Their swords clashed again, and again, and again. Neither of them was willing to let up, neither of them was willing to give an inch to the other.

After a particularly violent clash, they stepped back, putting a few metres between them, and gazed at each other.

“My compliments,” Emerald Scarab said. “You are very skilled. Among all the humans I have fought, you are the best.”

Defender Red nodded in return. “You, too, are an excellent fighter. I can see why my friends were having trouble with you.”

Scarab took a stance again. “I hope you realise I am still better than you. If this goes on, I will defeat you before long.”

“Oh, I have realised it. But there’s something you don’t know.”

“And what would that be?”

A grin. “What would you say if I told you… I am not left-handed?”

Red switched their sword from their left hand to their right, and squared off against Scarab.

There was a long moment of silence.

Scarab finally spoke: “I would ask you why you have fought with your left hand so far, if that is not your best hand.”

Another prolonged moment of silence; awkwardness hung in the air.

“No, I’m sorry,” Red said sheepishly, returning their sword to their left hand. “I’m left-handed after all.”

“Then… Why would you say that you are not?” Scarab inquired.

“I…” Red took a deep breath. “I was trying to make conversation. It’s a quote. From The Princess Bride.”

“The Princess Bride?”

“Oh, you know. A movie. One of my favourites, actually.”

Scarab cocked her head to the side. “Moo-vee? What’s that?”

Red gaped at her; had they not been wearing their suit, Scarab would’ve been able to see the scandalised expression on their face.

“You… You don’t know what movies are?”

“I have never heard the word, no,” Scarab replied.

“That… How?” Red asked. “This is impossible.”

“You seem to forget we have different cultures, Defender Red. If I were to ask you what a babiladon is, would you be able to tell me?”

Red hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. “Yeah, that’s fair. I hadn’t considered that.”

A pause, then Scarab asked: “You have piqued my curiosity, Defender Red. What is a movie?”

“It’s like…” Red struggled to think of a way to describe them. “A recording. A video recording you watch. People moving on screen.” They paused. “You do have those, don’t you?”

Scarab nodded. “Yes, we do.”

“Alright, so,” Red continued, nodding back. “In this case, the people on the screen – the actors – are pretending to be someone they are not, and they are acting out a story that is completely invented.”

Scarab considered what Red had said. “And what is the purpose of this?”

“It’s… For fun. For entertainment. To pass the time, and enjoy watching them.”

“Huh. This is interesting.” Then Scarab looked off to the side. “I can hear your friends approaching, Defender Red. It seems our conversation is at an end for today.”

“I suppose so,” Red replied. “I’ve enjoyed talking to you.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Scarab nodded. “Me too.”

As she was about to teleport away, Red spoke up again: “The Princess Bride. Look it up. I think you will like it.”

And then Scarab was gone, in a flash of green light.

 

 

How peculiar, Lorem mused. To find someone from the human side who was willing to actually talk to her. To make conversation, instead of just fighting. How peculiar.

Defender Red had seemed like a nice… Man? Person? Lorem didn’t know. She had gotten a strange feeling from Red, almost as if they weren’t sure of their own identity themselves. It made her want to talk to them again, to find more about them. It was her natural curiosity coming to the front: everyone had always told her she was too inquisitive for her own good, so she’d tried to put on a tough face, to pretend to have a tough personality, to get the other Leaders to take her seriously.

She’d even taken to keeping her armour on at all times, except for sleep. To avoid showing vulnerability.

But what Red had said had made Lorem curious. Red was a really strong fighter, and yet they seemingly spent some time watching those ‘movies.’ Which meant relaxing, avoiding thinking about the war, for once in a while.

Maybe Lorem could do the same.

Remembering something, she pulled up a map on her screen. At the beginning of the war, before she’d been given her morphing device, she’d been stationed in a place that had been a… Video store. Something like that. And according to Defender Red, a movie was a kind of video recording. Hm.

Of course, that base had been deserted for a while now, the front lines having moved forward. But maybe…

She tapped her morpher, and the world disappeared and then reappeared in a flash: now she was standing on the teleporter platform at the disused forward base.

Lorem looked around: some lights were still on, apparently no one had bothered to cut the power when leaving the base. She stepped down from the platform, and moved to another room. It had been left untouched during the advance, since the main room was all that was needed for the teleporter; the walls were lined with small plastic containers, which had letters stamped on them. She pulled one down, opened it, and picked up the plastic disc that was inside. So this was the format humans used for video recordings: much different than the ones she’d seen before, but she was sure she would be able to figure them out.

Her eyes moved further along the wall. The records were in alphabetic order, but she had yet to properly figure out human letters, so it took her a while to find what she was looking for: The Princess Bride.

She took the container, and moved to the screen that occupied one of the walls of the room; she fumbled around with it for a while, but then figured out how to operate it.

She sat down on a chair – it was a bit uncomfortable, she would have to find a way to bring a couch in here – and watched as the movie began playing.

 

 

Their swords clashed again, and again, and again. They were almost evenly matched, but slowly, Emerald Scarab gained the upper hand.

“Hah!” she shouted, as a strong slash sent Defender Red’s blade flying, embedding in the street several metres away.

Red immediately scrambled towards it, but as soon as they’d picked it up and turned back around, they found themselves looking down Scarab’s sword, pointed right at their face.

A moment’s pause, then Red lowered their gaze and said: “Guess you win. So, you gonna kill me?”

Scarab tilted her head to the side. She cleared her voice. “I would as soon destroy a stained glass window as an artist like yourself,” she said.

Red’s head snapped upwards, and they looked at Scarab in amazement. “You… That was a Princess Bride quote, wasn’t it? So you actually watched it?”

“I have,” Scarab said, taking a step backwards and sheathing her sword. “I have enjoyed it very much.” A pause. “Though I do not understand why some of the characters behaved in the way they did.”

Red flicked their wrist, and their blade collapsed back into a cylinder, which they clipped to their belt. “Such as?” they asked.

“Why would Buttercup not stab the prince the first chance she gets? She seems like a capable young woman, why would she just sit and wait to be rescued?”

Red leaned on a nearby wall, and waved their hands as they replied. “You see, at the time she thought Westley had abandoned her, or he was dead. She thought she had lost her true love. She was in despair.”

“That is no reason to give up,” Scarab protested.

“Well, what would have you done in her place?” Red challenged, crossing their arms in front of their chest.

“I would have made my own destiny. I would have avenged my true love. Those responsible for the loss would have died at my hand.”

Red scoffed. “Big words. Have you ever lost someone you truly care about?”

“No,” Scarab admitted. “Have you?”

“…No.”

“Red!” came a voice. “Red, where are you?”

“Whoops, that would be Yellow and the others,” Red said. “I guess this conversation is done.”

Scarab nodded. “I guess that is my cue to leave. I have enjoyed this conversation.”

Red seemed to hesitate, but then said: “Listen, we can’t keep meeting like this. We keep get interrupted. There’s this place I really like, you can meet me there if you like.”

Scarab gave her a curious look, but Red continued, “It’s in the wilderness, far away from everything. I’ll be waiting there every Sunday afternoon.” She rattled out a set of coordinates, and then added, “Think you can remember that?”

“I have a good memory,” Scarab said. And then she was gone.

 

 

Lorem looked at the screen, which was showing the place corresponding to the coordinates Red had given her: it was indeed in the wilderness, far away from everything. It was the top of a cliff, overlooking a valley full of trees. Lorem judged that she could get there in about an hour from the nearest teleport point.

But this was clearly a trick. It was a way to get her alone, away from her soldiers. To capture or kill her. Of course Red wouldn’t be alone, the other defenders would obviously be there with them, waiting for Lorem to show up.

But…

Red had seemed so earnest. Part of Lorem didn’t want to believe this was a trick.

Well, it wouldn’t hurt to try, would it? She could just go out there, sneak up unseen, and watch, until she was certain Red was alone.

There was only one detail she had to figure out.

“You there,” she said, pointing to a soldier, who looked up and grunted in response. “Do you know what a Sunday is?”

 

 

A Sunday, apparently, was the name of one of days in the seven-days cycle called a “week” humans used to mark the time. It was weird: why would they divide days in groups of seven? Why not five, or ten? It had probably something to do with the culture, Lorem decided.

Nevertheless, the following Sunday she teleported to the base that was nearest to where Red had said they would be waiting, and made the hour-long hike to it: it was no trouble for her, her suit increased her strength, speed, and stamina.

As she approached the location, Lorem slowed down, and tried to make as little noise as possible as she approached. Peeking her head around a tree trunk, she saw Red.

Or at least someone who could be Red. They weren’t wearing their armour, just normal civilian clothes, and were sitting cross-legged near the edge of a cliff, staring off into the distance.

Clearly a trap. No one would leave themselves this vulnerable to attack. Surely the Defenders were hiding nearby, waiting for Lorem to reveal herself, so they could jump her all at once. Well, she wasn’t going to give them the chance: she was going to wait until she was sure that person was alone.

Lorem kept staring at the figure for hours: they never moved from the spot, except for brief moments when they stood up and stretched their legs, walking around a bit, or when they ate something they pulled out of a container that was sitting on the ground nearby.

They seemed so… Innocuous.

Finally, after a long time, the Sun touched the horizon; the person sighed, stood up, and morphed with a flick of their hands. And then they were gone, teleporting away in a flash of red light.

Huh. So that was Defender Red after all. Curious. And Lorem hadn’t seen or heard any trace of anyone else nearby; maybe they were actually alone?

No. Impossible. No one would be that naive and trusting. Especially towards someone who was their enemy, let’s not forget that.

But still, Lorem resolved to keep coming to that spot, every Sunday. Surely if she kept doing so, she would find evidence that it was all an elaborate trap.

 

 

Maybe it wasn’t a trap after all? Ten times Lorem had come there, at the spot where Red was waiting for her, and ten times she hadn’t seen the slightest shred of evidence that this was all a trick.

Maybe Defender Red had actually meant it when they’d said they wanted to talk with Lorem without anyone to interrupt them? Lorem could scarcely believe it.

But still, she had to come to a decision. She couldn’t just keep coming there to do nothing: she either had to stop, or to actually approach Defender Red.

But that would mean showing some vulnerability. To give Red an opening. To allow them to get to know Lorem outside of the field of battle.

Could Lorem do that?

Before she could stop herself, she had marched out of the woods, and sat down near the edge of the cliff, with a bit of distance between her and Red, who looked at her, surprise showing in their eyes.

“Uh… Hi,” they said.

Lorem grunted in response.

Silence fell upon them, and stretched on. A really awkward silence.

Come on, Lorem. You have come all this way, now say something.

“The view is really nice,” she said.

“It is,” Red replied, nodding. “It’s one of my favourite places, I come here when I want to relax and think. It’s really peaceful out here.”

“Indeed.”

Another pause.

“So you’ve finally decided to come,” Red said. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t.”

Lorem glanced at… Him? Her? …Them, for now. Lorem glanced at them, and said, “I actually came here the first Sunday after you made your invitation. And every Sunday since.”

Red’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Really?”

Lorem nodded.

“Then why didn’t you approach until now?”

“I thought it might be a trick,” Lorem answered. “That you might be setting a trap for me, with the help of the other Defenders. To capture or kill me.”

“What? No!” Red protested. “I wouldn’t do that, I really like you!”

Lorem tilted her head to the side. “You like me?”

“I… I like you as a person,” Red said in response, blushing a bit. “I think you’re very interesting.”

“Huh. But you do not even know the first thing about me.”

“Well then, let’s change that.” They extended their hand towards Lorem, leaning towards her so they could reach her. “I’m Mark, Mark Bishop. What’s your name?”

Lorem hesitated. But then again, it was just a name, wasn’t it?

“Lorem,” she replied, shaking Mark’s hand.

“Lorem. It’s a beautiful name.”

She snatched her hand back, and gave Mark a glare. No one had ever said any part of her was beautiful before, and she didn’t know how to handle it.

“I have to go now,” she said. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, she continued: “I will come again next Sunday.”

Mark nodded. “I will be waiting.”

 

 

“Do those really exist?” Lorem asked.

“Hm? Do what exist?” Mark replied.

“Those things.” Lorem pointed at the screen. “Rodents Of Unusual Size.”

“They don’t. They’re just… Fantasy. Like the rest of the movie.”

“Huh.”

A pause.

“Well, actually,” Mark continued, “there are rodents of that size. Though they’re quite tame. And cute.”

“Oh?” Lorem said, turning her head to look at Mark.

“Oh yes,” Mark nodded. “Capybaras, they’re called. I think you’d like them.”

Lorem hesitated before asking, but in the end her curiosity won over her fear of showing interest for something. “And where can I find those?”

“Around these parts? In zoos, I guess.”

“Zoos?”

“Uh, they’re… Places where animals are kept. So people can look at them. They’re fun,” Mark replied. “When the war’s over, I’ll take you to one.”

“I am counting on that,” Lorem nodded.

 

 

“Let me ask you a question, Mark Bishop,” she said.

Mark looked up from the sandwich they were biting into. “Just Mark. And go ahead.”

“What gender are you?”

“What gender am I? Seriously? You can’t tell?” Mark replied, blinking in surprise.

“I cannot,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders. “Usually I get a certain… Feeling from people. Especially when I fight them. There are subtle clues in the way they move. Small hints. For example, I am almost certain Defender Yellow and Defender Blue are men, and Defender White and Defender Green are women. Am I correct?”

Mark nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“You, on the other hand,” Lorem continued, pointing at Mark. “You I cannot place. The… The clues, the small movements, are all mixed up. The feeling you give off is strange. I honestly cannot tell.”

Mark stared at her for a long while. When they replied, their tone of voice sounded as if they were trying to convince themselves: “I’m a man. Of course I am.”

Lorem put a hand to her chin, and looked at Mark pensively. “If you say so.”

Mark frowned. “Wait, what’s that mean?”

Lorem didn’t answer, she just looked at the setting sun. “It is getting late,” she said. “We should be getting back before someone wonders where we are.”

She stood up.

“See you next Sunday.”

She teleported away, leaving Mark frowning at the spot she’d disappeared from.

 

 

“Good afternoon, Mark Bishop,” Lorem said as she sat down beside Mark.

“Huh? Oh, good afternoon,” Mark said in response.

Lorem tilted her head to the side. “You seem distracted. Is everything alright?”

“It is,” Mark replied automatically, then frowned. “No, actually, not everything is alright.”

Lorem hesitated.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she offered.

Mark looked at her, and then nodded. “I’ve been thinking about the exchange we had a few weeks ago. The one about gender.”

“What of it?” Lorem asked.

“You… You asked me if I was sure I was a man.”

She thought back. “No, I did not.”

“Not in those words, you didn’t,” Mark said, smiling wryly. “But you said, if you say so, when I told you I’m a man. Same difference.”

Lorem nodded. “So?”

“Well, I’ve been… I wrote a letter recently. To someone I know, someone who’s very dear to me, who is a woman. But… Well, everyone thought she was a man. For a long while, even. Until she revealed she wasn’t.”

Mark looked up at Lorem.

“It’s a thing some humans have. Their gender differs from their outside appearance.”

Lorem nodded again. “We have something similar among us Repulsoids, too,” she said.

Mark nodded back. “So, about that me being a man and all?”

Mark took a deep breath.

“The thing is… I actually don’t think I am.”

 

 

“So, we meet again, Defender Red!” Lorem exclaimed. “This time I will defeat you for sure!”

“We shall see about that!” Emmy replied.

They stepped towards each other, their swords meeting with clanging noises, sparks flying all around: a duel, but also an elaborate dance. They each kept their movements and footwork in mind, moving carefully, to avoid accidentally injuring the other.

Slowly but surely, their clash moved, and brought them around a corner, out of view of the other Defenders, who were busy fighting against Ruby Scorpion and two other yellow-armoured Leaders.

Emmy and Lorem’s swords crossed once more, and then they paused.

“I don’t think they can see us,” Emmy said.

“Or hear us,” Lorem agreed. “I think we have a bit of time.”

They looked at each other, and then dropped their weapons and hugged tightly.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Emmy said.

“Me too,” Lorem replied. “I’m sorry I missed our usual appointment on Sunday, something came up. The Emperor wanted to talk to all the Leaders, I couldn’t say no.”

“I get it,” Emmy nodded.

“And by the time he was done talking, it was already too late. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry, Lorem,” Emmy said. “I know how it can be sometimes.”

They sat down, their backs propped up against a nearby wall, holding each other’s hand. They just sat there for a while, in silence, enjoying each other’s presence, until they heard the far-off noise of battle die off.

“I think they’re done,” Emmy commented, standing up. “We better get going, too.”

Lorem nodded as she picked up her sword again. “See you on Sunday,” she said. Then she stepped around the corner, back into view of the other Defenders, cleared her voice and, more loudly, continued: “You have bested me this time, Defender Red, but next time there shall be no mercy!”

She tapped her morpher and teleported away.

 

 

“Hi, Emmy,” Lorem said.

Emmy looked up at Lorem and smiled. “Hi, Lorem. Man, it’s so good to hear my name. My real name,” she said.

Lorem sat down, and flicked a lever on her morpher. “De-energise,” it said, and her armour disappeared; she stretched her legs and arms and tail, and leaned against Emmy, who put an arm around her.

“Don’t you have anyone who can call you by your name?” Lorem asked.

Emmy shook her head. “No, I’m still closeted,” she replied.

Lorem raised a questioning eyebrow. “Closeted?”

“Ah, that’s…” Emmy paused, and thought how to put it. “It’s a thing where someone hasn’t revealed their true gender and name to anyone yet.”

“And why wouldn’t you?”

Emmy sighed. “It’s complicated. What with the military and everything. It’s a whole thing. But the gist of it, everyone knows me as Mark, and they mustn’t know the truth. At least for now. Not until I reveal it myself.”

“I’ll remember that,” Lorem nodded.

They sat for a while in silence, looking down at the valley. After a few minutes, Lorem started purring.

“I can’t wait until this war is over,” Emmy said. “And we can stop fighting, and be together in public.”

“Mmhmm,” Lorem mused. “Hopefully your negotiators will come to reason soon enough, and start working with ours towards a treaty.”

Emmy blinked. “No, wait. Our side has been trying to talk to yours for a while now, to ask you stop your attacks as a requisite for negotiation, but got no answer.”

Lorem looked at her. “Isn’t it the opposite?” she asked. “The Emperor told us you humans have always refused any and all contact.”

Emmy stared at her, then suddenly stood up.

“Emmy? What’s wrong?” Lorem asked.

“I…” Emmy swallowed. “I’m sorry, I just remembered I have something to take care of. I’ll see you next week.”

As Lorem looked at her, puzzled, Emmy quickly morphed and teleported away.

 

 

“Is everything ready, Doctor?” Emmy asked.

Doctor Winters let out an exasperated sigh. “For the hundredth time, yes. I have leaked our presence at the conference through my contacts among the Repulsoids, and they have confirmed Ruby Scorpion and the Topaz Twins, at least, will be there. And I’ve prepared the substitute bodies which we’ll leave there as we make our escape.”

She looked up from her desk and turned to Emmy. “Everything is ready. Trust me, Mark.”

Emmy stared at her for a few moments, then came to a decision. “Emmy,” she said.

“What?” the doctor said, raising her eyebrow questioningly.

“I’m trans. I’m a woman. My name is Emmy.” She paused. “Thought you should know, since we’re in this together. No one else knows besides Lorem, and I’m telling you so you know I trust you completely.”

Doctor Winters looked at her for a few moments, then smiled. “Alright. Emmy,” she said. “Nice to meet you.” She paused, and then continued: “You know, I’ve been playing around with the Repulsoids’ biotech. It’s light years beyond ours, I used it to make the substitute bodies, and I think it can do something for that body of yours, too.”

Emmy blinked at her. “You serious?”

The doctor nodded. “Oh yes. It’s quite simple actually: you see, if you tinker a bit with the telomeres and the genetic expression, and then do what I like to call--”

“You know I’m not good at science, Doc,” Emmy cut her off. “I trust you.”

“Okay.” A pause. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell Lorem?”

Emmy sighed. “Yes, I am. She’s one of the top Leaders, it would just put her in danger. Later, when we’ve settled down in the new base and we’re getting ready to strike back.”

“Alright,” the Doctor replied, and she looked at her watch. “It’s almost time. Shall we?”

Emmy nodded. “Let’s go.”