Sweet Sorrow

The two pilots who had fired at the caped man from above stopped midair beside him. Both wielded their long rifles like spears, thrusting into his sides as he lowered his shield to block Tiffany’s continuing rifle shots.

The caped M.U. swiftly cut one of the brothers down before slashing at the other. Their M.U.s suffered precise, vertical damage to their heads—one strike descending from above and the other rising from below—executed in a single circular slash.

As silent as they always were, wordless did they die…

- Garfield, Orville (Descendant)

Suddenly, a barrage of fire erupted from the side, taking down one of the Vatican’s shield bearers. A loud, panicked scream pierced the air:

“Give him baaaaack!”

Ariana crashed her M.U. into the fray, thrashing wildly at the three remaining shield bearers like a rabid wolverine wielding grinder wheels in each hand. One of the Vatican fighters fell, shouting:

“Corpus meum vas est veritatis et justitiae!”

(“My body is a vessel for truth and justice!”)

But just as Ariana was about to take down the others, two reinforcements appeared, crashing into her with shield bashes. Two more replaced the fallen pair, pushing Cody further into Vatican lines.

She let out a long, desperate scream—“NOOOooo!!!”—that faded as she fell into the trees below.

Cody realized his actions were costing the team dearly. In their desperate attempts to save him, they were falling one by one. Determined to break free, he activated the sprinkler system in his pod to dissolve the foam inside and prepare for ejection, as he had done before.

However, just as the foam dissolved, enormous goliaths pinned his now-unmanned machine down. One of them swiveled its head toward his pod and thrust a massive hand inside, blocking his escape route.

Cody could no longer hear or see the outside world, being completely disconnected from his M.U.’s sensors. He fumbled frantically in the pitch-black darkness, trying to locate his bag. Before he could find it, the foam fully dissolved, and he was tossed to the side of his 7x11 pod. The impact knocked him unconscious.

“Blacking out” took on a literal meaning.

Time slipped away, the body retreating into darkness to recover. The senses temporarily shut down. For those in prolonged comas, the return of senses sometimes came in fragments—small snippets grasped by a waking mind. And occasionally, there were dreams…

A young boy was taken to a parade. He saw the great Ken Griffey Jr. waving to the crowd atop a fire truck. Candy was scattered across the dirt roads of Sea-Atell, and Cody, along with a swarm of other children, scrambled greedily to grab as much as they could.

His mother and father were together that day.

Cody’s father lifted him onto his shoulders, despite his efforts to grab more candy. From this new vantage point, he caught sight of the true spectacle of the parade: gymnasts, acrobats, clowns, and elaborately themed floats.

“That’s Ken Griffey Jr.—perhaps one of the greatest men alive. When he discovered Acrylium research in 1971 at just eleven, the Japanese allowed him access to their Utopia. He’s the reason uniform machines exist today,” his father explained, pointing at the man waving.

“Yer know’n all that city nonsense ain’t gonna do ma boy no good, Hector,” his mother scolded. “He’s gonna hook himself on that nonsense and bob that bobber afore long. His pole’s already cast. A salty sea dog’s a good’n honest livin’ fer ’im.”

Hector kissed Guppy despite her frown and turned back to the parade. “This’ll probably be the only time you’ll ever see him, son. He served 22 years for science and is now retiring. They said he was going to be a great baseball player once—could’ve been the best. But a manga inspired him to chase a different dream. Ever see a uniform machine in the sky?”

Cody, already remembering the M.U.s he’d seen flying by on occasion to fight bad guys, nodded enthusiastically.

Almost as if in response to a child’s wish, several M.U.s streaked across the sky, their boosters propelling them at high speeds.

Hector sighed, saddened by the sight. Unaware of how strongly a child could sense emotion, Cody felt his father’s sadness from his perch on his shoulders.

“Oculi mei solum dolorem vident,” his father whispered.

(“My eyes see only suffering.”)

Cody whispered back, imitating his father’s oft-used phrase, “Ora veniam pro peccatis tuis.”

(“Pray forgiveness for your sins.”)

To Hector’s amazement, he looked at his son with wide-eyed astonishment, lifting him off his shoulders as if terrified.

“Where did you learn that?” Hector demanded.

Cody’s mother snatched him away, confused but protective. “N-ats enough of daddy time. M’taggin’ in.”

“Where did you learn that, son? You mustn’t say things like that!” his father shouted, frightening Cody.

“Yer tongue’s ta blame! You cuss’n round ma boy, and that’s on you, ya steelhead trout! If his eyes catch yer lips, maybe ya should watch yer mouth! Now stop scarin’ the fish away with your—hey! Where ya goin’, Hector? Hector!”

That was the day Cody’s father left for Oar-gone Port-lun. Occasionally, he visited once a year.

He was the only one who visited that day… that day…

Cody awoke to the sound of beeping before he could see.

Lab coats surrounded him in a room awash in blinding white light.

“—waking up, sir!” came a distorted voice, as if filtered through water.

Cody felt groggy, battered, and bruised from head to toe. A man stepped forward, sighing heavily.

“Have you finished the testing?” the man asked.

“Yes, sir. Awaiting results.”

“Then leave. Notify me when it’s complete.”

The man turned to Cody, who sat groggily on a table. He looked like an average business tycoon, more “boss” than “agent,” with a large titanium cross hanging from his neck. Cody studied him silently, unsure of what to expect.