Miserable Pile Of Words

The final performance was in full swing. The actors were setting the stage on fire, like they always did. Like she always did.

A dark, quiet corner, backstage. Ava took a deep breath. She could do this. She was going to do this. Like she planned. She looked at her note. Like she'd written down. As soon as she took her curtain call. Her last chance. One last rehearsal.

Paper crinkled between Ava's fingers. Smeared them with her bared soul. "The moment I s-saw you, I was l-lost. But it's like one g-glimpse of your b..."

Come on, Ava. You can do it. Breathe.

"... your beauty ties my t... tongue into hopeless k-knots, so all I can do is just s-stare at you f-from afar, and w-worship." she stuttered.

Fuck, she's going to laugh at you. Think you're such a weirdo. A joke. No. Keep going. Tonight's your last chance.

"And and and I know you're an amazing actress, Gloria, and you're going to l-leave here and take over the world, like you took over my h-heart, and I'm just... nobody... but I... had t-to... to tell... you..." Ava devolved into mumbles. Her shoulders lumped.

A frustrated groan. No. She couldn't do this after all. An angry toss. A flutter of paper. This was stupid. There was no way someone like her would ever be with someone like Ava.

A soft cough. A velvet voice. "And you were doing so well. Did you forget about my costume change?" it gently asked, as there was a rustling behind her.

Ava was frozen. Couldn't turn around. Gloria was there? Changing behind her? How much did she hear?!

"You sell yourself short, Ava... oh, and the answer is 'yes'. Now if you'll excuse me..." And she was gone again, back into the dazzling lights, leaving the darkness brighter than she'd found it.

Mech Pilot who is awfully nervous around their co-pilot today.

Oh shit here she comes. I'd recognise that gait anywhere. Abort! Abort! Remember, be cool. You're just passing through. Out for a walk. Couldn't sleep. Yeah.

"Angel! Hi! Fancy meeting you here!" I chirp nervously, too loudly, whipping my hands behind my back to quickly stuff my precious, highly illicit cargo into my waistband. Safely hide it under my ratty jacket. Nonchalance given flesh, I lean against a gleaming rack of 220s waiting to be loaded into our rig for tomorrow's mission. My elbow promptly catches the quick-release handle, spilling shells all over the hangar's concrete floor, making an unholy mess. And the racket! All heads turn towards the noise. Towards me.

Smooth, Jovanovic. Real smooth.

Sarah seems startled to see me. I guess that kinda makes sense, since we're technically still on leave, and I'm not supposed to be back just yet. Recovering quickly, she grabs a lifter to herd the wayward shells into some kind of order. Make the ground crew's job easier. Increase the chances that we actually leave with some ammo at oh dark o'clock.

She's great like that. Her quick thinking has saved my bony butt more times than I can count — want to count, really, for my poor ego's sake. Best first seat I've had in my life. She makes me feel safe. Gives me a real warm feeling in my chest every time I think about her, or her beautiful brown eyes, watching over me, you know?

"A pleasant evening to you too, Nada." Sarah inclines her head, ever the picture of grace and good manners. Weirdly, her eyes keep flitting towards our rig and back. Towards our dual cockpit. A hesitation. A tremor in her cultured voice. "I didn't expect you back before the briefing tomorrow morning." Again, that nervous glance away, not meeting my eyes. "You mentioned you were going to be off base for a week, spending time with a hot lady...?" She trails off. Her hands unconsiously tug her crisp jacket even straighter, and something almost falls out. Something that crinkles when she claps her hand over it to keep it in place. Squeezes it tightly. Almost painfully. "Is everything all right?"

Is that a note of hurt in her voice? "Huh? Wh..." What hot lady...?

Oh, wait. Wait. Shit. I had said that, hadn't I? Me and my stupid hick mouth. Always gotta make a bloody joke out of everything.

"Oh. Oh, yeah, my sister." An apologetic grimace. "The baker. Um... Yeah. She's fine. Thanks for asking." I chuckle. Swallow. "Uh."

Come on, say something, idiot.

"... How was your leave?"

Brilliant...

Beba had almost taken my head off when I appeared on her doorstep in the middle of the night, desperately begging her to teach me how to bake. Once I'd taken away her shotgun before she shot someone by accident, and she finally stopped laughing her ass off, she'd helped me put my grand plan in motion, and we'd made it, barely... but it is currently falling apart around my ears anyway, becoming more and more impossible by the second. I shuffle my feet and cough awkwardly as I wait for Sarah to say something. Anything.

Damn it, why'd she have to come here now? Wait, why is she here?

"Your... sister?" Sarah finally breathes as a subtle tension leaves her body, and her fingers relax their death-grip. "You didn't say you were going to visit your sister." she accuses me.

"Um. Yeah. Bad pun." Another uncomfortable, vast silence stretches between us. I don't know what it is lately. I either don't know what to say to her, or drop another clanger of a joke as if it were a smoke bomb. "Sorry." Gods, what I wouldn't give for a distraction. Any distraction. I'd take being under suppressive fire any day over this oppressive, pregnant stillness, waiting for something to breach it, someone to cross it...

Suddenly, the tannoy crackles to life.

"Lieutenant Sarah 'Angel' Bright. Corporal Nada 'Jester' Jovanovic. Commander wants to see you in her office to go over the latest intel and weather patterns for February the 15th, since it seems the pair of you are back early anyway."

As one, we guiltily look up at the glass wall, high above the hangar. At the stern, shadowy figure silhouetted there. Like two schoolgirls, caught doing something they shouldn't be by their teacher.

Phew. Saved by the bell. Now there's a woman that doesn't like to be kept waiting. Better hurry. I heave a sigh of relief. A quiet breath escapes Sarah as well, because...? Oh well, I'll have time to figure that one out later. We both give our rig one last glance before we set off for the commander's office.

Maybe I'll have time to drop my wonky chocolate heart in her chair after the briefing, when she's not around...

Mech Pilot who you accidentally activated, setting in motion a sleeper agent early.

"Look, man, I didn't mean to." Kris wheedled. "She didn't mean to. She'd never. It was an accident. You have to believe me." Pleaded. "How was I to know whistling that jingle from that old chewing gum commercial — you know, the one that goes..." Their foot tapped as they briefly hummed something that sounded like 'huminy homana nanana bubbly good' under their breath, half the lyrics long forgotten.

"... would cause all..." A weak gesture at the roaring inferno around them, their words barely audible over the panicked braying of the base klaxons. The wails of the wounded and bereaved. The intermittent crash of collapsing buildings. It was ridiculous. Impossible. Inconceivable. Indescribable. They finally settled on a lame "... this."

"Uh-huh." The SecuTex guard that'd accosted the pilot, his own once pristine white uniform covered in soot and blood, didn't seem inclined to believe them. His radio crackled, and he frowned, temporarily distracted by another status update. Another casualty count. Another request for reinforcements. The respite didn't last long, however.

"You are Kris 'Nukem' Roberts, right? Famous — sorry, infamous for..." he checked his dataslate. "... blowing things up?" His finger tapped the surface as he went down the long list of infractions. "Starting riots? Causing hundreds of deaths? Trillions in corporate losses?" A disgusted glare. "Wanted in half a dozen states?"

Kris awkwardly shifted from foot to foot. "Yeah, but... you know, that's just while on the job." they whined. "Not in friendly territory." An introspective pause. A mumbled "_{Not on purpose anyway.}" They were jittery. Restless. A coursing hound, held back by an unjust, cruel hand. A bundle of nervous energy, desperately straining to stay still. To not give the corpo pig an excuse. Any excuse. They had to keep a lid on it. They had to.

"I'm sorry, am I keeping you from something?" the guard asked, annoyed. Hand straying towards his stun baton, in case his suspect tried to do a runner. "Stop moving." Wouldn't be the first jockey making a huge mess in White Base, then leaving them to clean up. Not this time. Not on his watch. Not after all this horrifying death and destruction.

An explosion rocked the base as one of the fuel depots went up like a Roman candle. Anger spilled from Kris' mouth in answer, spiky and raw. "Yeah! I have to go after Red! Save her! She's my best friend!" they snapped, never the most patient of people. They didn't have time for this.

A snort. "The only place you're going, missy, is jail." the guard countered contemptuously. "If it's still standing." His fingers tightened on the hilt. "As for your friend..." A sneer. The flick of a switch. A rising hum of building power. "She'll be a smouldering crater soon."

Incandescent rage bloomed. He never saw Kris' foot. Had no time to react. Too fast. It impacted his temple with enough force to send him flying. Crumpling to the ground. Lifeless. Another casualty. Another statistic. The stun baton clattered across the plascrete, sputtering out. Unused. Impotent. Useless.

Kris was already running, scooping up the fallen guard's dataslate where it'd landed. Their fingers flew across its surface. Checking the feeds. Tracking the squad of Mark Vs sent after Red after she went berserk. Searching for a way out. A way to get to their own mech. Driven by the hope that they could still make it. Be in time. Do something.

Another black mark in their file. Another lifelong ban.
No great loss. They never liked this place anyway. Let it all burn.
They had a girl to save. And gods help anything and anyone that stood in their way.