TFS: Burnt Earth
CONNOR 12: REC ROOM

Connor – 25 years ago

I honestly didn’t think it could get any worse. It got worse. Fuck if I know how that’s even possible, but it did.

I’m in the Rec Room. Not because I feel in any way recreational. I’m waiting for Phelan to debrief with Tyler before we debrief as a team. I’m sure as fuck not going back to our room where Molly is. With any luck, she’s in there licking her wounds. More likely, she’s in there licking what remains of butterfly brunch off her face. Fuck, I have no words.

What the actual fuck will I say to her? I’ve never seen someone shit the bed so hard in the control department. Hell, I’ve never shit the bed so hard in my worst moments of withdrawal. This is the epitome of a tanked mission. Why the ever living fuck did the Archives send us to scout a transitional Solathair? They had to know what a flop it’d be. Those missions are important. And rare. There’s only one tranny on the go at a time. They’re the golden eggs the goose lays. That’s at least sixteen years of effort right down Molly’s gullet.

“How’d it go?” Len prompts, sitting his uninvited ass down at the table across from me. Out of throttling reach. Smart.

Guess I wasn’t scowling loud enough. A rumble resonates through my chest in warning. He laughs. The prick.

“That good, eh?” Machk tacks on, plopping his ass down too. One’s never far away from the other.

Len and Machk are identical twins. Both are 6’3” with standard Sentry bulk. Dark hair and eyes. Their creatures are identical too. Midnight fur, with streaks of brown along the back, legs, and face. The only way I can tell them apart is by their smell. Both are Cypress. Len has an undertone of Sage, while Machk is rocking some Dill. In all the time I’ve known them, I’m yet to figure out whether they’re just seriously fucked or seriously like fucking with us. Everything they do is synchronized. It’s disturbing. Perfect example: when eating, forks lift in time, chewing aligns for duration and count, then swallowing ensues. Same breaths. Same blinks. Fuckers even shit in synchrony. It’s baffling.

I’ll still take their weird synergy over Brenden and Liam though, all day every day. They’re also brothers. They get along about as well as typical brothers do at a middle grade age. Not at all. There’s a pretty broad age range between them. Maybe that’s the disconnect. Whatever it is, it’s so problematic they aren’t even allowed to do joint team missions. Obviously, they’re on separate teams, but joint missions are fairly common. It doesn’t stop them from frequenting the pit at the same time. That’s usually entertaining. Molly’s always right in the blood splatter row for that shit show.

In hindsight, I probably should’ve voiced some concerns when we were presented with the mission dossier. My defence? Phelan isn’t blind. He knew the shit Molly got up to the same as me. Sure, I had a better bird’s eye view, but it was all public broadcast television. Her temperament is no great secret. She isn’t angry like Phelan. She just gives no fucks. I’m undecided on which is worse. They both suck balls.

“Worse than Collin?” Len presses.

Another warning rumbles through my chest, vibrating my ribs.

Machk blows out a low whistle. He understands if your mission was worse than that one, it’s best to leave sleeping dogs lie. Collin wasn’t technically at fault for his first botched scout. It too was a Solathair in transition. A fire type. Watchful waiting turned into a gut shower when the thing exploded all over the whole team. Needless to say, there was no putting Humpty Dumpty back together again.

“It’ll get better,” Keme offers.

He’ll get no roars in transit from me. He’s a great teammate, closest in physical age to me at seventeen. Definitely rather have him at my side than behind my back. He’s a sawed off little shit at 5’5”, but what he lacks in height he more than makes up for in sheer brutality. He has a real thing for kneecaps. Loves displacing them. Loves it even more when he can work them right out through the skin and force feed them to people. Like I said, brutal as fuck.

“You debrief yet?” Len dares a follow up after Keme got by with no rebuff.

I give my head a quick shake.

“What’s up, fellas?” Takoda coos. “Guess what I heard,” he ignorantly continues. “Heard there’s some new pussy up in here.”

A roar rips through my lips, blowing back his shock blond hair. It’s nearly white. Presently, it matches his face which has totally paled.

“Like you’d know what to do with pussy,” Keme chides him.

“Oh, you would?” Takoda fires back.

“Pointless gratuitous reference to invoke laughs,” Len deadpans.

“No shit.” Machk agrees. “Can’t even rub one out around here.”

“That reminds me,” Takoda rattles on. Gossip whore if ever there was one. “Frank got a chub right in the intake line the other day.”

Everyone stares with slack jaws. There are no erections in or out of Sheelin. Not even morning wood. Tyler clamps our nuts in the conversion. Guess in Molly’s case, she got a tube twist. Whatever. Same difference. We don’t feel those feels. Ever. If Frank is hankering for a wank, something bigger’s broken in him. One-way ticket on the berserk bus? Probably. Save me a seat, Bud. I’ll be joining you here before long if shit doesn’t turn around.

Keme coughs, disrupting our grim reality. Our greatest fear. If not theirs, certainly mine. I’m always one withdrawal away from that hell ride. “Look,” he attempts to console me. “You just got to get her hitting those books as hard as she hits our heads. It’ll sort itself.”

Next time, providing there is a next time, we need to increase our preparation efforts. It’s a good suggestion. I give him a chin nod of thanks and extricate myself from the table. Best go check on my bad babysitter. Maybe the time out did her some good. A fucking cat. I can’t believe it. She finally shapeshifted, and it was into a big ass panther. Unbelievable.

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