Unknown location in California. August 23rd, 18:10 p.m

Deep in the forests, there is a lonely house next to a river. Wooden and all that seems normal at first sight.

Yet, there's much more.

Inside the house, a chattering is going on, coming from some sort of kitchen. Looking like a family reunion or talk over something important to them.

Said "family" are someones who probably have the least expected time to look again.

The Agents are here.

On the table, there's a holographic display of a stadium. Formerly one that looked tidy and nice, it now looks packed with some sandbag defenses and turrets on the roof. All heavily militarized.

Agent Sequence is pointing at the hologram while the team watches, almost as if there's the need to stay focused.

"Alright, team, we will deploy tomorrow at 9:00 a.m to San Diego, I've just got word that The Navigators, the ones holding the secret for the first Human air fleet, are being held hostage at Qualcomm Stadium, where they will be guarded until they broadcast the execution live on TV at 12:00 PM," Sequence says, the other members murmur to each other in what is to be expected in that event.

"That sounds uglier than Roman executions though," Agent Ace replies.

"But that's not the important part. First, we must clear the security forces stationed outside the stadium, afterward, we'll infiltrate through the parking lot to reach the game field, where The Navigators are being held. As usual, the organization demands that our presence in this mission must be kept at absolute secrecy, and any attempt at revealing our presence will result in a "cleanup". However, unlike previous missions, this one will not involve carpet bombing in the surrounding areas, instead, the Watchers will be sent to clear it up."

"And you probably know the one who is responsible?" Widow asks while she leans near Open, making her step back for a bit.

"If it's the way to make sure there's no infighting in this group itself, then we won't get paid extra for teamwork. Pinkie promise?"

O can only nod while slightly trembling from the command. Even with the mask on, Widow's smirk can be spotted with a trained eye.

"Which Watcher group may I ask? The one with Vatista? That bastard may surely bring a hell lot of gunfire for a good shit," House says.

"Actually...negative. He already has his own bounties and mission to get."

"But he can help us faster!"

"But endanger his contract?"

"Well..."

"Then it's settled, so shut up now."

Ace can only chuckle in response while pressing with his elbow to House's arm for a bit.

"Cheer up, your tricks are still good, right?"

"I think not?"

"You'll see, it won't be that hard."

"This mission will be hard, fellow SHADOWS, but I'm pretty sure that your skills will provide the momentum in this, understood?" agent S says while turning down the hologram displaying the stadium, coming from a device near S's hand.

"We'll do it." They then get up from the chair. They put them back in their place at the table while crossing their arms in an X-shape form.

"For the eternal balance of all!" the rest say in unison as they salute.

"Good, now let's rest for tomorrow and anticipate the great prize waiting for us all."

All of them proceed to separate, ready to pack their stuff for the mission.

If it comes to a three-way battle, there may be trouble after all.

However, just as Open goes upstairs to pack her stuff and ready to go, Agent Sequence approaches her and grabs her arm. Swift yet rough.

"Now listen up, Agent Open, remember what we talked about days ago. We are the ones that need to accomplish what's necessary, and that means following what the creed of the SHADOW indicates. Now, no questioning, or else. Understand?"

"Yes, leader..." Open whispers as she looks down.

Sequence simply lets go of her while he too gets upstairs for the equipment. Open, however, simply stands there while still looking down.

Just why...will I survive?

F.O.B Jefferson. 03:13 p.m. 7 hours later

'Who are you  to be calling yourself a hero?'

'Oh sure, let's celebrate the thousand murders of the enlightened one!'

'They were criminals who deserved to die!'

'You shut up, you ignorant man of impure ancestry!'

'Traitor!'

'Poor soul!'

'Murderer!'

'Unworthy child!'

'I WANT TO DIE!'

With those words, Logan snaps his eyes open as air leaves from his mouth.  Ventilating at a rapid pace while holding his hands near his chest, he looks around the bed and the room, all looking normal and tidy with no sign of intrusion so far.  His teammates look stable and safe for now too. 

That dream again...if I can only remove it from my mind...that void, those wounds of mine. They look fine and yet I can only see an empty skin...

And yet, he sets sight on the golden handle of his own blade. He gets up as he trembles, grabbing the sword as he opens the door to step outside the empty hallway of the base, all while leaving the door open as he leaves from it. 

I must atone...I must atone...I must atone...

***

Amid the dark horizon, a barren and quiet land devoid of any sort of soul that could pass through. There are at least a handful of woodcuts if one can see with a keen eye. And not just cut wood from nearby fences, shredded metal alongside it. Most of them with marks of a distinguishable weapon capable of cutting with such force.

In fact, a distinct figure is using a glowing katana blade. Logan Preaker himself swings his sword at every cuttable material he finds. With each swing, his arms and face are sweaty, his face looking empty, nothing with any sort of emotion that comes forward even if he tries hard. All he can do now is to cut anything and practice with his weapon until he feels better.

He sets sight on a light post, swinging his sword vertically at it, even if it cuts off the lightbulb inside and shrouds his view. He keeps on going with his routine, even past midnight.

I am not afraid...because I have something to atone for...I am afraid...because I have nothing to atone for...

Another swing in the air, breathing heavily from the force he musters as he focuses on what's on his head, to relax from all the trouble that happened lately. It was merely his own way of what can be a way to fix things beyond his own control in his life.

No, there's nothing to atone for! You don't deserve it! They deserve to atone for their sins, all of them! But no...I killed them, I surrendered myself to fear...I must be the one...Kill...Love...Kill...Love...what am I supposed to be? What I should do?!

Logan swings faster with every motion he can think of, all while containing his heavy breathing from the actions he is taking. He knows he can take it for all that matters; he knows it pretty well.

Should I kill them? Should I save them? How can I save people who despise me? No...it would perpetuate any further. Should I love? Or hate? Tell me! Just please...! Love or hate?! Love or hate?! Love or hate...

After a long "practice", he slumps to the ground as he lets go of the handle of the blade, turning it off as composes himself after what happened. Slowly raising his head, he glances at his hand, full of marks from the handle of the blade enough to leak crimson from both hands. For all that he tries, it cannot remove this kind of pain with just a matter of training or spirit. Anyone could try this practice to vent out their feelings, and yet Logan feels far more beyond what it seems.

I am useless...there is nothing left for me...I don't deserve any help...I never will... He weeps from his puffy red eyes as he kneels to the ground to keep his sorrow with himself. For everything he needs, he feels like there is nothing else he can do, for his suffering remains eternal, entrenched like the sturdiest trees. What tragedy he has faced, he will continue to, for that is a reality a warrior can face in such times.

Anyone...

F.O.B Jefferson. 10:13 p.m. 7 hours later

Ever since the battle of San Jose, most of the operations in the base have been relatively calm. Even if there's much more left to regain, patient planning and mood need to keep the next battles well operated and go smoothly. Fresh minds can help a lot in combat after all.

Now, most missions are dedicated to stealth and covert operations in the surrounding regions and California itself. The less the Zlocu has, the better for Humanity to regain a fighting chance.

And the Earth Warriors will be there for them.

That is when there is.

Yesterday's actions are not to be overlooked after all.

Logan is standing near a cargo truck, arms crossed and such, his eyes still puffy and his posture stooped while staring at the distance.

Even if it happened now, Logan's heart still aches for something more. Something to bring peace to him.

It doesn't matter what it could take.

It needs peace after all.

Behind him, there's someone looking at him near a wall under construction, leaning a bit sideways to look at him.

The person is none other than Tany herself.

Usually a smiley person, she can only sport a pained gaze as she looks at him. She too understands what's in him and what he needs. And so she is, as for Amira holds something special for her.

"Loggie..." she whispers.

Suddenly, a person walks nearby, getting closer to Tany while she still looks at Logan.

It's Eddie himself.

"Hey there girlie...you're alone?" he asks.

This startles Tany for a bit who jumps for a bit from the unexpected visit from the old man himself.

"Hey, I was just tryin' to greet ya. It's not that hard."

"Well, not like that!" She then slightly slaps Eddie's bald part, something in which he doesn't flinch at all.

"Cannot do, girlie."

Tany sighs in response while she looks down again and shifts her gaze to Logan's direction again.

"Now...I don't know if it matters for you, but I'm really sorry for the way I've acted towards Logan, really I am."

"I can tell Eddie...though it's far better for him to hear that. Looking at him like that brings me memories I wish I didn't want to see again."

"How bad?"

"Probably...not much I guessy?"

"Hmm...I can tell from it, but I'll let it be."

"It's alright Eddie...well, at least for now, we can have more time to get to know each other. That helps a lot for our psyche. It may help him as well, to make him shiny again is good, right?"

"Surely...but ye understand that as much as you may like him, be mindful that not all new friends can stay with you in the first weeks. Either they're not your caliber or not that interested, or somehow both. Or even in one moment...you may not get to know much of them for a long time."

"You think...? But..."

"Giddy up, girlie. Amira is now off limits as a result of the incident and we may not get to see her again for a long while. I'd like to think otherwise but it's something you should be ready for it anyway. You may understand as Logan may do. Well, that's all I can think of..."

"Something wrong?"

"Nothing, just nothing. Maybe it was something worth talking about...but really nothing you can worry about too much."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, I'm serious, gal. Now leave him, I heard he had trouble last night."

"I see now. Amira...please be with us soon...because it seems that you're bringing Loggie something we haven't seen before."

Friendship is said to be a beautiful word.

But one that needs proper proof of how it can be.

And if one tries harder.

There may be something much more than that.