Barclay:

  The moment his manabike touched the ground, Barclay opened the shielding and sat there, still as a stone.

  Cassidy, for her part, peeled herself off him and sprang clear of the vehicle with what sounded a bit like a hiss.

  Then, oh-so-slowly, he pried each finger off the handles one by one. Left arm free, he very, very carefully moved his arm at the elbow, then shoulder, before doing the same with the other arm. With a sigh of relief, he rolled his shoulders and tried to straighten his back, only to receive a severe twinge of pain that joined a crack that had him stiffening all over again.

  “Fuck getting old,” he growled aloud.

  The girl had not been expecting travel by flight. And she had quite the phobia the instant they left the solidity of Hallitheen’s topside park. Although, was it a phobia when the fear was rational?

  Regardless, she’d clung to him like a leech. They’d managed to wrangle more appropriate clothing for her, but undergarments were something of a problem, since Barclay and Vilke certainly weren’t sharing theirs. So, he’d had her assets pressed into his back while she shivered in terror for a ten hour flight.

  His old bones couldn’t take it.

  Barclay managed to get off the bike with some effort, then used the ACV as a massage surface to roll out his punished joints.

  Vilke stood nearby, giving him a pitying look. Barclay would do his best to live good and long so he could watch turnabout in action.

  “Alright, we’re holding position, so the senior citizen can take his time. For now, let’s get you a minimal set of equipment.” Vilke had already approached the ACV Mari and Kris had left at the rendezvous point. A quick input on the vehicle had the doors popping open and the faceplate pitching forward to reveal the interior systems.

  Cassidy made her way over after stretching like a cat. That was all she needed to look like she was full of vitality again. Barclay quietly cursed all young people in the world.

  Then they began to gear the girl up. Mari’s vehicle had a wide range of spare supplies that ranged from vests that offered some impact resistance to camp supplies like shovels and machetes.

  “How do you usually fight?” Vilke queried.

  Cassidy held up her fists and ran through a few jabs of shadow boxing. “Just up close.”

  Barclay, finally loosened up a little, joined them with a speculative eye.

  Cassidy was almost six feet tall. Her muscles were toned, and her rainbow eyes and hair really made for a fashionable impression. As a member of their team? In a forest setting? She stood out. A lot.

  Her new camo pants and simple shirt were rapidly covered in a vest and heavy belt. The belt received a full set of pouches for rations and a sheath for the machete they foisted on her. A long knife slid into some new boots they’d scrounged up for her in the city, too. Finally, Vilke held a solitary handgun with a very hesitant expression.

  “No.” Barclay folded his arms across his chest.

  “Agreed.” Vilke finally pronounced. “A thousand hours of training, then maybe.”

  Cassidy pouted at them, which did the opposite of change their minds.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “Giving a gun to the girl would be an interesting new form of suicide for Mari to try out,” a new voice said from nearby.

  All three of them turned to find Anise striding out of the woods. Barclay found himself smiling at his companion in crabby, old age. Even if she didn’t have the same aches and pains, she was just the perfect amount of disappointed-in-the-youth for his thorny personality.

  “Heya, pint,” he jabbed playfully, grinning all the while.

  She rolled her eyes performatively, then grinned back. “Yo, gramps.”

  They bumped fists.

  “Who is this?” Cassidy asked Vilke.

  The broad-shouldered man sighed. “Our leader’s kid. Long story short, she’s a few hundred years older than she looks.”

  Cassidy paused, looking up into the branches of the trees, then back down at the lieutenant. “Huh.”

  “Yeah. That’s the right reaction.”

  Meanwhile, Barclay was chewing his lower lip as Anise meandered back and forth, muttering to herself. “System access is fine and all, but uninitiated? They might die. A shield would be taxing, though. Eh, what the heck.”

  Anise stopped pacing, then rose her voice a few decibels above comfortable speaking volume. Barclay winced.

  “All right, you primitive screwheads, listen up!” Anise cheered.

  Barclay burst out laughing, but Vilke had his face buried in his hand while Cassidy looked confused. “What’s a screwhead?”

  The laughter got so bad, he thought he might die from oxygen deprivation at that.

  “This… is my—nah, whatever, the joke’s gone far enough. I’m going to do something profoundly stupid for the lot of you. Mari’s got her Harmony tethers stuck into the two boys already, so I think you’ll live. As for you, fundip,” Barclay knew he liked Anise’s personality, “I’m taking the gamble that you live through integration.”

  With that, Anise snapped her fingers, and little hovering boxes began to appear in Barclay’s vision.

  It ran through a very brief diagnostic, then went into a low power mode.

  “Step into the woods past me. Here’s hoping you’ve all got the right shit going on to get a basic integration going.”

  Barclay shrugged, then stepped across the somewhat-metaphorical line.

  Text boxes flickered in and out repeatedly, each too fast to read. Then they settled on one final box.

  “Oh good. I’ll keep track of your statuses myself. Don’t need you getting distractions while in combat situations. Gramps, you’ve got… wow. That name is awful. Reassigned! Your affinity is now Targeted Demolition. Big guy, you’ve got Devoted Soldier, which is a step shy of paladin stuff. Fundip… no. Where did you find this chick?”

  Anise strode up to the girl, leaned in close, narrowing her eyes, then began to walk a slow circle around her, occasionally poking and prodding at the girl through her gear. “Hero of Justice is so lame. Where is the panache? We need something with real character. Oh.”

  Anise visibly cringed, her little face scrunching into pained wrinkles. She looked like a certain author’s sister after biting into a jalapeno she thought was a pickle.

  “It’s even got a spin on that stereotypical lucky lecher ability tied into your fate! System, can I edit this? I can’t let this stand.”

  All instantly made sense. In his youth, Barclay had read plenty of manga about fantasy heroes who got unusually lucky with women, going so far as to end up in oddly romantic positions with every eligible or ineligible woman they’d meet.

  Anise’s comment told him some unfortunate things about why Cassidy kept finding herself in situations that presented her to eligible bachelors she encountered. Saving that lowlife back in the city. Flashing everyone in the undercity. It was hero sickness.

  He took an extra ten steps away from the girl.

  “And she’s, predictably, oblivious to it all.” Anise sighed.

  “I like being a hero, though?” Cassidy whined. “I’d rather you didn’t change it.”

  “But this team already has more than the usual quota of protagonists! I’m, naturally, the hero of my story of freedom and adventure. Mari is the focal point of an intergalactic conflict. Kris wants to be the savior of her entire planet! There’s just no room for more heroes!”

  Barclay stared at Anise. “You’re really just saying it?”

  Vilke shook his head, wandering a few steps away to look out into the woods towards the peninsula. “How far do we need to go? If it’s a long walk, we should hurry.”

  Anise groaned. “It would be a few hours of walking at most.”

  Barclay checked his watch. They’d contacted the girl an hour prior. Her flying was bullshit.

  “Fine, let’s get moving. I’m finding a way to get rid of that affinity if it’s the last thing I do, though.” Anise continued to grumble as she briskly walked into the woods.

  Patreon!

  discord server is the best place to get in touch with me!