Chapter Text
Somethingโs not right.
โColonel! Itโs me! Corporal Wainfleet!โ
It doesnโt work. The colonel lunges forward at him with a snarl. Everyone tightens their grip, holds him in place, fights his every attempt to jerk and flail. Theyโre lucky heโs still wobbly on his feet. Wainfleet tries again.
โLook at me. You know me. You know us.โ
No dice. Quaritch doesnโt stop trying to claw and swing and bite.
โTheyโre gonna call it,โ Z-Dog warns, keeping her eye on the humans waiting outside for their chance to come back in. Theyโre ready with a syringe and quick-cuffs.
Lyle knows sheโs right. He doesnโt let go of Quaritch, shakes him a little in frustration.
โGod damn it,โ Lyle swears. โI know youโre in there.โ
Quaritch hisses, long and feral, his yellow eyes wild.
โBossโฆโ No. โMiles. We need you.โ
I need you.
Fike and Zhang exchange glances. Z-Dog shakes her head, cursing silently, still glaring at the humans.
One more lunge at Lyleโs neck is all the scientists need to see before theyโre given the order. Itโs just as uncomfortable as the blue team thought it would be; holding their leader through his animal screams and tail-whipping while an RDA labcoat carefully doses him with Supitocam is something they never imagined would happen. Something they never imagined they'd have to be part of.
When heโs been transported to an emergency holding area (might as well call it an animal pen), Lyle insists on giving it another try. Even sedated, bound, and muzzled, Recombinant Quaritch keeps up a low, rumbling growl and the meanest stink-eye anyoneโs ever seen. Itโs that look that makes Lyle think he has to be in there. Somewhere.
โCโmon, man,โ Lyle speaks softly to the restrained beast. As softly as he can with his rough voice. โGive โem something. Anything. Show โem youโre good to go.โ
Quaritch answers by lashing his tail through the air with a snarl so livid, so rabid, that Lyleโs ears flatten on instinct.
Fuck.
โIโll fix this,โ he promises his colonel. โAlright? Iโll take care of it.โ
The humans talk to Wainfleet alone, anxiously watching his tail whap angrily against the wall as they try to explain.
โSoul Drives are an incredibly delicate technology. They have a high success rate, but thereโs always a risk that a transfer will fail to imprint.โ
โSo what happened?โ Lyleโs voice is rough as asphalt.
โWe wonโt know exactly until we run some tests.โ
โTests?โ
โThe assetโs brain will be analyzed for abnormalities that would explain the transfer failure.โ
โSo youโre gonna scan his brain and try again. Reupload that soul-stick or whatever. Right?โ
The humans look at each other nervously before a response is given.
โA-An assetโs brain must beโฆ removed to be studied under the microscope.โ
Lyleโs tail shoots into the air instantly.
โLike a fucking dog?! Didnโt it cost billions just to bring him back?โ
He growls his frustration, his disbelief.
โHeโs in there. Iโm telling you. I can see him. Donโt you have a grace period for this kind of shit? For Recoms that take longer toโฆ to fuckinโ... come online?โ Itโs the only way he can describe it. Like theyโre machines. But he knows theyโre more like highly trained sentient weapons to the RDA.
One of the humans is tapping on her datapad, quickly pulling up a long wall of text for him. Fucking documents. Fucking RDA and their agreements. What the fuck had they signed up for? Wainfleet snatches the tablet away, squinting at it with pinned ears as his eyes dart over the text.ย
๐ฐ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ก๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐ข ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐ข๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐. ๐ฐ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐โ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ข ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ข ๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ก๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐.
Lyleโs chest feels tight.
๐ฐ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ r๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ข.ย
๐ฐ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ un๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ข ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐.
So there might still be time to fix this. Time for the colonel to wake up more, to speak, to show some sign he can be of use. That he can lead.
But does Lyle want to give the RDA the chance to make that call? To keep him locked up until some fucking paper pusher decides he's losing them money?
With the rest of the team awake and awaiting command, Lyle stares out past the grated metal, illuminated by the passing light.
Heโd known going into this that if anything were to happen to the colonel, leadership would automatically transfer to him. He'd step up to the plate, follow what he was taught, look after his team. But he hadnโt ever actually wanted that power. He doesnโt want this. This isnโt how itโs supposed to go. Quaritch should be standing here, about to address the 1st Recom Unit. Everyone is processing it. Theyโd all signed up for this freak show in the hope that theyโd have their colonel, the man who always took care of them like family.
Z-Dog is the first to ask what their mission is. Wainfleet looks up from the floor as he turns around, eyes dark.
There are human soldiers in the room with them. Every ISV has a small flight crew. There are twelve Recombinants aboard.
Maybe it's time to take a page from the new-and-improved colonelโs book.
โYeah. We got a mission alright.โ
His tail waves behind him. Zโs tail waves right back and her ears perk up. She looks to Walker, who looks to Fike. Somehow, without words, they all understand what they need to do.
The humans barely have time to react before every set of fangs is bared.