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Description
Go Karts
When Mark Smith drove off to work that morning, he had no idea he'd be taking the bus home.

Driving alone down a deserted highway was one of the few things Mark Smith liked about his job. No other cars to worry about or watch out for. No passengers complaining how he was driving like an old lady. The sun barely peeking over the horizon, his favorite band playing on the stereo, his lips pulled into a mile-wide smile before he began to sing along.

Then, in the distance, he saw a couple of hitchhikers waiting by the road. He frowned.

If there's one thing he'd learned from all the suspense books he'd read and television shows he'd watch was that you never, ever pick up a hitchhiker. They might be serial murderers looking for their next victim or escaped fugitives on the lam or who know what else.

As he neared the duo, it became obvious by the way his car was accelerating that he had no intentions of letting them join him. He didn't so much as give them a passing glance when he zipped by them. Had he taken a peek in the rear-view mirror, he would have seen one of them press his palms down to the ground. At least that way he could have gotten an idea from where the wall of crystal that shot up from the ground came.

Then again, he was too busy slamming his foot down on the brakes and swerving the car to ponder too much. Mark managed to avoid a collision and thanked his lucky stars he hadn't been going that fast. He got out of his car to inspect the barrier that seemed to have sprouted out of nowhere.

As he studied the unusual obstacle, a gruff voice stated from behind him "Excuse us."

His blood ran cold once he turned around and saw it was the two hitchhikers he had ignored. "Oh God!" he squeaked, suddenly fishing for his wallet. "I'm sorry! Here! Take my money! Just don't kill me!"

"That was easy," the woman with bright, venom-green hair smirked to the broad-shouldered man standing beside her.

"We only require your vehicle," The other hitchiker explained, staring pointedly at the wallet Mark held out to him.

"K-keys are in the car."

The pair nodded to each other and wordlessly walked to the car. Mark swallowed and carefully scanned his surroundings and found a particularly large rock. He had no intention of taking them on, but in the event they decided they wanted to leave no witness, he wanted to have something to defend himself with. He nonchalantly (well, as nonchalantly as he could) reached for the rock, he paused when he heard the woman protest "I'm not going to fit in this heap."

The rock firmly in his hand and hidden behind his back, Mark righted himself to listen in on the two hitchhiker's conversation.

"You could if you ride in the back," the man suggested when he studied the car.

"I still won't fit," she glowered, folding her arms across her chest. "Besides, I'll be no use lying down."

Mark stared in confusion. What was she talking about? His brow quirked when the man said "Let me try something." and motioned for the woman to step back. Mark found his eyes wrenching shut and his hands flying to cover his ears when the air filled was with the ear-piercing screech of stone grating metal and cracking glass.

Once sweet silence returned Mark opened his eyes. And broke out into a cold sweat. He stared, slack-jawed at the sight of the woman pulling the roof off his car.

"Now I'll fit," the woman grinned, visibly pleased with the result.

"You can thank me later. Just get in."

Mark continued to stare in disbelief, grip having gone slack on the large rock that lay forgotten at his feet. Had he not been too focused on how the man had sliced through metal with his bare hands or how the woman had pried the roof open with the ease of prying open a bag of chips he might have noticed other telling signs that they weren't ordinary hitchhikers.

Specifically the fact that the man's shadow was blocky with a sharp protrusion on the back of his head. And that the woman's shadow stretched far beyond that of the man's and seemed to have either really thick strands of hair or tentacles.

The man kept one foot on the ground while he started the car. The engine roared to life and the barrier submerged back underground, leaving a deep gash on the road and sending Mark stumbling off road. Dazed, he watched the pair drive off, cringing each time the car stalled and had to be restarted.

Mark didn't know why (once the pair was out sight and out of ear-shot) the first words out of his mouth were "Must be his first time to drive a stick."

--------------

Tunnel of Love
Peggy Sue and Jimmy are about to find out why the line for the Tunnel of Love was so short.

"Awww, Jimmy, do we gotta ride the Tunnel of Love? It's like, the lamest ride in this dinky little carnival."

"It's just for shits and giggles, Peggy Sue, ain't like we're getting hitched or nuthin'," says Jimmy with a roll of his eyes, "Besides, all the other lines are like a mile long and I wanna spend some time with my girl that ain't us standing around."

Peggy Sue looks hesitant for a moment but when she takes a sidelong glance at the lines for the Ferris Wheel, the Roller Coaster, and even the Carousel, she reluctantly falls into the queue behind three other couples.

"That's my girl," grins Jimmy, slinging his arm around Peggy Sue's shoulders. His grin widens when she settles against him and idly expects to get beyond first base before they make it out of the tunnel.

They don't have to wait long before it's their turn to hand over their ticket stubs to the skeevy-looking carnie with tacky skeleton make-up. Peggy Sue softly whispers to her boyfriend how the ticket checker looks like he should be one of the extras in the haunted house attraction.

Jimmy snickers in agreement as he helps Peggy Sue climb into the swan-shaped raft.

"Be sure to keep a close eye on your valuables. We will not be held responsible should you lose anything important," Skeleton-make-up guy warns in a voice so eerie the couple thinks it's campy.

They stifle their chuckles as the raft lurches forward into the tunnel.

"Keep a close eye on your vaaaaaaluables~" Jimmy mimics when he feels they're out of earshot.

"That's going to be hard to do when it's pitch-black," Peggy Sue laughs, "They sure cut corners on this ride. No wonder no one's on it."

"Must be a long one, though. Didn't see any of the other three come out to complain."

"Maybe the exit's on the other side? Some of the rides are set up like that," Peggy Sue shrugs, unconcerned.

Jimmy smirks, lets his hand slide down his girl's shoulder, and pulls her close to him. She doesn't resist, her own hands are exploring him, and she whispers "At least we get to make out."

"I suppose that's some consolation."

Both Jimmy and Peggy Sue pause.

"Did you-" He asks while she gasps "Was that-"

"The old man warned you, but you don't seem to value your lives very much."

A sudden chill crashes down on them, so cold and heavy it slams them against the raft's backrest. Jimmy is out like a light, but Peggy Sue holds onto consciousness long enough to see a faint violet glow outlining a metal mask.

Peggy Sue strains but she manages to hear a female voice count "That's two down, around six more to go. We should have enough sacrificial lambs by the end of the day at this rate."

"Maybe even more," the metal mask sneers. "There's never a shortage of hormonal teenagers or nostalgic adults."

"But wouldn't setting this up in the House of Horrors have been faster, though?" The woman muses.

"If we were going for quantity, yes. But as you said, this ritual of your Uncle's requires a specific quality in its lambs. Besides," the metal mask growls, "You would have insisted I remove my helmet."

"Because you would fit right in," the other woman laughs, mocking, amused.

Peggy Sue isn't sure why but the pressure increases that she feels splinters dig into her back, feels the raft give way more than it should under her weight. The cold intensifies sharply, chaps her lips, parches her throat.

The laughter continues to echo in her ears and the chill clings relentlessly to her skin long after the darkness claims her.

--------------

Haunted House
The job sounded too easy not to have a catch.

"Alright, clean up team two gets the perimeters of the complex. Salvage what you can. And tidy up the campgrounds while you're at it. Teams one, three, and four, you lot get what used to be the west wing. The mercs get what remains o' the east wing," barked a the overseer from the screen of a hovering comm-bot. "And all o' you watch out for that codon-stream. We ain't gonna be held liable if any o' you fall in and end up with your DNA all scrambled."

The monitor blinked off. The groups dispersed to their respective assignments.

Heavy boots silently marched through the wreckage of what had been an R&D complex in an undisclosed location. A pair of gold eyes stared impassively at the droids and automatons clearing away the debris and pieces of shrapnel that littered the codon-stream knifing through the facility's grounds. Crystalline features remained a blank behind a helmet even as a heavily scarred tetramand mercenary paused beside him and remarked offhandedly, "Years and years of research all up in smokes in minutes. Dunno whether to laugh or feel sorry for 'em folks in this kinda biz."

"They knew the risks," was all Tetrax had to say.

"Guess so. Isn't like they was doin' this with a laser pistol to the head," the other mercenary conceded. "But you gotta wonder what they was researching if they gotta hire soldiers to do clean up."

The petrosapien turned to follow after the group, "No doubt something dangerous," he stated as the group passed several charred battlesuits and war-droids whose weapon systems flickered to life now and again. But there were droid that rebooted without warning and charged at the group. And they refused to stay down unless riddled with laser-fire.

"Listen up! We's got ourselves three floors. Overseer says he can't guarantee structure integrity. Least not after the accident. Those who can fly takes the top, the lighter ones gets the second, and the rest of us get the ground floor," the tetramand instructed. "Keep a look out for scavengers of the loot and corpse kind. Remember, we's not out for blood so render 'em unconscious. Not dead. Buildin's defense system should be Fried as Fuck but after seein' those droids, we better keep on our toes."

"In a manner of speaking," a lepidopteran coughed. The joke barely took the edge off their nerves.

The teams were careful as they went to their assigned floors. Silently, cautiously, they tread down long, dented, metal corridors, inspecting each room they came across. The teams found broken furniture, shards of glass, crumpled armor, burnt knickknacks and other ruined mementos. Tetrax wished the Overseer had informed him they were doing a clean up on the residential area of the compound. Judging by the somber expression on some of the other mercenaries' faces, they shared his sentiments.

Learning that the security system was indeed Fried as Fuck, they decided going solo would cover more ground. It was clear most of them wanted to get this over and done with as quickly as possible.

While collecting whatever salvagable equipment he could find, Tetrax's heart suddenly plummeted when he chanced upon a familiar-looking shoulder-guard. He swallowed and bent down to retrieve the piece of armor. His fingers brushed over the surface, wiping away the soot and ash to reveal blood-red metal underneath.

It's someone else's, he told himself, keeping the urge to panic at bay through discipline and sheer force of will. Millions of aliens in the universe have the same armor-design. It's definitely someone else's. And normally the thought wouldn't even have crossed his mind except he hasn't heard from Myaxx in months. The last time they spoke, the chimera only mentioned being commissioned for a sensitive project and would be unavailable for a long period of time. There were no specifics in the conversation. Tetrax knew better than to ask. Myaxx knew better than to volunteer.

They kept things vague, gave no detail apart from "that device" or "this suspect" or "the job." That was supposed to be a sign of trust, a show of faith that the other was smart enough, capable enough to stay alive in their respective fields. And Tetrax almost, almost convinced himself that he was jumping to conclusions. Had he not spied the faint glow of a hard-light cube trapped under a collapsed desk.

Carefully, he retrieved the cube and after a moment's hesitation opened it. Gold eyes stared at the set of tools contained within the cube. Numbly, he held them in his hand for what felt like an eternity. The petrosapien was grateful for the angry yells that cut into his thoughts. Pocketing the hard-light cube, he went to see what all the commotion was about. His brisk walk became a run and his blaster was in his hand when he heard weapons going off.

"Stop firing, you trigger-happy moron!" The tetramand ordered.

Said trigger-happy moron complied only because the hooded figure he had been shooting at hurled a small boulder at him.

"Halt!" The tetramand barked, four pistols aimed at the intruder, "I's not gonna shoot unless you give me a reason."

"Are you all deaf!?" A female voice screamed indignantly from under the hood. "I said I was friendly fifteen times!"

"Friendlies don't purposely take out one of their own!" the lepidopteran pointed out as he swooped down and yanked the cloak off of a petite, humanoid, celadon-skinned she-alien.

Before she could make a retort, sirens blared deafeningly from a comm-bot that zoomed towards the mercenaries. The Overseer was visibly panicking on the monitor "Any o' you lot seen the lead researcher? She snuck outta the survivors' camp for who knows what reaso-oh! Here she is!"

The comm-bot hovered in front of the lead researcher who looked more annoyed than apologetic. "Are you bonkers?! The higher ups'll have my neck if anything happened to you! There be scavengers and looters roaming around! Oy! One o' you mercs, escort her back to the campgrounds and make sure she actually stays there," the Overseer commanded and the comm-bot flew off.

"I didn't sign up for babysitting," a mercenary muttered.

"I'll go," Tetrax volunteered.

As the others returned to their original task, Tetrax noticed the lead researcher's luminescent-pink eyes were studying the east wing.

"You can't go in there."

"Oh yeah?" She sneered while staring up at him, one arm akimbo, and her hip jutting in defiance. "You gonna stop me, stone-breath?"

It wasn't the insult that Tetrax recognized. It was the inflection, the cadence, the familiarity in the way she said it coupled with her stance that made him realize it was "Myaxx?"

She huffed, folded her arms across her now-ample chest and nodded.

Relief flooded him and the fear and worry from finding her charred armor and destroyed room melted. It took every bit of his warrior's discipline to keep himself from embracing her. Instead, he told her "You look different."

"Way to state the obvious," she snorted. Then grew quiet. Wordlessly, they headed back to the campground.

Upon arrival, the Overseer chewed out the scientist the entire trek from the entrance to Myaxx's tent. He left with an order for Tetrax to "Make sure she stays put!"

Once inside the privacy of Myaxx's tent and the Overseer was out of ear-shot, Tetrax softly whispered "I'm glad you're not hurt." He smiled behind his helmet when he saw the ends of Myaxx's tentacles darken in color in what he assumed was her version of a blush. When she said nothing he continued, "I found your room. Saw your armor was ruined."

"Did you find my tools?" She suddenly asked, sounding very hopeful.

He brought out the hard-light cube, which she quickly snatched from his hand. But she didn't open it, didn't take out any of the tools stored inside. She just held it while awkwardly shifting her weight from one leg to another.

"They don't have the necessary equipment to fix the corruption in my DNA," she began. "I was planning on making something I could use to analyze my DNA before I got back to Azmuth's lab. Bastard owes for this. Imagine, lending me to this company like I'm one of his inventions!"

"Are you at least getting paid?"

"Obscenely but that's not the point!" She snarled, "If he hadn't offered my services I wouldn't have built that stupid prototype. And if I hadn't built it, it wouldn't have gone haywire during start-up. And if it hadn't gone haywire, it wouldn't have tried to drown me in the codon-stream." Her eyes were focused on the small box she held so tightly her knuckles paled. "And if it hadn't, my DNA wouldn't have been corrupted. And if my DNA hadn't been corrupted I wouldn't have been at the off-site hospital but in my quarters when- when-"

Tremorks quaked her body and her voice cracked.

Warrior's discipline be damned. Tetrax retracted his helmet and pulled her to him. Though her arms could no longer completely encircle him, her grip was the same. Fierce and tight and a little desperate but given the circumstances he couldn't fault her for it. He himself held her closer than normal and longer than usual. Even when he felt her let go he continued to hold her.

"This better not treat be special treatment just because I look different," Myaxx muttered, reluctantly winding her arms around him again upon realizing he had no intentions of letting go anytime soon.

"This is special treatment," he smirked when she glowered at him, "Just not for the reason you think."

Description
Go Karts
When Mark Smith drove off to work that morning, he had no idea he'd be taking the bus home.

Driving alone down a deserted highway was one of the few things Mark Smith liked about his job. No other cars to worry about or watch out for. No passengers complaining how he was driving like an old lady. The sun barely peeking over the horizon, his favorite band playing on the stereo, his lips pulled into a mile-wide smile before he began to sing along.

Then, in the distance, he saw a couple of hitchhikers waiting by the road. He frowned.

If there's one thing he'd learned from all the suspense books he'd read and television shows he'd watch was that you never, ever pick up a hitchhiker. They might be serial murderers looking for their next victim or escaped fugitives on the lam or who know what else.

As he neared the duo, it became obvious by the way his car was accelerating that he had no intentions of letting them join him. He didn't so much as give them a passing glance when he zipped by them. Had he taken a peek in the rear-view mirror, he would have seen one of them press his palms down to the ground. At least that way he could have gotten an idea from where the wall of crystal that shot up from the ground came.

Then again, he was too busy slamming his foot down on the brakes and swerving the car to ponder too much. Mark managed to avoid a collision and thanked his lucky stars he hadn't been going that fast. He got out of his car to inspect the barrier that seemed to have sprouted out of nowhere.

As he studied the unusual obstacle, a gruff voice stated from behind him "Excuse us."

His blood ran cold once he turned around and saw it was the two hitchhikers he had ignored. "Oh God!" he squeaked, suddenly fishing for his wallet. "I'm sorry! Here! Take my money! Just don't kill me!"

"That was easy," the woman with bright, venom-green hair smirked to the broad-shouldered man standing beside her.

"We only require your vehicle," The other hitchiker explained, staring pointedly at the wallet Mark held out to him.

"K-keys are in the car."

The pair nodded to each other and wordlessly walked to the car. Mark swallowed and carefully scanned his surroundings and found a particularly large rock. He had no intention of taking them on, but in the event they decided they wanted to leave no witness, he wanted to have something to defend himself with. He nonchalantly (well, as nonchalantly as he could) reached for the rock, he paused when he heard the woman protest "I'm not going to fit in this heap."

The rock firmly in his hand and hidden behind his back, Mark righted himself to listen in on the two hitchhiker's conversation.

"You could if you ride in the back," the man suggested when he studied the car.

"I still won't fit," she glowered, folding her arms across her chest. "Besides, I'll be no use lying down."

Mark stared in confusion. What was she talking about? His brow quirked when the man said "Let me try something." and motioned for the woman to step back. Mark found his eyes wrenching shut and his hands flying to cover his ears when the air filled was with the ear-piercing screech of stone grating metal and cracking glass.

Once sweet silence returned Mark opened his eyes. And broke out into a cold sweat. He stared, slack-jawed at the sight of the woman pulling the roof off his car.

"Now I'll fit," the woman grinned, visibly pleased with the result.

"You can thank me later. Just get in."

Mark continued to stare in disbelief, grip having gone slack on the large rock that lay forgotten at his feet. Had he not been too focused on how the man had sliced through metal with his bare hands or how the woman had pried the roof open with the ease of prying open a bag of chips he might have noticed other telling signs that they weren't ordinary hitchhikers.

Specifically the fact that the man's shadow was blocky with a sharp protrusion on the back of his head. And that the woman's shadow stretched far beyond that of the man's and seemed to have either really thick strands of hair or tentacles.

The man kept one foot on the ground while he started the car. The engine roared to life and the barrier submerged back underground, leaving a deep gash on the road and sending Mark stumbling off road. Dazed, he watched the pair drive off, cringing each time the car stalled and had to be restarted.

Mark didn't know why (once the pair was out sight and out of ear-shot) the first words out of his mouth were "Must be his first time to drive a stick."

--------------

Tunnel of Love
Peggy Sue and Jimmy are about to find out why the line for the Tunnel of Love was so short.

"Awww, Jimmy, do we gotta ride the Tunnel of Love? It's like, the lamest ride in this dinky little carnival."

"It's just for shits and giggles, Peggy Sue, ain't like we're getting hitched or nuthin'," says Jimmy with a roll of his eyes, "Besides, all the other lines are like a mile long and I wanna spend some time with my girl that ain't us standing around."

Peggy Sue looks hesitant for a moment but when she takes a sidelong glance at the lines for the Ferris Wheel, the Roller Coaster, and even the Carousel, she reluctantly falls into the queue behind three other couples.

"That's my girl," grins Jimmy, slinging his arm around Peggy Sue's shoulders. His grin widens when she settles against him and idly expects to get beyond first base before they make it out of the tunnel.

They don't have to wait long before it's their turn to hand over their ticket stubs to the skeevy-looking carnie with tacky skeleton make-up. Peggy Sue softly whispers to her boyfriend how the ticket checker looks like he should be one of the extras in the haunted house attraction.

Jimmy snickers in agreement as he helps Peggy Sue climb into the swan-shaped raft.

"Be sure to keep a close eye on your valuables. We will not be held responsible should you lose anything important," Skeleton-make-up guy warns in a voice so eerie the couple thinks it's campy.

They stifle their chuckles as the raft lurches forward into the tunnel.

"Keep a close eye on your vaaaaaaluables~" Jimmy mimics when he feels they're out of earshot.

"That's going to be hard to do when it's pitch-black," Peggy Sue laughs, "They sure cut corners on this ride. No wonder no one's on it."

"Must be a long one, though. Didn't see any of the other three come out to complain."

"Maybe the exit's on the other side? Some of the rides are set up like that," Peggy Sue shrugs, unconcerned.

Jimmy smirks, lets his hand slide down his girl's shoulder, and pulls her close to him. She doesn't resist, her own hands are exploring him, and she whispers "At least we get to make out."

"I suppose that's some consolation."

Both Jimmy and Peggy Sue pause.

"Did you-" He asks while she gasps "Was that-"

"The old man warned you, but you don't seem to value your lives very much."

A sudden chill crashes down on them, so cold and heavy it slams them against the raft's backrest. Jimmy is out like a light, but Peggy Sue holds onto consciousness long enough to see a faint violet glow outlining a metal mask.

Peggy Sue strains but she manages to hear a female voice count "That's two down, around six more to go. We should have enough sacrificial lambs by the end of the day at this rate."

"Maybe even more," the metal mask sneers. "There's never a shortage of hormonal teenagers or nostalgic adults."

"But wouldn't setting this up in the House of Horrors have been faster, though?" The woman muses.

"If we were going for quantity, yes. But as you said, this ritual of your Uncle's requires a specific quality in its lambs. Besides," the metal mask growls, "You would have insisted I remove my helmet."

"Because you would fit right in," the other woman laughs, mocking, amused.

Peggy Sue isn't sure why but the pressure increases that she feels splinters dig into her back, feels the raft give way more than it should under her weight. The cold intensifies sharply, chaps her lips, parches her throat.

The laughter continues to echo in her ears and the chill clings relentlessly to her skin long after the darkness claims her.

--------------

Haunted House
The job sounded too easy not to have a catch.

"Alright, clean up team two gets the perimeters of the complex. Salvage what you can. And tidy up the campgrounds while you're at it. Teams one, three, and four, you lot get what used to be the west wing. The mercs get what remains o' the east wing," barked a the overseer from the screen of a hovering comm-bot. "And all o' you watch out for that codon-stream. We ain't gonna be held liable if any o' you fall in and end up with your DNA all scrambled."

The monitor blinked off. The groups dispersed to their respective assignments.

Heavy boots silently marched through the wreckage of what had been an R&D complex in an undisclosed location. A pair of gold eyes stared impassively at the droids and automatons clearing away the debris and pieces of shrapnel that littered the codon-stream knifing through the facility's grounds. Crystalline features remained a blank behind a helmet even as a heavily scarred tetramand mercenary paused beside him and remarked offhandedly, "Years and years of research all up in smokes in minutes. Dunno whether to laugh or feel sorry for 'em folks in this kinda biz."

"They knew the risks," was all Tetrax had to say.

"Guess so. Isn't like they was doin' this with a laser pistol to the head," the other mercenary conceded. "But you gotta wonder what they was researching if they gotta hire soldiers to do clean up."

The petrosapien turned to follow after the group, "No doubt something dangerous," he stated as the group passed several charred battlesuits and war-droids whose weapon systems flickered to life now and again. But there were droid that rebooted without warning and charged at the group. And they refused to stay down unless riddled with laser-fire.

"Listen up! We's got ourselves three floors. Overseer says he can't guarantee structure integrity. Least not after the accident. Those who can fly takes the top, the lighter ones gets the second, and the rest of us get the ground floor," the tetramand instructed. "Keep a look out for scavengers of the loot and corpse kind. Remember, we's not out for blood so render 'em unconscious. Not dead. Buildin's defense system should be Fried as Fuck but after seein' those droids, we better keep on our toes."

"In a manner of speaking," a lepidopteran coughed. The joke barely took the edge off their nerves.

The teams were careful as they went to their assigned floors. Silently, cautiously, they tread down long, dented, metal corridors, inspecting each room they came across. The teams found broken furniture, shards of glass, crumpled armor, burnt knickknacks and other ruined mementos. Tetrax wished the Overseer had informed him they were doing a clean up on the residential area of the compound. Judging by the somber expression on some of the other mercenaries' faces, they shared his sentiments.

Learning that the security system was indeed Fried as Fuck, they decided going solo would cover more ground. It was clear most of them wanted to get this over and done with as quickly as possible.

While collecting whatever salvagable equipment he could find, Tetrax's heart suddenly plummeted when he chanced upon a familiar-looking shoulder-guard. He swallowed and bent down to retrieve the piece of armor. His fingers brushed over the surface, wiping away the soot and ash to reveal blood-red metal underneath.

It's someone else's, he told himself, keeping the urge to panic at bay through discipline and sheer force of will. Millions of aliens in the universe have the same armor-design. It's definitely someone else's. And normally the thought wouldn't even have crossed his mind except he hasn't heard from Myaxx in months. The last time they spoke, the chimera only mentioned being commissioned for a sensitive project and would be unavailable for a long period of time. There were no specifics in the conversation. Tetrax knew better than to ask. Myaxx knew better than to volunteer.

They kept things vague, gave no detail apart from "that device" or "this suspect" or "the job." That was supposed to be a sign of trust, a show of faith that the other was smart enough, capable enough to stay alive in their respective fields. And Tetrax almost, almost convinced himself that he was jumping to conclusions. Had he not spied the faint glow of a hard-light cube trapped under a collapsed desk.

Carefully, he retrieved the cube and after a moment's hesitation opened it. Gold eyes stared at the set of tools contained within the cube. Numbly, he held them in his hand for what felt like an eternity. The petrosapien was grateful for the angry yells that cut into his thoughts. Pocketing the hard-light cube, he went to see what all the commotion was about. His brisk walk became a run and his blaster was in his hand when he heard weapons going off.

"Stop firing, you trigger-happy moron!" The tetramand ordered.

Said trigger-happy moron complied only because the hooded figure he had been shooting at hurled a small boulder at him.

"Halt!" The tetramand barked, four pistols aimed at the intruder, "I's not gonna shoot unless you give me a reason."

"Are you all deaf!?" A female voice screamed indignantly from under the hood. "I said I was friendly fifteen times!"

"Friendlies don't purposely take out one of their own!" the lepidopteran pointed out as he swooped down and yanked the cloak off of a petite, humanoid, celadon-skinned she-alien.

Before she could make a retort, sirens blared deafeningly from a comm-bot that zoomed towards the mercenaries. The Overseer was visibly panicking on the monitor "Any o' you lot seen the lead researcher? She snuck outta the survivors' camp for who knows what reaso-oh! Here she is!"

The comm-bot hovered in front of the lead researcher who looked more annoyed than apologetic. "Are you bonkers?! The higher ups'll have my neck if anything happened to you! There be scavengers and looters roaming around! Oy! One o' you mercs, escort her back to the campgrounds and make sure she actually stays there," the Overseer commanded and the comm-bot flew off.

"I didn't sign up for babysitting," a mercenary muttered.

"I'll go," Tetrax volunteered.

As the others returned to their original task, Tetrax noticed the lead researcher's luminescent-pink eyes were studying the east wing.

"You can't go in there."

"Oh yeah?" She sneered while staring up at him, one arm akimbo, and her hip jutting in defiance. "You gonna stop me, stone-breath?"

It wasn't the insult that Tetrax recognized. It was the inflection, the cadence, the familiarity in the way she said it coupled with her stance that made him realize it was "Myaxx?"

She huffed, folded her arms across her now-ample chest and nodded.

Relief flooded him and the fear and worry from finding her charred armor and destroyed room melted. It took every bit of his warrior's discipline to keep himself from embracing her. Instead, he told her "You look different."

"Way to state the obvious," she snorted. Then grew quiet. Wordlessly, they headed back to the campground.

Upon arrival, the Overseer chewed out the scientist the entire trek from the entrance to Myaxx's tent. He left with an order for Tetrax to "Make sure she stays put!"

Once inside the privacy of Myaxx's tent and the Overseer was out of ear-shot, Tetrax softly whispered "I'm glad you're not hurt." He smiled behind his helmet when he saw the ends of Myaxx's tentacles darken in color in what he assumed was her version of a blush. When she said nothing he continued, "I found your room. Saw your armor was ruined."

"Did you find my tools?" She suddenly asked, sounding very hopeful.

He brought out the hard-light cube, which she quickly snatched from his hand. But she didn't open it, didn't take out any of the tools stored inside. She just held it while awkwardly shifting her weight from one leg to another.

"They don't have the necessary equipment to fix the corruption in my DNA," she began. "I was planning on making something I could use to analyze my DNA before I got back to Azmuth's lab. Bastard owes for this. Imagine, lending me to this company like I'm one of his inventions!"

"Are you at least getting paid?"

"Obscenely but that's not the point!" She snarled, "If he hadn't offered my services I wouldn't have built that stupid prototype. And if I hadn't built it, it wouldn't have gone haywire during start-up. And if it hadn't gone haywire, it wouldn't have tried to drown me in the codon-stream." Her eyes were focused on the small box she held so tightly her knuckles paled. "And if it hadn't, my DNA wouldn't have been corrupted. And if my DNA hadn't been corrupted I wouldn't have been at the off-site hospital but in my quarters when- when-"

Tremorks quaked her body and her voice cracked.

Warrior's discipline be damned. Tetrax retracted his helmet and pulled her to him. Though her arms could no longer completely encircle him, her grip was the same. Fierce and tight and a little desperate but given the circumstances he couldn't fault her for it. He himself held her closer than normal and longer than usual. Even when he felt her let go he continued to hold her.

"This better not treat be special treatment just because I look different," Myaxx muttered, reluctantly winding her arms around him again upon realizing he had no intentions of letting go anytime soon.

"This is special treatment," he smirked when she glowered at him, "Just not for the reason you think."