The Return

No matter how many times she went over everything, no matter what she tested and information gathered, Iri Sewuel was no closer to fixing the man she loved. After getting back to the Bay, she had begun to dedicate every free moment she had to restoring Chase Lonehart back to who he was. The brain was a difficult puzzle and had always been known to be a tricky thing to human understanding. She had done reading on whatever she could find about memory loss. And everything that she could try wouldn’t work one way or another, as they’d cause more physical harm to him than help. For a brief time, she got distracted for a while when he had somehow got infected with viral hemorrhagic fever. Iri was thankful that Eren Niden still had some of the cure on standby in case the sickness came back, to use the human saying, “with a vengeance.” It took Chase off his feet for a few days, nearly a week and a half for him to fully recover. In that whole time, she stood, sat and slept beside him. As soon as he got better and went back to ark hunting and ass kicking, she got back to work.

And after two month’s worth of time, another in a long list of possibilities failed. All she wanted was to have the human she loved back to how he used to be. She didn’t mind who he was now, but it was difficult for her to talk to him when he didn’t remember much of anything from before and he couldn’t answer a topic because he didn’t remember anything about it. And yet, hope, a thing she had been plentiful with at the start, had finally hit empty on its tank. Little by little, each day she came back to Top-Notch to use Eren’s equipment, taking brief breaks to help out around the building by cleaning and researching things for both Eren and Rosa, even helping by handling old Earth and Votan technological issues. And each day, a little hope would slip through her gloved fingers until there was nothing left to grasp.

Eren had brought her some coffee for them to drink, something that helped ease her worried mind in the past. The taste of it was slightly bitter, hardly the coffee she was used to drinking at Cooper’s Cafe back in Freedom, Alabama.

“Still no positive end result?” Eren asked her.

Iri looked at her for a moment and then just shook her head slightly.

“I’m sorry. Maybe there is something else you can try? Maybe not now, but something else always comes up. Persistence is a construct that humans have had for centuries. The word itself means, ‘a firm or obstinate continuance in a course of action, in spite of difficulty or opposition.’ During the Pale Wars, I witnessed humans, both as prisoners and as fighters, who kept fighting despite the circumstances. No matter what was thrown at them, humans continued to struggle. They were persistent, even when hope did not exist for them. In a way, I believe that is why they have lasted so long on this planet, because they were persistent.”

“As strange as it sounds, I thought it was stubbornness at the time,” Iri admitted. “I thought the humans were too stubborn to realize that they were in a fight they couldn’t win.”

“There is that too,” Eren added. “You’re not the only one who believed that. Doctor Yewll definitely had that same mindset as well about the humans during the initial outbreak of the Pale Wars. It’s only in hindsight do we realize that humans have often been at their best when things are at their most dire. It’s a consistent trait amongst their species.”

Iri took a sip from her cup, her mind slowly easing itself down. She knew that she would have to eventually tell Chase of her lack of progression, but she wasn’t sure about informing him of the lack of hope. The last thing she wanted was to make him worry that her efforts were fruitless and crush any hopes he had of being the person he once was. But, when to tell him was going to be a decision she had to work on.

“Everything I could think of, everything I could find… No positive end result. With everything found, I’m more likely to lobotomize him or flat out kill him instead of restoring his memory. Clearly the loss of his memory has to be physical, as if it were psychological, he would have blocked the horrific event instead of losing everything that made him who he was. And if that’s the case, everything I could find to resolve that issue just leads to dead ends. Major emphasis on ‘dead’. Even Doctor Yewll’s suggestion of refreshing neurosynaptic pathways won’t work either, especially with the amount that would need to be used in order to restore all of his mind would more likely lobotomize him.”

“What about that one possibility with the deactivated nanites in his blood, your experiment with them?”

“From what I can tell, they can copy memory, even a personality. But they wouldn’t be able to repair any physical damage to living tissue for a reason I haven’t discovered. At best, if somehow Chase died and I ended up having to clone him, they can restore the copies of his personality and memories fully without him being the wiser. The trick is not to kill him. Even if the nanites could somehow fix whatever damage there may be, there’s no certainty that after the repair could be made, that the memories would return. They could very well be completely gone.”

Iri closed her eyes for a moment, focusing to clear her head of the chaos that brewed within it and to calm her nerves a bit. She could hear the sounds of the Top-Notch Toolworks building, including that of the various Arkhunters walking by the door. Iri couldn’t believe there were still Arkfalls, considering how most of the Arkbelt got destroyed seven months prior. But a part of her told her to be thankful that Arkfalls still existed, as there would be a lot of Arkhunters out of work without them, including her human. She opened them, her mind clear of the chaos as she took another sip of coffee.

“How have things been between you and Chase?” Eren asked.

“How do you mean?”

“I mean, have you and Chase had sex lately? I can tell that you’ve been mainly trying to fix him, and you certainly seem as unfocused when you come in. I’ve noticed that hidden frustration of, as humans put it, ‘not getting any for a while’.”

Iri shook her head.

“It’s that noticeable?” she asked. “It’s been at least a month since we last had sexual congress. Partly my fault, as in the start I would come back to the base in the late night and leaving early in the morning. But then he got sick, so for about a week we wouldn’t be able to do anything. After that, we’ve both been too busy and we’re both tired by the time we both are together to be able to try.”

“I hope that this doesn’t mean the honeymoon is over, to use another human phrase. Lack of sex can cause a lot of strain and problems in relationships.”

“What about you and Rosa?”

“We set ourselves some time for one another. Often it’s a few hours, but it’s more than enough for us. Time management is one of the things you should be familiar with.”

Iri took another sip of the dark liquid and began to think about the last time they had fornicated. The thought crossed her mind that Chase could no longer be interested in her and that the reason why he’d been so tired lately wasn’t due to Arkhunting or Expeditions.

Don’t be silly, she thought. Chase isn’t like that. But then again, I’m still thinking in terms of how Chase was, not how he is.

Another thought crept through her mind, and she quietly kept her internal panic to herself and didn’t show any sign in front of Eren. If Chase, as he is, would be in an affair with someone else, the only other likely person would have to be Belle Starr. She recalled that night months ago, when Belle Starr had interrupted the two of them as they reconnected after eight years. While Chase had gone to the bathroom to ring out the rag he used to clean up the cut on Belle’s foot, Iri was still under control of her urges. She remembered the softness of that blonde warrior’s lips, in addition to the feel of Belle’s rather sizable right breast in her hand as she felt her up under Belle’s shirt while kissing her. Chase did tell Iri that he had “ungentleman like thoughts” for Belle, and that brief moment made her understandable why he would find her attractive. What if the two of them were having an affair and Chase was only in the relationship out of obligation? She couldn’t even recall clearly the last time he laid a hand on her in relation to pleasure.

Quit being foolish, she told herself. He is not like that, with or without his memory.

Iri had finished off her cup, handing it back to Eren. She found herself alone in the room once again, trying to turn her attention back to her task. But after a moment, Iri looked down at her breasts, cupping them from the outside of the jacket she was wearing. The thought that maybe Chase didn’t find her attractive anymore was another possibility she considered at that moment. After doing some extensive research on human anatomy, as well as social norms in regards to sex and sexuality by reading various literature and watching what humans called “blue movies”, she wondered if maybe Chase lost interest in her sexually because he has grown tired of a lack of body structure.

I’m certainly not big as Belle Starr, or even Cass Ducar for that matter. Maybe if I had a bigger pair of breasts, I’d still have his interest. Some males are attracted to certain body types, especially in regards to these. Plus, after seeing that one film where the woman pleased the man by using them…

She shook the thought out of her head and threw her hands up into the air out of frustration.

Stop it! There is nothing wrong with you or your relationship. Everything is fine. You’ll have to be honest with him and tell him that after two month’s worth of time, you haven’t been able to find a valid solution to give him back his memories. And maybe if you do and cease this fruitless pursuit, you and he could get back to having a relationship as it should be. You’ve wasted too much time on this problem, not concerning yourself with the person. That is the only problem you need to resolve.

Iri let her hands rest on the table in front of her, all of her notes and research scattered about it. She closed her indigo-colored eyes, taking slow breaths as she tried to get her thoughts organized and finally accept defeat. She wasn’t a human, and hope was something she never really had. It was at that moment she began to wonder what Chase had been up to.

Knowing him, she thought. He’s probably at the Crater right now getting something to eat and having a drink with a couple of the patrons there.

——————

The windshield of the black Durango imploded into shards of glass, and the head rest behind him blew apart as the bullet ripped through and missed his head by an inch. Chase Lonehart could hear the bullet wiz by his ear for a brief second before it impacted the head rest. But he didn’t flinch, nor did he panic. He was focused on his tasked. And he was as calm as he could possibly be as he chased down the Raiders who had taken his payday, one that he worked hard to locate and retrieve. The reward for it was too good to pass up, and he wasn’t going to let them take the glory. He picked up the sniper rifle from the passenger seat next to him and suddenly ducked as another barrage of weapon’s fire came at him.

This is insane, Chase, McCoy told him. You need to give yourself some space or something bad can happen.

“I’m getting that case if hairlip’s the Governor!” he replied.

He gunned the engine and the roller rocked forward upon impact with the vehicle he was pursuing. He came up, steering the vehicle with his left knee and giving himself long enough to take aim and fire at the driver side rear tire. He could see the tire explode into shreds, the old rubber flapping against the ground as it continued to go up and down and stayed trapped on the now exposed metal rim. Chase knew that between the flat tire and the dirt of the path they were on, it could afford him the chance to cause the VBI transport to spin out. Another barrage of gunfire from the driver side window cause him to swerve to avoid being him, but he remained calm

Chase put the rifle back down on the passenger seat and gunned the engine again, bring his roller to the left side of the rear of the VBI truck the Raiders had long since claimed as theirs. He jerked the wheel and sent the Durango plowing into the rear driver side, hoping to drive the vehicle into a tailspin or maybe even off the road. There was a brief moment where both vehicles had jumped a small drop off but continued on their path along the dirt path. The truck took a sharp right turn with the Durango in tow. He sure wasn’t going to let them get away with his prize as he slammed the roller into the rear of the truck once more. Chase couldn’t see past the hulking truck in front of him until it was too late, spotting what appeared to be the end of the dirt road, the paved road crossing in front of it, a large rocky incline and one hell of a drop-off just a few feet from it. By the time his mind had told his feet to slam on brakes, the VBI transport and his Durango were already flying through the air, following the sharp arc of descent. The VBI truck landed first on its side, with the Durango’s front end crashing into it. Before Chase could process what was happening, the rear of his roller came over, the vehicle somersaulting into the air briefly before finally coming to rest on its passenger side a few feet from the truck.

Chase’s head was spinning, leaving the coordination to unbuckle the seatbelt a little sluggish. He knew he needed to get out of the wreck, he couldn’t let them get away with the item once again. He told his right arm eighty percent power and ripped the entire seat buckle housing from the floorboard. He grabbed his sniper rifle lurched forward out of the opening that had once been the windshield. His equilibrium was off, falling too far forward and landing flat on his face. Chase ordered himself to get on his feet, to complete the task and to do it right at that moment. As he finally found his footing underneath him, he still felt a bit washy as he stood up, readying the sniper rifle as he approached the wreck of the VBI transport truck.

The impact of the Durango caused the VBI truck to end up upside down. One of the Raiders hung out of the window for passenger side of the vehicle, his head resting no more than a foot away from the rest of his body. Chase tried his best to focus, commanding himself to take each washy step carefully. He could hear something as he got closer to the truck. It sounded like cloth scraping against a hard surface, followed by a thunking and footsteps. He used the truck to steady himself as he made his way around to find that the second Raider was running away with the case. Chase laid down on his side, using the disconnected front tire of the vehicle to brace himself and steady his aim.

Come on, you can do this, he thought to himself. Can’t let him get away with it.

Chase inhaled slowly through his nose and held his breath as he squeezed the trigger. The rifle kicked and blood erupted from the arm of the Raider, causing him to drop the case. He continued to run, not attempting to retrieve it. Chase chambered the next round, taking aim at the Raider again as he continued to run. Chase put his finger on the trigger and took aim at the head. But then the thought came into his mind, which held him back from pulling it.

Am I the kind of person who would shoot someone in the back? he asked himself. He’s unarmed, he’s fleeing for his life, and he’s not a threat. Am I the kind of bastard who would shoot an unarmed man in the back? Or am I the person who wouldn’t? If I did, would I feel guilty? If I don’t, would I regret it?

He kept his aim on the Raider for a few moments before he finally lowered it. Chase couldn’t be sure if it was the right choice he made, but he made it nonetheless. It took him a few minutes to finally get to his feet, finally gaining his balance once more. After he retrieved his weapon’s cache from the wreckage, he picked up the case of unknown inside. It tapped against his right thigh as he made his way back up to the road. It was when he got to the top and looked down at the wreckage the thought finally crossed his mind.

“Damn it,” he said. “I got no wheels.”

It didn’t take long for him to realize where he was, the drop-off being near Muir Processing plant. He remembered a few of the massive Arkfalls that often concluded on the flat land below him. Chase recalled seeing that there was a vehicle vendor in that area, following the dirt path that he and the Raiders were on just a few minutes ago, from the main road up to Crystal Pond.

He approached the cabin, watching the reflection of the sun’s light dancing upon the water. For some odd reason, he recalled the lyrics to one of the songs on his VBI Player. Nothing lasts forever but the Earth and sky. Granted, the recalling of the lyric wasn’t in context with what had happened, nor in context with Chase watching the light bouncing and bobbing with the water. It was just one of those things that came to mind. He approached to find the shack’s owner standing on the porch. The man was an older gentleman, a bit scruffy, sporting a red jacket, a vest and an old baseball cap. Chase waved at him as he approached.

“Good day, sir,” Chase addressed him.

“Good day, yer self,” the man replied. “You look like you got chewed up and spat out. You all right, man?”

Chase nodded to him, realizing that the crash did bang him up a bit, leaving him with a cut cheek, a busted lip and a black eye forming. He didn’t realize he had those injuries, most likely due to the adrenaline that had been pumping through his veins from the chase. He was utmost certain that every joint and muscle was going to hurt for a bit after it completely wore off and before his EGO unit’s healing factor kicked in.

“I’ve been through worse. Thank you for your concern,” Chase replied with a small smile. “Say, you wouldn’t happen to still have any rollers for sale, would you? I just recently lost my wheels.”

“Yeah, I happen to have a couple. Two ol’ Challengers from the recent stock, with all the necessary mods for an Arkhunter like yer self. Twenty-five thousand, and one of ‘em is yours.”

Chase reached into his pocket and then flipped the scrip chip towards the Farmer, who caught it. He took it inside for a moment. He came back out, handing Chase back his scrip chip and a set of keys. As he piloted the Hemi Orange Challenger down the driveway, he had a sense of familiarity come up over his brain. It was like deja vu, which he had some of every once in a while. Often at times he couldn’t tell if it was something real or just his imagination, as there was no real definite way to know the difference. He shrugged it off, finally getting back to the paved road and turning toward Muir.

It didn’t take long to end up at the Crater. He had hailed Von Bach, letting him know that the item was recovered. After waiting a bit on the porch, a small team of E-Reps arrived in two vehicles. Out of the second vehicle, Karl Von Bach slid out of the back seat, approaching the steps to the patio. Chase had heard of Karl Von Bach, but wasn’t sure if he had met him before he lost his memory. The recent events with LOCI and Alcatraz did open the door for him to meet him, or meet him again if he had met him before. Chase held onto the handle for the case with his mechanical arm, knowing good and well that there was no way anyone would be able to take it from him without having to drag him with it.

“Hello, Mister Von Bach,” Chase began. “I recovered your item for you.”

“Yes, yes, I can see that,” Von Bach interjected. “May I see if its still intact?”

Chase let go of the handle, sliding the case around to face Von Bach. Von Bach examined the contents inside the case, Chase unable to see what was inside. Whatever it was, he knew that it was probably best not to know. But he could see the look on the bald-headed man’s face, how he nodded in excitement as his hands fiddled about inside the case until he closed it.

“It’s intact,” Von Back reassured himself. “That’s good. So, I take it that you want what I promised you?”

Chase nodded as he slid the scrip chip over the table. Von Bach picked it up, retrieving a device from his pocket. He placed the chip against it, tapping on the keypad for a moment. Chase didn't pay much attention to any of the people with Von Bach, focusing his sight on him. Chase felt uncomfortable for some reason, but dismissed it calmly as he could. This was noting more than a simple exchange, and he had no reason to worry since he was in public. He felt like someone was watching him, but he didn't turn his head in case that person was dangerous. Von Bach pulled the chip from the device, placing it on the table.

“One million scrip, as promised,” he said. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you again, Arkhunter.”

Von Bach picked up the case and proceeded to head back to the two vehicles waiting for him. As soon as he was inside, the soldiers filed into the vehicles. Chase picked up the chip, looking at it. One million scrip to recover whatever it was in Von Bach’s case. That pretty much put the amount a bit over 1.4 million scrip. That was more than enough to keep food on the table for both him and Iri for a long time, upgrade some of his gear or maybe just rainy day money. He decided to head inside and get a non-alcoholic beer and a Powburger, especially since he hadn't eaten any breakfast.

Dreams were over once again and usual business stroke in as soon as they arrived to their base. Volodja's mailbox became quite popular trash bag. But one can always hope that among tons of spam there are few messages really worth the time which one must spent to find them. Among the usual stuff like "Extend your manhood to the length of equator" and " I am the freaking relative of someone so important that he practically swam in money in some former Third World country who recently deceased and need your help to transfer huge amount of scrip, so send me some first" were few gold nuggets too.

First one was sent by Tommasino Di Angelo, Volodja's Sicilian friend and mob enthusiast (who enthusiastically blended into Tarr Family and worked his way up to the position of Consigliere), who informed him, that "some of my borgartas and boosters are waiting in Lima, in case you need any help. Just put your finger to the spot and they will hit." Volodja grinned, seeing that. Tommasino's use of mob slang was essential part of him. He could do fine without it and speak in most conventional manner, but he didn't wanted to do that, mob romantic as he was.

Next message was sort of connected with Tommasino, how strange it seemed to be. Henry Pine-Coffin, his new British friend and antiquarian wrote from Freedom that Volodja's order is almost fulfilled. Books are packed already and as soon as he receives that special piece Volodja asked him to get and find that chap who handles deliveries to Paradise, Volodja can expect a package. And PS. Some people in Freedom are missing him and hope to see his face again soon. Best of British! Volodja smiled - Henry was British indeed and evaluated his home country more than anything...except his books, of course.

Another one...there wasn't another message worth of reading. Meticulous inspection of the mail box gave two gold nuggets amongst tons of trash, but it was still a result.  Volodja looked by his side to say "Good morning" to Sandy, his virtual girlfriend, but she was already gone. Seemed that duties took her away again. Unless....it's something he said or did wrong and Volodja felt slight pain in his heart and clenched his white teeth. That was also possible because he knew that he is far from being perfect man and he will never becomes to be one. Too many flaws, too many scars, too many...At least he hoped to learn to think about them without a bitterness one day and accept them as a part of him. Then let out a resigned sigh, left his bed and started to dress.

Marcel Lestrange woke up next to his girlfriend Lena Marr and gave her...not exactly a kiss but made am an expedition into the depths of her neither region with his tongue. He head a slight headache after the wedding party, because he felt safe enough to afford himself few glasses of alcohol more than usual. At least there was one advantage being with good guys - they kept their word and that enabled Marcel to relax instead of his usual "ready for anything" routine. Although...He never lost his all of his sense of security, but at least here ha could be sure that he do not wake up in better world.

Sudden memory made him grimly smile: His practical joke in wedding party almost succeeded, when he tempered with a music and arranged something more....lively right in middle of the waltz. A little reminiscence from another wedding party. Louis Prima, performing one of the versions of the "Che la luna" seemed to be perfect for an occasion. After all, that song was played at Corleone's wedding in "The Godfather"



Unfortunately Marcel's plan backfired a bit. Another film fan - Volodja Uljanov - played along by knowing words and while he was singing it along, he dragged Marcel to the middle of the floor and forced him to sing a duet with him. Marcel never felt so awkward. Especially when his singing skills weren't exactly the best. All that laughter he heard during and after their performance.... Merde! Volodja did it again! And Marcel's tongue dug even deeper inside to Lena, because it made her feel better than hearing him singing. That is for sure!

Volodja left Vigilant and headed straight to his department to see how Wolfram von Eschen, brilliant psychiatrist, heavy drinker and experienced moonshiner, was doing. According to his eyes, Wolfram was fine. Really fine, because he had lively conversation with Chloe MacGyver about...something. Chloe's laughter sounded all over psychiatric department when she suddenly rose and kissed Wolfram on his nose. Volodja pulled himself back - those two seemed to have a good time and enjoy the company of each other, so there was no place for younger men. Volodja left his kingdom quietly like a shadow and condemned himself into exile in canteen, where Ralph the Cook greeted him with the wide grin on his face. Volodja glanced over Ralph's shoulder. The kitchen was full of people as usual, busy with preparing breakfast for the crew.

"Smells nice, Ralph," said Volodja. "But I would like to have that sensational taste experience as well." Since Ralph could not expect them to return that day, Volodja decided to have something from Ralph's ordinary list, but as soon he opened his mouth to give an order, Ralph interrupted his attempt to speak with his remark: "Volo. As always you will get something sophisticated. While you were away, Wolfram kept me busy with his orders and now you have an opportunity to have a decent breakfast - "Das Frühstück" - as Wolfram calls it. Sausages, soft-boiled eggs, cheese and bread and müesli - uncooked rolled oats, fruit and nuts, which is a must, as Wolfram told. Had to mix him some myself, because nobody can get the stuff from anywhere, but Wolfram likes it a lot. I'd suggest to add some milk to it as he does. And here is your pot of coffee, but your brandy hasn't arrived yet, so..."




"That's OK, Ralph. Thank you for your effort," said Volodja peacefully, grabbed the platter and moved himself into a corner table and started to eat without disturbing anybody. Soon they must start with the transfer of their EGO psyches and he can finally get Sophie back into his mind. He really missed his virtual friend and companion. And he had to have a serious conversation with Alfred, so he should volunteer to be the buffer man during that procedure and lead lost EGO-s back to their homes. Unless he is needed in somewhere else.

Everything seemed to be fine with Kara and Kaj because Wolfram was personification of the sense of duty. It was in his nature and if he had time to flirt with Chloe then everything MUST be fine with their patients. Wolfram turned out to be a real treasure when he was sober and not busy with distilling his infamous Schnapps which tasted like a liquid fire. Volodja had found the right man for the job, capable of being in charge while Volodja was away. At least he managed to do something right. Although - he was helpful during the TV broadcast too, so maybe he is not that hopeless case and can bring some use to the others yet.

After showering alone and changing their clothes in their respective quarters, Erika Widowmaker and Belle Starr met in the canteen, sharing conversation and a table there as the sipped coffee. Belle had changed into her green and black Castithan business suit, but Erika merely changed into a clean pair of military fatigues, as was her habit. Although she never knew it or even thought about it, like Einstein, she had many military fatigues and wore them every day because she never wanted to waste time thinking about what outfit she was going to wear for the day.

Erika would rather do her daily morning exercise regime and start the day's work early then worry about appearances such as dress and cosmetics, whereas Belle loved the decision making process of choosing just the right outfit for the day and the makeup ritual. Despite their differences, Erika and Belle had become fast friends when Belle saved Erika's life from a squad of armed soldiers even though Erika was investigating Belle's team as a possible threat to the Votan Collective. Now days, it was quite natural for them to sit together in the canteen during one of the few quiet times the team was not dealing with a crisis.

"So what's the plan once y'all reach Lima, Erika?" Asked Belle before taking another sip from her personal unicorn embossed coffee mug.

Erika stared intently at Belle with jade green eyes, then said simply, "We do whatever it takes to get my grandchildren back."

Belle matched Erika's stare with unblinking blue diamond eyes, warning, "Just please keep an eye on Atticus! I know him, and he WILL get the children back, but there will probably be lots of killing to do it! Just don't let him enjoy it to much - to linger doing it - or he could slip back into the dark side, and we'll lose him completely! I read the secret articles when he was a serial killer, and there is a part of him that enjoys the uber-violence of vengeance! I'm not saying the people who are after your family don't deserve it, but I don't want the good man he now is replaced by the ruthless one he once was!"

Erika frowned, looking into the black depths of her coffee cup as she thought about what Belle said, then looked up and replied, "I... I will watch him carefully. Know both of us appreciate your concern. Atticus may be my new found brother, but you are our sister as well - a sister in fact as well as in arms."

Belle smiled warmly at the comment, grateful that she had found finally the family she had always wanted in this rag tag collection of rugged individuals, this group of misfits thrown together by fate and a desire to make the world as better place, or so she liked to think.