As the lights of Sigma City’s main airport came into view, the Donnerdrache cut through the night air, the once-chaotic battlefield fading behind them. Etrius slid into the co-pilot’s seat next to Zoey, glancing over at her, her breathing remaining steady. Her face, strained and pale, told him she was hanging on, but only barely. The urgency of the situation pressed on him as he reached for the radio, tuning into the airport’s emergency frequency.
The channel crackled to life, and a voice on the other end spoke, the tone clipped and professional. “Unidentified aircraft, you are entering restricted airspace. Identify and state your purpose, or you will be met with lethal force.”
Etrius leaned into the mic, adopting the calm, measured tone he knew would carry weight. “Sigma City Control, this is Donnerdrache, inbound with priority medical emergency. Be advised, onboard are injured but stable, possibly infected. No active contamination at this time.”
There was a brief pause, then the controller came back, more guarded. “Donnerdrache, provide aircraft registration and cargo manifest for entry.”
Etrius hesitated for the briefest moment, then continued, his voice steady. “Registration not required, Control—vessel is antique. Cargo manifest is empty; all passengers are citizens of Sigma City. ID codes 122245ZKL-T and 053193EVR-T. Requesting emergency medical on-site.”
He knew that their ID numbers would give their identities away, but he didn't care. It did mean that Control knew they were transhumans by the T at the end. Sigma City had so many people - H for strictly human, B for bodymodded, C for cybernetics, G for genetically altered - these were identifiers so the medical and judicial systems would know how to handle them. T was recently added, no thanks to Zoey and Etrius himself.
The controller’s response was wary but procedural, following the script. “You’re flying an unregistered, armed craft in restricted airspace. Clarify the purpose of those weapons.”
Etrius’s lips twisted in a humorless smile. He knew how to play this. “Weapons are decommissioned, Control, display purposes only. Restored historical vehicle. Confirming: all onboard are non-combatants. I am the pilot of record.”
The controller’s skepticism was evident, but Etrius had the advantage here. The codes he recited matched the city’s older security protocols, phrases that hadn’t been updated in years but were still valid for legacy systems. He could almost hear the frustration on the other end as the controller conceded. “Roger that, Donnerdrache. Proceed to VTOL pad three. CBRN medical response team will be waiting. Maintain altitude at two thousand feet until final approach.”
“Copy, Control. Proceeding to VTOL pad three at two thousand feet.” Etrius cut the channel and glanced at Zoey, who managed a tired nod in response. He guided the Donnerdrache smoothly towards the designated landing area, keeping an eye on the city’s vast skyline, the high-rises and industrial zones glowing beneath the low clouds.
As they descended to the landing pad after the all-clear, the VTOL’s engines whirred, transitioning into hover mode as they neared the landing pad. Below, the yellow and red lights of an ambulance flashed against the dark tarmac, with the distinctive figures of CBRN paramedics waiting in their full-body suits, protective gear glinting in the lights. Etrius set the Donnerdrache down with a controlled thud, the landing gear groaning under the VTOL’s weight.
He turned to Zoey, seeing the fatigue settling in her eyes. “You need to get checked out, no arguments,” he said firmly, knowing she was likely to resist. But she only nodded, too weary to protest, and began disengaging the seals on her Vulpes Titan suit. The heavy armor hissed as its pressurized locks released, and she pulled herself free, leaving the suit behind in the bay of the Mantis.
Etrius moved to her side, helping her to her feet as she staggered, leaning heavily on him. The paramedics moved in with a stretcher, but Zoey waved them off, insisting on limping out on her own terms. Etrius supported her weight as they made their way down the ramp, each step slow and unsteady against the cool night air.
The lead paramedic, voice muffled by their mask, addressed Etrius directly. “We’ll take it from here. Is she stable? Any known contaminants?”
Etrius nodded. “Stable, but compromised. Potential exposure, but nothing confirmed. Just make sure she gets to a secure facility.” He carefully transferred Zoey’s prosthetic arm to the paramedics, who guided her onto the stretcher despite her muttered protests.
Zoey shot Etrius a pained, lopsided smirk as they wheeled her toward the ambulance. “Don’t wreck my damn VTOL while I’m gone, stripes.”
He managed a tight smile in return. “Wouldn’t dream of it, scales.”
The ambulance doors closed with a heavy clang, and the vehicle sped off towards the Medical District, leaving Etrius standing alone on the tarmac, the sound of its sirens fading into the distance. He watched the ambulance go, his expression unreadable, before turning back to face the airport staff who had gathered near the VTOL.
One of the ground crew, a middle-aged woman in a reflective vest, approached him, her gaze lingering on the weathered frame of the Donnerdrache. “You brought this antique in pretty hot. Looks like it’s been through hell. What’s its story?”
Etrius let out a low breath, glancing back at the VTOL’s scarred metal hull. “She’s older than she looks, but she still flies true. Had to shake a few rough encounters on the way in. Mostly routine,” he lied smoothly. “I’ll need some space to check the systems and run diagnostics. Won’t be staying long.”
The woman raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. “I’ll let the tower know. They might ask a few more questions about the weapons, though.”
Etrius offered a casual shrug, the well-practiced calm never leaving his face. “You know how it is. Old warbirds attract attention. But they’ve got more history than teeth.” He paused, letting a slight edge into his tone. “I’ll be here if they need anything else. Just want to get my friend patched up and get out of your airspace.”
The staff member nodded, taking a step back. “Understood. I’ll arrange for a fuel check and make sure maintenance gives it a lookover. Just keep your comms open.”
Etrius watched her walk away, then turned back to the Donnerdrache, running a hand along the cold metal of its fuselage. He knew the questions weren’t over, and that they’d be on thin ice until they left the city again. But for now, they were safe, and Zoey was getting the help she needed. He allowed himself a moment to lean against the side of the VTOL, the adrenaline finally ebbing away as the night settled around him.
Zoey lay on the stretcher, the rhythmic jostling of the ambulance beneath her blending with the hum of its engine. Her vision blurred, darkness creeping in at the edges as she fought to keep her eyes open. The paramedics leaned over her, hands quick and methodical as they tried to secure an IV line into her neck.
"Dammit," muttered one of the paramedics, holding a thick needle against her neck, the tip barely making a dent against the dark, scaly surface. He tried another angle, pressing harder, but the needle just bent slightly, leaving only a faint mark. "No go. Can't get through the scales."
The other paramedic glanced at him, shaking her head. "We’ll have to stick to external assessments. Vitals look stable for now. Let’s keep her talking, make sure she doesn’t fade out on us.”
She leaned closer, speaking directly into Zoey’s ear, her voice raised over the din of the ambulance. “Hey, stay with us. We need some information for your intake. What’s your name?”
Zoey blinked slowly, her mind sluggish, but she managed to rasp out, “Zoey... Lavender.”
The paramedic nodded, jotting down the name on a tablet, her tone calm but insistent. “Good, Zoey. Can you give me your date of birth?”
Zoey’s eyelids felt impossibly heavy, but she dredged up the answer, her words slurring slightly. “December… twenty-second… twenty-forty-five.”
A slight furrow appeared between the paramedic’s brows. “You don’t look a day over thirty, Zoey. Just hang in there, okay? Now, I need to ask, what species are you?”
Zoey’s mouth curled into a faint, weary smirk at the question, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Red… fox.”
The paramedic froze for a moment, looking over the scales that covered her body, the horns curling back, and the thick, lizard-like tail that lay across the stretcher. She shot a puzzled glance at her partner, who shrugged helplessly, but kept writing down the information anyway. It wasn’t their job to ask questions beyond the ones on the list.
“Okay, red fox. Got it,” she replied, though she didn’t sound entirely convinced. “Do you have any cybernetic modifications?”
Zoey let out a weak breath, the pain radiating through her side dulling her focus. “Arms… both of ‘em.” She flexed a finger on one hand, the movement stiff and jerky, emphasizing the artificial joints beneath the surface. “Prosthetics.”
The paramedic gave a quick nod, scribbling down notes. “And any intentional genetic modifications? Any augmentation we should know about?”
Zoey blinked, her vision swimming. “No... nothing like that.” The words were starting to slur together, her mind slipping further into a haze. She could barely make out the paramedic’s next words as they continued to check over her vitals, but she could feel the exhaustion pulling her under, tugging at her consciousness like a heavy tide.
One of the paramedics tried another round of questions, but Zoey’s answers came slower, her speech muddled and incomplete. Finally, her head lolled to the side, her breathing evened out, and her body went limp on the stretcher.
The paramedic leaned back, glancing at her partner. “She’s out cold. We’ll get her stabilized in the hospital, but keep a close eye on those readings. Her biology’s like nothing I’ve seen before.”
The other paramedic adjusted the straps holding Zoey in place, casting another look at the scales and the barely visible scratches where they had tried and failed to pierce through. “Yeah. Let's hope the docs can make sense of it when we get there.”
Zoey remained unaware of their conversation as the ambulance sped onward, her mind surrendering to the darkness, her breaths steady but shallow, the rumble of the vehicle fading into the black.
Darkness enveloped Zoey's mind as she fell deeper into unconsciousness, but the peace it promised quickly turned to terror. In her nightmare, she was back in that familiar, horrifying place, the cold, sterile rooms of the Nazi testing facility. She lay strapped to a metal table, the restraints biting into her skin, holding her down with unyielding force.
The air was thick with the stench of antiseptic and sweat, the same smell she had endured for what felt like an eternity. Around her loomed the figures of the doctors, their faces obscured by surgical masks and goggles, their hands covered in stained rubber gloves. They muttered to each other in German, voices clinical, detached, as they prepared their syringes. The needles glinted in the harsh overhead light, each filled with fluids of different colors, green, blue, and a sickly yellow.
She thrashed against the restraints, trying to escape, but her limbs wouldn’t move. She could feel the cold metal of the needles pressing against her skin, piercing into her veins with brutal precision. Each injection burned like fire, coursing through her body, twisting her insides into knots. She screamed, her voice echoing through the sterile room, but it only seemed to amuse the shadowy figure standing in the corner.
He watched her with an expression of sadistic delight, his smile stretching unnaturally across his face, eyes gleaming with malevolence. He leaned closer, whispering in German, his voice like a hiss, mocking her as she writhed in agony. “You belong to me. You always will.”
The words sent a chill through her, and she felt herself fading, the pain overwhelming, her vision blurring as everything around her darkened. The last thing she saw was his face, twisted into that ghoulish smile, a sight that left her breathless with terror.
When Zoey awoke, her eyes snapped open, and she inhaled sharply, her heart racing in her chest. She found herself in a different environment, no longer bound to a cold metal table, but lying in a hospital bed. The hum of a heart rate monitor filled the room, its steady rhythm a reminder that she was no longer in that hellish place. Yet, the sterile white walls and the faint scent of antiseptic in the air made her skin crawl, a reminder of where her nightmare had dragged her back to.
She took a moment to steady her breath, her muscles tense, fighting to ground herself in the present. Her hand fumbled weakly over the side of the bed until it found the call button. She pressed it, her hand trembling slightly, trying to push the lingering remnants of the nightmare away.
A nurse appeared a few moments later. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?” she asked, offering a slight smile.
Zoey forced herself to sit up a bit, wincing at the pain in her side. Her body still felt sore and stiff. “Scheisse. I need to see a doctor. I need to know... everything,” she rasped, the urgency in her voice betraying her discomfort.
The nurse nodded, giving her a reassuring pat on the arm before disappearing back into the hallway. A few minutes passed, though it felt longer as Zoey's thoughts swirled, trying to piece together the gaps in her memory. She couldn’t shake the feeling of unease, the lingering dread that clung to her like a shadow.
Eventually, the door opened, and a familiar figure stepped inside. It was her general practitioner, a man she’d known for years, a bit older, with a few streaks of gray in his hair, and a calm presence that had always put her at ease, despite her distrust of medical professionals. He walked over to her bedside with a gentle smile, though there was a hint of exasperation in his eyes.
“You gave us quite a scare, Zoey,” he began, glancing at her chart before looking back at her. “You wouldn’t let anyone near you. Insisted that I be the only one to draw your blood. Injured a few of the staff before I got here. Do you remember any of that?”
Zoey blinked, frowning as she tried to recall what he described. Her mind was a haze, the nightmare and reality bleeding into one another. “No... I don’t remember. I... I thought I was back there again.” Her voice wavered, her hands clenching the bed's sheets. “I saw him. It felt... so real.”
The doctor listened quietly, his expression softening. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, careful not to touch any of the scales that still looked sensitive. “You’re safe now, Zoey. You’re in Sigma City, and no one’s going to hurt you here.”
She nodded slowly, but the tension in her body didn’t fully ease. She glanced around the sterile room, trying to remind herself that this place was different, that the people here weren’t like those in her past.
Before she could respond, the curtain swung open again, and a familiar silhouette filled the doorway. Etrius stepped in, his large frame barely fitting through, his green eyes scanning the room before they landed on Zoey. He offered her a small, reassuring smile, though there was a hint of relief in his expression. “You’re awake! Thought you might sleep through my whole visit.”
Zoey managed a weak smile in return, her exhaustion still evident. But seeing him there, solid and real, was like a tether to reality, grounding her further in the present. "Yeah, well... wouldn’t want to miss your charming presence,” she replied, her voice a little stronger, though the weariness still lingered in her tone.
Etrius snorted softly, crossing his arms as he sat down beside the bed. “You’re a stubborn one, Zoey. But you’re gonna be okay. Just take it easy, yeah?”
Zoey's doctor stood at the foot of the bed, flipping through the chart he held, a mere formality given that the past month and a half's events were beyond anything most medical professionals ever encountered.
“So, let’s start from the beginning, Zoey,” the doctor said, his tone carefully neutral, as though he were holding back his own disbelief. He glanced up at her, his expression patient but probing. “I need to know what happened, as much as you can remember.”
Zoey took a deep breath, feeling the ache in her ribs flare with the movement. She glanced at Etrius, who gave her a slight nod, silently encouraging her to continue. “It started with the job,” she began, her voice rough, as if she hadn’t spoken in weeks. “Some simple mercenary work, or at least, that’s what we thought. But we picked up something we shouldn’t have, and suddenly... we were being chased.”
Etrius leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms. “Not just chased,” he added, his voice low and steady. “Hunted. Drones at first. Then their actual operatives caught up to us in Manhattan. That's when things went south.”
Zoey’s eyes darkened, her mind flashing back to that nightmare of a city. “We barely made it out of Manhattan. They tore apart my APC while we were trying to find what little supplies we could. I thought it couldn’t get worse, but... then came that walker tank. That... thing.” Her hand trembled slightly, and she clenched it into a fist, the faint whir of servos in her prosthetic arm filling the otherwise quiet room. “Damn near killed us both.”
The doctor scribbled a few notes, but his attention remained on Zoey. “And... the infection?” he asked, his gaze darting over the scales that now covered her arms and face, the ivory horns that curled back from her temples. “It started after the first encounter?”
Zoey swallowed hard, the memory of it still a blur. The burning that had spread under her skin, the relentless itch as scales began to replace fur, and the way her bones cracked and reshaped themselves into something unrecognizable. “Yeah,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. “Started as just a bit of irritation. I thought it was from the shrapnel I took from the drones, or maybe the stress, but... it kept spreading. And then I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think straight. Just... anger, all the time. And now... well, you can see the rest.”
Etrius exhaled, leaning forward, his green eyes sharp as they met the doctor's. “She’s still herself. Whatever’s taken hold of her body, it hasn’t touched her mind much beyond the anger. But it’s... changed her. Nothing about her looks the same, except those beautiful amber eyes,” He paused, looking back at Zoey, his expression softening for just a moment. “That's how I can tell it’s still her in there.”
Zoey forced a weak smile. The scales along her cheeks pulled oddly with the expression, and she dropped it quickly. “Yeah. Still me. Just... look different.”
The doctor nodded slowly, his brow furrowing as he considered their words. “Your blood is still being tested. Preliminary results show no sign of contagiousness, at least—whatever this is, it seems to be contained to you. But... the transformation is extensive. And there’s no telling how far it might go.”
Zoey’s hand reflexively touched the side of her face, feeling the cool, smooth texture of the scales there. “Yeah, well, not much left to change, is there?” she muttered, a bitter edge creeping into her tone. She glanced over at Etrius, who met her gaze with that same quiet determination.
The doctor cleared his throat, stepping back to give them a moment. “I’ll check in on you later, Zoey. But you need rest, and a lot of it. And... if you remember anything else, any new symptoms, let me know immediately.”
She gave a half-hearted nod as he left the room, the door clicking shut behind him. Zoey let out a slow breath, leaning back against the pillows, wincing at the pain that shot through her fractured ribs.
“The Donnerdrache’s in good hands. They’re fixing it up, even adding a few upgrades.” Etrius said.
Zoey glanced at him, her lips twitching in a faint, humorless smile. “You really pulled some strings with the SCDF, huh?”
Etrius shrugged. “Had to make sure they’d look the other way when it came to that VTOL. It’s... technically illegal, having a military-grade aircraft like that without the right paperwork, but they were willing to overlook it for a price. And your Mantis is getting repaired, too. Should be ready by the time you’re out of here.”
Zoey nodded, though the information barely registered past the exhaustion weighing on her mind. “And the Rexor rifles? You sold them?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Found a collector. He paid well, and he’s eager to buy more if we come across them again. It’ll keep us afloat for a while.”
Zoey closed her eyes, trying to picture their next move, but all she could see was the twisted smile of the Man in Black Leather, his face haunting her even now. “Etrius... I don’t know how long I can keep going like this,” she admitted, her voice cracking. “I’m... I’m so tired. This thing in me... it’s like it’s eating me alive from the inside out.”
Etrius was silent for a moment, then he reached out, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. His touch was careful, wary of the rough scales that now covered her. “I know, Zosh. But you’re not alone. We’ll figure this out, just like we always do. And if it comes to it... we’ll find a way to fight whatever’s inside you. We’ll make it to Germany. Find the answers you need.”
She looked at him, seeing the conviction in his eyes, and for a moment, a flicker of hope stirred in her chest. But it was quickly drowned out by the weight of everything they’d faced, the unending battles and the pain that never seemed to stop. She squeezed his hand, her grip firm despite the weariness. “Yeah... yeah, we will.”
But even as she said it, the uncertainty lingered between them, a shadow that neither of them could quite ignore.
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