Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Illumination ❯ Mission 13: Double or Nothing ( Chapter 20 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made.

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Just one day after leaving Taydr, Trunks was in his room, sitting in his bed with his legs crossed in front of him, reading on his laptop. He'd found an obituary posted online for Quarry, and his face was somber as he read it. Quarry's death still hurt, and Trunks hadn't forgotten about his murderer either. But the rage had burned itself out, and he was left feeling empty and saturated in guilt. And Q's death reminded him of why he needed to stay away from the lab in Ute; why he needed to stay away from Murtole and Devan, lest they suffer the same fate.

Trunks sighed heavily, closing the obituary and going back to what he was originally reading about. Less than a minute passed when there was a knock at the door to his room. He didn't sense anyone at the door, and immediately knew it was Laiserta. “Come in,” Trunks called from where he sat, and she let herself in, the door sliding shut behind her.

“Hey, you got a minute to talk?” Laiserta asked. She was carrying a tablet in her hands, but was otherwise disarmed. She was wearing the black form-fitting suit that she always wore, but she wasn't wearing her jacket, and her pistols and their holsters were missing. Since her yellow sunglasses had been broken, she had nothing on her face, revealing her red eyes, unobstructed. She looked a lot less intimidating so 'dressed down.'

“Sure,” Trunks replied, shutting his laptop and setting it aside. He turned and set his feet on the floor, leaving a space on his bed for Laiserta to sit down.

She walked over to him but chose not to sit. “Remember how you asked me to check out anything I could find on Valencia?” Trunks's eyes widened slightly at her question, and she didn't wait for a reply from him. “Well, there's good news and bad news. The good news is, my friend found a Republican military report on what appears to be the last confrontation the Republic had with Valencia,” she said, holding out her tablet to him.

Trunks took the tablet from her hand and looked at the file she had pulled up on it. “The bad news is,” Laiserta continued as Trunks skimmed the information, “the file was seriously corrupted. He did some work to try and recover it, but was only able to get the report's summary and a few images attached to the report,” she finished.

“This is great Lai, thank you,” Trunks said and glanced up at her briefly before returning to reading. The summary was only nineteen pages long, but still had some useful information in it.

“Sure thing,” she answered. “I read through everything already, and it was interesting stuff, but I couldn't figure out why you cared about it,” she explained. “Until I saw one of the images my friend was able to recover.”

Trunks's eyes shot back up to Laiserta. Saying nothing, she leaned over and opened up the file browser on her system, selecting a group of images. “First, none of these meant much,” she said, scrolling past a few images quickly, “until I found this one.” Before she opened the file, she made eye contact with Trunks. “According to that report, when the Republic destroyed Valencia, they only managed to take one enemy combatant alive.”

That last bit of information surprised Trunks. If what Dax had said was true, there were at least twosurviving members of Valencia, not just one. Regardless, he unknowingly held his breath as Laiserta opened the file. The image that appeared on the screen surprised Trunks more than he expected.

“Kami,” Trunks muttered under his breath. Staring back at him was a mugshot of Armada, only showing her head, neck and the top of her shoulders. She was wearing a thick, heavy gray armor with a gray bodysuit underneath that covered her neck. She was a mess; her armor was covered in grime, and some of her bangs stuck to her face in what he guessed was dried blood, sweat, and dirt. He almost wouldn't have recognized her if it wasn't for her eyes staring at him from the screen—the same hard, dark blue eyes that he was familiar with.

Despite her condition in the photo, something nagged at the back of Trunks's mind as he studied the picture. Suddenly it hit him, and he couldn't help but speaking aloud the revelation. “She's young,” he said in amazement, finally realizing that she looked much younger than she did now. Almost like... Trunks thought, but Laiserta interrupted him.

“Yeah,” Laiserta affirmed his observation. “Looks like she's maybe in her late teens, but definitely not an adult yet,” she added.

Several pieces of information suddenly didn't make sense in Trunks's brain. He glanced up to Laiserta, “What's the date on this file?”

“That's interesting too,” Laiserta replied. She touched the tablet, opening up the report summary again. “According to the report, this all happened almost nine years ago in the northern Frontier of the Republic,” she said, pointing to a time-stamp on the bottom of each page of the report. “The file system time-stamp indicates that this file was created just five years ago, which is likely when the file was copied to another location and the meta data was reset, according to my friend,” she explained.

“If you take the date in the file, and compare it to what spider-head recently said about how old she is,” Laiserta trailed off.

“She would have been seventeen when this photo was taken,” Trunks replied, still staring at the tablet's screen. He'd read the date, and compared it in his head with the current date in RST. Suddenly things that he thoughthe knew were in flux. He was so sure that Armada was lying about her age, but this photo and report confirmed what she had said. He briefly wondered if she could have planted the file.

“How did your friend get this?” Trunks asked, his gaze guarded as he moved to look up at her.

“He found it in a database file from an old hack on a Republican military data center, where the contents of the data center were uploaded to the open web,” Laiserta answered. “It's a relatively well-known hack from a few years ago, which is why my friend checked there first. Since this particular file was corrupted, the plain text of the file wasn't floating around online. He had to do some recovery to get this much from what he found. Said he only found it because there was meta-data on the file in a database table, which included a few tags for someone to search, and 'Valencia' was one of those tags.”

Trunks was quiet a moment as he thought over what she said. It made sense as to why he had turned up nothing searching on the open net, if this was buried in a partially corrupted database. So far everything sounded legitimate, and he knew Armada didn't have the tech skills to plant something like this. Besides, why would she? Just to support a lie about her age? She wasn't that vain, and if this file was that hard to find then it was highly unlikely that anyone would have found it anyway, which made it useless for that purpose.

“Anyway, I'm going to bed,” Laiserta spoke, dragging Trunks from his thoughts. “Keep my tablet for now, you can read through everything and copy the file to your own storage. Just don't mention this to Armada, because I don't feel like starting a fight with her.”

Trunks nodded, and Laiserta turned and left. He knew she was serious when she spoke because she actually said 'Armada' and not 'spider-head' like she normally did. Regardless, he knew he wasn't ready to confront Armada with this information. He didn't know enough yet, and she would probably shut down his attempts to learn more.

As he continued to read through the report summary, Trunks's thoughts drifted. Conversations, things he'd read, words that had been said all started to coalesce into an idea, into one fixed point. 'Fourteen years of daily training in between operations.' 'Hah, she said we served in the military together. Yeah, I guess that's one way of putting it.' '...if there was a place in this universe for old soldiers like me, but there isn't.' 'Never lived in the place I was born.' Suddenly everything became clear, and Trunks understood what it was that his mind was trying to piece together.

“She was a child soldier,” he said lowly to himself, a wave of sadness coming down to rest onto his shoulders. And Dax was, too, Trunks thought, guilt bubbling up again as thoughts of Dax inevitably brought with them thoughts of Q.

But he thought more about his comrade, his partner now in their pact to destroy Rieve. Now understanding more about where Armada came from, things started to make a lot more sense to Trunks. From what his mother had told him, his father was a child soldier under Frieza, a slave used merely to kill in service of the Colds. His father, from the time he spent with him in the past, was a bit more maladjusted and seemed to thrive on violence. Armada was not the same; she didn't shy away from a fight and she certainly had anger issues, but her approach was more methodical, more tactical. Perhaps that was the difference between being a slave to Frieza and being a slave to Valencia, whatever exactly that meant.

Trunks continued reading the report, all the while feeling that the wind had left his sails when it came to his opinion of his blonde-haired shipmate. Maybe she wasn't as terrible as he'd thought.

-+-

Illumination

< br>

Mission 13: Double or Nothing

-+-

“Hello?&rdquo ; Alten Rema answered his phone, holding it up to his right ear with his shoulder while he scribbled away on a tablet before handing it off to a nurse.

“Rema,”the voice on the other end spat flatly.

“Lovely to hear from you too,” Rema said sarcastically with a smirk. He pulled the phone away from his mouth slightly as he nodded to one of the nurses. “Make sure my patient in 1488 gets another blood test before shift change,” he said quickly, the nurse nodding to acknowledge his request. Bringing the phone back to his mouth, Rema moved over to the counter at the nurse's station to go over the last of his patients' charts before leaving for the day. “So what can I do for you today?” Rema asked, only halfway paying attention as he read through his charts on the tablet on the counter in front of him.

“You know why I'm calling,” the angry voice bit out on the other end. He could almost see her glowering in his mind's eye, and the doctor laughed.

“No, I really don't, and I'm very busy, so please don't waste my time playing games,” Rema replied, trying to hide the laughter in his voice, but certain that he'd failed miserably.

“You haven't sent Marice's medical records over,”Armada answered him tersely.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Rema continued flipping through his patients' charts and signing off as he spoke to the mercenary over the phone. “Someone misplaced Marice's file and we haven't been able to find it,” he replied simply.

“You keep electronic records.”

“What I meant to say was, there was an issue with the database where patient records are stored and her file was corrupted,” Rema corrected himself, smirking as he did so. “The infrastructure team is having a hell of a time trying to recover it.”

“Rema,”she ground out, this time sounding particularly angry.

The doctor outright laughed in the phone. “I know you can't dump her off at a refugee facility without medical records, it's okay,” he added.

“Don't screw with me,” she started but he cut her off.

“Or what?” Rema laughed. “Go ahead and threaten me, we both know your bark is worse than your bite.” He heard something on the other end but kept talking regardless. “I think it's nice that you're now making friends, and you should keep it up,” he finished, laughing.

“You rat bastard!” she spat, seething on the other end of the line.

“Careful now,” Rema laughed, “you keep that up and my wife might think you're flirting with me.” He paused, waiting for her to say something but Armada stayed silent. “Well, I've gotta go, more lives to save and all,” he added, quickly hanging up his phone. Rema looked down at the phone in his hand and smirked. She was simply too much fun to torture.

-+-

Shortly after landing in Ute, Armada gathered her comrades together to debrief them on a new job. Marice stood in the back of the bridge and watched as Armada went through the data on the mission with Trunks and Laiserta.

“This is retired Tyrian general Evert Ackermann,” Armada said as the image of an elderly man with white hair appeared on screen. “Apparently in his retirement he's been working as a freelance military consultant.”

“And I'm going to guess that Tyron doesn't like that,” Laiserta said, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Not exactly,” Armada replied. “The contract is for us to stop General Ackermann from being assassinated by a company who can't seem to hire him. They don't want their competitors to get any advantages by consulting with him,” she finished.

“That's not what I expected,” Trunks joined in, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

“Me neither,” Laiserta added. “So when and where are we supposed to rescue this old geezer?” she asked bluntly.

“He's scheduled to be in Temelt-Ran four days from now to meet a new client at a casino on the north end of the city,” Armada explained, changing the display to show the information the client had given her. “According to the group that's hired us, they have it on good authority that the assassination attempt will happen then. They want us to stop it and get the general out, unharmed.” Armada turned in her chair to look at her two comrades standing behind her.

“Why do I have a feeling this isn't as simple as it sounds?” Trunks asked warily, looking at Armada.

She stood from her seat. “It's not,” she answered flatly. “The building is surrounded by a Minovsky field and getting weapons past security is going to be difficult,” she added.

“So this is going to require a lot of planning,” Trunks summarized their situation.

Armada nodded. “We're still waiting on some additional details about the casino to be sent over by the company that contracted us,” she explained. “So hopefully they send everything over soon, because we don't have much time to prepare.”

-+-

After getting a cursory plan put together, the mercenaries waited to receive more detailed blueprints of the casino in Ute from their contractor. Then they would be able to pin down their movements with much more precision. Until that happened, there wasn't much to do for the next few days but wait. And Trunks found that he hated waiting. So he trained down in the cargo bay, with Armada, and they had moved onto weapons training. He watched her closely as she performed the move again, still slow enough for him to follow her footsteps as well as how she moved her arms with the long staff in her hands.

“Got it?” she asked when she had finished moving. He nodded, and she tossed the long wooden staff to him. “Okay, your turn. But I'm going to try and defend,” she added, before settling back into a defensive stance.

Trunks took the staff and settled into the same stance she had shown him. He had his right hand wrapped around the center of the staff, which was about five feet long. With the staff held out from his body to his right, and his left hand up toward his chest to provide a defense, he prepared to move. He stared at his opponent for a long moment, his blue eyes boring into the darker blue of hers.

It was supposed to be a simple maneuver. Step forward with his left foot while bringing the staff up and forward, grab the bottom of the staff with his left hand, then step forward again with his right foot and slam the staff down. His execution was flawless, but as Trunks reached up with the staff, something tipped the higher end and threw him off. Armada noticed he was late with the second step, but didn't pull her punch.

Armada ducked slightly before hitting Trunks in the gut with a hard upper-cut. It was enough to stun him so that she could sweep his feet out from underneath of him, knocking him backward onto the floor. She stared at him curiously, and he was quick to respond.

“Okay, that wasn't fair,” Trunks huffed from where he sat on the cold metal floor. Despite the hit he had taken, he never dropped the staff from his right hand. “The ceiling got in the way,” he explained and pointed up at the exposed metal rafters with the end of the staff in his hand.

Armada looked up at the ceiling, then back down at Trunks. “Let me see,” she said, holding her hand out to him. He interpreted her gesture correctly, and tossed the wooden staff to her. She held it in both hands for a moment before switching it to her right hand only, halfway down the weapon. She stood upright and stretched her arm out completely, the staff several inches shy of hitting the ceiling. She glanced over at Trunks, who had taken the time to get up off of the floor, and a thought occurred to her.

Moving her right hand down on the staff five inches to offset for Trunks's taller height, she held it up again. This time it hit the edge of one of the metal rafters easily. “You're right,” she said while still looking up. She brought her arm down and looked at Trunks.

“Yeah, I know that,” he replied, wiping a bit of sweat from his forehead.

Armada's gaze turned inward for a moment as she thought. Her eyes darted back up to his. “We're gonna need more space,” she finally said.

-+-

Marice sat up in bed and rubbed at her eyes; she still wasn't on a sleep schedule with everyone else on the ship. She yawned and stretched before finally stepping out of bed. She had only taken a nap and hadn't bothered to change her clothes, so she only needed to wander over to the bathroom and brush out her hair before leaving the room she shared with Laiserta.

After a quick walk through the bridge and lounge to reach the galley for some water, Marice realized she hadn't seen anyone. She stepped into the lounge and glanced around. “Hello?” she said, her voice sounding much louder in the quietness of the docked and empty ship. She waited a moment for a response, but heard nothing other than the low hum of the ship's life support systems.

She walked back through the bridge toward her room, but stopped in the hallway. Thinking she heard something, she held her breath to listen. After hearing what sounded like the muffled sounds of someone talking, she turned in the direction of the dull sound and found herself staring at the door leading out of the ship.

Marice opened the door and looked into the hangar. She saw Laiserta standing on a lower part of the catwalk leading down to the ground. Marice walked down the path with her water bottle in hand, stopping beside her roommate who was leaned over on the catwalk railing, her weight supported on her forearms which were crossed and sitting on the ledge.

Before Marice said anything to Laiserta, she heard what sounded like fighting. Following the direction of the sound, she looked down to see her other two shipmates on the ground of the hangar, fighting each other. “What's going on?” Marice immediately asked, worried at what she was watching.

“Oh they're just practicing,” Laiserta replied lamely. “Well, spider-head's supposed to be teaching wonder boy or something,” she added, her tone indicating that she was unimpressed.

“Oh,” Marice said, blinking at Laiserta before turning her attention down below once more. She watched in silence as Armada and Trunks fought, and it didn't take long for her to catch on to what Laiserta had said. They would frequently stop and start, and Armada would make a few comments about what Trunks had done. Eventually he gave the staff he was using back to her, and she would show him something else. After demonstrating the move, she expected him to use it successfully against her. Overall, he was doing pretty well in Marice's opinion.

Marice watched, mesmerized by their movements and dedication to the process. She didn't have much formal martial arts training, sadly. Her uncle taught her how to fight with the sai before he died from illness, but the total time he spent training her was less than a year. She had wanted to learn more, but she couldn't find anyone else who had anything to teach her. She settled for reading his old books and trying to learn the moves described within them. It wasn't much, but it was better than being left with nothing, she supposed.

“Teach me how to fight!”

It didn't take long for emotion to take over, and before Marice knew what she was doing, she had already shouted down at her comrades, causing them to stop in their tracks and look up at her like she had lost her mind. Marice gasped and clasped both of her hands over her mouth. She looked to her right, and even Laiserta had stood up and regarded her a confused visage.

A few moments later, all four souls in the hangar were standing on the floor, together, in the makeshift ring that Trunks and Armada were using to train. Three mercenaries glanced at each other in silence, while one young refugee's eyes fell to the floor and her face burned red in embarrassment.

“Well come on kid,” Laiserta said and nudged Marice with her elbow, “don't clam up now.”

The young Euphorian swallowed hard before looking back up at Trunks and Armada. “I want to learn to fight like you guys,” she began. “Please teach me,” she said, much more lowly than her outburst earlier.

Armada stared at Marice with the same hard gaze as always, so Trunks decided to take charge of the conversation. “Marice, don't you know how to use your sai?” Trunks asked. “Someone taught you that much, right?” He recognized those weapons, even if they had a different heritage in the wider universe they appeared to have the same purpose from the way she had carried them.

Marice nodded. “My uncle taught me when I was really little, but he died. I studied some of his books but nobody else knew anything about it to teach me,” she finished. She waited a moment before adding, “I want to be strong, and be able to fight like you.”

Trunks's eyes widened at bit at that. Did she mean that she wanted to learn to use ki? Before he had a chance to ask her, Armada cut in.

“Euphorians evolved in a natural Minovsky field,” she began flatly. “Because of that, you may never be able to manipulate energy like Trunks and I do.”

“We don't know that,” Trunks broke in curtly, glancing at Armada and glaring at her briefly. He turned back to Marice and smiled. “Marice, if you want to learn martial arts, I'd be happy to teach you.”

At that, Marice's face lit up and she clenched her hands into fists in front of her chest. “Thank you!” she nearly shouted, smiling broadly in excitement.

“So I hate to be a downer,” Laiserta finally spoke, shifting her weight on her feet and settling her right hand against her hip. “But what's the point in teaching the kid if she's leaving soon?” she asked, looking at Trunks.

“That doesn't matter,” Trunks answered plainly. “If she wants to learn, then I'll teach her, no matter how much time we have,” he finished.

“She's not going anywhere any time soon,” Armada said with an irritated sigh. Everyone's heads snapped to look at her.

“What are you talking about?” Trunks asked earnestly. “I thought we were going to take Marice to a refugee camp...?” he trailed off, unsure about what his comrade had said.

Armada's face fell into a scowl. “That bastard doctor won't give me her medical records,” she explained.

“Hah!” Laiserta laughed loudly before continuing to snicker under her breath. “Now that'sfunny!”

Trunks blinked in shock. “He won't give them to you? Why not?” he asked, clearly surprised by what she had said.

“I don't know,” Armada ground out. “He thinks he's funny, I guess,” she added bitterly.

“So I'm staying with you guys?” Marice asked, her voice hopeful.

“For now, yes—” Armada started but stopped cold when Marice closed the distance between them and pulled her into a hug. Armada immediately tensed up and looked down at Marice with a mixture of shock and disgust on her face.

The gesture only last a second before Armada pulled her right arm free and shoved Marice away from her, the teenager falling back a step. “Thank you!” she exclaimed jubilantly, her light blue eyes shining with gratitude despite being pushed away harshly. Seeing the uncomfortable look on Armada's face, Marice backed up another step, blushing slightly.

“Well that was disgustingly cute,” Laiserta quipped, and Trunks couldn't help but a crack a smile at her remark.

Everyone was quiet for a moment, but Marice rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, looking at the three mercenaries around her. Her gaze finally settled on Trunks and she spoke. “So when do we start?” she asked, trying to keep some of the excitement out of her voice but failing miserably.

Trunks spared a glance at Armada, who still seemed to be annoyed. He then turned his attention back to Marice and smiled genuinely at her. “We can start today if you want. I don't know if you'll be able to learn to use your ki, but that will come later if it does happen,” he answered her.

“My what?” Marice asked, her eyebrows raising up.

“Your energy,” Trunks amended. “Where I come from, we call it 'ki,' but it's the same type of energy that Armada uses, for example,” he finished, sparing another glance at the mercenary he had mentioned.

Marice stared at Trunks in concern for a moment, before fidgeting and turning her attention to Armada once more. “Why do you think I'll never be able to use ki?” she asked, her face clearly displaying her disappointment.

Armada didn't miss the stern glare that Trunks shot her before she answered Marice's question. It was an unspoken threat from him for her to temper her answer to the young Euphorian. But Armada wasn't one to pull punches, and she wouldn't do for Marice either. “Because you come from a species of people that evolved inside of a natural Minovsky field, the chances of you learning to manipulate an energy that your people could never manipulate in their history are very low,” she answered flatly.

“I don't understand,” Marice replied, shaking her head. “What's a... Minovsky field?” she repeated the words slowly, unsure as they rolled off of her tongue.

“A special field that blocks the type of energy those two use,” Laiserta cut in, answering Marice's question while nodding toward Trunks and Armada. “We're standing in one right now,” Laiserta added, pointing to the small cylinder sitting on the floor a few feet away from where the group stood.

Marice immediately walked over to the small device and bent down to pick it up. Holding it in her hands, she turned to face her comrades. “This is it?” she asked, staring at the device intensely, as if she could divine knowledge through her gaze alone.

“That's a Minovsky generator,” Armada cut in, “it's a device that generates a Minovsky field.”

Looking more confused than ever, Marice shook her head again. “But... what is it?” she repeated, holding up the generator in her hand.

Realization hit Trunks, and he understood what she was asking. “How does it work?” he asked, and Armada and Laiserta both turned to look at him. “The Minovsky field,” he clarified. Armada had never really explained it to him, either, so now seemed like as good a time as any.

“Don't look at me,” Laiserta shrugged. “I don't care how the damn thing works, just that it helps me take out people like you,” she said to Trunks. “No offense,” she tacked on at the end.

“I'm not a physicist,” Armada began, “so I can't get too technical, but I know the basics of how it works.

“The energy that people like Trunks and I can control has a certain frequency and wavelength that is the same no matter who the person is that is manipulating it. A Minovsky particle is a type of energy particle that has the exact opposite wavelength and frequency of life energy. When the two types of particles meet, they cancel each other out. A Minovsky field is simply an area flooded with Minovsky particles, so that someone like myself is unable to manipulate life energy inside or outside of my body. It doesn't reduce the latent energy I can control, or make me weak from being exposed to Minovsky particles. The effect only works when I'm standing in a Minovsky field.”

Armada stepped forward and took the Minovsky generator from Marice's hands. Marice watched in awe as Armada powered the device down, and then generated a small ball of white energy in the air just above the palm of her right hand. After a few brief moments of the display, Armada released her energy and it disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared.

“Oh wow,” Marice muttered under her breath, still staring in shock at Armada.

Trunks shook his head. “That doesn't make sense to me,” he started. “Matter and energy are never created or destroyed, so shouldn't the two particles release their energy in some other form, like light or heat?” he asked. Armada's short explanation didn't exactly fit with what his mother had taught him about physics, and he trusted his mother, a brilliant physicist in her own right, to know what she was talking about.

“I don't know,” Armada answered flatly with a slight scowl. “Study it on your own time if you want more details, but I've explained it to the best of my knowledge.” Carrying the Minovsky generator with her, Armada floated up toward the ship. "I think that's enough for now," she said, looking down at Trunks. "We'll continue tomorrow," she added before disappearing inside the ship.

Marice made a noise like a sigh, and Trunks turned to look at her. She shifted awkwardly on her feet, gazing up at Trunks with a nervous smile. "So, um, when do you want to... start training?" she asked, wringing her hands in front of her.

Trunks smiled at her. “Well,” he began, and Marice's face fell at his tone. “I've never had a student before. Let me think of a training plan for you, and we can start tomorrow. Is that okay?” he asked kindly.

"Sure," Marice replied, relieved at his explanation.

"All right," Laiserta broke in while throwing an arm around Marice's shoulders, "now that's all settled, let's grab something to eat. I'm starving."

-+-

Later that evening, after Laiserta and Marice had retired to their room while bickering the whole way, Trunks had ventured down into the belly of the ship where his comrade was working in the engine room. There was an eerie stillness to the room, as she had shut down almost all systems to perform some maintenance. Initially annoyed at his presence, Armada gave up and showed him how to complete routine maintenance tasks – checking for any damaged or weakened components, cleaning out exhaust ports, and how to run the on-board system diagnostics for each engine.

Trunks finished with his tasks on the last engine assigned to him, and kicked off the program to run the diagnostics. While waiting for it to finish, he turned to his comrade who was kneeling at the other half of the final pair of engines they were addressing for the evening. Armada was cleaning out the exhaust port, focused on her task as she scrubbed.

“I was honestly pretty surprised that you said Marice is staying with us,” Trunks finally spoke. He truly was surprised, and he wanted to know why she would let the young Euphorian stay with them. It seemed completely out of character for her.

Armada kept scrubbing, seemingly ignoring Trunks for a moment. “I didn't have a choice,” she replied flatly, still focused on her work.

Without thinking, Trunks raised an eyebrow. He didn't expect that explanation, either. “You didn't have a choice?” he echoed. He opened his mouth to keep speaking, but Armada rose from her knees and interrupted him.

“I accepted her onto the ship. She's my responsibility now,” Armada continued. “I can't just dump her off somewhere. She doesn't know how to survive outside of Euphoria,” she paused for a moment before looking pointedly at Trunks. “I thought you of all people would understand that.”

“No, I get it,” Trunks quickly replied. “And I agree with you. I just didn't think that you...” he trailed off, trying to find the right words.

“Would take responsibility for my actions?” Armada asked. Her voice had a slight bite to it, but her eyes didn't match the tone.

“Something like that,” Trunks supplied with a slight shrug. After an awkward moment of silence, Trunks spoke. “But... I'm glad you did,” he said with a smile.

Armada's eyebrows came together in the center, signaling that she felt deep concern about something. “Trunks, I need your help,” she said seriously, never breaking eye contact. His eyes widened a bit in surprise, and she continued before he could say anything. “I need you to keep Marice from getting involved in all of this,” she explained. “Laiserta is one thing, she's a mercenary like me so she knows what she's getting into. But Marice... she shouldn't learn to live this life.” Her gaze fell away from his for a brief moment before returning. “You can teach her to defend herself, but don't let her get involved,” Armada finished, her voice resolute.

For the second time that day, Trunks completely agreed with Armada. “Yeah,” he nodded, “I can do that.”

Armada turned around and started the diagnostics on the last engine. “Diagnostics reports will all upload to the bridge so can check them later,” she said briskly before lifting her feet from the ground and floating past Trunks, toward the ladder leading upstairs.

Trunks watched her leave, and when she was out of sight he smiled to himself. She cared about Marice's well being. He was glad to know that perhaps Armada wasn't all hard edges and angry punches.

-+-

Excitement buzzed in the air as night fell over the city of Temelt-Ran, and Trunks could feel it just as well as anyone. The last time he had visited this Bmyhadian city had been under very different circumstances, to put it lightly. This time, however, he stood with his right arm linked in Laiserta's left as they waited to enter Lind's Hammer, a brightly lit high-end hotel and casino.

“This place looks nice,” Laiserta said, turning to face Trunks. “I'll have to come back here when this is over,” she said with a smirk.

“Focus on the mission at hand,” Armada's voice replied flatly over the radio in Trunks's left ear. He could see her standing about twelve spots ahead of them in the line, the white and gold dress she was wearing swaying with her slight movements.

“Pfft, you're such a downer,” Laiserta griped, stepping forward with Trunks as the line moved. Her red eyes darted left to meet Trunks's. “I don't know how you've survived as long as you have with her,” she quipped, smirking as she knew that Armada could hear her over their encrypted radio channel.

“It's been tough,” Trunks sighed, facetiously pretending to be hurt. “I say my prayers every night that I can survive another day,” he added dramatically, before laughing at his own joke.

Laiserta laughed with him, before her eyes drifted away from his as she scanned their surroundings. The two of them were dressed up as well; Trunks wearing what was equivalent to a Bmyhadian tuxedo while Laiserta wore a black form-fitting gown. Her gown was covered in a shiny lace that glittered when she moved, which according to Laiserta was strategic. The gown had long sleeves and a high collar, so to take away from the conservative coverage she needed it to appear to be flashy and draw attention. The ultimate result, according to her, was that she fit right in at fancy galas and was often ignored. Trunks wasn't sure that he believed her, but for now he hoped she was right.

It didn't take much longer before Trunks and Laiserta were escorted through security at the front doors to the casino. They each walked through a scanner just the same as the other patrons, and continued on into the building like those same other patrons. “We're inside,” Trunks said softly but loud enough for his radio to pickup the sound.

“Good,” Armada's voice replied. “Take up position, I'm going to head for the VIP area upstairs.”

“Roger that,” Laiserta answered for the two of them. She smiled broadly at Trunks before speaking a bit more loudly and drawn out. “Darling, I'd love to take a few turns at the tables before we head over to the show.” She paused for a moment, before adding “If that's okay with you, of course.” Laiserta smirked as she noticed a few people glance in their direction. She needed some people to notice them so they appeared to be just another couple with far too much money to burn.

“Anything you wish,” Trunks answered her with the same louder-than-necessary enthusiasm, smiling back at her. Laiserta was certainly fun to work with on jobs like this.

The pair headed into the casino, passing through a large open room housing hundreds of what Trunks guessed were slot machines. He supposed gambling wasn't too different wherever you were, because while he didn't necessarily know how these slot machines worked, they made noises and blinked their lights not unlike slot machines he had seen on Earth. Well, at least the ones he had seen in old movies. He wasn't sure there was a casino still standing anywhere at home. He wondered if he should look for one when he went back.

Laiserta led the way and the pair soon found themselves in the quieter but still bustling area of game tables. Trunks didn't recognize any of the games being played, but he supposed that wasn't a huge concern. They were here to rescue the retired Tyrian general, a man named Ackermann from being assassinated. He didn't need to know how to play.

His comrade had long since released her arm from his, and Trunks followed behind her as she wound her way through the crowds. She stopped at a table near a large pillar and stood underneath of the obvious security camera mounted on the ceiling next to the pillar. Trunks walked up and stood next to Laiserta as she turned her back to the pillar.

“The floor is slightly elevated here, so we've got a good view of the table-games area,” she explained to him. “If the map we received as correct, then spider-head should be up and behind us on the second floor,” Laiserta added, turning and nodded her head at the large ornate staircase at the end of the room behind them.

Trunks nodded to her, and started to take in his surroundings. The casino was absolutely packed; apparently there was some kind of concert happening in a few hours at a stadium attached to Lind's Hammer. He surmised that it would be good cover for a hit squad to show up. No one would be surprised to see a group of men entering the casino during a huge event like this.

His train of thought led him to suddenly notice something. As Trunks looked around the room, he noticed pairs of men who were watching their surroundings and unfocused on the gaming tables around them. His eyes caught one pair after another, all spread apart in what appeared to be equal distances, and all facing the staircase behind himself and Laiserta.

“Hey, Lai,” Trunks said, looking at his partner to get her attention.

“Yep, I see 'em too,” she answered, her eyes darting around the room. “And they're all hiding Frescan Boullier VX-952 RS under their jackets,” she added.

“They're hiding what?” Trunks asked, confused by what she had said.

“Really big guns,” she added, turning to glance at Trunks for a moment. “Spider-head, you better be in position because I think our friends are about to make their move.”

-+-

“Spid er-head, you better be in position because I think our friends are about to make their move.”

“I'm approaching the general's suite now,” Armada said under her breath in response to her comrade downstairs. She walked briskly, but not so fast as to draw attention. The gold scarf wrapped around her neck flitted in the air behind her as she walked, making her way down one hallway after another, looking for the door with right number to find the general. The sooner she got to him, the sooner they could extract him through the back of the casino and complete the job. She was hoping to avoid an open gun-fight with the mercenaries hired to kill the man, but they were moving faster than she anticipated.

Armada moved swiftly past a hotel staffer who walked by while carrying a tray of food. She saw the suite ahead that she was destined for; the numbers '752' were present in gold on an ornate wooden door leading into what was a circular dinner and gaming suite. Taking a glance behind her to make sure no one was following her, Armada moved quickly for the door. Without any hesitation, she swiftly opened the door and entered, glancing behind her again as she closed the door to make sure that no one saw her enter the suite.

As soon as Armada turned around to look into the room she had entered, she found the barrel of a pistol leveled at her, squarely between her eyes and only inches away from the touching the bridge of her nose. Without making a move, she looked past the weapon to see who was wielding it. A woman with brown hair that was pinned up ornately stared hard at the mercenary with slightly lighter brown eyes. She was wearing a long dark burgundy formal gown which flowed down to the floor.

Armada's jaw tightened slightly before saying the only thing that came to mind. “You're not General Ackermann,” she said stonily.

“No,” the woman replied, moving her right thumb on the back of the pistol and loading a bullet into the chamber with a low click. “I'm not.”

-+-

Trun ks could feel his heart-rate increase as he noticed various members of the hit-squad start speaking to each other. “I thought they weren't supposed to move this early,” Trunks whispered to his comrade, his eyes never leaving their adversaries.

“Not according to the info we received. Damnit,” Laiserta cursed under her breath in response. “We need to move, now,” she added, gritting her teeth as she pushed her way through the crowd. Trunks quickly followed, and while the pair moved swiftly they tried to keep their speed under control so as to not draw the ire of the foes who didn't know that they were there. Laiserta lead them around the pillar and towards the back of the room, headed for a hallway to the right of the grand staircase. Just as they made their way into the hallway and turned around a corner, the pair heard their third comrade speak in their ears via the radio.

“You're not General Ackermann”

“Armada!” Trunks stopped walking and tried to hail his comrade. “Armada, what's going on?” he asked tersely.

Laiserta stopped and looked at Trunks, the pair of them waiting for a response from Armada while standing around the corner in the hallway, just under the staircase leading upstairs and out of sight of anyone in the gaming tables area. After a few agonizingly long seconds, the relative quiet was interrupted by gunshots ringing out in the room they had just vacated. The two mercenaries' heads snapped around to the direction of the noise, as screams rose up filled the air along with the sound of more gunshots. Laiserta pushed past Trunks and pressed her back up against the wall just at the corner of the hallway. She ripped open the skirt of her dress just below her hips, revealing her pistols and few clips of ammo strapped to the inside of her legs on top of her black body suit she wore underneath the gown.

“Here,” Laiserta said to Trunks before quickly tossing him one of her pistols followed by an additional clip of ammunition. “I hope you know how to use it,” she added.

Trunks nodded in response before stuffing the extra magazine into a pocket on the inside of his black blazer. People started running down the hallway, screaming the whole way. Trunks moved back next to Laiserta as the casino's patrons ran by, ignoring the two mercenaries holding weapons in the hallway.

“Lai, where are they?” Trunks asked over the crowd stampeding past them.

Laiserta turned and used her eyes to look through the wall behind them, slowly moving her head as she scanned across the room behind them. “Shit,” she cursed, “they're moving for the staircase and hotel security is outnumbered. We're gonna have to keep them from getting upstairs,” she added before looking at Trunks. “You ready?”

He nodded in response, holding up the pistol she had handed him in front of his chest. “Let's do this.”

-+-

“Arma da! Armada, what's going on?”

The woman in question couldn't answer her comrade, despite his plea over the radio in her ear. She swallowed hard, thinking about exactly how she could try and take the gun away from the other woman that had it pointed at her.

“Hands up where I can see them,” the brown-haired woman commanded, her strange accent lending power to her words. Armada slowly raised her empty hands up, stopping when they were even with her shoulders.

Before either woman could make another move, gunshots rang out in the distance and immediately drew their attention. The woman with the gun grimaced and stepped forward, pressing the barrel of her pistol directly into Armada's forehead. The mercenary's back was forced against the wooden door behind her, and she inwardly cursed her luck. This woman, whoever she was, knew what she was doing – that little bit of space that Armada just lost limited her options even more.

“I'm not here to hurt you,” Armada said, ignoring the sounds coming through the radio in her ear for the moment.

“Don't try to lie to me, mercenary,” the woman bit back. “You came here searching for General Ackermann; that tells me everything I need to know about why you're here,” she finished.

“I was sent here to stop General Ackermann from being assassinated by the guys downstairs who started shooting,” Armada continued, despite the woman's warning. She paused a moment as a thought came to her. “You're not Ackermann, but you are who we're looking for, aren't you?”

The woman smirked. “Why would I even deign to answer that question?” she asked. “I confirm my identity to you, and then you attempt to kill me. I'm not so stupid as to fall for something so amateurish,” she added snidely. “Besides that, you're not in any position to fight back against me. One false move and you'll end up with a bullet or six in your brain,” she finished, her eyes narrowing and her voice dropping slightly alongside her warning.

Before their conversation could continue, there was a loud banging on the wooden door behind Armada. Both women's attention was drawn to the door, but Armada didn't move. Everything was silent a moment before muffled voices could be heard on the other side of the door.

“Call your men off, now!” the woman demanded, her voice low but sharp.

“They're not with me,” Armada reiterated. “I'm part of a team here to stop them, like I told you.”

“I see,” the woman replied, taking a step back from the enemy before her. Keeping her pistol pointed at Armada's head, she added darkly, “You've made your decision. Death it is, then.”

Armada said nothing, and there was banging on the door again. Still, she made no move and merely stared down the woman before her. The banging continued as both women were silent for a long moment.

“You're not going to kill me,” Armada stated flatly. “It doesn't help you right now to do so. If you shoot me, maybe you get one of the guys behind the door,” she continued her explanation. “Even so, they'll still get in here. And they're armed with assault rifles, while you have one pistol and maybe some extra ammunition, assuming you ever get a chance to reload.”

The woman smirked in response and closed her eyes for a brief moment. “You're right,” she said, opening her eyes as her expression softened slightly. “And you're wrong. But for now,” she lowered her pistol, both hands still holding on to it, “I'll use you to get out of here.”

Before Armada could respond, a much larger object slammed into the door behind her, knocking her a step away from the door. Armada turned to look at the door as the other woman in the room stared at it with gritted teeth. “They're going to ram it in,” she hissed.

Armada's mind raced with possibilities. She didn't know how many enemies were on the other side of the door, but she had to assume the worst. She needed a plan, and she needed it fast. The other woman set the pistol down on the built-in sofa behind her and moved to push the table in front of her over for cover. The image sparked an idea in Armada's mind, and she immediately moved to stop her.

“Wait!” Armada said, holding the other end of the table up with her hands as the woman set her left foot on the edge, preparing to push it over. “I've got an idea,” she added, staring at the other woman with determination burning in her eyes. She was getting out of here alive, and so was her target.

-+-

Laiserta took off running from around the corner, back onto the game floor and Trunks sprinted behind her. They didn't make it too far back into the room before they saw two men wearing casino security uniforms ducked behind a table they had knocked over on its side for cover. Laiserta slowed her approach, ducking down as she ran, and Trunks copied her maneuver.

“Hey,” Laiserta called out before kneeling down behind a table near the security guards that wasn't turned over. Trunks settled in next to her.

The two security guards looked over, and one immediately drew his pistol at Laiserta. She couldn't blame him; they were both carrying weapons and approaching from behind.

“We're not with those guys, we want to help you out,” she quickly explained.

“Who the hell are you?” the second security guard demanded angrily.

Their conversation was interrupted as bullets peppered the gaming table the two security guards were hiding behind. Bits and pieces of broken wood from the table rained down on them as the two guards winced, preparing themselves to be hit. Luckily, no bullets made it through the table by the time the small assault stopped.

“Does it matter?” Trunks asked, clearly making his point.

“We need to talk to whoever's in charge,” Laiserta added. The two security guards looked at one another, and after a quick second they nodded.

“That's gonna be difficult,” the guard farthest away from Laiserta answered. “They came in hard and already took out most of our team. The boss is cutoff on the other end of the casino dealing with another firefight. They came in from multiple directions,” he finished.

“Do you have a radio?” Trunks asked, interrupting Laiserta before she got to her next question.

The first guard shook his head. “They're jamming our signals, we can't get through to anyone.”

“Shit,” Laiserta cursed with a sigh. “If the radio starts working, make sure to tell your guys not to shoot us,” she added. The men nodded in the affirmative.

She turned away from the guards and looked up toward the grand staircase off to their right. “Looks like a group already got upstairs,” she said to Trunks before looking at him. “We'll have to trust Armada for now and take out as many as we can down here. If we run upstairs to help her, they'll keep moving in from here and we'll have a hell of a time getting out,” she finished.

Trunks nodded. “I take we're going for the exit through the kitchen on the other side of the hotel?” he asked, just to be sure. They had all studied the map they were provided of the casino and hotel so they knew they only had three exit options, two of which were already cut off.

“I think that's gonna be our only option,” Laiserta replied. She took another look toward the slot machines toward the entrance. “They came in the front, and there's more on their way. We've gotta move,” she stopped to look back at him. “Follow me and don't get shot,” she tacked on with a smirk.

“I'll try not to,” Trunks replied, mimicking her smirk.

Laiserta headed out first, ducking behind tables as she moved. Some tables had been kicked over, but most were still standing, if offset from where they were initially sitting, probably pushed out of the way as people fled the room. She stopped at one point and held up her left hand toward Trunks, indicating for him to stop. He nodded and she continued on, moving over to a table that had been tipped on its side. Picking it up with just her left hand, Laiserta stayed in a crouched position as she slowly moved into position in front of the large staircase. The mercenaries saw her maneuver and started shooting, covering the table in bullet-holes.

Trunks took the opportunity Laiserta had given him to move away from her, toward their left. He went mostly unnoticed by the mercenaries who were busy shooting at his comrade as he made his way around in an arc, trying to get as close to their side in a flanking position as he could. Trunks felt a little bad at first that Laiserta was acting as the decoy, but then he remembered her lecturing him once on how bullets won't penetrate her muscles. In this case, in the Minovsky field surrounding the building that disabled Trunks's ability to use his ki, Laiserta had the better defenses. It made sense for her to put herself in harm's way, even if he didn't like it.

As Trunks made his way around, still crouching behind tables as he moved from one to the next, he nearly choked when he turned and saw someone on the ground, scrambling to pick up casino chips. “Hey,” he whispered harshly, “get out of here!”

A large head of wavy and styled light blonde hair flipped back as the woman beneath it lifted her head to look at him. “No way!” she hissed back angrily, her brown eyes narrowing at Trunks. “I'm not losing out on all this money, so piss off!” After telling him off in the most angry whispering Trunks had ever heard, she went back to piling chips up into her black dress, which she was holding out like a hammock to stuff all of the casino chips in.

Trunks had to bite his lip from saying something back to the woman, and reminded himself that he had far more important things to do than argue with some random Bmyhadian in a casino. He turned and looked over the table he was ducked behind to see mercenaries still firing at Laiserta. Someone in the front held up his fist and the others stopped firing. Several men started moving slowly forward toward Laiserta's position. Knowing he needed to help, Trunks brought Laiserta's pistol up, holding it with both hands as he rested his forearms on the edge of the table. Taking one mercenary in his sight that was headed for Laiserta, he fired several shots, most of them hitting his target in the chest and dropping him.

The other mercenaries turned in Trunks's direction, so he lowered his hands and ducked behind the table. Just as a few bullets hit the table behind him, Trunks looked over toward Laiserta and saw her life her pistol above cover and fire off several shots. He heard several bodies hit the floor behind him followed by the sounds of several assault rifles returning fire on his comrade.

Just as Trunks was about to turn around and take another shot at their adversaries, the lights in the casino went out, leaving him in complete darkness. It took several seconds for the emergency lighting to kick on, which mostly lit up pathways on the floor with small lights lining the aisles in between game tables.

“Lai,” Trunks said softly into his radio to hail his comrade.

“Damnit, they cut the power,” he heard Laiserta respond. “Okay, I wasn't planning on this, but... Yo, 'Eye in the Sky', help me out here. Where are the majority of our enemies posted up?”

Trunks's face twisted up into confusion. Who was Laiserta talking to? And couldn't she see all of their enemies, anyway? Before he could say anything though, a new voice responded over the radio.

“They're moving to the front entrance of the casino to deal with police. But there's also a group upstairs at the suite trying to get in, and I think Armada's inside. Since the hotel went dark it's hard to see everything.”

“Marice?” Trunks gasped into his radio without thinking. Wherever she was, it sounded as if she was watching security cameras inside the building for them. He had no idea she was going to be doing that, and he thought Armada didn't know either; especially after she had made the point to Trunks that she didn't want Marice involved. But Laiserta clearly knew... oh boy, Trunks thought with a grimace. Once they were done with this job, things weren't going to go well back at the ship.

“Thanks for the update. Trunks, head over to me, we need to get upstairs and help out spider-head while these guys are busy with the locals,” Laiserta's voice commanded him through the radio.

“Right,” Trunks replied. He took a quick look over cover, hoping he could see anything useful. Fortunately he could see three mercenaries standing in a center aisle, the emergency lighting on the floor shining enough light on them that he could make out their rough forms. They seemed to be discussing something when they turned and headed back toward the slot machine area, and Trunks took that as his cue to move.

-+-

The door to suite 752 burst open and the wood from the inside of the frame around the door handle splintered apart from the force. One man stepped into the room, the assault rifle in his arms levied at whoever was behind the door and ready to fire. He stopped and blinked in confusion though, as the only person inside the suite was a brown-haired woman in a dark red gown, who stood behind a gaming table while holding her hands up.

“Please don't hurt me!” she said, her voice and hands shaking from nervousness.

The mercenary was about to turn around and ask his comrades to verify they had the correct room when suddenly the wooden door to his right smashed into him, pushing him back into the broken door frame, his head slamming into the corner of the wooden casing.

Armada swiftly spun around from behind the door and grabbed the stunned mercenary from behind. She snatched a handful of his suit jacket in her left hand just below his shoulder, and using her right hand she reached around and placed her hand over his on the trigger to the weapon he was carrying. Without looking, she fired into the doorway out into the hallway, and could immediately tell that bullets were hitting the men with him. Someone returned fire and shot the man she was using as a shield, but luckily no bullets passed through him completely.

She fired for several seconds, emptying the clip into whoever happened to be standing on the other side of the door. She dropped the man serving as her shield, taking the weapon he carried from him as he fell. She worked to pull the empty magazine out of the weapon and reload, when another mercenary stepped into the doorway who apparently hadn't been hit. Before she had a chance to react, his body was peppered with several gunshots, and he fell to the floor.

Armada turned around to see that the decoy, the woman in the burgundy dress had pulled out her pistol and clearly fired on their adversary. She lowered her weapon and looked back at Armada. “You missed one,” she added with a barely-there smile.

Armada nodded to her before spinning around and kneeling over the men they had taken out. She picked up another rifle, and using the strap she slung it over her back. She quickly raided their bodies for ammunition, reloading the one rifle she had already emptied. She grabbed a third gun, turning to hold it out to her temporary ally. “Here,” she said.

The woman shook her head. “I prefer my own weapon, thank you,” she responded, before reaching down and picking up a pistol magazine from one of the men who had a pistol holstered inside of his jacket, under his left arm. She checked the ammunition in the clip, before sliding it into a pocket on the right hip of her dress. “Lucky me, it's the same caliber,” she added.

“Let's get moving,” Armada said flatly and stood up. The moment she did, however, the lights flickered and went out, leaving them in total darkness. Neither woman said anything, but waited a few seconds and the emergency lights kicked on, providing them just enough light to see in the hotel's hallways.

As they moved into the hallway and started walking toward the southwest end of the building, Armada held her hand up to her radio. She hadn't had time to listen to what was going on with her comrades and had ignored the sounds and voices she had heard while focused on her own issue. Now though, she needed to hail them that it was time to go. She opened her mouth to speak when a voice came through first and cut her off.

“Looks like Armada's okay, I can see her and someone else standing in the hallway outside the suite with a bunch of guys on the ground. You guys need to hurry up to meet up with her!”

“Marice!” Armada hissed angrily. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Don't answer that,” Laiserta's voice quickly butted in. “We're on our way to you spider-head, stay put, we'll be there in a few minutes,” she added.

Armada cursed under her breath, her hand falling away from her ear. She looked to the woman standing beside, just making out her eyes in the dim hallway lighting. “We're going to wait for my team before we proceed,” she deadpanned. The woman merely nodded in response. Armada didn't let the silence sit between them for very long.

“So if you're not General Ackermann, where is he?” she asked, her voice hard.

“Probably somewhere on the Ephyran coast, fishing when he's not with his wife in their cottage in the hills, enjoying retirement,” the woman responded. “He was a dear friend, and he let me use his name to hide my own identity when necessary.”

“Wouldn't that put his own life at risk?” Armada asked, genuinely curious about an arrangement that didn't make much sense to her.

The woman laughed, a smile crossing her lips. “Not where he lives,” she added, her voice mirthful.

Less than a minute later, Trunks and Laiserta came down the hallway from the large staircase, moving quickly but not full-out running so as to keep the noise down. They could barely see Armada in the dark, and when Laiserta realized someone was standing with her she raised her pistol at the woman.

“Lower your weapon,” Armada instantly commanded. “She's the one we're here for.”

“Huh,” Laiserta replied, doing as told. “You're not General Ackermann but you look like a Tyrian,” she added.

“Here,” Armada said while stepping over to Trunks. She handed him the assault rifle she was carrying in her hands, then proceeded to swing around the one she had strapped across her back so she was ready to fire. “I've got one extra clip for each,” she said, and Trunks nodded in response. Laiserta took back her second pistol from him, and the group headed down the hotel hallway, headed for the opposite end from the casino.

They moved at a brisk walking pace, not wanting to generate too much noise to draw attention to themselves. As the reached the hallway at the end of the building, Laiserta stopped running and turned around briefly. “Hang on a sec,” she whispered, drawing both pistols up and firing two bullets down the darkened hall. There were two grunts in response, and what sounded like heavy bags falling down to the floor.

The brown-haired woman's eyes widened in shock. She herself was a good shot, but she'd never seen someone fire large caliber pistols with one hand each and hit their target so impressively, in the dark and at a significant distance. “Okay, we're good,” Laiserta turned, holstering one pistol on the inside of her right thigh while keeping the other in her left hand.

The mercenaries and their charge headed down a stairwell, down two flights to the ground floor. They quickly found the hotel kitchen, and verifying it was empty, headed for the back of the kitchen out of the service exit. Laiserta kept checking behind them, to make sure no one from the casino was following them. When they found the service exit, Armada nodded to the woman with them, indicating that she would open the door and head out first. She set her hand on the handle, and prepared to push the door open.

Laiserta turned around just as Armada was about to open the door. Her eyes widened in shock. “Wait!” she tried to shout and stop her comrade, but she was too late.

When Armada opened the door, the group was immediately blinded by the lights of several weapons pointed right at them. Recognizing quickly that it was the Temelt-Ran police force, Armada dropped her weapon and raised her hands.

“Are we really gonna surrender?!” Laiserta demanded, her voice a hoarse whisper.

“Do it, Lai,” Trunks chided her, dropping his weapon and raising his hands as well. Laiserta sighed and grimaced before following the movements of the three people with her, dropping her weapons to the ground and raising her hands.

It didn't take long for the Temelt-Ranian police force to put Trunks and his comrades in handcuffs and confiscate their weapons. The group was led over to a large police truck where they stood at the end, waiting to be escorted inside. Their weapons were bagged and in the process of being loaded into the truck. The officer handling the weapons dropped the bag containing Laiserta's pistols. “Hey, careful with that,” she growled at him, irritated that she was following along with the surrender. She could easily take these guys out and they could flee; why wasn't Armada letting her handle it?

Trunks simply stood with his arms cuffed in front of him, watching the scene unfold around him. He noticed one man get out of an unmarked car and approach a few officers in uniform. He was wearing a suit with a long coat, but had no apparent insignia on him. Trunks turned away for a moment, but something nagged at him in the back of his head so he looked back again. Now the man in the suit was walking toward him and his comrades, and he knew he recognized something about him.

“Thank you very much for your work gentlemen, but I'll be taking it from here,” the man in the suit said to a few officers standing near Trunks and his allies. Armada had turned at the sound of his voice, and Trunks noticed that she seemed shocked.

The two officers that the man in the suit spoke to said something in return, to which the man replied “It's all right, I'll handle all of the paperwork, don't worry.” With that finished, he approached Trunks and Armada, and Trunks instantly realized who it was.

“Lieutenant Strife?” Trunks asked, his face displaying his shock. What was an Utian police officer doing here, on the other side of the continent?

Armada's face instantly settled into anger. “You!” she started, but was cut short by the man himself.

“I need you all to follow me,” Strife began, holding out his arms as if to round up the four of them. “Now,” he stressed, giving Armada knowing look. As the group turned away from Strife, he moved around them and pointed to an alley across the street from where they stood behind the police van. He walked briskly and the rest of the group followed, except for Laiserta.

Trunks noticed that Laiserta hadn't moved from where she stood, so he turned toward her. “What are you doing?” he asked. Not that he knew where Strife was leading them, but it was apparently away from police custody.

Laiserta turned and stepped up into the police van, and after a few seconds she jumped out and jogged across the street to catch up to her comrades. “I'm not leaving my pistols,” she said with a pout, holding the evidence bag with her weapons in them in her hands.

Strife led them into the alley, and halfway down he stopped and turned to face the mercenaries. He lifted his right wrist to his mouth and spoke into it, “Bring the car around.” He then reached into an inside jacket pocket and pulled out two keys, handing them to Armada and the brown-haired woman with them. “These should unlock those cuffs. Once you're free, head down to the end of this alley and there should be a vehicle waiting for you. Then get the hell out of here,” he instructed. “Don't worry about TRPD, I'll handle them,” he finished.

“Why are you doing this?” Trunks asked. Armada had unlocked her handcuffs and turned and handed him the keys to do the same.

Strife smirked at Trunks. “We'll talk about that another time, for now I need you all to disappear, got it?”

Trunks finished unlocking his cuffs, dropping them unceremoniously to the ground. He looked to Armada, who looked like she wanted to say something to Strife, but instead took off running for the end of the alley. Everyone save the police officer who had freed them did the same. Strife turned and watched them go.

Just as Armada reached the end of the alley, a black car pulled up and screeched to a stop. The driver's side door opened and a man with short brown hair got out. Trunks quickly realized it was Detective Neimann, who merely smiled knowingly at the group. Trunks wanted to say something, but knowing there wasn't time, he followed Strife's directive and focused on leaving. He ran around to the front passenger side and got in.

Laiserta and the unknown Tyrian general got in the back, leaving Armada to drive. As the group pulled away, Laiserta ripped open the evidence bag in her hands to pull her pistols out. She let out a heavy sigh of relief. “You guys don't know how much these things cost me, they're custom,” she explained despite no one asking.

The group sat in silence for a few minutes after that as Armada pulled away, making sure not to speed and attract unwanted attention. Laiserta was humming to herself and seemed to be in her own little world, when suddenly something occurred to her. “Oh yeah,” she said, turning to look at the woman sitting next to her. “Who the hell are you?”

-+-

Still in their clothing for the mission, the mercenaries and their charge stood and sat in the bridge as the ship was on auto-pilot, flying them back to Ute. Trunks and Marice sat in chairs near the pilot's console, Laiserta stood on the opposite end leaning back against a wall, and Armada stood near the center, looking at the Tyrian general they had rescued from nearly certain death at Lind's Hammer. They all looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to say something.

“Thank you,” she began, the accent she spoke with making her sound very regal and graceful. “If not for your team, I would have likely died today. So... thank you,” she finished, her words heartfelt and sincere.

“It was just a job lady, don't get so emotional,” Laiserta quipped from where she stood, her arms crossed over her chest.

The woman closed her eyes and laughed softly to herself. “Even so,” she said, looking up to Laiserta, “here I stand. I want you to know that I do appreciate that.”

“Who are you?” Trunks asked from his seat. He had his hands on his knees, and the tie around his neck was undone and hanging loosely.

The woman smiled warmly at him. “Obviously I'm not General Evert Ackermann, though a fine man and colleague he is,” she began. “I am indeed a retired Tyrian general. My name is Naixame Chiro.”

“Was Ackermann a contemporary of yours?” Armada asked flatly. Trunks knew what she was getting at right away. Naixame did not look nearly as old as Ackermann.. hell, she didn't look much older than Trunks himself.

“Yes, he was,” she answered.

“She's a Tyrian,” Laiserta cut in, knowing what Armada was trying to ascertain. “They don't age. Well, they age, but they look young until they get really old, when all of a sudden BAM, they're all wrinkles and gray hair,” she finished.

Naixame laughed. “That is one way of putting it,” she added.

“The company that hired us to protect is Serbine Security and Logistics,” Armada broke in. “They need you to send them a message through your normal channels to confirm that you're alive so we can get paid.” She paused a moment before speaking once more. “What I want to know is, why did they tell us we were going after Ackermann when you're not him?” Armada asked, her eyes and voice stony.

“They don't know that I'm not General Ackermann,” Naixame replied. “I will do as you requested,” she added, heading toward a bag in the back of the bridge that she had retrieved when they were still in Temelt-Ran.

“That's not all,” Armada spoke up once more. Naixame and the rest of the ship's crew turned and looked at Armada, a bit confused as to what she was referencing. “I want to hire you.”

Naixame's eyes widened in shock, and Laiserta was the only one to speak. “What the hell?” she asked, clearly bewildered by her comrade's statement.

“You're the same Naixame Chiro that has won a number of battles with extremely limited resources in hostile environments, right?” Armada asked rhetorically. “I need your skills. Name your price.”

Naixame took a moment to take a breath and think about her answer. “Thirty percent.”

“Thirty percent of what?” Laiserta quipped.

The general looked to Laiserta and then back to Armada. “Thirty percent of whatever the group earns while I'm working for you.”

“Twenty-five,” Armada countered, her countenance betraying no thoughts or emotions.

“You have yourself a deal,” Naixame replied and smiled. “May I ask the names of those whom I will be working with?”

“Laiserta,” Laiserta nodded and called out. “Lai's also fine.”

Naixame nodded, her eyes following in an arc to the next person. “Armada,” the unspoken leader of the group replied.

“I'm Marice,” the young Euphorian replied in her bubbly voice while waving. Naixame smiled at her before turning to look at the one man in the ship.

“Trunks,” Trunks replied, giving her a tired smile. “Nice to meet you Naixame,” he said her name a little slowly, trying to make sure he had the pronunciation correct.

Naixame sensed his unease with her name, which wasn't unusual for those who weren't from the place she was born on Tyron. “Please, my friends call me Naya,” she said, showing her new comrades a genuine smile.

-+-

Thanks so much for reading! I hope the chapter was enjoyable even though the action had to wait until the second half. Also, for those wondering, Naya's accent is basically a slight English accent that sounds very prim and proper. She's a proper lady and speaks accordingly, despite being old enough to be everyone's mother, hahah.

Now for a bit of fun. Since we have our main cast, I thought I would now share theme songs! It's nothing super important, but I listen to a ton of music for inspiration (and have even quoted some in chapters as relevant) so I have picked what I think represent a good character theme song for each of our main characters. I thought I would share them just for fun. :]

So first up is Trunks! To me, his theme song is appropriate whether we are just talking about Mirai Trunks's story in Dragonball and nothing else, but it also fits for “Illumination” as well. His theme song is “Fly From the Inside” by Shinedown (one of my favorite bands). I chose this song for him, because while it talks about some very difficult struggles, overall it has an uplifting/positive sound. There are many key lyrics in here that pertain to him, especially “Here's the weight of the world on my shoulders.” The major metaphor in the song is about doing the impossible - “I found a way to steal the sun from the sky.” This definitely pertains to him in how he's done the impossible, in traveling through time and gaining the strength needed to defeat the androids. I hope some of you will give this song a listen, and hopefully enjoy it.

Until then, please review and let me know that you are reading this fic and what you think about it. I know many readers initially think I have “nerfed” Trunks, but there are reasons that he isn't just running around blowing up everything in sight. Number one, it's not in his personality to just demolish whatever conflict gets in his way. Yes, he kills, but he kills when necessary, and that's when other options have been exhausted. Secondly, if he went around using his powers all over the place he would be detected and arrested. In this area of the universe I have built for “Illumination” to take place in, ki can be scanned, measured and tracked. In addition, there are obstacles like gauntlets and Minovsky fields that can prevent the use of ki. Without these things, yes, Trunks could just steamroll everyone and everything. But where's the fun in that? A good story has to have conflict and has to have believable obstacles for characters to overcome. I hope I'm creating that, even if it doesn't appeal to the DBZ fan who just likes to see characters go Super Saiyan and destroy everything. ;]

Thanks again for reading!