ZETA

“Hera, I think you reopened a wound,” Zeta groaned. In her rant-tantrum, she had repeatedly slammed his chest.

“Good! More pain might wisen you up before tomorrow. Not that we have much of a lifespan anyway. Thanks for that.” She pulled the bandage tight, constricting him to cough up some blood.

Zeta paused for a moment to recollect the events from earlier. Having just awakened, his memory before falling unconscious was foggy. “Oh, right, I defeated someone high tier in Balder’s crew. You saw that?”

“Yes, I saw that! I also saw you challenge Terrent Gust immediately after as well. Do you have any sense at all?”

“Not with this headache. What’s the matter? I can beat him. Just a little grit and hard work piled onto training, some new sigmas, sleep, and I’ll be good.”

Hera twitched. “Oh, so you think you have time? Well, here’s a fun fact.” She opened the curtains of the downstairs bedroom. “It's nighttime!”

“Really? I swear I was only out for a few minutes. I must have lost track of time.”

“You’ve completely upset our plans. Now Rex is going to bring the house down on top of us!” Hera trembled with anxiety, peeking out the window wide-eyed as if a missile might blast through at any moment.

Zeta sighed. “Hera, it never mattered. They’ve known about the Lilick Brothers and the Flyers and everything else. There was no intention to ‘save’ us or whatever they told you.”

“A part of me already suspected that,” said Hera. Her eyes sagged from exhaustion as she made her paranoid rounds. “I’ll admit to stooping in a pool of denial, but I was at least hoping to accelerate the process before Rex made his move.”

“Heh. For once you were the fool,” Zeta smirked. Mild laughter strained his lungs and concocted a coughing fit.

“Not in a million years. I can’t believe you’re trusting Terrent to honor a duel. I guarantee the first thing he did was tattle to Rex about Marc’s death. If you or I walk the streets tomorrow, there’s a good chance we’ll die.”

“Are you sure? Gust seemed pretty excited to fight. So am I.”

“Any spiel he gave you about a fair fight is a damn ruse, Zeta! The Curved Storm is the antagonist to a fair battle. Why do you think I’m watching every entrance like a hawk? For your sake! He’s probably chasing after us with an army of thugs as we speak.”

“Maybe,” Zeta whispered. “But that’s a wager I’m willing to take. If you admit to denial, I’ll admit to making rash decisions while pumped with adrenaline. But the past is the past, and I have to accept the consequences. That’s what Sir Kagan would have said.”

“Shut up.” Hera reached into her Pocket Inventory and pulled out another Standard grade sigma. “Here’s your reward, the two-point Read Sigma. Now you can actually see all the details of a sigma before you employ it.”

“Thanks. Now I have a score of 3.”

Hera shook her head. “503. You employed some kind of Elementary sigma in your boast against Terrent. I didn’t get to see what it was.”

“Well, how can I see it?”

“A standard sigma, Display Sigma, would tell you. I’d give it to you, but as I recall, you want them all as rewards,” she said mockingly. “Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind?”

“I’m sure,” Zeta said confidently. “That being said, I did earn some sigmas from the Ghost Gun that I’m eager to try out!”

Hera turned to him and scowled. “You don’t think things through, do you? You never do. You have one night, no sleep, to gather the Divinity to actually use all those sigmas. I counted them. With prayer alone, Impossible Shot is 64 hours, and Dual Wield is about 12. You would need a month. Exclude the Chaos Railgun modification and its four days plus whatever it was you picked up.

“It’s not possible without an Ora Charm. Not to mention you need to train with them and– God, you’re so stupid for getting us into this.”

Us? Hera didn’t even realize she said it, yet those words were more profound as Zeta received them. Hmm… “I’ll find a way,” he said.

She slammed the windowsill. “Enough! Just shut up with your damn idealism! Being headstrong means nothing if your skull is as flat as a board. You don’t have the horns to rush into things like this. Aspic. Balder Rex. The entire damn Sigma World is a pit of vipers, and you have no antibodies for their venom!”

Marc Crue’s sigmas lay on the nightstand, within reach. Zeta forced himself out of bed and picked them up.

“Don't you dare! I patched you up, but your internal organs could still be all over the place health-wise. Not to mention the blood loss–”

“Hera,” Zeta said softly. “I’ve wasted too much time lying around. If what you say is true, I can’t waste a second.”

Her face twisted into crimson fury. She reached back and punched him right in the cheekbone. Even if he anticipated Neural Fighter, he hadn’t prepared for so much force.

“Do you want to know why you’re alive, Zeta? It’s because I picked a side! Marc said to stay out of the fight or choose my loyalty. I chose yours! Did you see it when you fought Marc Crue? Terrent didn’t see me, but I used Neural Flash shortly before you cut off his fingers. Did you know that?”

He remembered how Marc winced as Zeta rushed at him. His aim had been off, which lead to several critical misses.

“You scraped by against his Ghost Gun, but you haven’t, you can’t become stronger in the time before you fight again. Terrent Gust is an entirely different maelstrom.”

“And I’m saying it’s nothing I can’t handle,” he stated.

“Listen to me, Zeta! I’ve been in this group much, much longer than you have. I know these people and how they work. Even if Terrent is willing to ‘honor’ his promise, he’ll start your duel the moment the sun climbs over the sea.”

“Are you suggesting we run?”

“Yes! I…I’ll find Igel, and we can all flee Aspic! Let’s go to that place you came from, Greenwich, for a month or two, then we can find a way off Axle entirely.”

Zeta turned around, grabbed Dual Wield and Impossible Shot, and employed them simultaneously. Hera mentioned something about a ‘queue,’ a Divinity limited specifically designed to prevent against multiple employments. Where others saw a barrier, Zeta saw a motivating incentive. He’d either receive all the powers at once or face Gust with none.

Zeta smiled. “I’m pleased that I’m included in your escape plans. You’ve moved on from ostracizing me.”

“I’m more than happy to reconsider if that’s what you wish,” she barked.

“My purpose here has evolved. It doesn’t matter if I run, Balder Rex aspires to threaten the world, and he’s just one of many. Running does little good if they have or will have the power to catch us. I need to stop them now, to eliminate the disease before its incurable.”

Zeta kneeled before a small bronze statue at the foot of the bed and began praying. Hera didn’t speak for a moment, then a bead pelted Zeta in the head.

“At least take that. I know you despise Mag– the creator, but if you want to be deluded, at least try.”

“No.” He blindly lobbed the Ora Charm out the window.

With a huff, she marched out of the room and upstairs, feet stamping around with titanic force.

With his eyes closed, the night did little more than settle silence on the ears. The distant bustle of Aspic played like a tranquil tune. The occasional ray of starlight illuminated a deep red behind his eyelids. Not once did his mind actually drift to wishes and questions for God. Instead, his erratic mind concerned itself with staying awake and devising a strategy against the incoming cyclones.

He heard Hera wander in and out of his room, probably checking to make sure he was still alive. She kept opening and shutting the windows and creeping around the house suspicious of possible assassins. It was strangely hilarious. He didn’t doubt Hera–she had proven herself capable numerous times–but what was she to do if there were an assassin lurking about?

In the end, whether or not he lived or died, he could not just tell her, ‘thank you.’ The amount of appreciation he had for every accommodation she made in his name thus far was too abundant for such a familiar gesture of gratitude to be satisfactory.

Eventually, he climbed out the window and retrieved the displaced Ora Charm. When he returned to prayer, he kept it on his person. Don’t get any wrong ideas in hell, you bastard.

HERA

After spending endless, repetitive hours staring through the same five windows for a scythe-wielding assailant to protect the world’s most senseless tool, the last thing Hera wanted to see said tool missing at dawn.

She burst out to the streets of Aspic, hair unkempt, clothes wrinkled and dirty from the past day and trailing with a stench of insomnia. She didn’t care about all the strange looks she attracted from the superficial samaritans that called themselves her neighbors.

“Zeta! Zeta!” she yelled down each and every alley and lane. No response. Her heart dropped and shattered.

She considered asking the people, but they were already staring at her like a loon. Plus, she had not forgiven them for their consistent uselessness.

Eventually, she crossed in front of the brothel she used for heists. A gunshot rang in front of her, smashing into the wall and stopping her in her tracks.

“Oh no!” “Another rampage?” “He’s back! The Ghost Gun’s back!” The people flooded away from the scene.

Hera snapped to the brothel and saw a shadow sitting in a chair out front. Her chair. His finger gun was smoking. His familiar grin pierced the darkness.

“I did it,” Zeta said. “It took some sacrifices, but I pulled it off. I practiced. I forced the sigma to be easy to master.”

Hera strode near him. “Read,” she said to analyze him. Her eyes widened. “You…succeeded? But that’s not possible. Impossible Shot should have taken three days and–”

He reached into his pocket and retrieved a small bead. Hera could not believe what he held of his own free will. “I told you, I sacrificed some pride. I realize that it was a selfish excuse for my ignorance. There’s a greater situation at stake, I know that now. I stand by what I think needs to be done, and I have no reason to lose.”

Zeta held the Ora Charm close to his face and continued. “I’ll keep it, but I have no intention to rely on it unless I absolutely must. This might be better. I’ll crush Magnus Ora’s legacy with his own devices. Poetic justice.”

A part of Hera felt relief, but that part was smaller than she imagined it would be. More of her wanted to cry of guilt. She possessed no comprehension of what drives this stranger to do what he does. She knew nothing about him, yet she assumed she knew everything. Had she pressured him into an unforgivable sin by his own code?

Hera examined the area. “Have you seen him yet?”

“No, but he’s coming. I can sense it in the city.”

With that confirmation, she resumed the routine of an obsessive lookout.

“Hera, I’m glad you’re here,” Zeta said. “The truth is, even if I have the sigma ready, I am not ready for this fight.”

“It’s a little late to realize that, Zeta,” she said.

“I know.” All of a sudden, Hera felt a pull go through her hair, smooth and straight, untangling all the minor curls and knots. Zeta combed out all the impurities and patted down the stray strands.

“What are you doing?”

“Gust might be disappointed, but I’m choosing to believe you. I don’t think he’ll fight fair, so why should we?”

“We?”

Zeta gave her the comb. “The future will have many individuals more worthy of a duel. Now, more than ever, I want assistance if it will be offered.”

She looked at him, stunned. “You want me to fight with you?”

“If you’re willing,” he said. “You already crippled Crue for me, and that was with a single attack. Gust can’t handle the two of us.”

He smiled. There he went again, spouting optimistic naivety. Yet, he regretted nothing. Hera could see it in his eyes. Regardless of the outcome, irrespective of what he knew might happen or what he might have to do, there was no indication of stepping away.

Hera pondered for a moment. Zeta didn’t know the Curved Storm, she did. She hoped he wasn’t overestimating their chances. But…

If it’s up to chance, there is a winning value. She imagined the dozens of methods she could use to tear that image down.

Dual Wield - Arcane, Offense: Creates a copy of any currently held small arms weapon for the other hand. (122)

(A) Hold weapon in front of oneself with both hands. Yank both hands away in opposite directions after VC. Copied weapon exists indefinitely so long as it is held within the user’s hand. If released, the copied weapon will vanish after a minute or so of disuse. If anyone but the user tries to use the copied weapon, it will vanish. To reform both weapons into one, simply press them together in an identical pose. They will merge.