Remain Co:Mpo:Sed

The armored vehicles from District 1 rumbled down the roads of District 3, their presence imposing as they moved in formation. The convoy stretched far, the sight of so many officers in unison striking both awe and fear into the hearts of the city’s inhabitants. Civilians scattered at the sight of them, whispering nervously to one another, some watching from windows as the trucks rolled through the streets like harbingers of something terrible.

Inside Prog’s truck, Tackle sat, her legs bouncing uncontrollably as she stared at the floor, her usual confidence absent. Her hands trembled slightly.

Meanwhile, the skies above District 3’s clouds were alive with activity. Hundreds of officers equipped with jetpacks soared through the air in formation, each one holding a section of the massive carbon fiber net that restrained Mother Brain.

The grotesque creature was a horrifying fusion of organic and mechanical parts, its gigantic brain-like mass pulsating unnervingly as metallic octopus-like tentacles writhed beneath it. Cables and wires jutted out from its fleshy surface, sparking sporadically. From within its crevices, lifeless hybrid creatures were expelled, their bodies sliding out and tumbling toward the ground.

Below, chaos reigned as officers scrambled to handle the hybrids falling from the sky. Catching them in another net.

“Monitor Xenox!” an officer shouted through a crackling comm link. “What do we do about these hybrids? They’re dropping everywhere!”

Xenox hovered above the scene, his jetpack humming steadily. His once obese form was now lean and muscular, his lifeless eyes scanning the chaos below with a detached gaze. His signature blonde bowl cut swayed slightly in the wind as he sneered.

“You officers in District 3 truly are buffoons,” Xenox said coldly. “Obviously, you kill them. Can’t have them falling out of the sky and causing problems. Collect them—they’ll be disposed of when we reach the back entrance.”

“Yes, Monitor!” the officer replied, relaying the orders.

The officers immediately opened fire on the hybrids, their lifeless bodies piling up in the net. Xenox watched from above.

“You disgusting, fleshy behemoth,” he muttered. “I can’t believe I came from you.”

Amid the chaos, a canine-like officer equipped with a high-powered jetpack shot up through the air, his floppy ears and metallic snout visible beneath his visor. He carried a pair of advanced technological binoculars, his expression urgent.

“Monitor Xenox!” the officer barked as he approached.

Xenox turned his lifeless gaze toward him. “Hmm, yes, Supervisor Sharpei?”

Sharpei handed him the binoculars, his voice tense. “Monitor Roton and a fleet of trucks from District 1 are on their way to the cybersecurity building.”

Xenox raised the binoculars to his eyes, his expression darkening as he observed the fleet making its way through the streets below. His tone remained mocking as he lowered the binoculars and handed them back.

“Oh, well, that’s not good, is it?” he said, sarcastically. “Guess I’ll have to call the president.”

Xenox retrieved a sleek communicator from his belt, and began dialing.

The armored vehicle rattled along the streets, its engines humming steadily as it made its way toward the cybersecurity building. Prog sat with his steady hands on the wheel, he glanced back at the others. Aiye, Bontly, Johe, Kimida, Shinku, and Tackle were all piled into the vehicle, each lost in their thoughts as the landscape of District 3 passed by in blur.

But it was Tackle who stood out the most. Her breathing was erratic, her brow beaded with sweat, her hands trembling slightly. She stared down, her mind clearly miles away, lost in a memory she couldn’t escape. She was usually the rock, the one who pushed the team forward with confidence. Now, she was barely holding together.

Epongi…

She clenched her fists, remembering the fight—the way her heart had pounded in her chest, the fear that gripped her, and the voice of Epongi taunting her, the unrelenting pressure. The image of his menacing smirk burned in her mind. She hated how powerless she had felt. The thought of facing him again, of being utterly crushed, lingered like an unshakable nightmare. What if I’m not strong enough this time? What if I fail again?

Prog, noticing her change in demeanor, glanced over his shoulder. “What’s the matter, Tackle? You seem unusually tense.”

Bontly patted her on the back with a gentle hand, offering comfort in the way only he could.

Tackle tried to speak, to reassure them, but the words wouldn’t come. She opened her mouth, only for a sob to escape instead. Tears welled up in her eyes, her shoulders trembling. “I… I just don’t want to die.”

Prog blinked, clearly taken aback. Tears? She’s human? His mind raced, a thousand questions flooding him.

Kimida leaned over, her voice soft but firm. “You’ll be okay, Tackle! We’re all in this together.”

Shinku, sitting beside her, watched the moment unfold with concern. The strength he had always seen in Tackle before seemed to be crumbling, and it was a sight he hadn’t expected.

Johe threw his hands up in exasperation. “What the hell, Tackle?! You’re, like, the most hotheaded person I know! Don’t go crying now!” He wiped her face dramatically with his hand, a bit too forcefully. “You’re gonna let one fight against some bozo screw your whole mood up? Who cares! None of us were prepared to fight! The last thing we need is someone feeling like they aren’t ready to go out there and kick some computer ass.” He rambled. “You’re the one who dragged me along for this. I need you to keep your head on a swivel! You being shaky is gonna make me shaky! Just because the last guy beat you doesn’t mean you won’t be okay now!”

He paused, giving her a hard look, his tone softening. “You’re the one who keeps me in check. Hell, you’re the one who keeps all of us in check. The last thing we need is—”

Prog interjected, his voice calm and measured. “Officer Tackle, I know this must be quite intimidating for you, as well as for the other officers. But it is fine. We must forget about any emotions we may feel as soon as we can and regain focus on the task at hand. Not that it isn’t okay to feel that way, but we must be composed. Remember why we’re here.”

Tackle’s sobs quieted, her face a mixture of relief and embarrassment. She wiped her face with the back of her hand and nodded, her voice a small whisper. “Okay.”

She then rested her head against Johe’s shoulder, her tears subsiding as his arm gently wrapped around her. Johe patted her back, offering the kind of reassurance only a true friend could provide. “Attagirl. We’ll get through this! We’ll protect each other! And when we get back, we'll all eat popsicles!”

Tackle gave a small, thankful nod, her fear starting to lift. For a moment, she let herself feel the warmth of her team, the strength of the bond they shared. Still, she didn’t exactly feel confident.

Shinku watched quietly, a thoughtful look crossing his face. His eyes drifted to Roton’s vehicle ahead.

“Officer Prog,” he said, his voice low but firm, “could you speed up and get next to Roton?”

Prog blinked in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“I want to speak with him,” Shinku explained, his tone calm yet resolute. “Just briefly.”

Prog hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Alright, sure.” He adjusted his speed, maneuvering the vehicle to pull alongside Roton’s.

Shinku, now fully determined, leaned forward and called out to Roton with a smile. “Hey, monitor! Is it fine if I hop in and talk to you for a bit?”

Roton, who had been lounging comfortably in his vehicle, immediately broke into a grin. “Yo-ho-ho! Go ahead, Shinku!”

Shinku wasted no time. With a spring in his step, he jumped over the door and into Roton’s vehicle, his cheerful demeanor contrasting the heavy atmosphere that had weighed on the rest of the team. As he sat down beside Roton, he flashed a quick smile at him.

“What’d you like to talk about?” Roton asked, his tone light, but there was a glint of mischief in his eyes. “If it’s my choice of television content, I wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing, yo-ho-ho.”

Shinku chuckled softly at the remark, but his expression quickly turned serious. “No, it’s more serious than that.” He met Roton’s gaze. “Why are you doing this? Why is this your option? Making us fight?”

Roton’s demeanor shifted, his playful nature fading into something more grounded. He turned his head to look at Shinku, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Hmm…” he murmured, considering the question. “You have a lot to learn, Shinku.”