The air in Mia Chronis's office was still and heavy, thick with the scent of old metal and the faint, yeasty aroma of recycled air. The colossal, banded sphere of Jörmungandr hung in the viewport behind her, a silent witness to the negotiation. Aurélie and Kuro stood before her desk, a united front of simmering suspicion.
"Piper has already updated me," Mia began, not looking up from a data-slate, her finger tracing a line of figures. "It's an expensive shopping list. And that's before we factor in living expenses, travel surcharges, and maintenance fees for any equipment you borrow." She finally lifted her gaze, her eyes sharp. "The JFF operates on credit, but our generosity has limits."
Both Aurélie and Kuro narrowed their eyes in near-perfect unison, two predators sensing the same trap.
"What, precisely," Kuro asked, his voice a low, careful monotone, "would earn us the currency to compensate for such… extensive resources?"
A faint, knowing smirk touched Mia's lips. She had them. "If Caden and Evander's assessments of your fighting skills are accurate, there are options. The JFF is always in need of strong escorts for our resource convoys and… sensitive negotiations."
"Bodyguards," Kuro droned, the word dripping with disdain.
Mia shrugged, a gesture of pure pragmatism. "If that's what you want to call it. There are always other, less desirable options. Bounty hunting. Debt collection. Fighting tournaments." She let the unsavory roles hang in the air. "Your engineer also appears quite skilled. Her services could turn a separate profit. Diagnostics, repairs for non-Frame tech… we have need."
Kuro's expression remained unimpressed, a mask of polished stone. "Understood."
Aurélie, her arms crossed over her black tactical corset, cut to the chase. "Do you have anything in mind for us to start? Something that would utilize all of us."
Mia nodded, her business-like demeanor returning. "Yes. Consider it a trial run. A scavenger mission in the Rust Belt. It's a debris field from an old CUA patrol route. Littered with useful scrap, if you don't mind the occasional radiation flare and… territorial squatters. It's simple work all of you can participate in. It will also allow us to assess your abilities firsthand." She paused, her eyes glinting. "And see which of you might have an aptitude for operating an Armored Frame."
Kuro raised a single, skeptical brow. "You want us to learn to pilot your war machines?"
"It may seem a unique skill to you," Mia replied, her smirk returning. "But around here, it's as common as knowing how to patch a hull breach. It's just another tool. With a little training, I'm confident even your scholar could figure out which end of a beam rifle to point away from his face."
Aurélie exchanged a swift, weighing glance with Kuro. The unspoken calculation passed between them in an instant. It was work. It was a path forward. Reluctantly, she gave a single, sharp nod. "When and where should we meet?"
"Gather your people," Mia said, turning back to her data-slate, dismissing them. "Be suited up and ready at Hangar Beta in three hours. Don't be late. Wreckage waits for no one."
The heavy, recycled air of the docking bay was a familiar blanket of scents—hot metal, stale yeast from the fungal protein vats, and the ever-present, gritty dust that seemed to coat every surface in Orphan's End. It was here, amidst the groaning symphony of distant machinery and the intermittent hiss of pressurizing seals, that Aurélie and Kuro found the others.
They approached the cavernous space where the submarine was docked, its strange, aquatic lines a stark contrast to the jagged, welded-together architecture of the JFF stronghold. Bianca was half-inside an open access panel, her legs dangling, while Piper "Gearbox" Sol knelt beside a spread of tools, pointing at something with a multi-spanner. A few meters away, Souta sat cross-legged on a crate, the intricate tattoos on his bare arms slithering and shifting, forming into tiny, ink-wrought beasts that danced and dueled for a giggling Ember. Charlie stood nearby, clutching his leather satchel to his chest as if it were a shield, observing the mechanical work with a look of academic curiosity.
Bianca's head and shoulders emerged from the panel, her face smudged with dark lubricant, a stray lock of hair escaping her messy bun. She spotted Aurélie and Kuro, their matching expressions of simmering annoyance cutting through her focus. "Hey," she said, wiping a gloved hand across her cheek, which only worsened the smear. "You two look like you just bit into something sour."
Charlie offered a polite, throat-clearing, "Ahem. A successful negotiation, I trust?"
Aurélie's steel-gray eyes swept over the group, her posture rigid. "We need to be ready to travel in two hours," she stated, her voice cutting through the bay's ambient noise.
Bianca blinked, pushing her magnifying goggles up onto her forehead. "Like, ready? Where are we going?"
Kuro adjusted his spectacles with a gloved palm, the gesture smooth and practiced. "Someplace called the Rust Belt," he intoned, the name dripping with distaste.
Souta's ink serpents dissolved back into abstract patterns on his skin as he looked up, his sharp features sharpening with interest. "The Rust Belt? The name lacks context. What is it?"
Piper dropped her spanner into a tool chest with a loud clatter, rising to her feet. She grinned, a flash of white in her grimy face. "Oh, it's a beaut. The Rust Belt ain't a place, it's a… a condition. A glorious, floating testament to stubbornness and scrap." She leaned against the sub's hull, her voice taking on the cadence of a storyteller. "See, generations back, the CUA tried to lay down the law out here, right? Established a patrol route through this dense asteroid field to 'protect' their shipping lanes from us 'unruly elements.'"
She gestured vaguely towards the star-strewn void beyond the bay's energy field. "Problem was, the field is treacherous. Dense rock, crazy magnetic anomalies that'll fry your nav-computer, and, well, the occasional Typhon sniffing around. The CUA, in all their glorious, inflexible wisdom, kept sending their big, beautiful, expensive ships through there. And the field, it chewed 'em up and spat 'em out. Lost a whole carrier group once—the Pride of Argus and its escorts. Just… pulled apart. The CUA, too proud to admit defeat for years, finally wrote the whole route off as a total loss."
Piper's grin widened. "That's where we come in. That graveyard of CUA pride? That's the Rust Belt now. It's a chaotic, ever-moving city of wreckage all tangled together—ship hulls, container modules, the skeletons of Armored Frames. All tethered into this loose, orbital dance. It's the JFF's unofficial capital. Our home. We pulled it all together, gave it a second life. It's where we go to find parts, to hide, to trade. It's also where you go to get dead if you don't know what you're doing. Radiation pockets from old reactor leaks, hulls that can give way at the slightest bump, and… 'territorial squatters.' Not everyone out there is friendly, even to other JFF."
Charlie nodded slowly, his mind clearly cataloging the information. "I see. And our purpose in this… metallic labyrinth?"
"See what you're made of," Piper said bluntly. "Mia wants a firsthand look at your skillsets. What you can do. How you handle yourselves when things get tight. It's a scavenger run. Simple. Bring back the salvage you're assigned. Don't die. Don't start a war with the wrong squatters."
Bianca chewed her lip. "And we're getting there how? In those Armored Frame things again? Because, like, that was a seriously wild ride."
"Not this time." The voice came from the side. Caden 'The Ghost' Arashi leaned against a support beam, his presence so quiet he seemed to have materialized from the shadows. His ash-gray hair was tousled, the dark circles under his intense gold eyes pronounced. "We'll take the Ashen Path. On a Mule."
Souta raised a single, suspicious brow. "A mule? You expect us to ride a beast of burden through the vacuum?"
A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched Caden's lips before vanishing. "It's a freighter. A Mule-class Junker. Ugly, reliable, and about as comfortable as a bed of rocks. But it's quiet, and it can slip through the Path." He pushed off the beam, his gaze sweeping over them all, lingering for a fraction of a second on Aurélie. "See you in two hours. Don't keep us waiting." With that, he turned and melted back into the gloom of the hangar, leaving the two teams alone with the echo of his words and the immensity of the task ahead.
*****
The dawn after the storm found Ohara's scarred beach bathed in gentle, golden light, the sea whispering over sand still littered with frozen shards and the ghosts of battle. The air, once torn with the screams of conflict, now carried the simple, savory scent of food cooking over an open fire.
It was this scene of improbable peace that greeted Emmet, Zola, and Jax as they made their way down from the ruins. They stopped at the treeline, three statues of stunned silence.
Chaos reigned supreme around the makeshift camp. Eliane, a tiny dynamo in a chef's jacket, was orchestrating breakfast with fierce concentration, pointing a spatula at Aokiji. "No, no, not that hot! You'll scorch the fish! Just a gentle chill, remember?" The former Admiral, looking utterly out of his element, nodded seriously and adjusted the flow of cold air emanating from his palm under the grill, a makeshift refrigeration system that kept the food from burning.
Nearby, Galit and Atlas were locked in a heated, silent conflict over a single, large seashell cup, their hands a blur of motion as they each tried to claim it, their arms and whips tangled in a complex knot of refusal to yield. "Your neck is in my way, Noodle-Neck," Atlas grunted.
"Your fur is shedding in my drink, Housecat," Galit shot back, his own neck coiled tight.
"Hey! You blue blob, that's the last of the jam!" Jannali's voice cut through the morning, her focus entirely on a wobbling Jelly Squish who was gleefully bouncing away with a stolen jar clutched in a gelatinous mitten. "I'll turn you into a dessert topping, I swear!"
In the center of this maelstrom, curled under her leather jacket on a folded blanket, Marya slept through it all, her breathing deep and even, one hand resting on the hilt of Eternal Eclipse.
Zola, the empirical physicist, let out a sudden, unexpected giggle, quickly covering her mouth. Emmet, the grand mathematician, could only rub the back of his neck in awkward bewilderment, his mind clearly unable to compute the dissonance between the world-ending power displayed yesterday and this domestic anarchy.
Jax cleared his throat, the sound lost in the din. He tried again, louder.
Jannali glanced over, barely breaking her stride as she lunged for Jelly. "You right, mate? Got something stuck in your throat? Need some water?" she asked, her attention already returning to the fleeing mutant jellyfish.
"Uh, no," Jax stammered, his eyes drifting back to Marya's sleeping form. "I just…"
Distracted, Jannali spun as Jelly, with a triumphant "Bloop!", bounced directly over Marya's legs. Jannali leaped over her in a graceful arc, landing with a curse. "You get back here, you wobbly thief!"
Aokiji looked up from his chilly grill duties, his gaze taking in the three newcomers. "You lot joining us?" he rumbled.
Eliane beamed, holding up a bowl of beaten eggs. "We have plenty!"
Hesitantly, Emmet, Zola, and Jax walked over and found spots on the sand amidst the chaos. Jax's eyes kept finding Marya. "Is she…?"
"She's fine," Aokiji answered, his voice low. "Burned through a ocean's worth of Haki yesterday. The body needs to reboot."
Just then, Jelly ricocheted off a snoring Marya, and Jannali pursued with a string of creative curses. Galit and Atlas continued their stalemate, their insults growing more inventive. It was the rich, buttery smell of eggs hitting the hot grill that finally stirred Marya. A soft sigh escaped her, and she shifted, her nose twitching. Jax seemed to physically relax, a tension leaving his shoulders as her eyes fluttered open.
Zola offered a small, tentative smile. "Good morning."
Marya was groggy, her golden eyes blinking slowly as they focused on Emmet, Zola, and Jax. She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod of recognition.
"Food's ready!" Eliane announced, her voice ringing with pride.
At the same moment, Jannali finally tackled a giggling Jelly, pinning his wobbly form to the sand. "Ha! Got you!" she declared victoriously.
Jelly simply swallowed the last of the jam with a loud gulp. "Bloop! All gone!"
"This isn't over!" Jannali yelled, shaking a fist.
"Sit. And. Eat." Eliane commanded, her tone brooking no argument. Jannali huffed but complied, and Jelly bounced over to the grill with excited wiggles.
Marya pushed herself up into a sitting position, running a hand through her messy black hair. Aokiji wordlessly handed her a plate already piled with food.
He then looked at the three former hostages. "You three better hurry before—" he began, but was cut off as Jelly, Galit, and Atlas, their conflict forgotten, suddenly raced towards the food in a unified charge.
"Hey! Don't take it all!" Jannali and Eliane shouted in unison.
Emmet watched the scrummage for a moment, his analytical mind seemingly calculating the probability of securing a meal. He then stood, brushing sand from his trousers. A rare, determined look crossed his face. "Right." He looked over his shoulder at Zola and Jax. "Come on, you two. It appears breakfast is a contact sport."
The chaotic breakfast crowd had settled into a contented quiet, broken only by the crunch of toast and the gentle wash of waves on the shore. The rich, buttery flavor of perfectly scrambled eggs and the smoky taste of grilled fish lingered on every tongue.
Zola, picking delicately at her food, nodded in approval. "The flavor profile is exceptionally balanced. The Maillard reaction on the fish is... ideal."
Emmet, having successfully secured a plate through tactical positioning, gave a rare, genuine nod. "This is quite remarkable for field rations."
Jannali leaned back, patting her stomach. "Told ya. The ankle-biter's skills are pure magic. Could start a revolution with a meal like this."
Eliane blushed a bright pink, then beamed, her silver ponytail bouncing. "There's plenty more in the pan! Help yourselves!"
"Better not let it sit too long," Jannali warned, jerking a thumb towards a wobbling Jelly who was eyeing the leftovers with clear, gelatinous intent. "Otherwise the blue blob'll vacuum it all up."
Jax, however, had barely tasted his food. His focus was entirely on Marya, who sat across from him, eating with a calm, methodical pace. He set his empty plate down with a soft clink. "Marya."
She looked up, golden eyes meeting his while she finished chewing a piece of fish.
"Why are you here?" he asked, his voice low and direct, cutting through the post-meal calm. "Why have you come to Ohara?"
She swallowed, taking a sip of water before answering. "I am looking for something."
Jax opened his mouth to press further, but Marya's gaze swept over him, Emmet, and Zola, her expression turning coolly analytical. "Why are you here?" she countered. "I doubt it is a coincidence."
Emmet's eyes narrowed slightly behind his glasses. "We are here to talk," he stated, his tone all logic and strategy. "And to convince you to not follow through with whatever course of action you are currently pursuing."
Marya shook her head, a faint, dismissive motion. "You are wasting your time with that."
Zola leaned forward, her voice earnest. "Marya, you should come back with us. The…"
"Like I told the others," Marya interrupted, her gaze locking with Zola's, "I have to finish this. I don't intend to return."
Zola's face fell. "But—"
Marya stood, picking up her empty plate. She placed it neatly with the other dirty dishes as Emmet placed a consoling hand on Zola's shoulder. They watched her walk away from the circle, towards the tree line.
Jax jumped to his feet, kicking up sand and stone as he rushed. "Marya!" he called out, striding after her.
She stopped, her shoulders rising and falling with a slow sigh before she turned to face him. The morning sun caught the sharp lines of her face, highlighting the dark veins on her arms.
Jax stood before her, searching for words. "What you did yesterday... that was... I've never seen anything like that." He stammered, uncharacteristically lost. "Um, what you're doing... the con..." He stopped himself, glancing over his shoulder at Aokiji, who was using a gentle wave of cold to flash-freeze scraps for easy cleanup. The sight of the former Admiral working so casually with her seemed to solidify something for him. He returned his attention to Marya, his voice softening. "You should come back. Everyone misses you. It'll be like—"
"It won't!" Marya cut him off, her voice firm but not unkind. She sighed, a sound of deep weariness. "I appreciate what all of you are saying. But too much has happened. Too much you don't know about. It isn't as simple as just going back."
Jax's brow furrowed in frustration. "Then tell us! We can help."
Marya shook her head, a sad, final smile touching her lips. "That's just it, Jax. You can't."
His frustration boiled over. He pointed a thumb back towards the camp, towards Aokiji, Galit, and the others. "And they can?"
Marya's smirk returned, edged with a knowing certainty that shut down all argument. "More than you know."
Jax was gearing up for a rebuttal, his jaw tightening, when Marya waved a hand, silencing him. "Enough. As long as you stay out of our way while we're here, there won't be any issues."
Jax's jaw flexed, a muscle twitching. "And if we don't?"
Marya's smirk didn't fade. It simply grew colder. "Then you will force my hand to do something I don't really want to do."
The moment was severed by the arrival of the cleanup crew. Jelly bounced between them, followed by Jannali, Galit, and Atlas, with Aokiji and Eliane trailing behind. The tension shattered like glass.
Jannali clapped her hands together, her voice cutting through the standoff. "Alright then, you two done with the dramatic staring contest? How do we find this thing you're after?"