­­Chapter 26: The Eye

“Ugh… note to self, lay off the vodka."

With a stifled groan, Miyu lifted herself into an upright position, cradling her throbbing head with paws that ached just as much. Somewhat delirious, the feline took a few moments to gather her wits and take a look at her surroundings, immediately noticing something out of place.

“Well that's not right…" She muttered softly as her gaze was cut short not all that far from her head, by an endless wall of white.

Even as jumbled as her mind was, she knew that she should not be indoors. A faint memory recalled that she had been outside, though the colors in here did match what she remembered seeing before her lapse into unconsciousness.

Her brain wondered at her current situation but instincts hammered into her by drill sergeants back in the feline's CDF days, ordered her to evaluate the immediate situation.

Alright, so I'm in an enclosed space with no view of the sky. She took a deeper look at the walls surrounding her. Looks like snow… It soon dawned on her. Crap, must have stepped on an unstable embankment. A quick check of her comms told her that it was either jammed or the interference from the cave was too thick for a signal to get out, which meant that her emergency beacon wouldn't work either. If that last part was true, then she was really down deep. For once, she hoped the Remnant was responsible.

 Otherwise…

The feline clamped down on the rising panic she felt at precariousness of her current predicament. Losing her head would not help any and would in fact hinder her chances of survival. What she needed to do was find her way out of here, and if that failed, find some place where she could get a signal out through whatever it was hampering her ability to call for help.

Miyu's dread lessened now that she had a strategy to follow and the feline quickly rose to her feet, paws running across her environmental suit to check for breaches or any potential damage to the electronics. If the suit had been ruptured, her chances of survival would have dropped drastically.

Thankfully, a quick examination alleviated that concern. Though battered by the fall, the tough fabric was untorn and the thin layering of steel plating was little worse for wear other than a few new scratches that had not been there before.

With her suit integrity now secured she scanned the frozen turf of the snowy cavern for her weapon, if there were Remnant forces nearby, she could not afford to be unarmed. A brief exclamation of satisfaction slipped through her lips as she spied the lower half of her blaster sticking out of the pile of snow that had followed her rapid descent.

She allowed herself a small smile of success at the little bit of good news and plucked the weapon from the ground, fixing the strap onto a shoulder as she looked for a direction to pick.

The cavern lead off in two directions, each opposite from the other, leading Miyu to believe that she might have fallen straight into the middle of a larger, more complex cave system.

The feline huffed in annoyance at such dismal luck and reached into a pouch on her chest, a flash of metal glinting off her headlamp in the inky blackness of the unlit hall of ice.

“Right… heads or tails?" Miyu mumbled, flicking the ancient coin into the air, swiftly catching it and smacking the outdated currency onto the back of her paw before taking a look at her findings.

“Well… heads it is then." She decided with a shrug before heading down the chosen naturally formed corridor.

*****

“Stay with me!"

His composure all but shattered, the spartan bellowed into the comms link as he dragged the motionless vixen away from the hail of crimson heat igniting the air around him with sizzling death. The rifle in his free arm hissed and snarled in savage fury as he emptied the clip toward the bearing of incoming fire, the heftier bolts of ionized energy and molten metal, screaming across the sky to strike down their ambushers with righteous vindication.

Six looked to her again, and despaired upon the sight of her shuttered eyelids.

“Do not die on me. Not now. Not after…" The spartan's voice failed him, so he let his animosity howl in its place.

A feral snarl that would intimidate even the mightiest lion, tore past his lips as the spartan forced more exertion into his retaliation, slugs of energized tungsten smashing into venomian infantry armor with bone crushing force. Bodies littered the hoary field before him, crimson sheets pooling out from broken corpses to stain the once pristine snowscape before quickly freezing over in the sub-arctic conditions. Nevertheless it was not enough to slake his thirst for vengeance. It would never be enough; a mountain of dead would not be sufficient reconciliation for what these beasts had done.

For whom they had hurt…

Six raged and roared at his adversaries, molten iron searing through his veins in a rush of fire and hate that demanded the foes before him burn in wicked hellfire. 

His blood seethed within him as his fury called for hellish retribution. Though it was his mind that called for a greater purpose, the preservation of what he cherished most. Acting on wild instinct, it locked down on his emotions within a cage of iron discipline and forced the taciturn control of logic to prevail.

Find shelter.

Treat injuries.

Request support.

Destroy hostile threat.

These instructions would have to be carried out in that exact order. He could not risk deviation, not when her life was on the line. He unreservedly desired the total annihilation of those that wounded her, but his distress over the vixen's health was strong enough to restrain his baser instincts.

Inserting a fresh magazine into his rifle with a thin veneer of rigid composure he most certainly did not possess, Six layered down a murderous barrage of precision gunfire as he crested a particularly large dune of snow. Sliding down the incline, he gently lowered the comatose vixen to the base of the mound. Ripping the remaining stock of grenades on his bandolier, he lobbed them over the rise in a cluster of imminent death.

Even as the ground bucked underneath and a scorching wave of heat washed over him, the spartan was already focused on the delicate task at hand, turning Krystal on her back with uncharacteristically tender care to examine the significance of her injury.

An ugly patch of red met his vision; the sight of blood, her blood, only serving to reignite the spartan's fury to levels that it had not climbed for more than a decade. What he felt as he looked to the one he cared so much for, someone towards whom he had failed in his duties…

It far surpassed rage.

It was not anger.

It was not hate.

It was not even fury.

It was an emotion inexpressible by mortal means.

Armored fingers worked with diligence and experience as he swiftly reached into a hardcase and extracted a can of biofoam, hastily sealing away the wound even as he reached into another pouch on the vixen's person with intent to plug the hole in her suit with emergency sealant.

Krystal did not move as he worked. Her breathing was shallow, inconsistent, and hard to pin, even with their steady comm connection. Every time he could not hear it for more than a moment, his heart lurched in his chest, only to settle upon hearing her release a feeble wheeze, or cough.

Something snapped in his hands and the spartan could only stare in stupefaction as the can of biofoam exploded, the pressurized contents finding release as his plated digits crushed the canister in a grip as hard as iron, the foam splattering against his shields.

All Six could think in that moment was that he was glad he had used it before it was rendered useless.

The spartan stared at gauntlets curled into quivering fists, a reaction replicated only twice before in his entire lifetime, the first being on Cyrus VII. However, in this instance, it was far more pronounced. The sight brought an odd recollection to his wandering mind; an ONI officer had hands that did much the same from some medical malady, palsy he thought it was called.

A sudden urge to kill flooded through his mind, an unbending desire to crush bone and rend flesh as muscles tensed with the need to end lives. His trigger finger spasmed erratically as he fumbled for his rifle with unsteady hands, the weapon swaying tremulously in his grip with none of the usual structured rigidity it was used to.

He moved to stand, fully intending to slaughter every living soul in a 350 kilometer radius when he felt pressure on his wrist, equivalent to that of a frail embrace. His blood rage froze before it could fully consume him as Six looked down to match the weak fluttering of an emerald gaze with frantic crimson eyes.

Near half his strength deserted him as relief swept through his body, a soothing mantra echoing in his murderous thoughts to douse the burgeoning flames as he dropped to his knees.

She's alive. She's awake. She's okay.

Those three definitive truths calmed him to a degree unrivaled in any attempt ONI had ever made to curb his… darker tendencies when he passed their extensive scale of acceptable bloodshed.

This was fortunate, as he might have even attacked Fox in such a violent state of mind. He also realized, with some degree of dismay and internal contempt, that he had been about to leave her alone to fulfill his quest for blood. The realization that he had been fully ready to abandon her in her current state filled the spartan with a powerful, inwardly aimed disgust.

He would have wondered what kind of monster would do that if he had not already known the truth within himself. Instead he focused the entirety of his attention on her eyes, their dimmed glow filling him with an emotion he not experienced in some time. The last he recalled its touch had been in his childhood, the day he watched his mother die.

Six collapsed under the weight of his memories, rifle lying forgotten upon the ground as he lifted a far more important object close to his chest, careful not to exasperate the vixen's injury as he held her close, simply content with the reassuring certainty that she was still alive. The world ceased to exist around him, the only thing that mattered in that moment was the precious individual he held in his unrelenting grip, something he had been on the precipice of losing.

The spartan pressed his helmet against hers; drinking in the vixen's verdant gaze with the same intensity as a man dying from thirst drank from a well. It was then in that moment that Six realized something that shattered all his worldly perceptions.

 He would let the galaxy burn if that would keep her safe. It was a powerful and mysterious feeling, unlike anything he had ever experienced before, a sensation he could not calculate by any known means, that which was beyond quantification. All he knew to be certain was that he would never let anything take her away from him.

“Don't leave me." He implored in a quiet whisper, clutching her close as a child did with a stuffed animal to ward off the darkness of the night. His ordinarily unbreakable mental bulwarks were all but devastated at this point as he grasped the gravity of his circumstances, just how close he had been, and still was, to losing the one person in his life that kept him grounded. This only established in his mind the importance Krystal held for his emotive wellbeing.

Too weak to speak, she instead smiled, her ivory fangs darkened by a thin coating of crimson as blood welled up in her mouth.

Blood in mouth, inconsistent breathing… both signs of severe injury.

His mind attempted to process the situation with the accustomed impartiality with which he had conducted himself for all these years.

Yet as he stared down at her bloodied smile… at the woman that sought to comfort him even now as she lay dying...

Something inside him gave way, an adamantine psychosomatic bulwark, which buckled under the overwhelming release of a lifetime of inhibited emotion that had finally pushed to the fore of a mind that had buried it down for so long.

His sight of the vixen blurred gradually as a faint patter of sound made itself known to him, the spartan's vision obscured by some manner of condensation that had rapidly developed inside his helmet.

Wait… condensation?

That wasn't right. His helmet had preventative measures for environmental affects, condensation included.

The spartan shook his head in abject shock as the truth dawned on him, undeniable hot and warm tracks of liquid running rivulets down his cheeks to splash wetly against his silver visor.

Am I… crying?

This realization was an utterly unexpected revelation as he attempted to grasp what was happening to him. Spartans did not cry. It was an undeniable fact of their existence. To cry was to admit weakness, and spartans were not weak, in fact they abhorred it. This was not right, he should not be crying. He knew this.

So why was it impossible to stop?

Despite his best attempt to quell the tears, they did not stop. He was ashamed, humiliated, and uncertain on how to handle this problematic situation.

“Don't worry… it'll be… okay." Krystal crooned softly, a gloved paw brushing affectionately across his helmet in an attempt to sooth his blatant distress, even as weak as she was. 

In the end it was her gentle voice and tender touch that suppressed his grief to a distinctly manageable level. If she could speak, then her predicament was not as dire as he might have believed. There was hope. Once more he repeated the calming chant that she would be fine, vowing to worry about such petty things as his own emotions at a later time when she was not so grievously wounded.

The spartan leaned willingly into her affectionate care, despite how uncomfortable this action made him. Krystal was more important to Six then something as trivial as his personal discomposure, and he would be lying if he were to express that he did not enjoy the sensation of her touch.

“Don't die." He begged her, not knowing what else to say or what he would do if she were to leave him alone, the very thought absolutely terrifying him with its connotations. He could not live without her, not anymore. He could not go back to that life, could not face the demons he had left in the wake of his newfound happiness. Not on his own.

“Not planning… to." The vixen chuckled weakly, her bloodied smile still lingering as she put on a brave face for him. Not that it would fool Six in the slightest, he could tell that she was in a great deal of pain, a truth that sought to feed the flames of his wrath once more. If not for the reassuring paw she kept clasped on his helmet's cheek, he might have tried to resume his path of vengeance, cleaving a bloody swath across the planetside.

Nonetheless this admission brought a mirroring, if unaccustomed, smile to Six's face. If she could joke, she was in good condition.

“I'll get in contact with Fox and call for help." As far as Six was concerned, this mission was aborted until she could be safely extracted and put under the most stringent medical care The Great Fox could provide.

The spartan lifted a gauntlet to the side of his helmet to fiddle with his exterior communication equipment, hoping he could get a signal out to the vulpine, or at least Slippy, so the toad could bring the ship around for extraction.

His other hand lowered, wrapping firmly around Krystal's untenanted paw. The supersoldier had no intention of letting her go until her safety was all but guaranteed. At the moment their situation was relatively stable, her injuries were treated to the best of his abilities and it looked as if his fierce counterattack had driven off the Remnant threat for the foreseeable future.

Six swore with the utmost dedication that he would kill every last one of those bastards the moment he was off his leash.

There would be no prisoners this day, not if he could help it.

As luck would have it, Six was actually able to reach Fox relatively quickly given the turbulent nature of the wintery storm, the vulpine sounding somewhat jovial as he answered.

“Hey Six what's going on? Find Katt yet?"

The first time he tried to speak he failed, the spartan having to take a moment to compose himself and reassume some semblance of military doctrine. The spartan was unused to the need of keeping his personal feelings in check, it having become second nature throughout his life. As it as now, he found it near impossible to do so.

“Negative, we have been engaged by Remnant forces. Krystal is wounded and in critical condition, requesting reinforcement or extraction."

There was a long, uneasy pause.

“Fuck... is she okay?" Fox's agitation was noticeable in his exponentially heated tone as all sense of amusement was erased from his voice to be replaced by blunt urgency.

“Her injury has been treated. But I cannot hold this position or pursue enemy forces until she has been safely recovered." The spartan retrieved his rifle in his unused gauntlet, glaring at the rise of the snow dune above him and the sparse protection it offered, from both the elements and any perceived threat. “Current location is indefensible."

It was obvious the tod's questions were legion, but he wisely shoved them away to address in a less critical setting as he went straight to business.

“Right, activate the emergency transponder on Krystal's utility belt and I'll have Slip zero in on your position for a quick pick up with medical supplies on standby. I don't like the idea of the ship flying around in this weather but this makes for a damn good exception. Expect exfil in fifteen minutes. Can you hold that long?"

“Affirmative, requesting permission to pursue enemy forces once she has been extracted."

Fox paused once more.

“Six, I want you on that bird with her."

The spartan wanted that too, by the gods and spirits he did, but Six could not reconcile with himself, could not in fact live with himself, if he did not exact retribution to the fullest extent of his abilities. This was what he had been bred to do, exact retribution against those that caused harm to the ones under his protection, be it mankind or the vixen he had sworn to defend to his dying breath. The spartan would rather not disobey Fox's orders, but he would if he must. So, though it gnawed at his pride, Six made a desperate plea, hoping that would be enough to sway his friend's mind.

“I must insist… they hurt her, Fox."

He could hear the vulpine's sigh of resignation.

“Alright, you can go after them. Just make sure to kick the ever living shit out of them. Teach those Remnant fuckers to not mess with our family."

“On your orders…" Six severed the comm connection, turning to the absent gaze of his female companion. “Don't worry, help is on the way. Slip will be here soon." He gave her paw the mildest squeeze he was capable of and hoped it would convey a sufficient degree of comfort and affirm in her mind that he would protect her though he had already failed once before.

Krystal nodded weakly, the vixen struggling to perform even the most minor movements. The pain had numbed into a dull ache now, but she had not yet regained her strength. She hoped Six would be satisfied with that as every effort to talk thus far in had been a monumental task in itself.

Seeing as they would be stuck here till Slippy arrived with the shuttle, Six lowered himself into a semi-reclined position beside the wounded vixen, carefully maneuvering the female fox up and on to his lap. A slight frown found itself on his scarred visage as he made a small, rare personal concession, propping Krystal up to lean against his chest. It was not a situation he was used to, or at ease with, but this would keep her close, and that was exactly what he needed. At this intimate a range, his shield would modify itself to envelop her as well.

Krystal did not speak with him, did not do much other than breath loudly enough to convince the spartan that she was still alive, and while she did not evoke such musing aloud, she did find the position to be reassuring and surprisingly pleasant given the circumstances. The supportive inflexibility of his armored torso against her spine and the soothing weight of his equally steel-clad arms draped over her shoulders, allowed the fairly delirious vixen to entreat the spirits that this would not be the last time he held her like this.

It almost made getting shot worth it.

Almost…

Ow… She grumbled internally as her injury agonizingly chaffed against the newly sealed patch of her suit. It felt as if a heated brand had been applied to her lower back, and she was fairly confident that she had suffered a severe burn of some kind, but it could have been much worse.

Trying to pull her mind away from the pain, she lifted her muzzle to glance at Six's impassive helmet, watching as the human supersoldier stared off into the snowscape and wondering what was going through the spartan's mind at that very moment. Perhaps it was her currently out-of-sort thought process, but the vixen had been certain she had seen him trembling not so long ago. Even now if she stared long enough, she could observe the indistinct aftershocks cascading through his arms.   

Irrefutably, she had heard the unfamiliar notes of hysteria in his voice as he had pleaded with her to live, an unfamiliar and equally unpleasant experience the vixen had never heard before, no matter how dire their circumstances had been. He had taken no consideration with putting his own life on the line, time and time again, and yet it seemed when she found herself in a similar situation, he lost all form of his remarkable order and discipline.  

The vixen prayed that she would never hear him so distraught again. It was as disheartening as it was unnerving to hear and bear witness to the human's loss of control. She had felt his despair wash over her, and the surge of fury in his heart had nearly made her nauseous. Krystal was unware that any sapient creature could hold onto so much rage, even as well as she knew him this came off as a surprise. It had almost affected her like an actual sickness, a sour taste on her lips and a potent ache in her stomach that was not directly responsible from her injury.

Yet it was just another piece of the unendingly complicated enigma that was Noble Six.

She would have dwelled on her considerations more if not for the constant stabbing pain in her lower extremities, which was ironically a good thing. If she could still feel pain in her legs than that meant they still worked, in theory.

The vixen was too weak to move them at the moment but spirits willing, once she had some rest and returned to the ship, they would recover in time.

In a bid to drown out the pain, she focused her drive on calculating the fifteen minute mark for Slippy's arrival, counting each second as it passed as an alternative to dwelling on her aches. She had been hurt before, her time as a mercenary was not without its occasional scratch, but this event was marked as the worst of any injury she had received. Admittedly however, it was not as serious as it must have looked, at least compared to what could have happened.

She was lucky that the Remnant soldier had targeted that place specifically, one of the few location on her environmental suit that was heavily protected. The plating may have been to reduce impact injuries from falls, but it served just as well for dulling the heat of an energy weapon.  

One thing Krystal was coming to realize from this whole debacle, was that she was maybe a little more than slightly envious of Six's armor. She could have certainly used it at that particular moment. She intended to make a joke about it, but after some deep thinking, firmly decided against it. The vixen's empathetic capability was unneeded for her to see the crushing guilt that Six burdened his shoulders with. It was clear as day to Krystal that he solely blamed himself for her situation, which was foolish, as it was the vixen's own actions that led to her receiving that blaster bolt to the back. She had been the one to initiate the embrace that allowed them to get caught off guard, yet she knew that would not be enough to sway the spartan's firmly held belief that he was at fault.

Six took any failure as a personal one. If there was an accident, or something went wrong, it must be because he failed at some point between then and now. If she hadn't already learned enough from their many conversations, Krystal might have asked herself what could have been responsible for ingraining this horrid ideal in his head. She did not know what this ONI was, but they should be thankful they did not exist here, for if they had, they would learn just how fearsome a vixen's wrath could be.

Before she could plot further hypothetical revenge scenarios, she noticed that the snowstorm had grown even more erratic, flurries of white powder sucked up in some powerful wind. Six shifted underneath her, and suddenly the vixen found her world view shifting till her vision leveled with the height of his breastplate. She winced as weight was added to the area just above her wound, the direct result of her new position in Six's arms. The spartan lifted her to his chest; bulky arms nestled behind her shoulders and underneath her knees as he held her in a tight, but reasonably comfortable grip.

She came to realize what the cause of the strange weather was, when the familiar and welcomed sight of the shuttle appeared from out of the storm clouds that encompassed the planet from hemisphere to hemisphere. The transport's flood lights bathing the immediate area in a blinding light as it quickly set down; nearly crashing into the snow as it deployed its landing struts several hundred yards from their position. Even as the spacecraft landed, Six was on the move, plowing a straight path right towards it as fast as he could without aggravating her wound.

As he stepped up to the shuttle, Krystal watched as the ramp extended out from under the aft, a somewhat rotund toad hurriedly waddling down as he struggled to carry a rather hefty looking case.

“Hey guys, I came as fast as I could. Are you alright, Krystal?" Slippy blabbered worriedly and near breathlessly as he rushed out to meet them.

Krystal found herself smiling at the sincere toad, encouraged at the sight of her favorite kindhearted amphibian, emboldening her to speak. “Don't worry, Slip. I'll live, Six here saved my life." She patted the supersoldier on the arm and grinned up at him, yet the man remained silent, no doubt still in a brooding mood.

Her smile faded.

“Suppose I shouldn't expect anything otherwise." Slippy chuckled uncomfortably, ushering the burdened spartan inside to the more welcoming environment within the shuttle. The toad slapped the door switch as the spartan ascended the ramp, sealing the ship and allowing them to remove their environmental suits.

Almost before the magnetic seal of the ramp clamped it shut, Krystal had removed her helmet and tossed it away to roll into the corner, all but forgotten the moment it left her paw. The vixen inhaled a deep lungful of breath and exhaled in relief that she had made it back, away from all the snow and ice. Though, she had yet to rid herself of the pain.

As if on cue, Slippy popped open the trauma kit and handed Six a hypodermic needle. The spartan, having some experience with cornerian medical tools, quickly identified, grabbed the syringe, and jabbed it into the meat of her arm.

The affects were almost instantaneous.

Her muscles loosened and the glaring pain faded into a dull, much more manageable ache that was just faint enough for her to ignore.

“Thanks." She gave him a weak, relieved smile.

The spartan nodded tersely as he dropped the spent syringe and gently lowered her down on one of the shuttle's seats, the cushioned padding offering her a comfortable place to rest that was not in the human's arms. The vixen coiled her tail in her lap, keeping the appendage far away from her lower spine. In front of her, Slippy hastily rummaged inside the medical case. Like every member of the team, he had at least a rudimentary knowledge of first aid and had been trained how to deal with situations like this.

“Don't worry Krys, you'll be all fixed up in no time." The toad assured her as he pulled out his first instrument. “I've been studying this medical stuff in my free time for a few months now, and I have orders to patch you up and drop you off back at the Great Fox."

Hearing that bit of news she didn't know whether to feel relieved at the prospect of returning to the ship or guilty that her injury was proving to be an inconvenience to the rest of the team.

“Are you okay?"

Krystal turned to Six as the spartan loomed protectively over her, finally breaking his protracted silence. Now that they were safe back on the ship, the spartan's shoulders were no longer as hunched and his posture lost much of its rigidity as he allowed himself to relax by a small fraction. But still she worried for him, as she talked with Slippy she had noticed his visored gaze linger on his gauntlets, which were still stained with her blood.

Even as she struggled to stay upright in her seat, her concern was more focused on the human than for herself. Krystal could sense the answer to that question was more important to him then he would ever let on. He needed to hear it from her before he could find peace of mind.

The vixen made sure her answering nod was confident and that her voice was unwavering. It took a great deal of effort, but she managed to focus enough to reply.

“I'm okay, Six. I'll be alright."

In response, the spartan's stance flagged and she heard the faint, telltale exhalation of pent up stress leave him.

“Good." The human supersoldier's helm dipped in acknowledgment, gauntlets already in motion as he unholstered his rifle and reached over her head, pulling a helmet over her muzzle with tender care.

Confused, she allowed him to close the seals on her suit once more, turning to an equally confused Slippy as they both watched him rekey the ramp to deploy.

“What are you doing?" Krystal asked, a growing sense of unease tugging at her.

“There are Remnant soldiers that need to die." He answered with an unnerving degree of detachment, all warmth having receded from his voice in favor of a chilling coldness that sent her heart plummeting in a free fall.

She knew that tone of voice.

That was the killer, the weapon his people had forced him to become. That was the voice he used back in his earliest days with the team, and was usually the harbinger of impending violence.

She readied to speak, to hopefully dissuade him from taking a path she dearly wished him to abandon. As much as she would have liked to even the score with the bastard that had shot her, she was not so eager to see Six regress and return to the impassive executioner he had once been, but the spartan did not give her the opportunity to sway his mind. He was already halfway down the ramp before she even opened her mouth, his parting words echoing in her thoughts long after he had disappeared into the blizzard.

“They tried to take something from me. I will take something from them."

The frown that twisted Krystal's muzzle was incapable of projecting the profound sadness she felt within her as she watched him leave, consumed by the demons he fought so hard to contain.

She knew what he would take from them, and what he would take from himself.

*****

“Fuck, do you think we lost it?"

Panting and out of breath, Oswald was barely able to disguise the sheer panic in his voice as he turned to his remaining cohorts. The reptile could still scarcely believe the downward spiraling chain of horrific events that had just come to pass, his mind still trying to analyze how everything had gone so wrong so quickly. One thing he did know was that a mistake had just been made. They pissed off something very powerful and very dangerous.

I should have never shot at that blue bitch.

Their unit of forty-five battle-hardened soldiers had plummeted to just twenty desperate survivors in less than five minutes. How the hell were they supposed to know that the Starfox team had acquired some kind of supersoldier?

“I don't know. What the fuck was that thing?" Norm demanded, casting a fearful glance in the direction they had taken off running from. The simian had been his friend all throughout boot and since then trouble always seemed to follow them.

But something about this time was different.

“Some kind of CDF special project I reckon. I heard that their scientists have been cooking up some crazy stuff right on this very planet." Kelso, their acting leader hypothesized. The lizard found himself filling in the role after Dully ate a blaster bolt in the first few seconds of the laughably one-sided firefight.

Oswald was still picking frozen pieces of the ape's brain matter from the fabric of his enviro suit.

“Well whatever it is, I say we get the hell out of here, make a run for the ship and just tell General Veers she wasn't here."

Oswald thought that Norm might have been on to something. That option was looking more and more tempting by the second. He had enough of this stupid planet, the constant need for environmental suits that barely kept the cold at bay, the sensation of constantly being hunted that searching an enemy planet brought on. There were a lot of reasons he agreed with the idea, that killer robot was simply the point to tip him over.

He wasn't willing to die just to find some cornerian spy, no matter what “military secrets" she may or may not have stolen. Some of his fellows might have scolded him for his lack of patriotism, but most of them were dead now.

The reptile was certain the surviving members of his unit shared the same point of view.

Kelso arrived on his decision only moments after the suggestion had been aired. The gecko nodded to himself. “Right, we never found her ship."

A chorus of nods quickly confirmed this prescribed statement.

“Good, than let's head back to the shuttle." Consulting his data tool, Kelso set the marker for their ship and set off to lead the way.

He was dead before he took his first step.

Oswald cried out in shock as Kelso met the fate of his superior, the reptilian's head disappearing in an explosion of skull fragments and superheated brain matter. Even as the headless corpse flopped to the snow covered landscape, the soldier had already thrown himself to the ground, ignoring the eruption of scattered blaster bolts and cries of pain as the small party desperately attempted to fight back against their unseen assailant, far too focused on crawling as far away from the soon-to-be slaughter as his body could take him.

In the ten seconds it took for the Kelso's headless carcass to connect with the snowscape and for Oswald to start his escape, twelve of their remaining contingent of twenty had already met an analogous fate. The reptile could see it all from his prone position as he hurried to escape the kill zone, powerful bolts of energy reaping out of the blizzard to cut down his companions like helpless stalks of wheat before the scythe's razor sharp edge.

Once he was fairly confident that he had distanced himself enough to make a run for it, Oswald jumped to his feet and against his better judgment, risked a glance back, just in time to watch Norm die and catch a glimpse of their ruthless attacker.

It seemed as if Norm had the same idea as his friend, though he was unlucky enough to pick the wrong direction to flee towards. The ape's flight was arrested as he ran full bodily into what looked like an invisible wall, and Oswald did not need to be standing next to him to hear his bones break. Norm flew backwards in a heap of fractured limbs, skidding across the snow as if he had tackled an oncoming hovercar. Then, as if the simian's actions had summoned their worst nightmares into reality, a towering figure materialized into existence, a hulking specter of death enclosed in a colossal suit of blue plate. It had to have been a machine, no cornerian or lylatian could possibly be that large or so utterly unstoppable.

Oswald could do nothing but stare as it approached his fallen friend, stopping in front of the pitiful ape as he whimpered in pain. Then in a flash the robot's weapon was in sight and it pulsed three times, billeting a blaster bolt into his friend's skull, shortly before depositing two follow up shots into his chest, the high powered rounds ripping the simian apart.

That was all the reptile needed to see to convince himself to get the fuck out of there before he too joined his friend. Not caring where he was going as long as it was away from there, Oswald took off like a rocket, arms and legs pumping like pistons as he put as much distance between himself and the killer death machine as he could.

*****

“Whelp, this is boring as shit."

The ice cavern Miyu had accidently fallen into was even bigger than she had first thought it to be, and even more of a drag on her attention span. As time trudged on, her concern for survival and finding her friends had slowly faded, substituted by jaded disinterest as she wandered the identical and seemingly unending halls of ice.

She had enough supplies in her survival kit and with the O2 scrubber in her suit, she could survive relatively comfortably for at least a few days, though she hoped to get rescued or find a way out long before those items became an immediate concern.

Personally, she was banking more on getting out on her own, as the idea of anyone finding her in this icy labyrinth was almost laughable. She'd have better luck digging her way out of here before the team would find her.

And it looks like I forgot to bring a shovel.

The feline sighed as she came across another fork in the path, eyeing both paths with equal amounts of disdain, even as she readied her coin for another toss. Miyu set the old coin on her thumb and prepared to flip it when her left ear flicked of its own accord, zeroing in on the adjacent tunnel.

Freezing in place, she strained to hear what it was that triggered her senses, picking up what sounded like a voice echoing down the passage towards her.

Shouldering her blaster and quieting her steps, Miyu followed the murmuring, the pathway taking her to the lip of a larger cavern that emitted a warm orange glow. Using the scope on her blaster, the feline peered inside, a grin growing wide on her muzzle as she studied the makeshift campsite erected within.  

Miyu lowered her weapon and strode forwards, her throaty chuckle echoing in the sonorous confines of the cave system as she made her presence known.

“There you are, always the last place anyone would expect."

The other feline, lustrous fur shinning a bright pink as it reflected off the fire's light, turned in surprise from her gaze into the flames, shocked to see one of the last people she expected to find her.

“Miyu, what are you doing out here? How did you find me?" Katt wondered in astonishment, a smaller smile reflected at her friend as she rose to a standing position.

“A little planning and a lot of luck. You know, there are quite a few people after you." Miyu stated as she stepped forwards and embraced her friend, curious eyes roving across the makeshift encampment that Katt had made for herself.

It wasn't much to be honest, a pile of chem logs resting near a stack of supply crates, an electric heater resting near a large, overly comfortable sleeping bag, and bits of empty food wrappers scattered haphazardly across the expanse. It was clear by the refuse that Katt had been here for quite some time, at least two weeks by Miyu's reckoning.

A relieved sigh passed through the other feline's lips. “I'm just glad you were the first. Are the others here too?"

“What do you think? Fox rustled up the usual crusade when he found out you were in trouble."

“And Falco… was he worried at all?" The pink feline tried to come off as casual, but Miyu easily saw through that.

“How many times do I have to tell you, girl?" Miyu sighed in annoyance as she moved away from the hug, arms locked on the other cat's shoulders as she brought a frustrated glare down upon her. “You're better off forgetting about that arrogant chicken." Personally, she was tired of watching the pitiable song and dance that was Katt's affection towards Falco. In her opinion, that featherhead was completely undeserving of a girl like Katt, which was made all the more obvious by his lack of concern over her condition.

“I know, but can you please just tell me?"

Miyu rolled her eyes. “Sure, you'll be happy to hear he showed absolutely no worry over your disappearance."

Katt's expression wilted upon hearing the news, which only sought to make her friend that much more disgruntled with the bird. “You can talk to the idiot later about it. For now, we should see about getting you back to the ship. We leave as soon as you've grabbed whatever you need from here."

“But, what about the Remnant?" Katt inquired worriedly as she hesitantly moved round her campsite, gathering the items she couldn't do without. “Surely you know they're after me."

Miyu scoffed. “Those pushovers? Don't worry, as long as Fox's new muscle is around, they won't be a problem."

“New muscle?" Katt raised an eyebrow? “What, he's got a new crewmember?"

“Yeah, and you can bet your ass he'll bring the hurt to anyone that crosses this team." Miyu declared with confidence and a boastful chuckle.

“That good huh?" The pink cat inquired, now even more curious about this person Fox thought was worth bringing on to his team. From what she knew about the vulpine, he was not usually in the habit of expanding his group past very close friends.

“I guarantee the new guy's even better than you think."

Katt smirked. “Sounds like you're pretty impressed by him." At the very least Miyu was certainly playing him up quite a bit.

Upon hearing Katt's smug tone, the other feline was quick to shift gears. “Yeah well… what can I say? He's good. You done yet? We should probably get moving. I'm sure you're eager to get out of here. You're berth on the Great Fox is the same way you left it and Fay will be excited to see ya."

“Yeah, and where is the antisocial ball of fur, thought she's be rolling with you?"

“We were… separated when I kinda… fell through a hole in the snow." Miyu winced at the oncoming rolling laughter from her friend, Katt giggling mercilessly at the news.  

“I know it's hilarious, a real gut buster. Can we get going now?" The lynx muttered sullenly.

This was not at all how she planned this conversation going down.

“I suppose we're lucky I still remember the way out of here." Katt's chuckling faded a she slung a bulging rucksack over her shoulder. “Come on, let's get out of here. I've had about as much snow and ice as I can take. I can't wait to get back to my bunk on The Great Fox, assuming that it's still there that is?"

“Yep, just like it was the day you left." Miyu affirmed with a nod as she followed after the other feline down a different corridor of ice.

“Just like I left…" Katt muttered thoughtfully, recalling that day in clear detail.

“I'll reiterate. He's no good for you Katt. He doesn't respect you, and he certainly doesn't seem to care either. I can't see whatever it is you see in that arrogant pillow stuffing."

Katt frowned, her ears drooping slightly as she sighed in exasperation. “Maybe I can't either. He's changed, not the same guy he used to be." 

“Really?" Miyu wondered doubtfully as they made their way through the frozen caverns. “Seems like the same Grade-A asshole to me."

“He wasn't always like that. Back then, in the old days he was less… assholey?" Katt struggled for a better definition. “So how about the new guy?" She asked, hoping to change what was a difficult subject for her. “What's his name?"

“His name is Six, and be sure not to joke about that when you meet him." Miyu cautioned her friend.

“Six huh… kind odd but I can roll with that. So what about him? Species, height, sign, eye color… muscles? Come on girl, give me some deets." The pink feline looked to Miyu expectantly.

The lynx smirked. “You'll just have to wait till you meet him."

“Lame." Katt's pink tongue flicked out of her mouth.

“Whatever, just slap a helmet on before we reach the surface, don't won't your tongue freezing off."

Chuckling at Miyu's grumbling, Katt eventually did as asked as they neared the entrance. It wasn't all that far away from where the decided to set up camp, about an hour's walk from her campsite to the mouth of the cave.

“So, what's the plan? Do I head back to my ship or…"

Katt trailed off as she stepped into the open, driven speechless by a spectacle she considered most peculiar.

Miyu grasped for the blaster slung over her shoulder as she caught sight of the Remnant soldier that was on a direct collision course with them, and was about to tell Katt to run back inside and take aim at the approaching enemy, when she realized two things.

The reptile wasn't armed, and appeared to be running for his life if the terrified scream belting from his lungs and flailing arms was any indication.

Startled and confused, Miyu hesitantly lowered her weapon, marveling at the unusual display.

“What in the hell?"

The lynx recoiled at the sudden disappearance of the venomian's left leg, and sudden explosion of sound that followed shortly after its abrupt detonation. Filaments of flesh and bone filled the air in a gruesome display as the Remnant soldier tumbled into the snow, sobbing in agony as he cradled the jagged stump where a leg had once been.

Miyu and Katt were left watching in stupefaction as a colossal steel-clad figure seemed to materialize out of the ether, the lynx recognizing the heavily armored form of Starfox's local supersoldier as he unhurriedly strode towards the whimpering figure before him with a deliberate, carefully measured pace, wisps of steam venting from the glowing barrel of his enormous rifle. 

The spartan prodded the prone reptilian, a thickly armored boot forcing the venomian onto his back with the faint crack of broken ribs. The genetically augmented warrior crouched beside the Remnant soldier, coiling a gauntlet around his throat and silencing the reptile's wretched whimpering.

Soon, the venomian began to thrash about wildly, the spartan's grip tightening around the reptile's throat with agonizing deliberateness as he dragged the rasping individual off the ground to dangle helplessly in the air before the spartan's impassive, visored gaze.

No words were exchanged as the augmented warrior mutely studied the fading light in the reptilian's panicked eyes.

Then there was a sharp crack, the Remnant soldier's neck twisting violently in reaction to the minute pressure exerted by the spartan's gauntlet, a crimson spurt of blood seeping through the human's armored digits. Six held up the corpse for another thirty seconds before relinquishing his grip to watch the carcass flop to the snowy ground.

The spartan stood motionless for a further fifteen seconds before his helmet swiveled towards the stunned pair as he addressed the one he recognized with a numbing cordiality.

“Miyu…"

The lynx was too speechless to respond, the feline still struggling to process what she had just witnessed. Despite all the effortless bloodshed she had watched him doll out upon his enemies, this was the first time it had been so… personal. 

“You must be Katt." The spartan ignored the lynx's lack of response as he turned to address the one between the two he had yet to meet.

“I… uh… yeah." The pink cat's eyes rolled in their sockets and she flopped to the ground unconscious.

The spartan's helmet tilted peculiarly as the feline fainted.

“Curious…" He rumbled offhandedly, scooping up the unconscious female and her belongings before turning to speak with Miyu.

“Are you ready to depart?"    

At that moment, her voice returned to her at full blast.

“What the hell was that about Six?" The lynx demanded as she gestured towards the corpse. Seeing something like that, she wanted an explanation.

“Ballistic telemetry software traced the blaster bold that hit Krystal to the gun of this soldier." He answered casually, as if the answer was all but apparent.

The only thing Miyu took from his clarification was that Krystal had been hit.

“What? Is Krys okay?" The feline asked worriedly.

“She'll live… thankfully." He mumbled under his breath. “She should be back on the Great Fox right now, which is where we should be. I assume this is Katt Monroe?" He hefted the comatose feline for emphasis.

“Yeah that's her." Miyu nodded with a sigh, relieved to hear that Krystal was alright. “Didn't have to frighten the poor girl, did ya?"

“I did what had to be done. It's not my fault she has a weak constitution."

“I don't know. Wasn't that maybe a little… excessive?"

“No."

“Whelp, I'm not one to argue the point. Let's find Fay and get the hell off this ice ball. I for one am sick of this place."

“Agreed."

“Good…" Miyu patted the spartan's thigh plate as she took off in the general direction she believed Fay to be. “You should have no problem carrying Katt around then seeing as you are the one who knocked her out with your unnecessary sadism."

The spartan merely followed after Miyu in response, the pink form of a limp feline draped over a shoulder.