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[Table Scraps]

Clyde and Belix watched as Vanitas strolled into the room, sword out, resting lazily on her shoulder. As her minions filled the room, the old Queen strutted past them and took notice of the ruined body of Ragda. Though she attempted to approach it, the hidden threads strewn throughout the room offered her resistance and she stopped short, shrugging at them as she examined the body. After a while, a wide smile broke across her face and she had to struggle to keep from laughing.

“You fucking...human trash fires,” she giggled, looking at them, “You actually did it…”

Both Clyde and Belix remained silent, waiting to see what her next move would be. Vanitas took notice but rolled her eyes.

“I can’t feel him,” she cackled, “He’s gone!” she whipped her sword around and tucked it under Clyde’s chin, forcing him to look at her, “I could kiss you.”

“Don’t do me any favors,” Clyde grumbled.

“Are you sure?” Vanitas wondered, looking at his friends bodies strewn about the room, “It looks like you could use a favor.”

Belix loudly cocked the lever on her rifle and wiped away the trickle of blood that was starting to drip into her eye.

“We doin’ this or what?” the Elfin girl demanded.

Vanitas looked down and smirked at her, then finally sheathed her weapon.

“Get off my boat,” the old Queen chuckled, then snapped her fingers.

Even her minions seemed confused, but they took her meaning and started to file out of the room. Warily, Clyde and Belix watched her, not even bothering to get up because they were so certain of the coming betrayal.

“That’s it?” Clyde finally demanded.

“You said no favors,” she reminded him, but paused, “It’s not a kindness I’m giving you by the way, but consider this a fair trade, my life for yours.”

“You really think…”

“I do actually, and far more than you,” she snarked, leaning against the door frame, “You think you’re a threat, and you are, I’m honestly surprised at how much you can get done, that’s why I’m letting you go.”

“So we can be a threat again?” Belix mentioned.

Vanitas glanced at the other woman, then shook her head.

“Have you been keeping up with events back home?” she asked Clyde directly who could only shrug in confusion, “Because I have…”

“What is that…”

“Figure it out!” she commanded him, waving goodbye and turning to leave again, “Oh, and I’m burning this room, and won’t be discriminating if you are in here or not.”

With the room fully emptied, Clyde buried his face in his hands and soon realized he was smearing blood across his cheeks. With a frustrated groan, he tore down one of the silk curtains and used it as a rag to clean himself off before angrily tossing it away.

“Are you okay with this?” Belix asked him.

“I’m...an idiot,” he muttered back, “I’m not stupid,” he walked across the room and grabbed one of Evie’s arms, “Help me with her?”

“...yeah, sure.”

Together, the pair of them lifted Evie’s unconscious body and team carried her through the halls. As they made their escape, every few meters, they came across one of the insectile monsters, some crawling about on the floor, others lumbering across the ceiling, all of them turned aside and allowed the group to leave. Deep in his throat, there was a growl rattling behind Clyde’s lips, but he kept his teeth clamped together and refused to look as the monsters continued to stare at them as they moved through the ship.

Stopping once they had reached the cargo-bay, Clyde and Belix stared at the burning wreckage they had left and then glanced at each other nervously.

“Do you think she wants us to swim?”

“I...don’t care…” Clyde grumbled, searching the area for any working shuttles, “Think that one’ll work?”

“Let’s find out,” Belix shrugged, and they walked towards one of the few rafts that was only missing its back section, separating from the other two, Belix moved towards the vehicle cautiously, “Stay here, I’ll see if the engine’ll turn.”

“Careful,” Clyde mentioned looking at the outboard motors and attached sails, both looked badly damaged.

She smiled back at him, but kept moving. Though the engine struggled and she had to fiddle with the settings a bit, eventually it started to turn over and, though it belched gouts of smoke every few seconds, it managed to lift off of the deck. While he was waiting, Clyde continued to look around the cargo-bay, half searching for a better option, half trying to keep an eye out for their enemies. With the raft working, more or less, Belix went to open the docking bay and Clyde secured Evie into one of the only remaining seats in the craft.

While waiting for her to return, he hanged his head out of the raft, one hand on his only remaining knife, and noticed somebody watching him. Vanitas looked back at him from the balcony and gave him a little reassuring wave. Clyde continued to glare back until Belix rejoined him and then ducked back into the shuttle, gratefully making their exit from the dreadnought.

Down in the sewers, Granger limped along through knee deep filth, barely awake, moving, more out of necessity than out of any specific drive. He passed by nearly a dozen exits before he noticed the ladder leading up to the street’s above, but he only had enough strength to climb out of the culvert before collapsing on the stone floor. Face down in the grime, one hand wrapped around the bottom rung of the ladder, he struggled to stay awake, knowing that it was a losing battle.

“I did it…” he muttered happily, blood burbling across his split lips, “...I…”

His mind addled and weary, for a moment he thought he could see Lynnie standing over him when he finally drifted off. Some hours later he awakened to see a pair of tiny Gremlins looking down at him, one was gently poking him in the cheek. They both jumped when a light sparked into existence behind his eyes and they ran find their mother. She came back, protectively guarding her two boys as Granger wearily sat up.

“You’re a big one, aren’t you?” she observed.

“Opinions vary,” Granger muttered, still trying to get his bearings, “What are you doing down here?”

“Trying to sleep,” the mother responded, still standing in front her children.

“...oh…” Granger nodded, realizing what they were saying, “You’re not hurt are you?”

“Did you kill that thing?” one of the children wondered.

“I think so…” he glanced back down the tunnel he had come from, “I was kind of out of it…”

“And the others?”

Granger looked at them curiously, then cast his gaze at their mother.

“Of course I did,” Granger told them sternly, “You’re safe now, there’s no one left to hurt you.”

The mother nodded, then knelt down to her children, telling them to run along and get some supplies from the camp. When they had gone, she turned to him again.

“What really happened?” she asked.

“They’re gone, we didn’t kill them…”

“’We’?” the mother Gremlin raised an eyebrow.

“Me and mine,” he explained, “We...we were motivated to attack their base, but they were gone, just the one and…”

“Your friends abandoned you,” she surmised.

“No…” he insisted, shaking his head, “No, I volunteered, to stay behind, to buy time.”

“To protect them,” she nodded.

“...yeah…” Granger nodded, but lifted his head, “Are you sure it’s safe to send your kids off like that?”

“...we’ve lived in this place for decades, longer than I could even remember, there were over a hundred of us, until recently.”

Granger sat next to her, listening patiently.

“That...thing, and the woman…” she shook her head, “They made promises, gave food and supplies, and then they started to take us aside, just a few at a time, people would disappear, and then, when they came back, they were different, edgy combative, I had an old friend, Danny, who fell in with them, he tried to get his wife, Babs to join him, but...my husband stepped in, tried to diffuse the situation...he…”

Ganger put a comforting hand on her shoulder, and heard her start to cry.

“He…” she buried her face in her hands, “We scattered after that, I don’t even know how many of us are left…”

“I’m sorry,” Granger whispered.

“Tell me...that my boys are safe, that we don’t have to run any more, that…”

“They’re gone,” he repeated to her and waited for her tears to subside, “They won’t be back.”

“Thank you,” she managed to chuckle, “Even if it’s a lie.”

after a few minutes, the boys came back with a thermos and passed it to their mother. She cracked open the top and poured him a cup of hot tea and passed it to him.

“So, are you done trying to destroy our home?”

“As much as I can,” he respectfully took the drink and downed it before passing back the cup, “I’ll try to be more careful on my way out.”

With some renewed vigor, Granger moved towards the ladder and started to climb.

“Take care of yourselves,” he told them just before reaching the top.

“Wait!” the mother called out to him, “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

He looked at her quizzically, but then noticed the daylight streaming through the gaps in the manhole cover above him. Realizing how bad it would look if anyone saw him climbing out of the sewers and let out a depressed sigh.

“Is there another way out?” he asked, still dangling from the ladder.

“That way,” the children pointed.

“Turn left at the third junction and then straight until you see the staircase, it’ll lead you to a maintenance hatch they use to lower heavy machinery down here, it’s private and should be unmanned.”

“Thank you,” Granger nodded solemnly, jumping down to ground floor and strolling away as they watched him leave.

“Good luck stranger,” she called out as he rounded the corner.

“And to you, good lady,” he smiled back before leaving.

After grabbing an old, soiled rug from a trashcan, he made his way through the streets towards the hide-out. He paused at the door, afraid to open it, worried that he would find it empty. Then he steeled himself, reached out for the door knob, only to have it burst open and him to see Belix pointing a gun in his face. For a moment, she was tense and angry, but then it melted away, she smiled, wrapped him in a tight hug, and tried to pretend she wasn’t crying.

Pulling him into the apartment, he saw what remained of their group, Clyde, hunched over a table, clutching at his bandaged cheek, and Evie slumbering on the bed.

“The more things change,” Granger muttered, “Is she okay?”

“I have no idea,” Belix admitted, “She’s the medic remember.”

“I’m fine by the way,” Clyde grumbled.

“No one asked,” Granger snapped, then turned back to Belix, “Any food in this place?”

“Over there,” Clyde pointed at a steaming pot of oatmeal left on the burner, “Since you asked.”

“Don’t,” Belix cut Granger off before he could rise to the bait, “We’ve all had a rough day, let’s not end it by killing each other.”

“Right,” Granger moved past them, grabbing himself a bowl and preparing his meal, “So how’d things go on your end?”

“Progress,” Clyde muttered, “If that’s what we’re going to call it.”

“We succeeded,” Belix corrected him, “But, we got the shit knocked out of us, and the bitch messed with his head…”

“She let us go!” Clyde glared at her.

“To Mess With Your Head!” Belix shouted back.

“She’s Using Me!” he yelled back.

“US!” she retorted, walking across the room, she reached out and pulled his hand away from his cheek, grasping it tightly in his own, “You’re not alone…” she whispered, “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Granger watched as Clyde nervously pulled his hand away and stared pointedly at the table. A worried look on her face, Belix stepped back and looked over at Granger.

“By the way,” she asked softly, “Where’d you put the ship?”

“Hmmm,” Granger continued to stare at Clyde, “Out at sea, told ‘em to fire off a flare after two days.”

“And why the Hells would you do that?” she wondered.

“To...give us a...direction, a way back home…”

“So, we’re waiting ‘til nightfall?”

“No, I was thinking...I don’t suppose I gave them a regular time…”

“For the love of…” Belix grumbled, “What was your heading?”

“South by south-east,” Granger mentioned as he took a spoonful from his bowl.

“Which dock?”

“Pardon?”

“You came here on a raft, where’d you park it?”

“Oh, um,” Granger searched his pockets and came back with a sodden, near ruined ticked, “Dock Fourteen, I think…”

“I’ll make it work,” Belix mentioned, snatching the ticket away and reached over, putting a hand on Clyde’s shoulder, she whispered, “I’ll be back soon.”

Clyde said nothing and kept staring blankly ahead, absentmindedly massaging the knuckles on his hand. She smiled sadly and left the hideaway, while Granger moved across the apartment and sat at the table across from Clyde. Neither man said anything, letting the quiet stretch out between them, until Granger had finally finished his meal and pushed the bowl aside to lean forward and stare pointedly at Clyde.

“You could use a shower,” Clyde mentioned, still staring at the table.

“You aint a bowl of daisies yourself,” Granger commented, but continued to stare at the boy.

“You’re worried about my intentions with your friend,” Clyde observed.

“No,” Granger corrected him, “If you had any intentions she’d be done with you by now.”

Clyde finally raised his eyes and looked back at the old cyborg.

“I’m not asking her to come with me,” Clyde told him flatly.

“I know,” Granger nodded.

“I’d actually prefer if she stayed with you.”

“I get that,” Granger shrugged, “But she’s going with you.”

Clyde glanced towards the door.

“I could just walk out,” he muttered, “Leave and never come back.”

“She’d find you,” Granger smirked, “She’s a bit...insistent, once she gets her mind on something.”

“I’m noticing,” Clyde continued dryly, “I...want her...to stay here...I want her to be safe…”

“There’s no such thing I’m afraid,” Granger scoffed, “I had a friend once, she told me ‘safe isn’t a place, it’s something you make’.”

Clyde said nothing, staring at the table again, rubbing his hand as his thoughts drifted discordantly.

“Look, kid, I don’t pity you,” Granger sighed, “She’s a handful, a right bur up my ass sometimes, but she’s the best friend I have, the only person I have in this world.”

“Maybe you can talk to her…” Clyde tried to argue, but gave up when he saw Granger laughing, “Right, dumb question…”

“Very true, you should know better,” Granger paused, looking the younger man over, “You’re really that worried?”

“...I’m not...not a leader,” Clyde admitted, “I follow, I’m not someone to be followed.”

“Yeah, same here,” Granger nodded, “So imagine how I feel, the whole ship’s mine after this, dozens of lives, all the shrimps, Sylvester, Zeesa, that...thing, if she ever wakes up,” he pointed to Evie, “All my responsibility, all hanging on my every choice.”

“I...I can’t...I don’t…” Clyde rambled, shaking his head, “I can’t promise you…”

“And I can’t accept that,” Granger cut him off, “No, not at all, she chose you boy, doesn’t matter if you like it or not, that’s a responsibility you’re going to have to shoulder, because if she gets hurt, I will find you.”

“Right,” Clyde scoffed, “You think I’m scared of some used up soldier with a busted arm?”

“Better than some skinny cunt who likes to play hero,” Granger retorted, “I’m serious though, if she gets hurt…don’t let her get hurt…”

“I know,” Clyde nodded solemnly, “I’ll do my best.”

“You’d damn well better,” Granger muttered, folding his arms, “And I’m not a soldier, by the way, I was in the navy.”

“I’ll remember it,” Clyde looked away again.

Some hours later, Belix came back with a more accurate location for the boat. She also brought some first aid supplies and a change for clothes for them. With their immediate needs met, they waited until nightfall and flew back to the ship together. Both Sylvester and Zeesa were waiting for them and, while Granger wanted to greet them warmly, he was distracted by the near ankle high water in the docking bay soaking through his shoes.

“What the Hell happened?” Granger demanded.

“A lot,” Zeesa sighed, “We got ransacked.”

“We did?” Granger scoffed, “What the Fuck do we even…”

“The orblette,” Belix supplied for him.

Behind them, Clyde let out a depressed sigh and trudged out of the room with his hands in his pockets. Once he had disappeared down the hall, they all heard him cuss loudly in apparent frustration.

“I never knew he cared,” Sylvester mentioned as he looked, worriedly after the other man.

Belix patted Sylvester on the back and gave him a wry smile before leaving to follow Clyde.

“Aside from the obvious,” Granger mentioned, watching her leave, “Is there anything else?”

“...what happened to your arm?” a meek voice called out to him.

Granger turned around to see the massive wall of flesh and chitinous armor looming closer to him. For a moment, he a flicker of fear gripped his heart, but it quickly passed, and he realized who he was looking at.

“Donald?” the big man whispered, reaching out and patting his hands across the crab-man’s arms, “God, you’re...you’re so big…”

“I...I’m not…” Donald muttered weakly before finding a bit of force and putting it into his voice, “I did what I had to do.”

“Well...okay...are the others…”

“No, but they’re busy right now,” Sylvester stopped him and gestured to the wading pool all around them, “You may not believe it, but this has been over six hours pitching and pumping the water out of here.”

“Alright,” Granger nodded, “I...I’m gonna take a shower...set a course for Miji, I’ll…”

“I barely know how to fly this ship,” Sylvester reminded him and Granger let out a depressed sigh.

“Just...get it prepped, I’ll be along shortly.”

“I’ll tell the others,” Donald stated and lumbered off.

Granger disappeared into the depths of the ship and threw himself into the first shower he could find. He stripped even as the faucet beat down on him and soaked through his clothes. Alone, he examined his body, the numerous wounds, the dents and cracks in his metal parts. Two fingers on his mechanical hand would no longer move properly, snapping out and then curling back in until their gears ground together.

“Well, that’ll make things interesting,” he complained and turned his attention to the massive blister that had been burned into his chest, grumbling he felt around the callused, fluid, lump, “Never can remember how to deal with these things.”

With a sigh, he wrapped his fingers around the swell, and tore it away. Granger immediately regretted that decision, feeling the hot water slapping relentlessly against the raw, bloody meat beneath. As best he could do with only the one hand, he gritted his teeth and used the shower-head to clean the wound, then turned his attention to the other bruises and abrasions all over his remaining flesh. When the hot water finally ran out, he moved from the shower, naked and dripping wet, into the bunk area. Looking over his clothes, even though Belix had given him a change, they were already soaked through and covered in blood.

Casting them aside, he used a nearby blanket as a towel and stomped through the ship until he found his way into the infirmary. He very nearly cleaned out the cupboards of bandages and gauze, even using a bit of it to tie down a few loose piece on his mechanical arm. With his wounds tended to, as best as he was able, Granger made his way to the storage area to search for some new clothes, finding nothing in his size except for the red coat he had worn to the gala he had attended in Knott. He remembered hating it, feeling the clothes wrong for him, that they didn’t fit him properly.

“It’s a new day,” he muttered, throwing it over his shoulders and inadvertently ripping off the sleeve when it caught on a jagged piece of metal.

Rolling his eyes, he walked over to a nearby mirror and checked his appearance, having lost his cap in the brawl, he grabbed a white flag with the Serriquiessian symbol on it and wrapped it around his head, covering his scars, but leaving his eyes exposed. Grabbing an old pair of pants, he stood there, studying his new look, he desperately wanted to cover his eyes, to finish hiding his scars, finally he pulled the flag down over his eyes and tore out two holes so that he could see.

“Captain Fordham,” he whispered, trying to get himself used to the word, then turned, and walked up to the bridge.

Description

[Table Scraps]

Clyde and Belix watched as Vanitas strolled into the room, sword out, resting lazily on her shoulder. As her minions filled the room, the old Queen strutted past them and took notice of the ruined body of Ragda. Though she attempted to approach it, the hidden threads strewn throughout the room offered her resistance and she stopped short, shrugging at them as she examined the body. After a while, a wide smile broke across her face and she had to struggle to keep from laughing.

“You fucking...human trash fires,” she giggled, looking at them, “You actually did it…”

Both Clyde and Belix remained silent, waiting to see what her next move would be. Vanitas took notice but rolled her eyes.

“I can’t feel him,” she cackled, “He’s gone!” she whipped her sword around and tucked it under Clyde’s chin, forcing him to look at her, “I could kiss you.”

“Don’t do me any favors,” Clyde grumbled.

“Are you sure?” Vanitas wondered, looking at his friends bodies strewn about the room, “It looks like you could use a favor.”

Belix loudly cocked the lever on her rifle and wiped away the trickle of blood that was starting to drip into her eye.

“We doin’ this or what?” the Elfin girl demanded.

Vanitas looked down and smirked at her, then finally sheathed her weapon.

“Get off my boat,” the old Queen chuckled, then snapped her fingers.

Even her minions seemed confused, but they took her meaning and started to file out of the room. Warily, Clyde and Belix watched her, not even bothering to get up because they were so certain of the coming betrayal.

“That’s it?” Clyde finally demanded.

“You said no favors,” she reminded him, but paused, “It’s not a kindness I’m giving you by the way, but consider this a fair trade, my life for yours.”

“You really think…”

“I do actually, and far more than you,” she snarked, leaning against the door frame, “You think you’re a threat, and you are, I’m honestly surprised at how much you can get done, that’s why I’m letting you go.”

“So we can be a threat again?” Belix mentioned.

Vanitas glanced at the other woman, then shook her head.

“Have you been keeping up with events back home?” she asked Clyde directly who could only shrug in confusion, “Because I have…”

“What is that…”

“Figure it out!” she commanded him, waving goodbye and turning to leave again, “Oh, and I’m burning this room, and won’t be discriminating if you are in here or not.”

With the room fully emptied, Clyde buried his face in his hands and soon realized he was smearing blood across his cheeks. With a frustrated groan, he tore down one of the silk curtains and used it as a rag to clean himself off before angrily tossing it away.

“Are you okay with this?” Belix asked him.

“I’m...an idiot,” he muttered back, “I’m not stupid,” he walked across the room and grabbed one of Evie’s arms, “Help me with her?”

“...yeah, sure.”

Together, the pair of them lifted Evie’s unconscious body and team carried her through the halls. As they made their escape, every few meters, they came across one of the insectile monsters, some crawling about on the floor, others lumbering across the ceiling, all of them turned aside and allowed the group to leave. Deep in his throat, there was a growl rattling behind Clyde’s lips, but he kept his teeth clamped together and refused to look as the monsters continued to stare at them as they moved through the ship.

Stopping once they had reached the cargo-bay, Clyde and Belix stared at the burning wreckage they had left and then glanced at each other nervously.

“Do you think she wants us to swim?”

“I...don’t care…” Clyde grumbled, searching the area for any working shuttles, “Think that one’ll work?”

“Let’s find out,” Belix shrugged, and they walked towards one of the few rafts that was only missing its back section, separating from the other two, Belix moved towards the vehicle cautiously, “Stay here, I’ll see if the engine’ll turn.”

“Careful,” Clyde mentioned looking at the outboard motors and attached sails, both looked badly damaged.

She smiled back at him, but kept moving. Though the engine struggled and she had to fiddle with the settings a bit, eventually it started to turn over and, though it belched gouts of smoke every few seconds, it managed to lift off of the deck. While he was waiting, Clyde continued to look around the cargo-bay, half searching for a better option, half trying to keep an eye out for their enemies. With the raft working, more or less, Belix went to open the docking bay and Clyde secured Evie into one of the only remaining seats in the craft.

While waiting for her to return, he hanged his head out of the raft, one hand on his only remaining knife, and noticed somebody watching him. Vanitas looked back at him from the balcony and gave him a little reassuring wave. Clyde continued to glare back until Belix rejoined him and then ducked back into the shuttle, gratefully making their exit from the dreadnought.

Down in the sewers, Granger limped along through knee deep filth, barely awake, moving, more out of necessity than out of any specific drive. He passed by nearly a dozen exits before he noticed the ladder leading up to the street’s above, but he only had enough strength to climb out of the culvert before collapsing on the stone floor. Face down in the grime, one hand wrapped around the bottom rung of the ladder, he struggled to stay awake, knowing that it was a losing battle.

“I did it…” he muttered happily, blood burbling across his split lips, “...I…”

His mind addled and weary, for a moment he thought he could see Lynnie standing over him when he finally drifted off. Some hours later he awakened to see a pair of tiny Gremlins looking down at him, one was gently poking him in the cheek. They both jumped when a light sparked into existence behind his eyes and they ran find their mother. She came back, protectively guarding her two boys as Granger wearily sat up.

“You’re a big one, aren’t you?” she observed.

“Opinions vary,” Granger muttered, still trying to get his bearings, “What are you doing down here?”

“Trying to sleep,” the mother responded, still standing in front her children.

“...oh…” Granger nodded, realizing what they were saying, “You’re not hurt are you?”

“Did you kill that thing?” one of the children wondered.

“I think so…” he glanced back down the tunnel he had come from, “I was kind of out of it…”

“And the others?”

Granger looked at them curiously, then cast his gaze at their mother.

“Of course I did,” Granger told them sternly, “You’re safe now, there’s no one left to hurt you.”

The mother nodded, then knelt down to her children, telling them to run along and get some supplies from the camp. When they had gone, she turned to him again.

“What really happened?” she asked.

“They’re gone, we didn’t kill them…”

“’We’?” the mother Gremlin raised an eyebrow.

“Me and mine,” he explained, “We...we were motivated to attack their base, but they were gone, just the one and…”

“Your friends abandoned you,” she surmised.

“No…” he insisted, shaking his head, “No, I volunteered, to stay behind, to buy time.”

“To protect them,” she nodded.

“...yeah…” Granger nodded, but lifted his head, “Are you sure it’s safe to send your kids off like that?”

“...we’ve lived in this place for decades, longer than I could even remember, there were over a hundred of us, until recently.”

Granger sat next to her, listening patiently.

“That...thing, and the woman…” she shook her head, “They made promises, gave food and supplies, and then they started to take us aside, just a few at a time, people would disappear, and then, when they came back, they were different, edgy combative, I had an old friend, Danny, who fell in with them, he tried to get his wife, Babs to join him, but...my husband stepped in, tried to diffuse the situation...he…”

Ganger put a comforting hand on her shoulder, and heard her start to cry.

“He…” she buried her face in her hands, “We scattered after that, I don’t even know how many of us are left…”

“I’m sorry,” Granger whispered.

“Tell me...that my boys are safe, that we don’t have to run any more, that…”

“They’re gone,” he repeated to her and waited for her tears to subside, “They won’t be back.”

“Thank you,” she managed to chuckle, “Even if it’s a lie.”

after a few minutes, the boys came back with a thermos and passed it to their mother. She cracked open the top and poured him a cup of hot tea and passed it to him.

“So, are you done trying to destroy our home?”

“As much as I can,” he respectfully took the drink and downed it before passing back the cup, “I’ll try to be more careful on my way out.”

With some renewed vigor, Granger moved towards the ladder and started to climb.

“Take care of yourselves,” he told them just before reaching the top.

“Wait!” the mother called out to him, “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

He looked at her quizzically, but then noticed the daylight streaming through the gaps in the manhole cover above him. Realizing how bad it would look if anyone saw him climbing out of the sewers and let out a depressed sigh.

“Is there another way out?” he asked, still dangling from the ladder.

“That way,” the children pointed.

“Turn left at the third junction and then straight until you see the staircase, it’ll lead you to a maintenance hatch they use to lower heavy machinery down here, it’s private and should be unmanned.”

“Thank you,” Granger nodded solemnly, jumping down to ground floor and strolling away as they watched him leave.

“Good luck stranger,” she called out as he rounded the corner.

“And to you, good lady,” he smiled back before leaving.

After grabbing an old, soiled rug from a trashcan, he made his way through the streets towards the hide-out. He paused at the door, afraid to open it, worried that he would find it empty. Then he steeled himself, reached out for the door knob, only to have it burst open and him to see Belix pointing a gun in his face. For a moment, she was tense and angry, but then it melted away, she smiled, wrapped him in a tight hug, and tried to pretend she wasn’t crying.

Pulling him into the apartment, he saw what remained of their group, Clyde, hunched over a table, clutching at his bandaged cheek, and Evie slumbering on the bed.

“The more things change,” Granger muttered, “Is she okay?”

“I have no idea,” Belix admitted, “She’s the medic remember.”

“I’m fine by the way,” Clyde grumbled.

“No one asked,” Granger snapped, then turned back to Belix, “Any food in this place?”

“Over there,” Clyde pointed at a steaming pot of oatmeal left on the burner, “Since you asked.”

“Don’t,” Belix cut Granger off before he could rise to the bait, “We’ve all had a rough day, let’s not end it by killing each other.”

“Right,” Granger moved past them, grabbing himself a bowl and preparing his meal, “So how’d things go on your end?”

“Progress,” Clyde muttered, “If that’s what we’re going to call it.”

“We succeeded,” Belix corrected him, “But, we got the shit knocked out of us, and the bitch messed with his head…”

“She let us go!” Clyde glared at her.

“To Mess With Your Head!” Belix shouted back.

“She’s Using Me!” he yelled back.

“US!” she retorted, walking across the room, she reached out and pulled his hand away from his cheek, grasping it tightly in his own, “You’re not alone…” she whispered, “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Granger watched as Clyde nervously pulled his hand away and stared pointedly at the table. A worried look on her face, Belix stepped back and looked over at Granger.

“By the way,” she asked softly, “Where’d you put the ship?”

“Hmmm,” Granger continued to stare at Clyde, “Out at sea, told ‘em to fire off a flare after two days.”

“And why the Hells would you do that?” she wondered.

“To...give us a...direction, a way back home…”

“So, we’re waiting ‘til nightfall?”

“No, I was thinking...I don’t suppose I gave them a regular time…”

“For the love of…” Belix grumbled, “What was your heading?”

“South by south-east,” Granger mentioned as he took a spoonful from his bowl.

“Which dock?”

“Pardon?”

“You came here on a raft, where’d you park it?”

“Oh, um,” Granger searched his pockets and came back with a sodden, near ruined ticked, “Dock Fourteen, I think…”

“I’ll make it work,” Belix mentioned, snatching the ticket away and reached over, putting a hand on Clyde’s shoulder, she whispered, “I’ll be back soon.”

Clyde said nothing and kept staring blankly ahead, absentmindedly massaging the knuckles on his hand. She smiled sadly and left the hideaway, while Granger moved across the apartment and sat at the table across from Clyde. Neither man said anything, letting the quiet stretch out between them, until Granger had finally finished his meal and pushed the bowl aside to lean forward and stare pointedly at Clyde.

“You could use a shower,” Clyde mentioned, still staring at the table.

“You aint a bowl of daisies yourself,” Granger commented, but continued to stare at the boy.

“You’re worried about my intentions with your friend,” Clyde observed.

“No,” Granger corrected him, “If you had any intentions she’d be done with you by now.”

Clyde finally raised his eyes and looked back at the old cyborg.

“I’m not asking her to come with me,” Clyde told him flatly.

“I know,” Granger nodded.

“I’d actually prefer if she stayed with you.”

“I get that,” Granger shrugged, “But she’s going with you.”

Clyde glanced towards the door.

“I could just walk out,” he muttered, “Leave and never come back.”

“She’d find you,” Granger smirked, “She’s a bit...insistent, once she gets her mind on something.”

“I’m noticing,” Clyde continued dryly, “I...want her...to stay here...I want her to be safe…”

“There’s no such thing I’m afraid,” Granger scoffed, “I had a friend once, she told me ‘safe isn’t a place, it’s something you make’.”

Clyde said nothing, staring at the table again, rubbing his hand as his thoughts drifted discordantly.

“Look, kid, I don’t pity you,” Granger sighed, “She’s a handful, a right bur up my ass sometimes, but she’s the best friend I have, the only person I have in this world.”

“Maybe you can talk to her…” Clyde tried to argue, but gave up when he saw Granger laughing, “Right, dumb question…”

“Very true, you should know better,” Granger paused, looking the younger man over, “You’re really that worried?”

“...I’m not...not a leader,” Clyde admitted, “I follow, I’m not someone to be followed.”

“Yeah, same here,” Granger nodded, “So imagine how I feel, the whole ship’s mine after this, dozens of lives, all the shrimps, Sylvester, Zeesa, that...thing, if she ever wakes up,” he pointed to Evie, “All my responsibility, all hanging on my every choice.”

“I...I can’t...I don’t…” Clyde rambled, shaking his head, “I can’t promise you…”

“And I can’t accept that,” Granger cut him off, “No, not at all, she chose you boy, doesn’t matter if you like it or not, that’s a responsibility you’re going to have to shoulder, because if she gets hurt, I will find you.”

“Right,” Clyde scoffed, “You think I’m scared of some used up soldier with a busted arm?”

“Better than some skinny cunt who likes to play hero,” Granger retorted, “I’m serious though, if she gets hurt…don’t let her get hurt…”

“I know,” Clyde nodded solemnly, “I’ll do my best.”

“You’d damn well better,” Granger muttered, folding his arms, “And I’m not a soldier, by the way, I was in the navy.”

“I’ll remember it,” Clyde looked away again.

Some hours later, Belix came back with a more accurate location for the boat. She also brought some first aid supplies and a change for clothes for them. With their immediate needs met, they waited until nightfall and flew back to the ship together. Both Sylvester and Zeesa were waiting for them and, while Granger wanted to greet them warmly, he was distracted by the near ankle high water in the docking bay soaking through his shoes.

“What the Hell happened?” Granger demanded.

“A lot,” Zeesa sighed, “We got ransacked.”

“We did?” Granger scoffed, “What the Fuck do we even…”

“The orblette,” Belix supplied for him.

Behind them, Clyde let out a depressed sigh and trudged out of the room with his hands in his pockets. Once he had disappeared down the hall, they all heard him cuss loudly in apparent frustration.

“I never knew he cared,” Sylvester mentioned as he looked, worriedly after the other man.

Belix patted Sylvester on the back and gave him a wry smile before leaving to follow Clyde.

“Aside from the obvious,” Granger mentioned, watching her leave, “Is there anything else?”

“...what happened to your arm?” a meek voice called out to him.

Granger turned around to see the massive wall of flesh and chitinous armor looming closer to him. For a moment, he a flicker of fear gripped his heart, but it quickly passed, and he realized who he was looking at.

“Donald?” the big man whispered, reaching out and patting his hands across the crab-man’s arms, “God, you’re...you’re so big…”

“I...I’m not…” Donald muttered weakly before finding a bit of force and putting it into his voice, “I did what I had to do.”

“Well...okay...are the others…”

“No, but they’re busy right now,” Sylvester stopped him and gestured to the wading pool all around them, “You may not believe it, but this has been over six hours pitching and pumping the water out of here.”

“Alright,” Granger nodded, “I...I’m gonna take a shower...set a course for Miji, I’ll…”

“I barely know how to fly this ship,” Sylvester reminded him and Granger let out a depressed sigh.

“Just...get it prepped, I’ll be along shortly.”

“I’ll tell the others,” Donald stated and lumbered off.

Granger disappeared into the depths of the ship and threw himself into the first shower he could find. He stripped even as the faucet beat down on him and soaked through his clothes. Alone, he examined his body, the numerous wounds, the dents and cracks in his metal parts. Two fingers on his mechanical hand would no longer move properly, snapping out and then curling back in until their gears ground together.

“Well, that’ll make things interesting,” he complained and turned his attention to the massive blister that had been burned into his chest, grumbling he felt around the callused, fluid, lump, “Never can remember how to deal with these things.”

With a sigh, he wrapped his fingers around the swell, and tore it away. Granger immediately regretted that decision, feeling the hot water slapping relentlessly against the raw, bloody meat beneath. As best he could do with only the one hand, he gritted his teeth and used the shower-head to clean the wound, then turned his attention to the other bruises and abrasions all over his remaining flesh. When the hot water finally ran out, he moved from the shower, naked and dripping wet, into the bunk area. Looking over his clothes, even though Belix had given him a change, they were already soaked through and covered in blood.

Casting them aside, he used a nearby blanket as a towel and stomped through the ship until he found his way into the infirmary. He very nearly cleaned out the cupboards of bandages and gauze, even using a bit of it to tie down a few loose piece on his mechanical arm. With his wounds tended to, as best as he was able, Granger made his way to the storage area to search for some new clothes, finding nothing in his size except for the red coat he had worn to the gala he had attended in Knott. He remembered hating it, feeling the clothes wrong for him, that they didn’t fit him properly.

“It’s a new day,” he muttered, throwing it over his shoulders and inadvertently ripping off the sleeve when it caught on a jagged piece of metal.

Rolling his eyes, he walked over to a nearby mirror and checked his appearance, having lost his cap in the brawl, he grabbed a white flag with the Serriquiessian symbol on it and wrapped it around his head, covering his scars, but leaving his eyes exposed. Grabbing an old pair of pants, he stood there, studying his new look, he desperately wanted to cover his eyes, to finish hiding his scars, finally he pulled the flag down over his eyes and tore out two holes so that he could see.

“Captain Fordham,” he whispered, trying to get himself used to the word, then turned, and walked up to the bridge.