Quix ran her hand over her flank, looking at the rainbow of bruises across her chest and ribs. The bruises pulsed and ached from the searing spike in blood pressure she'd had as the anger set in. Her muscles ached here and there, and her heart was still tender, throbbing and aching like she'd pushed it too hard. She probably had. She was still gathering her breath after a silent, fuming rage had seized her.

She'd thought the game was over.

She thought she'd escaped.

As her body and soul ached, and her anger slowly waned, the only thing she could do was look over her battered body, and hope there wasn't more abuse to come.

The bruises, from the last two days of abuse, had darkened and deepened overnight. Usually, she'd have shrugged it off, and maybe winced as she put on her shirt.

Today, however, she grimaced and hesitated, curling her toes as she sat on the edge of her bunk and looked at the body armor she'd gotten from Jonah.

She didn't want to put on the constrictive, heavy plate.

She didn't really want to be trapped on a ship with MLA operatives either.

Not just operatives. Quix thought, lifting her waistband and frowning at the massive bruises on her hips.

The MLA's driving the ship.

Quix inhaled deeply and grit her teeth, pushing back fears and flashbacks of the previous days, of plasma fire and grenade report. Of nearly choking to death in the front seat of a van, and of nearly having all of her hearts stopped several times.

Just the idea of those very same monsters sharing a ship with her made her palms sweat, and put an unfamiliar terror just at the back of her neck, making every pore and cell tingle all across her spine. She'd had enough.

She'd left them behind.

They had followed.

Quix shuddered, and let her shoulders sag as she cursed and whimpered a prayer.

She was torn between hopeless fear and impotent rage, between the hot flashes and grinding teeth or shaking and the helpless tears, and she'd been tossed between the two like a toy boat for the last half hour.

And yet...

She had a job to do. A second chance to realize.

A half hour ago, just after the news, she'd calmed her voice, and made a call to the freighter's passenger booking department. She'd gotten rooms for the Obsidian employees, who were probably waiting outside in the cargo bay. Jonah was waiting too. She'd promised his men suites and creature comforts if they'd offer their services to protect the others for the duration of the trip. He'd been happy to oblige.

But once she'd gotten that armor, and retreated to her room, she'd nearly broken down. She'd thrown her backpack against the wall and turned her knuckles white ripping the MLA bandanna into ribbons as she cursed and slashed away a few tears.

Now, she sat on the bed, exhausted and looking over her aching, angry body. She was still expected to go out there, into that pitiless freighter and hope that no one recognized her. She was still the one all those civilians were turning to, awaiting safe passage to a haven where they could wash, rest, and sleep.

She had to go out there. For them.

For Runt.

For her second chance.

Quix started to pick up the armor plate and press the padded side to her chest. She would put her sidearm on next, and after that, a shirt and her usual backpack. Even then, she wondered how safe she'd be.

Not from bullets, but bargains. From the old temptations. From the allure of just going back to what she knew.

Threats, blackmail, lies and hate. She only knew that life. The job she'd just gotten, the home she hoped she truly had, even Runt's friendship... all that was new, especially compared to her shade, blackened past. And the MLA was crafty. Crafty enough, perhaps, to drag her back in again.

They might shoot at her on sight, or, they might approach with blackmail, deals, bargains, and threats against her new life and her only friend.

What would she do then?

Quix's stomach churned, and she felt almost as sick as she did angry. She wanted to lash out again, but there was nothing there. She wanted to lie in bed and curl up, she wanted to hide, to disappear and just...

Escape.

She exhaled with a whimper, and put her hands on her head, holding back curses and tears.

What would she do when they came calling, and the only way out was blackmail, lies, and the old game she thought she'd escaped?

Quix dug her claws into her scalp as she shuddered, and whispered a promise and a prayer.

She wasn't sure yet what she'd do if that happened.

But one thing she would never do was go back.

~

"Runt?"

Quix smacked her knuckles against the bulkhead and peeked inside the cockpit. She only had a few moments with Runt. She was expected to guide a crowd in the cargo bay to their rooms onboard the freighter in mere moments, but her anxiety had gotten the best of her.

She needed advice.

Reassurance, maybe.

So she'd come to the only one who could offer it.

"Do you have a second Runt?"

Runt swiveled in his chair, and set down a frosted-over mug of coffee. He nodded, and touched a screen to make to darker. His eyes met hers, and his cheerful expression dulled to a worry.

He cocked his head as he saw her hunched shoulders, her clenched jaw, and her white knuckles.

"Yeah, what's wrong Quix?"

Quix stepped further into the cockpit, and glanced over her shoulder. Despite the empty halls, she lowered her voice and took another step towards her friend.

"I... I needed some advice." She said, shrugging. "If the MLA's onboard the ship... what happens if they find me?"

Runt crossed his arms and turned his head a little.

"What do you mean?"

"What do I do if they find me?" She said again. "Like, if they expect me to operate like normal, and just be one of them again? Not all of them know I turned."

Runt hesitated, and nodded slowly after a moment.

"Well... I guess do what other civilians would do. Report them to the cops, or defend yourself. Maybe call me too."

He narrowed his eyes, and glanced at the doorway.

"Or, just get Jonah. I'm sure he can help."

Quix's guts were still churning, and her anger and anxiety refused to be settled so easily.

She shoved her hands up against her ribs and folded her arms tight against her chest. Without even thinking, her tail curled in next to her, betraying her to Runt even as she tried to come up with a calm way to ask her next questions.

Quix exhaled.

Come on, it can't be this hard to transition to civilian...

"What... what would you do?" She asked. "Or what would a normal person do? I don't want to be former MLA. I want to be just a plain old person."

Runt glanced down, then back into her eyes.

She could tell he was conjuring up something kind, gentle, and far too noble for the likes of her.

Before he'd even started talking, she was half shut-up to his ideas. Her soul was afraid, and had locked itself in its old ways.

But Runt seemed to know how to bypass those locks, just as easily as he could cut through code.

"Quix, if this were Pathmos, I'd just call the police. I might call Obsidian security. But the point is, when we're home, we can call people who can help."

His face softened, and leaned forward with an elbow on each knee.

"Right now, we're the ones who Pathmos is calling on for help. Quix, you're going to be a plain old civilian just like me in just a few weeks. But out here, with the MLA still running wild, we need to rely on each other. On Jonah, too."

Runt paused.

And as he did, Quix felt her guard drop.

She knew he was right. Moreover, she knew that there was no team she'd rather be part of. His. He was kind, brave, and a give-no-ground good guy. As much as she wanted to put down her past, forget it, and just enjoy a domestic life of bills, work, friends, and hobbies, she knew he was right.

Pathmos, her promised land, needed her help. If only for a little while.

"We can handle this together." Runt finished. "Just stick with it for a little longer. Pathmos needs us."

Quix nodded, and slowly unfolded her arms.

"So, if I run into trouble..."

"Call me. And we'll handle it together."

Quix nodded, and exhaled in a relieved huff. He was right. That was all she'd needed to hear. Perhaps she was a normal, plain old citizen. Just like Runt was.

But in the toughest of times, even plain, normal citizens had to pick up arms and defend their homes, not simply depend on their homelands to defend them.

If that was the price of her citizenship, she would be more than happy to pay.

~

A half-hour and lots of haggling later, Quixxa found herself standing on the threshold of a suite, watching as Obsidian employees filed into rooms all along a hallway lit with silvery lights. The bedraggled crew sighed and smiled at her as they disappeared into their bunks, some to sleep, some to shower, and other just to curl up and cry in a safe place.

She smiled too.

Pride pricked at her cheeks, and made her show her teeth as her heart thumped. She stood in the doorway of one of the suites Jonah and her crew had taken, her hands on her hips and her chin in the air. She'd been thinking ever since Runt had said goodbye a half hour ago.

And he was right. Obsidian, and Pathmos, needed her help.

She couldn't afford to play MLA games anymore.

Pathmos couldn't afford for her to play anymore.

And neither could Runt.

So she'd made up her mind. And as she'd checked in dozens of her fellow citizens and workers, she'd made a promise to the only one who'd listen.

God.

She'd promised that when the MLA came calling again, there would be no more lies. Nothing would be hidden from Runt, or his boss. She wouldn't lie her way into their ranks, she wouldn't be dragged back into doing little favors, and she wouldn't give out a scrap of information no matter how much blackmail, no matter how many threats, and no matter how many credits were promised. She was done.

And that had made her heart soar.

She'd spent her whole adult life catering to their fearmongering and threats. She's learned their sly little tricks, their games, and their expectations. And she'd bowed to them. She'd learned to lie, to deceive, to wear a smile when she felt sick and to conceal the second thoughts, regrets and doubts under a thick veil of fear.

But she'd betrayed them. She'd stabbed them in the back and twisted the knife.

A knife Runt had given her.

And she wasn't going back on her progress. She wasn't falling back into her pit, the one she'd begged God to free her from for years.

She'd changed.

Or at least, she was doing her best to.

Runt had forgiven her for her deception. Pathmos had declared her innocent, and a new citizen. New Medina thought she was dead, and frankly, that whole world was dead to her as well.

She had changed.

And that was final.

The last, final order of business was simple. And it was why she lingered at Jonah's door.

Quix exhaled with a peaceful sigh, and turned around. She tucked her tail to keep it from hitting the doorframe, and crossed her arms as she watched Jonah toss his weapon on the bed, and partially unsling his backpack before he paused to look at Quix.

"Let me get this straight." Jonah said, beginning to re-state the proposition she'd given him a minute ago. He'd been thinking it over since she'd pitched it, and she'd been hoping for the best as he brooded, and unpacked.

He dropped the backpack on the floor, and turned to look at her. His bruised nose and hard gaze were stony still, and deadly serious.

"You want me and my men, pro bono, to keep you and your friend safe?"

He lowered his brow.

"After we've already completed our contract?"

She shifted, and nodded.

"Yeah."

He took a long look at her, then turned and took a longer look at the bed.

"That's a pretty tall order."

Jonah plopped down on the bed, and hit the pillow a few time with an open hand.

"Let me ask you a question first." He said.

He flopped back, and kicked his feet up on the bed as he nestled in and buried the back of his head in the pillow.

"You're worried about the MLA. Well, so am I. What if they show up, and want you back in their ranks? What if they want you to play the game again? You going back?"

Quix looked at Jonah and hardened her gaze a bit, lifting her chin in defiance of her past.

She'd already made up her mind about that.

"I'm not playing their games. I'm a new woman, Jonah. Pathmos says so. Runt says so. I say so too. I'm gonna follow the law as best I can. If the MLA tries to get at me, I'm turning them in, or defending myself. No more games."

He raised his brow.

"No more games?"

She shook her head, and felt a surge of pride. She lifted her chin a little more, straightened her tail, and spoke.

"No more games."

Jonah sighed, and chuckled.

"That runt is rubbing off on you." He mumbled.

He hesitated, and looked at the ceiling as he exhaled.

"If you need help... just ask. No extra charge. Not for the rest of the voyage, anyway. Consider it my civic duty, protecting citizens and all that."

He chuckled, and shrugged.

"I've learned my lesson about not protecting the civilians, I guess." He said, rubbing his nose.

Quix wrinkled her nose.

"That busted up nose have something to do with learning your lesson?" She asked, curious.

Jonah rubbed his nose, and sighed.

"No, this is nothing. Just a bruise."

Quix gave him a low brow.

"It looks broken, Jonah."

He nodded slowly.

"Yeah, but it's not bad."

Quix cocked her head, and felt a strange twinge in her stomach, like she should have known what it was from suddenly.

"Where'd you get it? Really?"

He glanced at her. And as he did, something told her that there was more to the story...

"It's not important. But if you've gotta know, I had a fight with a friend." He said, his eyes softening.

"Turns out, I think I was wrong."