Elara couldn’t tell how long it had been since she had been muzzled, how long since I had been truly marked as Handler’s. Our interrogation sessions felt like they had grown longer, stretching into an eternity. The light grew harsher and harsher, burning away my every thought.

Lucidity flickered through my mind like a poorly screwed in bulb, blinding me as I felt my last senses of who I was being dredged up from the depths of my mind. I was surprised at how much was left every time, even if it felt smaller and smaller every time. I felt more of me being left behind as I was forced to the forefront, dragged kicking and screaming out of my own head.

In return, Handler blessed me with more of her love. It felt deeper, threads tying to my every limb, my every thought. I felt like a little doll, her puppet to command. A toy couldn’t be blamed for its actions. My very movement mirrored her will, until she cut me loose.

“Off leash.” Handler’s voice cut through the invisible threads that bound me, and suddenly my thoughts were my own again. I was still hers, but my thoughts were no longer bound, and my hands moved to my tune. Elara surfaced from the waves, being allowed the strength to stand, to breathe.

I felt her bindings drip off of me, as I took in my surroundings. We were in her office, I was kneeling at her side. She was sitting at her desk, doing paperwork. “Hello, Elara.”

My name felt so sweet coming off of her tongue, I looked up at her. “Hello, Handler.” I couldn’t tell what drugs were in my system anymore, but she looked almost ethereal, a ghost rippling through the world to reach me. Handler shone with an otherworldly glow, tendrils of light snaking off her form, reaching into me.

“You have an assignment later today. I expect you to be well behaved.” She didn’t even look my way, continuing to work. Assignment. She meant that I would finally get to pilot the Moonrise again. I hadn’t seen it since I had been ripped from its cockpit. I’d been giving Handler information on my machine for a while now, presumably so they could rebuild it.

“Yes, Handler.” I responded to her, trying not to let any emotion leak into my voice. I knew what piloting the Moonrise again meant, in terms of our deal. Today could be the first. I’d be bloodying the freshly re-made Moonrise again.

Handler noticed the worry creeping into my thoughts, reflected in my movement. I watched as her pupils focused on me, sweeping over my body. “Speak, Elara.” She was now focused on me, the sound of typing and papers rustling on the table now absent.

I was going to be good for her. I was hers now, my thoughts were not mine to keep. “I’m worried. I’m not sure if I can force myself to take another life today.” I pressed my head against her thigh, letting myself sink into the physical connection with Handler.

“Don’t think of it that way, little bird.” The nickname calmed me a little, as I sunk further into her touch. Handler placed a hand on my head, petting me. Losing myself there would have been so easy, but Handler wanted me here.

She continued in her soothing tone, the words wafting through the air, my body taking them in as I breathed. “I’m the one forcing your hand. You take lives at my command. You aren’t a monster here, with me. You’re an instrument, a tool to be used, and you should be proud. This is just another way to serve me.”

I let out a whimper into her leg, my worries floating away as she comforted me. I would be a good dog for her. “Please. Take it away. I don’t want to hurt. Please.” I was begging for her to push me beneath the ocean again, hide my every regret and mistake beneath the tides of her love.

Handler continued running her hand through my hair, as I felt the little threads she cut moments earlier weave themselves back together. “Of course, little bird. Back into your cage. On leash.”

The tide crashed into me, dragging my thoughts back down below. I would be good.

===

Handler stood by Elara, her eyes absent of life. The once glorious pilot was panting, awaiting further instruction from her master. Her god.

“Off leash.”

Elara snapped back to her senses, seeing the familiar figure in front of her. Moonrise, risen from the ashes. The machine looked as if it had never fought in a battle in its life, the scars and dents of past scuffles sanded away. Elara wished she could see the same.

The joints had been replaced, and the weapon looked complete. No longer the thrown together heap of metal that Krill had put together. The reactor pulsed in its core, its design mimicked that of the Greybird, but blended seamlessly into the Moonrise. It was beautiful. Streaks of Imperial black lined half of the mech, as if mimicking a crescent across the steel.

“Thank you.” Elara couldn’t think of anything else to say. It looked like it had been taken straight out of her drawings, back when she was designing the beast. She felt herself shaking in excitement, ready to step into the cockpit.

Handler nodded. “Of course, little bird. Wouldn’t want to clip your wings.” She continued on with the bird metaphor, Elara letting a smile slip in response.

Of course, Elara knew she’d have to bloody the shiny new metal. Taint the beautiful gift, but Handler would cleanse her. She would cleanse the Moonrise like she’d done here. It would be okay.

Nearby, Thalia stood and approached. She waved a hand at the pair, giving a big grin towards Elara. “Like my work, Ellie? Made it just for you!”

Elara tilted her head in confusion. Thalia had done this? Why? She looked at Handler for guidance, who only nodded in agreement.

“Aww, I think I’d deserve at least a little thanks for putting her back together!” Thalia put her arm around Elara, dragging her away from Handler.

“Thank you, Th- hey!” Elara began to struggle against Thalia, trying to get back to Handler’s side. She hadn’t been dismissed yet.

Handler gave a little smirk towards Thalia. “Dismissed.” She walked off.

Thalia continued pulling Elara, chatting as she dragged the semi-reluctant pup. “It’s made exactly as you specified in your little sessions with Handler, of course. That’s just because you’ve been so well behaved as of late. We’ll have to tune it up a little bit, I wasn’t able to get your exact settings for our hardware- Oh! I completely forgot.” Thalia tapped away at something at her belt, and Elara’s arms fell out of their sockets.

“G-Hey! Give those ba-” Elara was shushed, Thalia catching one of the arms and pressing it to her face. The engineer giggled a little, before tapping Elara on the face.

Thalia put the severed arm down, running over to a workstation and pulling out another set. They were black, and Elara could see the scratches under the fresh layer of paint on its surface. “I got your old arms back, with a few new additions! You’ll be wearing these when you pilot, I’m not sure how you’d get along with those big ol’ paws of yours.”

Elara stood still as Thalia locked them into place. She felt feeling return to the limbs, moving them around to adjust. They felt slightly lighter now, and shared the display on her original set. “Thank you, Miss.” Elara continued stretching the fingers out.

“In the future, you can leave this set in the mech. Your paws will be ready for you the second you leave the cockpit. The lock on removing them has been lifted, although I assume Handler would prefer you keep your arms on, in most circumstances,” Thalia continued rambling. She patted Elara on the shoulders before grabbing her wrist and dragging her towards the back of the Moonrise.

Still processing the information, Elara fell to the floor as Thalia dragged her. “H- ghk!”

Thalia stopped, looking at the once proud pilot in a pile on the floor, still holding her wrist. “Not the brightest dog in the pound, are you? Up, girl.” She yanked on Elara’s wrist.

Elara climbed to her knees, before falling back over as Thalia tugged. She mumbled something into the floor, before quickly standing up again. “You’re a bit of an asshole!”

“Said the pilot who killed my family.” Thalia retorted, continuing to pull Elara along.

“W-Thats no.” Elara paused, following Thalia. “Sorry.” She hung her head a little, doing her best to keep up pace.

Thalia let out a light chuckle. “I’m kidding. Mostly. Even if you were still anything but my little Ellie, it wouldn’t have been your fault. My parents were-” She caught herself before continuing. “Just, don’t feel too bad about it.”

Elara let out a confused whimper, before Thalia tugged on her arm again.

“I said forget it, pup. Not your concern. That’s an order.” Thalia did her best to look away from Elara, hiding her face.

“Yes Miss.” Elara nodded, despite her concern.

The two walked in silence for a bit, before reaching the back of the Moonrise. A small lift to an upper platform lay by the mech’s foot, and the two stepped in.

Thalia broke the silence. “We can talk about it when you get back. If you’re good, okay?” She gripped onto Elara’s hand tighter. “They were still people. You should feel bad for killing them.”

Elara stayed silent, letting Thalia speak as the lift doors opened in front of them again.

“Just. You make things so hard, Ellie.” Thalia dragged her out, walking Elara to the head of the Moonrise. “Get in.”

The hatch to the cockpit of the Moonrise opened up, as Elara stepped inside. The controls looked just as she remembered, and her old arms still hung at the sides. The communications array looked a little different, but it was almost an exact replica.

Some of the arms looked more damaged than she had last seen, likely from her last time piloting the Moonrise. The set she had carved Gerard’s name onto looked fairly pristine still, though.

Elara took a seat at the console, feeling her spinal port click into place. The Moonrise hummed to life as she ran through all of its safety checks. The machine was in pristine condition. The reactors let out a roar as they fired up, and Elara felt the surge of energy through the machine. She mentally thanked Thalia one more time,

“Pilot Elara Callisto, handle Moonrise, primed and ready.” She spoke into the communications array. This was where she belonged. The Moonrise hooked onto a set of transport rails behind it.

The comms fizzled to life as Handler spoke through them, “Handler here. Do you copy?”

“Yes ma’am. All safety checks passed. Ready for deployment.” Elara felt herself sink deeper into the seat upon hearing Handler. She was safe here.

“This is a test, as much as it is a task, Elara. Do not disappoint me. You’ll be deployed onto one of our underground testing arenas against an Imperial 2-IF.” Handler’s voice was crackly with the audio, something that had to be fixed.

Elara focused on the mission ahead. 2-IF, the next generation of the Infected model. No major changes to the design specs, just covering for weaknesses. It relied more heavily on its acidic weaponry now, carrying two modified rifles.

“Any details about the enemy, Handler?” She wanted to know about them, at least a little. Elara doubted that they’d go without giving her at least a little information on them. Let it sink in.

Handler replied quickly, “You’ll be briefed after the mission.”

Another voice fizzled through the communicator. Thalia spoke, “There’s a few additions to your arsenal that you should know about. Your shield now utilizes scrap as a secondary option, its initial material is impact resistant and should shield you from electromagnetic pulses.”

Elara felt around the Moonrise for the shield. It felt wrong to modify it so heavily, taking away from what Maxine had wanted her to have. She understood the purpose, though. Her railgun was too high power, and fried the internal circuitry of the Moonrise. Something to block at least a part of it would help.

Thalia continued, “Your weapon still primarily fires charged metal rods. However, during its recharge it now functions like a hybrid of the Wingbeat and Stormdrain’s weapon. Balls of electrified plasma. They should arc towards any spikes you fire into your opponent beforehand.”

A combination of the Stormdrain, Wingbeat, and Greybird’s weaponry, then. The rods reminded Elara of her father’s sword, a feature she had removed from the Moonrise’s blade.

The railgun she carried belonged to the person who she had killed with her last plasma cannon. Picking up another plasma blaster felt wrong, even the thought of it tainted now. Using her father’s weaponry alongside it made the weapon feel as if it was soaked in even more blood.

It made sense, though, given her new name for the weapon. The Lark.

“Your sword hasn’t been changed much, although it has been modified to be slightly more aerodynamic at higher speeds. More suited towards slashing, and cutting cleanly through steel.”

Thalia had actually made the weapon more akin to its original. Elara watched as two blades were sheathed at her mech’s side. They looked just like the Dragonfly’s.

These weren’t in Elara’s original plans, although she appreciated the gesture a little. A reminder of her parents, and that they were fighting alongside her. Respecting them by using their sacrifice.

It wasn’t her choice in the end anyways.

The Moonrise now carried almost as much stolen metal than it was made of. An amalgam of weapons and tech from the dead. Truly the graverobber that the Imperials feared it as.

“Affirmative, Miss Hail. I will make sure to put your work to good use.” She grit her teeth and pushed forward. Where she got her tools from was some of the least of her concerns now. It wasn’t her concern anyways.

What she was more worried about was her opponent. Handler didn’t do anything without a reason. Killing a random Imperial soldier didn’t make sense.

The Moonrise deployed onto the simulated battlefield, and she saw her opponent on the other side. The black IF-2 stood, slightly cosmetically damaged. It was a well-used machine.

Why were they sending her to kill another Imperial? What was the point besides to-

A third voice buzzed in over the speaker.

Hello? Elara?

She didn’t recognize them by their voice. Did they know her?

Is that you in the Moonrise, Commander? This is Eradas Glaze.

This wasn’t an Imperial soldier. This was Rhine’s sister. A spy on the Imperial front. She provided the majority of the rebel base’s intel here.

Eradas Glaze. Elara had never met her in her time in the army, but she knew of her existence here. She hadn’t been caught in her years of service. She had Imperial commendations.

Handler buzzed in. “She is a registered Imperial soldier, as I said. Pay no mind to her words, Elara. Take down your target.”

Handler didn’t lie. She had to be registered as an Imperial soldier. Of course she was, she was pretending to be one. Elara had heard tales of the sister during Intelligence meetings and when talking with Rhine. She was sending back information to Rebel base. Risking her life every day to give them a fighting chance.

Commander? Is that you? I didn’t think you actually survived.

Elara felt sick to her stomach. What did she mean ‘actually’? Nobody could know she came out of that wreckage but Handler.

Some spy on the other side of the battlefield knew. Did the entire base know, by now? Was she going to be saved? Were the rebels coming for her?

Handler spoke again. “Commander Elara Callisto is dead. Take down your target. Do not make me repeat myself.”

“I-I can’t do this, Handler. She’s a rebel. I know her sister. Please. Help me.” Elara sputtered out over the communications. She felt her insides churn. Rhine would never forgive her. Eradas had risked her life time and time again for everybody at the base. Elara probably owed her life to her, in some part.

She wanted Handler to take the pain away. She couldn’t do this. It was still her choice here.

“She’s dead either way. You are not a Hound here. This is your fight. Remember your deal, Elara,” Handler said coldly.

The metal on Elara’s face suddenly felt so heavy, the muzzle pressing into her skin. She made a deal. This was no longer her fight. No more decisions from her. She made her choice when she begged to be Handler’s.

Eradas had known the risks. She had been caught. It was her fault. Elara was just the blade of the falling guillotine. She shouldn’t care. The arms hanging around her were a reminder of what she was made for. The Moonrise just pointed the other direction now.

Besides, Eradas hadn’t managed to save Elara, in the end.

The Moonrise took a step forward, then another. It lifted off the ground, and Elara broke into a dash towards the Imperial mech. A storm of dust flew up behind the Moonrise as it sped towards the Infection. She raised her railgun.

The Infection’s head collapsed in on itself as a metal spike struck it. Sparks flew from the mechanical wound, as it bled coolant. The force of the blast forced the Moonrise to a stop.

Elara! Stop! It’s Eradas! You know who I am! I’m a rebel soldier just like you, Commander!

Elara wasn’t a rebel anymore. She was nothing like the person in front of her. The person in front of her was an enemy, Handler wanted her dead. Elara needed her dead.

She fired a followup plasma burst, the Imperial mech dodging out of the way, but the ball of hot plasma arced in the air, slamming into the damaged Infection’s head. Elara pushed forward.

Preon sent me, Elara! She wanted information on you! It’s why I’m here! Please, it has to be you!

The Imperial mech was running now, away from the fast approaching Moonrise. It backed up against a wall, raising one of its weapons.

Elara continued pressing forward. Preon. She couldn’t know she was alive. If Preon knew, then Pyralis knew. Pyralis couldn’t know. She could live a better life without her. The Imperial mech pilot had to be lying. Preon was searching, though. If Eradas died here, she would never know. Pyralis could live free.

Her fate was sealed.

“What she’s saying doesn’t matter, little bird. Pay attention to your goal. Eliminate your target.” Handler continued on in her deadpan voice. She was right. This had to be done, no matter how much she begged. If she died here, there was a chance that Pyralis never had to know. She could live her happy life without Elara.

I don’t want this, plea-

Elara cut her short, blasting another spike into the Infection. The spike jutted out of the chest-armor of the Imperial mech, and the communication cut out. No more distractions.

It didn’t matter who the pilot was, anymore. She was marked for death by Handler, and that had to be enough. Elara would make Handler proud.

The Infection finally began firing, but it was far too late. Elara raised her shield, the hail of bullets glancing off of its surface. A shower of shrapnel rained down around the Moonrise, as it readied to end its enemy.

Elara dropped the Lark, drawing a blade, slamming it into the core of the Infection. She detonated the weapon, watching as the Infection split in two, going up in a ball of fire.

Elara whispered under her breath, “Sorry, Rhine.”

“Good girl.” Handler spoke over the communications.

One down. Eleven to go.