Ukko sat in a surprisingly intact office in a not-as-surprisingly cratered building. While following Guinevere around the city, Ukko couldn’t help but appreciate his artillerymen’s work. If things go well with The Alley, he might be able to start paying them what they deserve.

            Guinevere had taken him to the wreck of a machine that had her little pet project installed. Ukko wasn’t much of a scientist, or a researcher, or even a mechanic. He was a fighter, plain and simple. But when he sent the pictures he took to his research team they had some interesting input. Guinevere might be the first person Ukko had met that was honest when they were begging for their lives.

            His soldiers were slowly abandoning their encirclement of the city and pouring in; getting ready to set up defensive positions in case The Alley decides to make negotiations difficult.

            Currently, Ukko was waiting for Guinevere and that cockroach Lionel to gather up some documents. He really didn’t care for that Lionel guy. Too self-interested.

            Ukko was self-interested as well, but as a mercenary that was a pretty big part of his job. But this guy should have some loyalty for his own damn city.

            Ukko kicked some shards of glass out of the windowsill and propped up his feet. Maybe because this was an important part of the city, the fires outside were almost under control. Not out, but under control. The air was breathable, but Ukko still would have preferred to be in his sealed off MAC cockpit.

            The little Vice Admiral hadn’t stopped bringing up that point.

            The little girl in a silver tank-like MAC was patrolling the surrounding area. ‘Just keeping you safe Admiral’ was what she said as she cackled and kicked up a storm of debris with her thrusters. The little urchin, or ‘Vice Admiral’ (the name she chose for herself since she didn’t have one when Ukko brought her on board), was the perfect mercenary: an asshole with talent.

            All these thoughts, however, were just ways for Ukko to distract himself from the real issue at hand: that cockroach saw something he shouldn’t have. The canisters are supposed to self-destruct once they’re purged. Ukko still couldn’t tell if Lionel had just been bluffing, but he couldn’t risk it. Those canisters wouldn’t just send him to the headsmen. No, his whole organization would be hunted down like animals. He sent a recovery team to sweep the area where it could have been lost, but he hadn’t received any word yet.

            Ukko had a lot of deaths on his hands, it comes with being a mercenary in a war-torn age, but he didn’t want to play a part in the mass execution of his whole mercenary troop. At least in that way, he wanted to be clean.

            He could kill this Lionel, of course he was thinking that when he was in his big robot with a big gun and would have had a very very easy time turning the man into literal nothingness. Ukko yawned and closed his eyes. He was too old to be staying up like this, the sun was practically set.

            The issue is that killing Lionel might not get rid of the data, in which case it would be a very unwise move. This was, honestly, becoming too complicated.

            Guinevere burst into the room with about four boxes stacked up in her arms. She yelled loudly, much to Ukko’s displeasure, at Lionel to clear a table. She slammed down the boxes and started out the door, but Ukko didn’t want her to leave yet, “Guinevere, correct? I think I’ll need you around. My researchers will have a better time piecing things together if you help them out.”

           “I’m sure your people are very capable,” she spit out all the words like venom, filled with pure hatred, “everything they need to look at is here. If this research is what convinces you to let us live, with all due respect, I should go help save some of the dying citizens you’re so magnanimously offering to spare.”

            “No, no I don’t think so. You’ll stay.” Ukko was so used to dealing with people under his control that he winced after he realized he was treating her in that same way. If what his men had said about the pictures was true, this girl needs to be on his side. “Uh, sorry about sounding a bit rough there. You do need to stay though. The faster you help me the faster I can try to free up some of my men to help with… all of this. And hey, those people out there seem to be doing a pretty good job, maybe you should trust in your companions a bit.” If this woman made what she said she made, he really needed her working for him. Willingly would be best, but you can’t always hope for the best.

            She started acting this way as soon as she realized Ukko had no power to decide what would happen to the city. Only The Alley could reverse their decision and Ukko had nothing to do with that side of things. Honestly, Ukko thought, he was lucky enough to leave out The Alley’s plan for this place when talking to her. If he told her any of that, Ukko was sure she would refuse to cooperate no matter what he did. She might even try to kill him in which case Ukko would have to retaliate. That would mean losing out on her potential future as a weapon developer for The Stragglers, given that Ukko had no intention of being murdered. He needed to make sure she stayed in the dark about the future of the city until she was securely under his watch.

            She had a murderous look in her eyes as she sat down across from him. Probably not the best foot to get started off on, but time would be on Ukko’s side.

            Ukko turned back to the window, continuing to appreciate his soldiers’ handiwork. Lionel started to pull out specific pieces of paper. Diagrams and percentages and lengthy reports that he promised were cutting edge advances and sure to ‘change the tide of wars once again’.

            He was mostly talking to himself at this point, desperately trying to justify the reason for his continued existence.

            Ukko was still far more intrigued by Guinevere. He had a gut feeling she didn’t really need Lionel for this project, and she seemed far easier to work with in the long run. Sure, Lionel was the type to follow Ukko around like a loyal dog, but only until he found a better opportunity. His loyalty was, realistically, nonexistent. Guinevere, on the other hand, seemed to have an intense loyalty.

            The question, the main question Ukko was currently exhausting his brain on, was what she was actually loyal to.

            The pilot, some young pup named ‘Jace’, couldn’t have been it. The woman drove around his half-conscious husk of a body instead of trying to get him treated. Maybe she thought the extra modifications done to Jace would be enough to convince Ukko to spare the city, but she nearly killed the boy with that stunt. Not to mention she’s only checked on him once so far. But Ukko could understand that. The man was a babbling mess at the moment, crying about some dead girl. Visiting him right now wouldn’t do any good.

            Her loyalty didn’t lie with this Lionel either. If anything, it seems like their relationship has suddenly become very strained. Probably because of all the death and destruction, but still.

            Maybe her loyalty was to her research? This advancement she made, if what Ukko had been told was true, would be more than enough for anyone to hold onto as a crowning achievement of their life. His mind stopped for a moment, as if he just ran up against a mental wall, “You know, here I am trying to figure out what I’m doing here with all of you, and it keeps coming back to this little discovery.”

            Lionel, who was interrupted in the middle of explaining critical output or something similar, followed up immediately, “Yes, but not just a discovery. It’s a fully operational and completed product! Fit to be strapped into any machine you wish and I’m sure I don’t need to tell you about the potential this brings to your mercenary group. In fact, with these calculations it can be proven-”

            “Completed? Lionel what the hell are you-” Guinevere, who had just interrupted Lionel, was then interrupted in turn by Lionel. Ukko closed his eyes; the man just couldn’t stop talking.

            Through gritted teeth and, though the man looked old and frail and about to keel over, with a strangely threatening presence he said, “Yes Guinevere. Completed. After all, if it was just some silly prototype we would have to be complete idiots to beg for our lives like this.”

            “Our lives? Don’t you mean everyone’s lives? Or are you really just trying to save yourself.” Ukko rose out of his seat, hoping it would be enough to get the two to shut up and let him finish his question, “You know Lionel, I thought we were all on the same page. Did having drinks with us and playing ‘friends’ irritate you? It’s clear that all you care about, the only stupid thing you give a shit about, is your own goddamn life!”

            Obviously Ukko’s ‘standing up’ tactic achieved nothing. He started to speak before being cut off by a rather furious Lionel, “You’re going to put this all on me? As if I’m the bad guy here?” That got a slight chuckle out of Ukko. Imagine being in the same room as the man who was burning down your city and deciding to call your ally a ‘bad guy’. It was amusing enough to keep Ukko from pistol whipping them both and putting a stop to this drama. “You! You’re just as hypocritical as me, but you aren’t even self-aware enough to realize it. Callista and Jace? The pilots you care so dearly for? And our little group? Oh yes, the best of comrades, right Guinevere? Well, here we are: Callista dead and Jace dying. Where are your tears, huh? Why aren’t you trying to snap Jace out of his bout of madness so the doctors can actually work on him? Why is it, Guinevere, that the only thing you seem to care about is this city?” He packed that word, ‘thing’, with quite a lot of emotional ammo.

           Ah, that was it. Her loyalty wasn’t to a person, or a group, or even her research. It was to the city itself. It seemed a bit too obvious, but Ukko supposed it made sense. Some nostalgic sickness or deranged hope maybe. Ukko had heard people like this were common enough, though he didn’t understand being tied to a place like that.

            Lionel and Guinevere stared at each other for a moment. Lionel was clearly exhausted, the man had quite the assortment of wounds and the pain was obviously still eating away at him. Guinevere, on the other hand, was clearly deep in thought.  

            In a single move, a movement that was more impressive due to Ukko’s age, he landed a solid hit to Guinevere’s stomach and put a bullet through Lionel’s ear. Guinevere vomited and Lionel screamed. So much for trying to win over Guinevere with a bit of decency, but this was just the sort of tactic Ukko was more familiar with.

            Ukko had seen this scene before. They were sure to start up again if he didn’t step in. And if they started again, things would probably get… violent between them. Maybe even more violent than what Ukko just did. Maybe.

            Ukko silently reprimanded himself. There was a time when he could have pulled a stunt like that without getting puke on his coat. Ah, old age is a horrid thing.

            “Please, for the love of whatever unholy abomination birthed pissants like you, stop this little ‘fight’ and focus on your captor for a bit, alright? I just want to know if this discovery or invention or prototype or whatever the hell it is has a name. I’m tired of having to throw a bunch of words at something I need to think about. So? Out with it.”

            Lionel was busy sobbing and searching the floor for the rest of his ear chunks, so Guinevere spoke through labored breaths, “Trahir,” she coughed, “it’s called Trahir.”

            “Appreciated. Now, Lionel, go find a doctor. Guinevere, stay in this room. The research team should be nearly here. It should go without saying but considering you both seem to be… out of sorts, it would be best to go along with what I say for now.” Ukko walked out the door and left them behind.

            He was willing to bet they would do what he said, but ultimately this Trahir business was secondary. The main objective still hadn’t changed, so the Vice Admiral’s series of beeps coming through his earpiece were far more important.