Deep Down Your Black Heart

Music: Bad Influnece by Omah Lay

The drizzle of rain added to the solemn atmosphere, soaking those who had gathered for Erlin's funeral on the quiet afternoon. The gray skies wept alongside his three daughters, who clung to one another, their tears indistinguishable from the rain. Soldiers stood in formation, fists pressed to their hearts, their faces streaked with anguish they didn't bother to hide. Daryl lingered at the edge of the ceremony, hands shoved into his coat pockets, his bionic arms a constant reminder of the price of failure. Beside him, his wife looped her arm through his, grounding him in a reality he wanted desperately to escape.

"Erlin was a good man," Bleak began, his voice steady despite the crackling in his throat. "To his family, to his friends, to his soldiers, and to this country. Let us not cry because he is not with us anymore. Let us be grateful because he lived."

"He shall forever remain in our hearts," the crowd echoed in unison, their voices trembling.

As the soldiers stood in a quiet salute, their tears refused to cease, streaming silently as the ceremony came to an end. Bleak remained, watching the grieving family with heavy eyes before retreating to the multi-purpose room where the remaining commanders awaited him. Without Erlin, their number had dwindled to three.

The room was cold, the air dense with unspoken grief. Bleak, second in command, was required to step into Erlin's role. He didn't feel ready.

"The murder of a commander, as well as numerous soldiers in our own home," Berlin began, his tone sharp and accusing. "Do we all agree this is an act of war?"

"This unprovoked act of terrorism cannot go unanswered," Joana replied, her voice reverberating through the room. Her body was nearly mechanical, lite implants replacing most of her organic tissue. She was a living weapon, forged for combat.

"Such haste will lead to ruin," Bleak countered, his voice calmer but no less commanding. "We don't have all the information yet."

"We know enough," Joana snapped. "The dark attribute symbiote and the military rank relay core are gone. They're building something, Bleak. Something dangerous. We bring in the Seers—Hound and Argent—and we'll have the answers we need."

Berlin leaned forward. "Wanted posters and a reward should do the trick."

"Rivermirror won't give them up," Joana countered. "They protect their own. We need a manhunt, and if necessary, an invasion."

Bleak shook his head, his gaze hardening. "An invasion will provoke chaos. This isn't Rivermirror's doing; it's the actions of two individuals."

Joana didn't relent. "They're Seers, Bleak. Seers don't act on River soil without Blanc's approval. If Blanc is involved, this is bigger than two rogue agents."

The debate raged on, logic clashing with emotion. In the end, they agreed that an invasion would send a message to Rivermirror while reassuring the people of River that their military could protect them. Bleak's unease simmered beneath the surface.

Meanwhile, Hound, Argent, and their accompanying Seers returned to Rivermirror under the cover of night. They arrived at Binge's tower, their faces etched with exhaustion. Hound's gaze kept darting toward the packages Argent held as if they might detonate at any moment.

Noticing his unease, Argent handed him the dark attribute symbiote. "If anyone finds out it's in your possession, they'll take it from you," she said softly.

"Thank you." Hound's voice was quiet, his gratitude sincere. For the first time, he looked at her with something other than suspicion.

She addressed the other Seers, her tone sharp. "We dropped it during the escape. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," they replied in unison.

Hound's eyes narrowed. "And Blanc?"

Argent smirked. "Sometimes it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission."

To everyone's surprise, Hound stepped forward and moved her extended hand aside, pulling her into an awkward hug. Argent froze, dumbfounded, before tentatively returning the embrace.

"Promise me one thing," Argent whispered, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "Promise me you won't harm the cause I stand for—Binge's dream. I couldn't live a normal life, but one day, when I'm retired, I want my children to live peacefully. I couldn't bear it if they ended up like me. The relay core is the answer to my dreams, Hound. So please, help me."

Hound hesitated, the weight of her words settling heavily on his shoulders. "I have your soul brand. I wouldn't harm you or your cause even if I wanted to."

She sighed, her lips curving into a bittersweet smile. "That's true… until I die. That's why I need your promise. In this line of work, survival is never guaranteed."

"I'll find you after I mutate," Hound replied, his tone resolute as they went their separate ways.