ralak, but before he had taken even two steps, Travis nailed him in the head with another bullet… but once more, protective shielding flared up around Strén’s head, deflecting the bullet again. Strén then fabricated a massive wall of stone to block any further bullets, but otherwise continued approaching Ralak, his right shoulder sparking at where his arm had once connected. “…You know how we work, Willthief,” he taunted. “Even this won’t stop me! And the way you are now sure as hell ain’t gonna change that.”

“…Maybe you’re right,” Ralak replied, carefully eying Obra’s body on the ground behind Strén. After a second, she could see the telltale sign of his chest slightly raising, indicating that he was at least still alive; after noting that, she turned her attention back to Strén. “…Can’t help but feel that all my decisions lately have just been helpin’ y’all out, indirectly.”

“Oh, I guess I never thanked you for lettin’ us into Tresnon, huh~?” Feral remarked. “That was really useful, ya know~!”

“Yeah— but it stops here,” Ralak declared. In the instant afterward, the black gloves covering her hands and lower arms suddenly shot off, manipulated by her own Imperator Psychotechnism to finally reveal her bare hands. “…I may’ve let y’all into Tresnon, and I let my own damn students almost get themselves killed. But I’ll be makin’ up for that here!”

“Pu ah ha ha! Damn, that little snot-nosed ‘Sentry’ really rubbed off on ya, huh?!” Strén exclaimed, eagerly pounding his chest with his one remaining fist. “But ya really think you can stand up against my strength, huh? Ha! Even with those bastard outsiders you brought with you — even with only one arm! — it’s time to show ya the power that brought me back from death!!”