The city did not experience darkness that night.

            The fires raged, and where they didn’t the glowing metal and remaining embers still lit up the surroundings.

            The city did not experience silence that night.

            The machinery groaned and strained and usually snapped as it struggled to move collapsed slabs of concrete. The sirens blared and the barking of orders didn’t stop. The screaming and pleading, however, did stop. Slowly but surely.

            The city did not experience sleep that night.

            Not a single citizen slept. They worked tirelessly, hoping to revive their corpse of a city.

           The invaders however, they slept. Only after they drank and feasted, of course. Ukko and his mercenary group negotiated their new terms. The Alley gave in to their demands, mainly because they had no one left to respond quickly to the situation. They just wanted the job done and the contract wasn’t bad for them either. Ukko had, though he didn’t notice at the time, agreed to partake in several operations in some of the most dangerous warfronts The Alley had to offer in exchange for his increase in pay.

            When the sun rose the next morning, the city had not changed. No matter how hard the citizens worked, they couldn’t make a dent in the job done by Ukko and his comrades.

            Ukko spent the morning collecting Jace, Guinevere, and Lionel. They were guided to a truck where a handful of other researchers for the Trahir project were already loaded in.

            Lionel and Jace were easy to find. Jace had stopped babbling the same words over and over, but he was still in his hospital bed. Lionel was eager to leave, or more specifically, he was eager to make sure Ukko knew he was ready to leave.

            Guinevere, however, proved difficult to find. She spent the night with the rest of the citizens. She put out fires and cleared up rubble. She grabbed the hands that poked out of concrete piles and pulled up thankful citizens as well as lifeless bodies. She resisted Ukko, but apparently Ukko’s patience with her had run out or his interest had waned or some other event had occured because he convinced her in the way he was used to convincing people: at gunpoint.

            Now, with all of them corralled, Guinevere was the only one to stare out the back window as their impromptu prison truck bounced along the debris covered roads of the city outskirts.

            “I’ll be back. I promise you I’ll be back. I’ll rebuild. I’ll…”

            Jace listened to her declaration to the city, mainly because he thought she wanted someone to listen. He had plenty of thoughts rolling through his own head, and unfortunately he had very little to distract himself from those thoughts.

            Her eyes were glistening in the morning sunlight that snaked into the truck. That glisten reminded Jace of Calista. It was the same glisten he ignored when they went drinking. Would Calista have cried like this? Did she?

            Jace’s head hurt.

            Callista was dead. Dead and gone.

            Why did it matter so much to him? Of course she was going to die. Jace knew deep down that she was bound to die soon anyway. She had been a MAC pilot for too long. Her mind wasn’t going to hold out. Maybe this was better. A good way to die…

            Jace had a hard time accepting such a reality. Something within him ached. It ached so fiercely that he completely ignored his bloodlust from the previous day. He completely ignored the emotions he felt, and he ignored the way his mind was slowly warping into something unknown.

            Jace had no strength left to confront the him from yesterday.

            Instead, as he watched Guinevere and the aching continued, he reached his hand toward her. Almost subconsciously, he laid his hand on hers and squeezed.

           Jace, entirely empty, simply stared into the distance, thinking of someone else.

            Guinevere closed her eyes and leaned her head against the window.

            Neither looked at each other.

            The convoy of Ukko’s mercenaries, The Stragglers as Jace had learned, cleared the city limits and continued on into the desert. Ukko didn’t say much to Jace, but apparently they were going to field test the Trahir system at The Straggler’s next operation.

            Ukko decided the prisoners would ‘rest’ in the truck today, but work would begin tomorrow. It was clear that Ukko wanted them to get to work quickly. Jace was sure that today’s ‘rest’ was merely one step on a long path to breaking them. They had to be broken so The Stragglers could build them up into a useful research team.

            But Jace wasn’t a researcher. He wondered why he was being brought along at all. All he’d done was fail. He failed to protect the city. He failed to use the Trahir system. He failed to fight with Callista at the end. He failed to even fight to the very end. He was ashamed to sit here in this truck as a prisoner. He was a pilot without a MAC. The Trahir system was ripped out of his machine, but Ukko declared the machine itself was garbage. Worthless.

            Jace wondered if he would be strapped into a chair and experimented on like a guinea pig. Maybe… maybe that would be for the best, Jace thought. Maybe being turned into a lab rat would free him from all his thoughts. He had no idea how people could deal with such turbulent storms of emotions.

            Or were Jace’s emotions completely abnormal? If so, what did that make Jace? He begged whatever god would listen to let his mind be empty, at least for a while.

            But his prayers went unanswered.

            As Jace’s mind continued to drift down winding paths that led nowhere, the truck was rocked by a concussive force. It obviously wasn’t close, but the explosion must have been large considering how heavily armored this vehicle was. They were all lifted from their seats and set back down rather forcefully, but there were no injuries.

            Lionel, Guinevere, and the other researchers put their heads between their knees. Many were praying or shouting or both. Obviously the trauma of yesterday’s battle had gotten to them.

            Jace wasn’t affected, however. If anything, his heart lightened for a moment at the idea of battle. Pure, simple battle. The place where his mind was finally quiet. He pressed against the window to see where the fight was taking place, but what he saw was not a fight.

            Jace realized very quickly that it was just an execution. An execution of people, sure, but also an execution of orders. The Stragglers didn’t show up just to find the Trahir system. They didn’t even know it existed when they invaded after all. The Stragglers were a mercenary organization, and this was simply them finishing up their mission.

            Jace was certain that those in the truck with him could never accept that. They could never accept the destruction of their city being ‘just a mission’.

            Jace stared at the city that was now being brought to the ground. The Stragglers must have been busy to set that much explosive material. He waited and watched as his lust for those simple battle-fueled thoughts continued to burn. It was a welcome reprieve from his other emotions.

            Jace didn’t notice the screams or the sobs that started to reverberate throughout the truck. He was dimly aware of Guinevere pounding on the window between them and the drivers. No matter what she said, they didn’t seem to respond.

            Jace continued to stare as the city became smaller and the dust-like remains of the city settled down to the ground. That burning lust slowly began to smolder and sputter out.

            Guinevere stepped beside him, but Jace didn’t take his eyes off the city.

            She stared for a while before she started to choke back sobs. Then she was openly crying. Then she wrapped her arms around Jace and let her grief run wild.

            Jace suddenly regretted putting his hand on hers. Why did he do that? Jace wasn’t sure.

            But a glint in the dust cloud pierced through all other thoughts in his mind.

            It was exactly the distraction he was hoping for. It made things so clear. All these worthless thoughts in his head died down in there. That was the only place that could bring him any peace, that could take him away from all the horrors of the world.

            It was so comfortable. So fulfilling.

            The two robotic beasts from Jace’s final battle still stood amongst all the debris, like shining examples of Jace’s happiness.

            Suddenly, Guinevere’s hug didn’t bother him as much.

            He wrapped one of his arms around her shoulders and she seemed to appreciate the gesture.

            Yes,

            he could put up with it.

                                                                                      ~~~