The Return 2

The Central Hub of the Gateway District was the rallying point for all pathfinders, and like the two faces of a coin, it wore a doubled countenance. The atmosphere on departure and the atmosphere on return could not have been more different.

Before an expedition, the air was taut like a wire strung to the point of snapping. Now, that tension had exploded into open release.

The pathfinders who had crawled back alive celebrated their returns in their own ways. Some laughed over a fat haul of salvage; some mourned companions who would never walk back through the gate.

And so the Central Hub at this hour was a crucible — desire and despair, elation and madness, all churned together into one seething mass.

Some things, of course, never changed.

Time Man's perfunctory manner was one of them.

Beyond the bulletproof glass, he spoke in a voice dried out by ten thousand repetitions, then immediately bent his gaze to the next set of documents.

In truth, the two of them had been through a great deal — but to Time Man, none of it seemed to matter in the slightest.

And so Ash and Akina passed through the gate.

The central plaza spread out before them in a single glance. It was utter chaos.

The stench of sour blood and cheap pharmaceuticals stabbed at their nostrils, and from every direction rose shouting and cursing, weeping and laughter alike.

That wasn't all. Everyone gathered there was raising their voice for their own piece of the pie.

"Buying! Buying! Bring me whatever you've got! Reasonable prices paid for everything!"

Pathfinders looking to dump their loot, and merchants swooping in to strip it from them at a fraction of its worth.

"Rough day out there, sugar? Tonight I'll make you forget all of it. Oh, and the extras are on the house — I promise."

"Care to talk for a minute?"

Prostitutes flashing seductive smiles. And even Rest Men hunting for the wounded.

"Medical support services here! Injured parties, come this way immediately — hey, HEY! That one's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠going to die if we don't do something? Get three of the kids on him, now."

Every single one of them had pathfinders in their sights. All for money. For credits.

Akina, cutting a path straight through that roaring crucible of a plaza, suddenly swung her backpack around to her chest.

"Mr. Ash, you should carry yours in front too. When pathfinders come back through the gate, that's prime pickpocketing season. They will clean you out, for real."

Hugging her bag like a lifeline, Akina swept her gaze ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠endlessly in every direction — more vigilant now than she had ever been on the expedition itself.

Ash watched her quietly for a moment, then spoke.

"Ah, Sohye."

"Yes?"

"This was Sohye's first expedition, was it not?"

"Obviously it was my first. Why do you ask?"

"And yet today, Sohye knew it was prime season for cutpurses. How?"

Akina whipped her head around at that. Then she flashed him a grin.

"Wanna know?"

Ash shook his head.

"...No. The fool was I, for asking."

That was when it happened.

A man who had worked his way close through the dense crowd blocked their path — a skinny wretch with a sleazy gleam in his eye.

"Hey there, little missy. You a pathfinder? I've got some good stuff, see—"

Before the man could finish, Ash stepped between them.

"Stand aside."

At that menacing electronic tone, the man flinched and hunched his shoulders. But he wasn't quite ready to give up. He fished a small packet of drugs out of his breast pocket and gave it a shake.

"...Heh heh. Rough time in the Outer, huh? One hit of this and you'll forget it all. Feeling good comes free. If you buy right now, I'll even give you a special discount—"

Ash took a single step forward.

And stared the man dead in the face.

His optical sensors flared brighter than they ever had.

"I told you. Stand aside."

Under the crushing pressure rolling off that massive steel frame, the man swallowed hard and stumbled backward. He darted a nervous glance at Ash, muttered a short curse, and melted into the crowd.

"Wow. Become a pathfinder and now even the junkies come sniffing around."

"...So it was in a place where creatures like that run rampant, that Sohye plied her trade as a pickpocket?"

"What, curious again?"

Akina wagged her eyebrows. Ash covered his face with one hand.

It was then that his sensors caught yet another figure approaching them.

This one was a woman so thoroughly rebuilt that anyone could tell at a glance what she was. The abnormally oversized chest and hips made her feel not so much obscene as faintly grotesque.

Ash moved on reflex, sliding in front of Akina, and issued a warning to the approaching figure.

"Stand asi—"

His warning never made it out of his mouth.

"Ash? It's Ash, right?"

"...Hm?"

Ash ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was briefly at a loss. He had not expected his own name in the slightest. Even Akina, standing behind him, poked her head out to get a look.

"How do you know my name?"

At his low electronic voice, the woman's face lit up and she even clapped her hands.

"Wah! It IS you! I'm a total fan! Would it be okay if we took a photo together?"

It was phrased as a question, but she was already snapping pictures rapid-fire with a PDA she must have produced from nowhere. Ash's confusion only deepened.

At the sudden commotion, a few bystanders turned their heads. What was remarkable was that a fair number of them recognized Ash too.

"Huh? That humanoid?"

"It is! It's Ash! It's written right on his head!"

"Should we ask for a photo too?"

And so the commotion swelled.

Flustered, Ash shielded Akina with one hand and addressed the woman again.

"Who are you? And how is it that you know my name?"

"How do I know? Because you're blowing up right now, obviously!"

The woman held up her PDA screen for him to see.

On it played the ruined corridor where they had fought their desperate battle days before.

The striking contrast was unmistakable — the Grotesques surging in like a tidal wave, and Ash whirling his blade in furious arcs to hold the line. In the foreground, Ifrit struck a V-sign with a wink, but what burned in the eye far more than her pose was the caption along the bottom of the screen.

A short video stitched together with bizarre background music and sound effects — and it sat at the very top of the trending rankings. The comment section was plastered wall to wall with every variety of praise and jealousy, wild speculation about Ash's identity, and worshipful odes to Ifrit's beauty.

"What in the world..."

Ash was, by nature, calm and unflappable in all things, yet even he could not help being thrown off balance by this. Truthfully, he had not the faintest idea how he was supposed to react.

Meanwhile, onlookers kept gathering one by one. In the blink of an eye, they were ringed by a crowd.

Curious eyes, reverent gazes — and, mixed among them, glints of something distinctly unwholesome.

A pathfinder strolling through the plaza had become a circus's rare beast in the span of a heartbeat.

Then Akina stepped forward.

"E-everyone, back off!"

The petite girl planted herself a step ahead and spread her arms wide, barring the crowd as though shielding Ash with her own body.

"My mister is tired right now, okay? Don't talk to him! He's not signing anything! Huh? HUH? You there! No pictures!"

Glaring out from under furrowed brows as she barked orders, she looked surprisingly fierce.

"Move it, move it! Don't block the way! All of you, go sell your drugs or your bodies or whatever! Shoo!"

It was a strange sight indeed. A tiny technomancer guarding a hulking combat humanoid. Something had gone profoundly backwards somewhere.

"Aw, come on, just once!"

"Just one photo together!"

The crowd showed no sign of yielding. Worse, their interest was growing more brazen by the second — a few of them even stretched out their hands, fully intending to touch Ash's steel frame.

Ash, who had been standing there dumbfounded, gently drew the embattled Akina into the crook of his arm. Then he unleashed a pressure vastly beyond anything he had shown before.

"Stand aside. All of you."

At that low electronic voice, the raucous crowd fell silent in an instant. Ash did not waste the opening — with Akina tucked nearly under his arm, he cut swiftly through the sea of people. His plan was simple: get out of there first, think later.

As the heavy steel frame shoved the crowd aside, a path gradually opened where none could bar it any longer.

Behind him trailed disappointed groans and the endless clicking of cameras.

"Back already, Rising Star?"

By the time they burst into Santa's Rest Stop half-fleeing, Santa was slouched lazily at the counter, chuckling over his PDA. It was that very video in question — the 'shorts' clip. Apparently it really was as hot as advertised.

"Real thing's better after all. Can't capture that special presence of yours on camera. The lens just doesn't do you justice, huh?"

Ash bowed his head in silent greeting, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Akina snapped back on his behalf.

"Who're you calling a has-been? Our mister photographs GREAT, for your information. You think just anyone ends up on the trending charts?"

"You little punk, calling people washed up—"

Santa delivered a knuckle rub to her head.

"Ow!"

The two of them squabbled back and forth for a good while after that, until Santa lit a cigarette and the matter was dropped for the time being.

"Nothing went wrong, then? Old Captain Santa's asking."

"What could go wrong. Same as every day. But more importantly, tell me the story. What in the hell did you two do to get tangled up with that many Grotesques?"

Ash gave a brief account of the last expedition — including, of course, exactly where that infamous video had been filmed.

He told it plainly, but what it contained was anything but plain. Santa was evidently engrossed, shifting his weight on his stool a couple of times as he listened.

By the time the cigarette had burned down to the filter, the story was finished. Santa fell silent for a moment.

"...Coming back alive at all was a damn miracle. And looking at it now — this whole thing is a lie, isn't it?"

The old man lifted his PDA in one hand. On it played Ifrit's video — The Outer Is Way Too Easy. Feat. Ash Blade.

"'Way too easy,' my ass."

Clicking his tongue, Santa lit another cigarette. At that point Akina, quiet until now, unzipped her backpack.

"Enough of that! Appraisal time! You wanna know what I hauled in this trip? Ta-daa!"

"Ho ho? Condition's not bad at all. And here I thought you'd only scraped Level 1 territory."

From that moment on, a fierce round of haggling commenced between Santa and Akina.

Ash listened to their back-and-forth for a time, but soon his interest waned and his gaze wandered about the rest stop interior. Firearms and cyberware sorted by body part. And what looked like vehicle parts — all of it crammed along the walls from floor to ceiling.

The first time he had set foot in this place, everything had looked like junk. But having tasted real combat on the expedition, his eyes now read every item differently.

One thing in particular kept drawing his gaze: a battery pack boasting several times the capacity of his own.

Ash was, by disposition, largely indifferent to material things — and yet even he wanted that battery pack. For a humanoid, power was life itself. It couldn't be helped.

Just then, a small warning notice flickered to life in his vision.

Ash addressed the two of them, still locked in heated debate.

"Might I retire upstairs first? My remaining power is running rather low."

Akina hurriedly nodded.

"Go on up! I'll come up as soon as I finish haggling!"

Santa offered a short farewell of his own.

"Good work out there."

Ash exchanged brief parting words with the two of them and headed for the second floor of the rest stop — his temporary dwelling.

Creaking up the worn stairs and stepping into his room, he connected himself to the battered industrial charger mounted on the wall. With a short crackle of sparks, stable power began flowing into his interior. All the warning messages that had been piling up vanished in an instant.

Savoring the force of brain-qi coursing along his artificial neural network, Ash folded himself into a cross-legged meditation and shut off his optical sensors.

In the deep dark, images surfaced and faded over the still water of Ash's meditating mind, one after another.

The expedition to Gamma-7. His meeting with Ifrit. The battle against the Rest Men. And so on.

Then, at some point, a single scene rose up distinct and vivid from among all those memories.

Akina — shouting herself hoarse, arms spread wide, planting herself between him and the crowd.

In the moment, it had all happened so fast he'd let it slide past. But looking back on it now, he could not help but find it a truly comical sight.

A technomancer guarding her Assault.

At that absurd image, a low laugh escaped Ash.

"Hmm hmm... Was there ever a more dependable young lady, I wonder?"

His face was as expressionless as ever — eternally, inevitably so. And yet somehow, just now, it looked exactly like a smile.