In a brightly lit hallway a man in a brown bomber jacket was lying against a wall in a pool of his own blood. The place had desolate metal walls, stretching endlessly in both directions.

The trail of blood was tracing to the nearest air supply shaft from his body.

The guy was clutching his mangled abdomen and his breathing through a minimalistic gasmask was heavy. His weak voice, however, did not sound desperate:

— I just need to… rest a little…

Tearing the breathing device from his face, he violently coughed blood. Without any strength to keep his eyelids up, his eyes closed.

Just in time, an echo of running steps resounded through the corridor.

A boy in a fancy school uniform was approaching the wounded man in a full sprint.

He arrived shortly, threw his backpack on the floor and put his fingers on the man's neck, checking his pulse.

After just one moment, his hurrying demeanor changed to the one of leisure.

Humming an upbeat melody, he opened his backpack and took out three things: an almost flat white box with a green cross drawn on one side, a tiny black box and a leather roll. He spread the latter on the floor, revealing the surgical instruments inside.

Then, he got to work.

 

* * *

In a white mist, a ship's "there is a missile locked onto you" alarm screamed its metal lungs out.

A call arrived.

"Sorry, Rattkins. Our formation is broken. There is a whole swarm of military bastards between you and us all now… besides, we already completed our part of the deal. You know what I mean, right? Bye~!", — a bold man with an oversized mustache winked disgustingly on the communication screen and the connection was blocked off permanently from the other side.

— Just what you would expect from their kind, — the man in the pilot seat, seemingly named Rattkins, laughed bitterly. — Not that I see any reason to complain - that's what you'll get for working with pirates. And the situation really should be inescapable… normally, that is.

The white mist expanded as if exploding in every direction. After it retreated back to the corners of one's sight, the scene had already changed.

In a dark corner of some convoluted metal structure a robotic dog was baring its fangs while growling with a frequency which could be harmful to the human brain.

Rattkins was now wearing an airtight full body metal suit, arms and legs already scratched here and there. Its bulky frame had decent protection against many types of hazards, so listening to the screech was just a little unpleasant.

After concluding that sound attack had no effect, the dog went for another rush.

Man was already accustomed to its attack pattern somewhat, so he evaded successfully.

Their both's movements were very rigid and unnatural. Every step had to be firmly planted onto the "floor".

The reason was simple - behind the man's back was outer space.

The place was on the outskirts of a space station, which was rotating to create artificial gravity. Thus, the fight was technically taking place on a "wall".

It was both an advantage and a disadvantage. You couldn't move freely, as without latching onto the metal surface one way or another you will be flinged by the constant centrifugal force. On the other hand, if you could seriously disrupt your opponent's balance, the same thing will befall them.

Planning to do exactly that, Rattkins was trying to see all the dog had to offer before going for the grapple to separate its metal paws from the "ground" and kick it up.

Its jaw strength was unusually high; claws seemed to be equipped with the vibroblade technology, which allowed for scratches on the suit's thick armor to be made, but that was it.

Yet, the seemingly simplistic robot was setting off Rattkins' intuition much stronger than his previous deal with the traitorous pirates.

The confrontation was going on for a while and inside the dog's single eye socket a camera's lens was shining with reflected light. There was no chance it wasn't connected to the local security system, so stalling any longer wasn't an option.

Resolving himself to ignore possible danger and proceed with the plan, Rattkins attacked first this time.

The dog, weirdly, looked even slower than usual. It was too suspicious - it almost allowed itself to be grabbed.

Without much room to be cautious at the moment, Rattkins was already in the middle of kicking it up, when the metal body opened with a loud clang, revealing a short barrel of a laser shotgun.

Dog's core, visible through its open belly, shone brightly, sending all available energy to the simple weapon unit.

The following shot's power was nothing like handheld laser guns could produce.

Reactor overloaded, frying itself to inoperable state, but the trade-off was a blast that could rival a military-grade mobile armor.

Due to the nonexistent length of the barrel and seeming lack of focusing element, the shot split into a number of thick beams.

Thanks to his concentration being on its peak, Rattkins managed to stop his current motion and twist his body to avoid lethal damage.

Only lethal.

His left arm and leg he used to shield his vitals were "just grazed". The wounds were looking horrible, bones were visible but not broken.

The same could not be said about the abdomen. The armor was completely annihilated and the problem looked bigger than one could possibly recover from, with lots of blood rushing “down” behind his back.

But, on the contrary, Rattkins' mental self was dancing with joy. While the armor did not exactly manage to keep him safe, it reduced the blast to a bearable degree.

His consciousness was almost extinguished and the body was still standing only due to the support of the suit's sturdy exoskeleton frame and the right sole tightly sticking to the metal surface. But this was the "good" outcome.

Before the world exploded with shock, he clearly saw the robot staking its only energy source on this one strike. Now, even without the capability to perceive the world around him, Rattkins knew that he was safe.

With a second-long delay which felt like eternity of suffering, the suit's monitoring system detected a life-threatening injury and a number of needles pierced the man's shoulder.

Usually, one would invest even a little more money in their ship's systems instead of splurging on an extravagant unit of personal defense, but this was exactly the situation why overspending is important in the mercenary line of work.

The thing could inject different medication into the user's bloodstream depending on their state. The drugs were actually the most expensive part, not the suit.

The pain numbed, the bleeding mostly stopped.

Rattkins’ mental state became altered. He, as one could describe it, entered a “berserker's rage”. With only his goal in his sight, he entered the inside of the station with steady steps while desperately holding his guts together.

 

* * *

The dream was over.

Or was it?

There was no pain, no discomfort.

Everything around was bathed in a blindingly bright light.

It was an infinitely long wide corridor with metal walls.

Rattkins thought for a moment: “An afterlife? But there was no way I could…”

— Are you awake, sir?

A voice interrupted his thoughts.

There was a teenager standing a few steps in front of him. His youthful face was displaying a wide happy smile, which contrasted with bloody stains, covering his extravagant clothes.

“A cosplayer?.. What a hell”. It was undoubtedly a school uniform. But who even uses them in this millenia?

The situation was too surreal. Rattkins couldn’t even remember where he was, not even talking about a bloodied young man in front of him…

“Wait, the blood! I was badly injured—”

He looked down on himself and his brain flatlined. There was an enormous pool of blood around, but his abdomen exposed through the ripped T-shirt was perfectly clean, without a trace of a stitch or even a scar.

“That’s right, the pain. I feel none. Not only that, there are no symptoms of the massive blood loss I suffered”.

— Sir? — teenager asked again, still smiling.

Not being able to process a thing, Rattkins asked the least appropriate question:

— Where is my armor?

— I don't know!

“Huh? Why is the cosplayer so happy?”

With their conversation coming to a halt again, Rattkins tried his best to reconstruct in his mind the events that transpired before he fainted.

“Huh? Why am I wearing this stupid black box jacket right now? Did she snuck it inside the armor’s backpack again? This damned spying fox… There is also this gasmask?” — he glanced at the breathing device lying beside him.

His thoughts were too jumbled to form a coherent thread. Barely remembering the idea to change his destroyed clothes in his drugged state, he stopped trying.

This was not important now. The situation was strange but not incomprehensible.

Probably, the armor’s battery died at some point, so he had to exit it, took the breathing module from the backpack and then somehow crawled to the breathable area here.

“The whole system was so tightly surrounded by the military, I thought the station would be some sort of factory or even the command’s headquarters, but what is this kid supposed to be?”

But there was something more important:

— You healed me. — Rattkins said confidently.

— Yes! I used the Elixir! — youth pointed at a white piece of plastic lying in the pool of blood.

Looking at it blankly, Rattkins picked it up. The white box with a design just screaming “Medkit” was empty. It was so thin, you could at most fit a stack of papers inside.

Whether the teen lied or not, the best way was to go along with it. While not being so stupidly confused anymore, Rattkins still had no idea where he is and what to do from now on. His first encounter being this happy-looking guy might be the best thing right now.

If there was one thing to be surmised from other’s appearance - he seemed to be rich.

— Thank you! — he stood up and bowed his head. — I feel more healthy than before being injured, even my hip pain is gone.

“Huh?”

Rattkins wanted to cook up some flattering lie, but the hip pain from the previous fight during his cooperation with pirates was really not there.

“No way, right?”

— That’s the Elixir for you! But who are you, uncle? — punk continued to blabber nonsense.

Rattkins’ mind raced with dumbfounded vigor: “Huh? Is he really some clueless rich kid? Approaching a half-dead suspicious individual in the middle of nowhere, healing him with an unknown but obviously high-level means, not even stating his affiliation?..”

 

Teen frowned, troubled in his own right: “Tch, that’s why I alway get failing marks in the Infiltration class. He clearly doesn’t trust me enough yet. I need to get him out of here, fast. Should I impress him with my supernatural ability? Everyone praises me for it…”

 

Cosplayer’s eyes trembled. Despite little magnitude, the shaking was so intense, Rattkins flinched in surprise, wondering what’s wrong with the kid.

This, however, only lasted for a second, and boy’s expression brightened the next moment:

— Ah! You must be that pirate the whole star system is currently mobilized to find!

This was unexpected. “This punk is saying the word pirate with such nonchalance. Does he even know how terrible they actually are? Wait, isn’t he excited instead? And was he really unaware just a moment ago?.. Ah, I know”.

— A military-grade network access implant, huh? And the “medkit” from before… Young master’s family must be very rich and influential in these parts, — Rattkins sported a sleazy expression, rubbing his hands together. He thought that him being revealed as a pirate to the brat did not look like a bad thing at all - the kid sounded more “curious” excited, than “I’m going to hand this criminal to the authorities and receive praise” excited.

— You’re off the mark, — boy looked extremely proud. — I’m “clean” in cybernetics! Lo and behold, this is my supernatural ability!

— … — an awkward pause ensued.

“Damn, I’m not good with this type”, — Rattkins felt righteous rage boiling up inside. — “I wanted to play the sycophant, but in this situation to show a bit of my real emotions here would be ideal to get the engagement going”.

— Even if it is a part of your cosplay, you shouldn’t joke about this so lightly, — even while suppressing his irritation with the topic, he still sounded angry. — We, as humans, should take pride in our simple and powerless nature. Aren’t our technology much greater than the supernatural abilities possessed by the harmful alien species?

— Who’s harmful! —the kid almost got teary-eyed. — This is my school uniform, not some cosplay! Thanks to my supernatural ability awakening I got into the top 1 class this year, so it's a real top 1 class uniform, see! — he pointed at a badge on his shoulder emotionally.

The response was far more intense than expected. But this engagement was exactly what Rattkins was aiming for. He was a bit surprised, however: “No matter how badly he’s afflicted with chuunibyou, my words didn’t get through at all. There must be some cultural differences at play, which is strange. Human Pride is the most basic principle of the Empire, especially among the military. What do they even teach in this fancy uniform school? Well, whatever. He seems to take great pride in his implant at least”.

— Ooooh, class one! — he returned to the flattering routine. — Young master’s ability must be really special. Can you, perhaps, check where the security forces currently are?

Kid’s expression rapidly shifted from anger back to pride, then to shock.

"Look at this punk. He's clearly aware people are closing in right now. He probably played with his implant at home and decided to find the space adventurer, or whatever he thinks pirates are, everyone is looking for. What lucky bastards - you and me, for meeting like this".

— My name… — Rattkins decided to shift the topic, as the punk was just rolling his eyes around in worry.

"Wait, he doesn't need to know…"

— My pirate nickname is Rattkins, — introducing himself as one of the worst criminals felt like chewing dirt, but the kid seemed to like it, so it was probably the best to play along. — You've seen the movie right? I'm like that shifty creature.

— Hahaha, I see! I love that movie, this little guy was so funny~! Indeed, you seem to be very hard to kill, — the boy was smiling again.

"So simple! This might be easier than I initially thought".

— Thanks to the young master, — Rattkins reverently bowed again, — I managed to be healthy, but to survive this time I'll have to hide somewhere… Do you have any place in mind?

Kid's face brightened on the obvious cue:

— Oh, I know! — his eyes shook again, indicating the use of the implant. — Follow me!

— …

"He just went and started running, huh? Looks like we were quite close to being out of time. A darn shame to just leave the armor behind, but there is no way to retrieve it without even remembering where I left it. I wonder what this space station is, where are we going to go now?”

Rattkins picked up the white box with the breathing module and started running after the clueless teen. There was one more question on his mind though:

— How should I address the young master? — speaking these words, Rattkins marveled at his own steady breathing. The “Elixir” seemed to have not only miraculous healing properties, but also ones of a potent stimulant, allowing him to shed the intense fatigue from the intense week of non-stop action.

— Ah! SORRY! — the youth sounded genuinely shocked. — I totally forgot. It’s Phalanx. Nice to meet you.

 

* * *

— It is your house.

— It is my house, — Phalanx looked cluelessly happy, just when they first met.

— The “hiding place” we were going to is your house? — Rattkins said flatly, without the energy to even be a bit emotional about it.

After zig-zagging through the countless maintenance shafts, the duo finally crawled out of a manhole in the middle of a street and approached a two-storied building.

— Ah! My parents won’t worry about the blood! There are intense practice lessons in school from time to time… but you should probably clean yourself. They are in the living room, I’ll sneak you in the bathroom, then you’ll come down for dinner and I’ll introduce you… as a local construction worker I’ll have to interview for a school assignment!

Listening to excited Phalanx’s childish plan, Rattkins was nodding along, smiling serenely.

“I’m so **cked”.

But the friendly kid was his only link in this weird place. The dome with an artificial sun setting in the edge of the metal “sky” was giant, and strolling around with bloodied attire would be like willingly giving yourself to authorities. Diving back down in the underbelly of the space station would be even worse, there were too many winding paths to not get lost instantly.

“Well, not like I have any choice. Let’s go along with this insanity, come what may. Who knows, the parents might be just as stupid? Heh”.

 

* * *

Jennie stayed up late, compiling the video in the chronological order from the decoded fragments.

After bombarding Drago by about a hundred of angry messages, she wanted to botch the data to spite him, but her own curiosity quickly became the winner in the battle of emotions.

While interacting with the most recent fragment, she unknowingly triggered a certain "trap". It was not physical like the bomb from before, just a line of code which activated on its own.

One of the pieces of hardware taken from the jacket seemed to have some kind of network access module, which activated and tried to send the data outside.

It was useless though, as this star system was completely closed off by impenetrable jammers. This was the reason Jennie had an intense hunger for any data from "the outside".

While she caught tiny glimpses of the video during editing, she kept her word to refrain from watching it by herself.

After internalizing the intensity of her desire to continue, she smirked:

— I bet you didn’t think much about leaving this treasure to me… Now you’ll have to pay dearly to access it!

An extremely evil laugh spread through the room. One should really think twice before making enemies of important people…