Chapter 19 Running from the Truth

“Well, overloading it could cause serious damage - not just to the reactor, but to you too. It’s like pushing an engine to its absolute limit; it won’t explode, but it can overheat, and you don’t want to find out what that feels like. However, the reactor is self-recharging, so you will have no trouble if you don't push it."

“Alright, I just have to keep the system from going into the red. Anything else I should know?”

Coldwell adjusted his glasses, eyeing her with a serious look.

“After your transformation, Aria, things are different now. For one, you don’t exactly need to eat or drink. Your body is running on... well, whatever keeps mutants going, plus the Vallen particles generated by the reactor in your spine. Technically, you can still eat if you want to, but it’s purely optional. And another thing - tiredness is mostly off the table for you. You won’t feel fatigued like before. Only if you run low on Vallen particles will you notice any energy dip, but even then, the reactor will automatically switch to recharge mode.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning,” he said, crossing his arms, “you’ll still feel more or less the same as you do now, even in recharge mode.”

Aria’s gaze dropped as the full weight of his words sank in. She let out a weak, hollow laugh, her hand brushing against the metallic surface of her arm.

"I guess… I’ll need every advantage I can get to take those mutants down," she whispered but her voice was strained like she was convincing herself.

“But… there’s no ‘saving’ for me, is there? Part machine, part mutant, part human - if I’m even still human at all. I’m not… I mean, I’m not even human anymore, am I? Just some abomination.”

“Nonsense, Aria! You don’t need to be human - you’re perfect exactly as you are now! If it were up to me, I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”

He lovingly took her hand in his and continued, “How about forgetting all that mutant-hunting nonsense and just staying here, in my lab? Think about it - I’d welcome you with open arms and accept you, perfectly unique and irreplaceable, just as you are.”

Aria pulled her hand away and took a small step back, clearly weirded out.

"Uh… yeah, thanks, Coldwell. That’s… really flattering. I think?"

She forced a polite smile, trying to keep things light but inching toward the door.

"But, you know, mutant-hunting is kind of my thing, and I don’t think I’m quite ready for the glamorous life of a… lab specimen."

She shot a glance at her imaginary wristwatch.

"Oh, wow! Would you look at the time? I just remembered... I’ve got, uh, somewhere else to be! Yep, don’t want to be late for that. It was nice talking to you! But I need to go! Like, right now! Bye!"

Done with Dr. Coldwell, Aria went back to her small apartment - a place that had never really felt like home, just a spot to crash between missions. She rarely spent time there; most days, she’d either be out in the field piloting her tank mech or grabbing a quick nap in her makeshift cardboard nook while waiting for her next deployment. The apartment was more of a storage unit for her belongings than a living space.

When she opened the door and stepped inside, the stale, dusty air hit her. Everything was exactly as she’d left it: piles of ration packs, spare mech components, and clothes strewn about, all gathering dust. The bed had barely been touched, the sheets still tucked in from when she’d last slept there maybe a month ago.

The living room was no better; half-packed crates lined one wall, filled with old junk she collected, relics from the past, from city ruins she scavenged during her missions. She plopped down on the sofa, a lumpy piece of furniture that creaked under her weight. Her eyes drifted around the room, landing on her lone attempt at decoration: a small framed photo of her squad from when she’d first enlisted. She hadn’t noticed how faded the image had become, the edges curling slightly with age.

"Guess this is home, huh?" she whispered as she stared at the forgotten photo.

Aria leaned back on the creaky sofa, staring at the photo as memories washed over her -missions, laughter, close calls, and the bond with her squad that had kept her going through the grueling years. Each face in the picture seemed to stare back, frozen in time, untouched by everything she’d lost.

The words of Dr. Coldwell echoed in her mind.

"You don’t need to be human; you’re perfect as you are."

But was she really? Perfect? She felt like a patched-up weapon, something between a person and a machine, stranded somewhere she could barely understand herself.

The place was as unwelcoming as ever, just a pit stop between assignments. Yet here she was, with no mission, no squad, and barely a reason to be out there at all.

Aria sat on her sofa, the silence and stillness clawing at her. She was used to battle, to the hum of engines, the crackle of comms, the grip of her mech’s controls, and among her fellow pilots. Now, alone in her empty apartment, the silence felt like a weight she couldn’t lift, pressing down harder with each passing second. A wave of emptiness swept over her until she couldn’t bear it anymore. She bolted from the room, slamming the door behind her and sprinting down the hall.

She didn’t stop running. She ran through the corridors of her apartment, past dimly lit alleys and silent storefronts, her metallic limbs pounding the pavement with unnatural speed. The city’s streets, eerily quiet at this late hour, seemed to echo her frustration, her fear, her anger. There was no one around to see the mess she was, the twisted blend of machine, mutant, and lost soldier.

As she ran, the weight inside her chest eased just a little, but the ache was still there, biting at her. No matter how far she went, she couldn’t escape it - the memory of her squad, the feeling of their loss, her sense of abandonment. She was alive, but only barely; it was as if she were still out there, drifting alone in the wreckage of that battlefield.

Finally, after hours of running aimlessly, she stumbled upon a small, tucked-away park. She stopped by an old bench, the artificial grass beneath her feet wet with condensation from the cool air of the Beehive’s ventilation system. Above, the artificial night sky stretched out, stars projected onto the high ceiling of the Beehive’s civilian floor level.

Aria slumped onto the bench, the silence once again wrapping around her, but this time it felt a little less suffocating. She gazed up at the dimly flickering stars, her mind drifting to her squadmates, wondering if, wherever they were, they were looking down at her. She sat there, unmoving, lost in her thoughts, as the projected sky shifted slowly from one end of the Beehive to the other, ushering in the artificial dawn. Until...