Chapter Text
EPOCH
Chapter One: Tranquility
The night was deep, the sky a vast canvas peppered with stars, each one like a distant beacon. I found myself tucked away in the shadows of a narrow alleyway, sandwiched between two towering warehouses. The cool air was thick with tension as I crouched low, heart racing, desperately trying to evade those relentless pursuers who drew ever closer, their whispers echoing in the stillness around me.
The darkness enveloped me like a shroud, masking my presence as I strained to listen for any signs of danger. Hearing and then seeing the two MECH trucks drive past my hiding spot made me tense and slink back further into the shadows.
My bike was outside the warehouse district, hidden from view, and I needed to get back to it to make my escape. I just had to get to it without alerting the patrolling MECH lackeys.
But I didn’t move, waiting behind a large dumpster as I awaited further orders from Virgo.
The original plan had been to remain undetected by MECH, a shadow moving silently through their territory. But a momentary lapse in my concentration—a slight misstep at the wrong time—had compromised that carefully crafted strategy. Now, the heavy thud of my heart reverberated against my sternum, a frantic drumbeat that echoed my anxiety. Despite the rising tide of fear threatening to drown me, I forced myself to breathe evenly, summoning every ounce of willpower to reign in my panic. This was not the time to be ruled by my emotions; I had to stay focused and composed, navigating this treacherous situation with unwavering resolve. Fear would only be my downfall.
I breathed in, held and then exhaled.
(“Take deep breaths,” Aria’s voice echoed. “You’re in control, remember that.”)
She was right. No one else can dictate my fears and I refused to allow that fear to rule me any longer damn it!
“=Virgo to Scorpio, you have approximately ten seconds once the next vehicle passes your spot to make it to the other side to avoid detection,=” Soma’s voice buzzed through the commlink. “=Uploading the route to your headset now.=”
A loading bar appeared on my display before marking the directions in orange on a simple map. With a few taps on the screen of my left wrist, I minimised the display size so it wouldn't take up the entire screen.
“=Understood. I’ll need another set of eyes for reference. Tell me when to move,=” I responded.
“=Affirmative. Twenty seconds until the truck passes.=”
I moved to the lip of the alley, back against the wall away from the oncoming vehicle. I breathed again, muscles tensing in preparation.
I strained to catch the sound of the approaching truck, the rhythmic thrum of its engine growing louder as it neared. As its headlights sliced through the darkness, casting sharp beams over the road, I held my breath, hidden in the shadows. The truck rumbled past, completely unaware of my presence.
“=Five, four, three, two—go!=” Virgo ordered and I shot out of the alley, keeping low as I sprinted across the road.
To my frustration, the vehicle screeched to a halt as I dived into the opposite alleyway. I could hear the voices shouting to follow, and I didn’t hesitate nor linger any longer, following the uploaded route away from the road and gathering MECH soldiers.
It was next to pitch black; no streetlights reaching this far to illuminate these back alleys, but it made it all that much easier to lose my tails with the paths branching off into different directions.
My location marker grew closer and closer to my bike.
“=You’re coming up to an opening, Scorpio. You’re gonna be wide open!=” Virgo barked out.
“=Understood!=”
Just cross the road and another long alleyway then I would be there!
One foot before the other, I gritted my teeth, c’mon.
I burst out of the alley—
(“I have eyes on the target, aim to kill?” The masked soldier asked.
The figure stood behind him gazed at the road, “Negative, Silas wants her alive. The bullet will do our job for us.”)
—and a force on my left shoulder sent me sprawling. The pain hit, but it was minimal at best—pain was a familiar comfort, in truth.
“Fuck!”
I scrambled back to my feet and continued; stopping now would just leave me at the no-so-kind mercy of MECH, somewhere I desperately didn’t want to be.
My bike came into sight, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I threw my leg over, started it and was gone, zooming off down the lane and leaving the MECH soldiers behind in my dust.
“=Scorpio, report!=”
“=Took a hit to the shoulder!=” I answered. Honestly, it could have been worse. By the pain and feeling of the bullet, it had gone straight through my shoulder, stopped only by the front of my suit’s padding.
“=We should really work on protecting the back of the shoulders better,=” I joked, trying to keep the atmosphere light.
Virgo sighed. “=Head to the rendezvous point now loading. Taurus will be there waiting for pick up. Signing out.=”
My commlink fell silent and I breathed, adrenaline beginning to tank now I was out of danger. But it just made the pain of my bullet wound all that more notable. I huffed, flexing my left fingers, testing how much of my movement I had lost. Moving the wrist pulled at the wound. Annoying.
Eventually, I reached the dirt road my GPS was leading me to. Logan and the trailer appeared soon after, and I slowed to a stop. I kicked the stand down and turned the bike off.
Logan approached, worry tugging at his brows. “How bad is it?”
“Not too bad,” I answered as I swung myself off the bike. Unzipping the uniform to reach inside, I pulled the bullet out with a grimace. I flicked the bullet into the bush, annoyed I’d let myself get shot in the first place.
Logan sighed and jerked his head to the car. No way was I going to protest that.
I climbed into the passenger seat and opened the glove box to find the first aid stashed there. Some plasters would do for now until we got back to base.
While I did that, I listened to Logan load up my bike into the trailer before jumping into the driver’s seat and slammed the driver’s door closed behind him.
“How’s the bleeding?” he asked as he put the car into drive.
“Stopping,” I remarked, peering down at the used and bloodied sterile dressing in my lap. “Don’t think I even bled that much.”
Of course, that was typical of me. Aria and I always clotted faster and quicker than anyone else. The only reasonable and running theory was that it was our strange and unknown genetic anomaly that caused it. That also implied we even knew what it was or had it for. We didn’t.
“For me anyway,” I added, just to be extra transparent.
Logan frowned but didn’t take his eyes off the main road we joined. “Might as well get Aria to check it out when we get back. Now,” he shot me a look. “Get some rest.”
I snorted but shuffled the used first aid supplies into the baggie and settled down. It would be a long trip back to Nevada.
The warmth of Tranquility enveloped me as I stepped out of the airport’s cool interior to be greeted by Ron’s new green Austin-Healey 3000, which was quite impressive and very much a new addition since I had last been to visit.
I shrugged my bag off and dropped it into the back seat as I climbed into the passenger side.
Ron greeted warmly. "It's good to see you again, Zelda."
"You too, Uncle Ron," I replied, sharing a small smile with him. I was finally going to be able to see the only family Aria and I had after almost a year. It was good to be back again.
While the Witwicky’s, from my mother's side of the family, knew that Aria and I worked for the government, they weren't allowed to know what our profession was. Our entire squad was classified, confidential, and life—endangeringly restricted. It wasn't safe, and the less they knew, the less they were at risk.
We continued to share casual conversation as Ron drove. Since my flight had a delayed landing, we were going straight to Sam's school to pick him up. I had never seen Sam’s school before, and I was admittedly a little curious since I had only once stepped foot in a school, and it hadn’t been anything to do with education.
The forty-minute drive was pleasant, and Ron pulled up at the front of the school to park. The school wouldn’t be let out for another five or so minutes. Honestly, it was lucky Ron had been able to park so close.
I turned to a grinning Ron as he spoke up again. "If Sam gets this A, I've got the perfect prank for him."
I chuckled. "Can't wait."
Ron did love a good joke. Unfortunately, Sam tended to be the butt of the joke. It annoyed the teen to no end.
I perked up when the bell rang, signaling that the end of the day had arrived. I watched the students pile through the exit, but there was no sign of Sam until I spotted him running towards us, yelling 'yes' repeatedly while waving a piece of paper in his hand.
I raised a brow, amused.
"Hey, Zelda!" Sam greeted enthusiastically and jumped in the back. I snorted before saying hello back.
"So?" Ron asked and turned to Sam, raising a brow.
"A-minus. It's an A, though," Sam's grin hadn't faded. I congratulated him.
"Wait, wait, wait. I can't see," Ron muttered as he took the paper off the enthusiastic Sam to inspect it before he smiled, satisfied. "It's an A."
I high-fived Sam, and Ron started the engine and drove off.
"I got a little surprise for you, son," Ron announced as we pulled into a Porsche car dealership. I smile behind my hand as Sam cut himself off when he saw where we were. "What kind of s—"
"Yeah, a little surprise," Ron smirked as Sam started freaking the fuck out.
"No. No, no, no, no! Dad! Oh, you got to be kidding me," He exclaimed, excitedly slapping his hand against the side of the car.
"Yeah. I am. You're not getting a Porsche!" Ron laughed, and I smoothed my own as Sam's face dropped into a frown.
"You think that's funny?" Sam asked, glaring. It was entirely unimpressed. Ah. I never got old.
"Yeah, I think it's funny," Ron replied. I nodded, smirking when Sam shot me a sour look.
"What's wrong with you?" Sam asked Ron grumpily, who continued to laugh.
"You think I'd really get you a Porsche? For your first car?" he asked with a smile. Sam's scowl grew as he sat back against his seat with crossed arms, huffing.
"I don't want to talk to you for the rest of this whole thing," he promised and I laughed at his words. "That includes you as well Zelda."
"Me? What did I do?" I smiled wider.
Sam continued scowling at my answer. "You knew what he was going to do."
"Oh, come on. It's just a practical joke." Ron said, laughing lightly again.
"It's not a funny joke," Sam grumbled.
"Manny!" A man screamed. I tensed then relaxed when I realised what I was doing, and Sam gently pulled on my green army blazer, having seen what I'd done.
I missed the guy's reply, but the guy from before shouted: "Get your cousin out of that damn clown suit. He's having a heat stroke again. Scaring white folks."
I snorted.
"I'm hot. Make-up's melting. It hurts my eyes," the guy in the bad clown costume announced as Ron drove past. Poor guy.
I hummed softly and climbed out of the car as Ron stopped. Glancing around, my fingers twitched with the need to examine the cars. They might be old and not exactly what most would consider salvable, but I wanted to fix them up and listen to them purr as if they were brand new.
"Here? No, no, no, what is this? You said—you said half a car, not half a piece of crap, Dad," Sam groaned as he and Ron got out.
"When I was your age, I'd have been happy with four wheels and an engine," Ron said with a roll his eyes.
"Okay, let me explain something to you. Okay? You ever seen a forty-year-old virgin?" Sam asked. Ron nodded while I leaned against one of the pillars to watch on in amusement. If Sam wanted, I could always look at the car afterwards and even chip in to pay for improvements to be done. God knows I had the money just lying around.
"Yeah."
"Okay, that's what this is. And this is a fifty-year-old virgin," Sam said, gesturing to another old, run-down black car. Ron then said our old Witwicky motto, which just irritated Sam even more. I let out a quiet laugh as the pair walked up to the black man in a Hawaiian shirt and hat.
They began to talk to the man while I wandered a bit. I spotted an old-style seventy’s yellow Camaro with black racing stripes.
"What are you doing in this kind of place," I mumbled. It was the only decent-looking car in this place, "You're still in quite a good shape from first glance," There was no serious rusting, but the paint was chipped away and fading, nothing a new paint job wouldn't fix. I slid my hands under the hood and popped it open. My brows raised to my hairline. This was not an engine you should be finding in a car at a dealership like this. That engine would have gone for so much money by itself. The Camaro shell was just a bonus at this point.
“The hell?” I couldn’t help but mutter.
I spotted Sam, Ron and the other guy and grimaced at the car they were looking at, "Hey Sam, come here!"
Sam came jogging over, pulling a face. "Did you see the car Dad was having me look at?" He shuddered.
"Well, get him over here. This car is perfect. Hopefully, if the guy doesn't know what type of engine is in here, we may get it for less," I stated lowly as Ron and the guy began walking over. I patted the hood twice with my knuckle once I'd closed it.
Sam looked confused, and I replied quietly, "I work with cars when I'm not in the field, 'member?"
"Ahh! Yeah, right, forgot," Sam nodded and fidgeted nervously in his spot as Ron and the salesman made their way over.
"Strange... I don't know nothing about this car. Manny!" The man shouted.
A 'what?' came from the man across the lot, and the guy asked about the car.
"I don't know, boss! I've never seen it! That's loco!"
"Don't go Ricky Ricardo on me, Manny! Find out!" The salesman snapped.
Sam sat in the driver's seat, and I leaned against the hood, my gun pressing against my lower back because of it. I heard Sam mumble that it felt nice, and I smiled.
"How much?" Ron asked the salesman.
"Well, considering the semi-classic nature of the vehicle, with the slick wheels and the custom paint job..." I bit my tongue to stop myself from commenting, but I tilted my head.
"Yeah, but the paint's faded," Sam replied with a frown in a matter-of-fact tone.
"Y-yeah, but it's custom." the salesman argues.
"It's custom faded?" I snorted with a head shake, only Sam.
"Well, this is your first car. I wouldn't expect you to understand. Five grand."
I fought the urge to groan as I let my head fall back, my hair falling off my shoulders and down against my back. Ron was not going over four; I knew that for a fact, and his reply proved it.
"No, I'm not paying over four. Sorry."
"Kid, come on, get out. Get out of the car," the salesman said, patting the roof of the car. I rolled my eyes because Ron is such a cheap ass in situations where he really didn’t need to be.
"No, no, no. You said cars pick their drivers," Sam protested but still got out anyway. The salesman ignored him and started showing him and Ron a really run-down, old, faded yellow beetle.
I ignored them and subconsciously tapped my gloved right index finger against the hood and quickly dragged it to the side towards the old beetle. I jumped off the hood when the passenger door suddenly swung open and slammed into the beetle the salesman was in.
"Geez. Holy cow," Ron spoke and stepped over to the man.
"No, no, no. No worries."
"You alright?" I asked blankly. I didn't really give a shit, but it was polite I suppose.
"I'll get a sledgehammer and knock this right out," he answered before turning to this 'Manny', "Hey, hey, Manny! Get your clown cousin and get some hammers and come bang this stuff out, baby!" He let out an obnoxious, forced laugh.
.:Greater than man...:. I eyed the Camaro as I heard the radio turn on. I ignored the man and narrowed my eyes in confusion, brows furrowing.
"That one's my favourite, drove all the way from Alabama."
My ears perked up when I heard the radio turn on again, but this time, it let out a loud ear-splitting noise, and every glass window, excluding the Camaro's, broke. I covered my head with my forearms to shield my face from the glass.
Okay, that is definitely not a normal car.
As I straightened up, I rubbed my sensitive, ringing ears. Damn enhanced hearing.
"Woah!"
The salesman slowly stood and spun around. His jaw dropped open before he turned to us and raised four fingers. His voice cracked as he spoke, "Four thousand!"
Once we arrived back at the house, I exited Sam's new car, grabbed my things from Ron's, and ran up the stairs, but not before greeting Judy with a kiss to the cheek. I dropped my bag beside my desk and sat on the spiny chair before opening the bag.
I pulled out my laptop as I closed the door and locked it. I turned the laptop on and logged in. I opened my emails and replied to the ones that needed one and filed useless ones. A ping rang out from my comm half an hour later.
“=Have you seen the news?=” Aries’ or rather Mia's since we weren't on duty, voice rang over the comm.
I narrowed my eyes, “=What news?=”
“=At local time yesterday, the SOCCENT Forwards Operations Base in Qatar was attacked. Attacker presently unknown and survivors yet to be found.=”
I inhaled deeply, leaning back in my chair before exhaling sharply. I covered my mouth in grief. Closing my eyes as I brought my left foot onto the chair.
“=Jesus,=” was all I could muster. “=Do we know what were they after?=”
“=That's the point,=” Mia continued with a grim tone. “=The government isn't sure. The only lead is a strange sound from the attacker. Hold on, I'll play it for you.=”
I sat up straight when a robotic-like sound played through my earpiece, “=What the hell? That was not natural!=”
“=Logan and Aria had to attend a meeting at the Pentagon,=” Mia sighed. “=Logan asked Sec of Defence to keep us posted on any new information that pops up as we would be the most likely group to be picked to go and investigate.=”
“=Thank you for updating me Mia,=” with that, I closed the comm. That just killed the mood for the rest of the evening. I rubbed the back of my neck before standing and opening the drawers. I grabbed some cosy loungewear to change into.
Loose quarter-length pyjama bottoms, a vest with no bra, hair pulled back, and some fluffy socks, despite the warmth, were what I called perfection. However, I ditched the socks when I joined Ron and Judy outside, the man paving the garden as his wife critiqued him. Ah, the epitome of married life.
"Ron, this one is uneven," Judy noted, stepping on one of the slabs of the newly built stone path.
"Yeah. Probably," Ron replied heart-heartedly, sounding more annoyed because of his wife pestering.
"This one is wobbly." Judy stood on another slab. I sighed, sipping on my lemonade—which Judy had made, that woman made some mean lemonade, seriously—as Sam came barrelling out.
"Yeah. I'll take care of that real soon," Ron replied monotonously, obviously fed up with Judy's constant input. Sam and I shared a look. We knew he wasn't going to.
"Couldn't we have hired a professional?" Judy whined as Sam approached his parents, immediately going for the grass
I sighed again.
Ron let out a sarcastic laugh, "Ah, Sam..." Ron dropped the small shovel he was holding to stand. He looked incredibly unimpressed.
"What?"
"I do not like footprints on my grass," Ron scolded.
Judy, who had sat down beside me and now sipped at her own glass, wrapped an arm around my shoulder, being mindful of my arm. She placed a kiss on my temple, and I smiled at her.
"What foot—there's no footprints," Sam said, gesturing around him.
"That's why I built my path. So why don't you go from my grass onto my path, okay?" Ron said, ignoring Sam and pointed to the newly built path. Sam rolled his eyes and carried on towards the garage, but now on said path.
"It's family grass, Dad."
"Well, when you own your own grass, you'll understand," Ron told Sam. The boy snorted, and I smiled at Ron's oddness. Not paying much attention, I just about heard Sam say something about Mojo and the jewellery Judy was making him wear.
"That poor mutt," I muttered as Judy leapt to defend her choice of dog clothing—would it even be called clothing if it’s just jewellery?
Still, Sam just left, feeling no desire to argue with his mother, knowing the woman would just win out of sheer stubbornness.
“How about we leave Ron to his paving and put on a movie, Auntie Judy,” I chimed.
Judy grinned and scurried over, “I call dibs!”
Ron shot me a thankful glance, and I saluted playfully before joining Judy inside.