#shoutout to those who like both VRAINS and hzd

[shidoukanae]

Machinist (VRAINS story fanfic)

Summary: 

    Machines rule the world.

    This, Yusaku knows.

    He just doesn't understand why.

     (AU. YusakuxAoi, EmaxAkira. Romance is not the main focus point. Influenced heavily and based upon that one game with machines aka Horizon Zero Dawn. Basically VRAINS cast in the HZD world)

Type: Multi-chaptered story with the whole VRAINS cast crammed inside.

Genres (this chapter only): Action, adventure, mystery, suspense, (my attempt at) low-key comedy

I basically had this idea of intertwining VRAINS with Horizon Zero Dawn after playing the game. And, after reading rossettes’ fanfic, critical hit (go check it out here bc it’s super cool ->  http://archiveofourown.org/works/11123724/chapters/24827769) I decided I wanted to make an AU of Vrains w/ the Horizon Zero Dawn world and lore.

I tried to make this as understandable as possible to those who haven’t played the Horizon Zero Dawn game but if anything needs explaining than I’ll probably whip up an explanation (unless it’s plot stuff. Plot stuff won’t be explained but world stuff will). 

EmaxAkira, YusakuxAoi (Playmaker/Blue Angel too but meh, they’re the same people regardless sooooo....) and maybe some ShoichixEma down the road. Romance, however, is not the main idea of the story and is a side-genre bc I am guiltily shipping but all relationships must be built up before they can be achieved (no insta-love, in other words). All characters so far in show will appear and so will Purple and Yellow (my nicknames for the last two kids who’ve yet to show up) once they make their debut. 

Pictures included below of different machines mentioned. A dictionary of terms is included in the Ao3 version for better reference as well as more in-depth explanation about the story (the link is here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11341926/chapters/25382850)

A click of machinery.

Gears whirl and hiss, clashing against each other as the creature moves step by step. Its two feet stomp on helpless grass, its singular eye kept focused on the track ahead. It is a Watcher, a machine known only for its ability to scout and warn others like it. It is small in size compared to its bigger brethren but its red-eyed call makes it just as dangerous.

Yusaku edges forward, crouched among the blades of grass that hide his presence. The Watcher cannot smell him, cannot detect him through anything other than its sight or its hearing. It is almost oblivious to his presence, gaze poking above the tall grass but never inside of it.

Steady, he tells his itching hands, the need to nock an arrow so potent that he almost gives away his hiding spot. Not yet.

The Watcher tilts its head back and forth, pauses in its track, and then moves its blue eye up and down. It looks into the forest, notes the appearance of a bird, and then moves on.

Yusaku whistles.

It stiffens, the azure light from its eye gone gold. The Watcher’s neck extends up and its body spins in his direction. It clicks, uncertain, and begins making careful footsteps in his direction. The thing is cautious, alert but unwilling to move headfirst into danger. Machines are smart beings and they will not risk danger to the herds they are guarding if they can help it.

Step falls after step and Yusaku holds his breath, trembling. The Watcher comes closer, closer, machine parts grinding together as it walks. He forces himself still, reaching for the spear on his back and bringing it to his front.

The Watcher continues forward. It’s five feet from him. Four feet. Three feet. Two feet. On-

Yusaku launches out of the grass and impales the creature’s neck with his spear. Sparks flare and he backs away again into the tall grass just as the machine shuts-down. The light from its yellow eye flickers and then dies and Yusaku casts his gaze out into the field beyond.

Three Striders – horse-like machines with an incessant need to kiss the ground – peer around with interest. They’ve noticed the downfall of their protector and, as such, have begun prodding around. Their golden eyes sweep the premises, completely ignoring the birds that settle on their backs or the foxes that run rampant at their feet.

Yusaku creeps forward and investigates the Watcher’s corpse. He takes off the Metal Shards and then settles for the creature’s eye. A thick coating of glass rimmed with silver sits in the creature’s eye-socket, polished and crystal-clear. Yusaku rips the parts around it away, carefully pulling at bits and pieces until he is able to detach the lens entirely. He holds it up to the sun, watches as light glints down through its center, and then notices the Strider herd that is rearing down upon him.

The boy rolls away, barely missing a hoof to the face. Another Strider charges and he jumps away from it. The beasts’ red eyes glare down upon him and he knows better than to fight three against one. So, he breaks off into a run, giving a long and high-pitched whistle that does little more than to alert the wild-life around him. He ignores the fact that nothing has changed and barely misses his legs being broken by a Strider kick. He scowls at himself, already uneasy, but relaxes when he sees another Strider heading towards him.

The new machine, unlike the others that are chasing him, has a neck of blue wires glistening with luminance. It rides beside him, keeping pace, and he mounts it with relative ease. He grabs at the wires that form into reins and yanks them, lens still in hand. The Strider speeds up, ignoring its fellow brethren as it races away.

He takes his mount through the woods of the forest, breath billowing out of his mouth and snowflakes raining down upon him. A soft chill chases away his pounding adrenaline and he watches as the footprints of a fox guide him home.

Home being, of course, the edges of a vast city far too large to properly support its people. Yusaku departs from his mounts side a little ways from the walled entrance, patting the Strider’s neck and then letting it be. The creature tilts its head at him and merely pushes its snout to the ground, more interested in pawing at the dirt than at why he is leaving it behind.

The guards at the gate give no indication that they have seen him riding his machine. They greet him as they normally do, inquiring about his business (“Hunting down machines,” he says and they nod along because it’s nothing new) and then they let him on his way.

The streets of Den City are flooded with people. Merchants wander left and right, holding out wares for customers to observe while sellswords and SOL knights walk the streets. Yusaku ignores all of them, stepping past the masses and into a small covered wagon that lines one of the many roads. He pauses at the entrance, gaze sweeping past the embroidered dog that frolics on its surface, and pushes his way inside.

A man looks up from a pile of gears and machine parts and pauses in his work. Shoichi Kusanagi, a man more grease than human, wipes at his forehead and then pulls away from his project with a sigh.

“Busy day?” Yusaku asks. He is not sincere in any way about the question, merely curious about the curtain that shelters them both from the outside world.

“I haven’t opened up shop yet,” the dark-haired man says. “Don’t look at me like that! We both know full well that this project needs some time to get finished. I can’t have customers yapping away every five seconds if I want to make some decent progress.”

“It’s just going to fail again,” Yusaku shakes his head. “You won’t be able to replicate the Overdriver’s effects as easily as you would a Ravager’s cannon.”

“No, but I can try,” Shoichi returns to the beginnings of his masterpiece and then looks up at him. “I forgot to ask. Did you get it?”

The boy sighs and holds out his hand. Shoichi grabs the Watcher lens from him and inspects it closely, holding it up to the lantern inside his wagon. “It’s still in-tact, good. Hopefully my client will like it. Thanks for this again, Yusaku. I know you don’t mind but it always makes me feel bad to ask favors from you.”

“It’s fine,” Yusaku waves a hand and then takes a seat on a nearby chair, “It’s not like I don’t have anything better to do. I’m just surprised that the lens made it back in one piece; I didn’t have a chance to put it away before the Striders went after me.”

“You were chased by Striders?” Kusanagi’s head whips up in alarm.

Yusaku meets his gaze with a flat look. “I got away, obviously. I called for an overriden Strider and journeyed back to the city without any problems.”

The man pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yusaku please tell me you didn’t ride to the city gates on that thing.”

“I rode it to the edge of the forest. The guards didn’t see me.”

“For the Goddess’s sake!” Kusanagi stands up and faces the blue-haired boy with angered exasperation. “You need to exert more caution! People are going to realize someday that you’re-”

“No, they won’t. A robot working for humanity’s sake doesn’t necessarily always point back to me. There are others who can over-ride machines too. At the very least, someone will just assume I’m Blue Apple or Go Onizuka or something before anyone will assume it’s me.”

“Okay, one, it’s Blue Angel. Two, if they check your quiver they’re going to find out soon enough. Those arrows are specially made – anyone who’s anyone will be able to recognize Playmaker’s arrows on sight.”

“Which is why I have a dummy quiver instead,” Yusaku gestures to a blue quiver to the left of his chair and a red quiver to his right. His gaze remains on the latter with pointed interest. “Relax, I’ll be fine. No one’s figured it out so far.”

“That’s because you’re always hiding in the shadows. If you bring out an overridden machine into the guard’s sight they’re going to suspect something! I can only imagine the publicity you’ll be getting then! And all before my invention can come into fruition…”

Yusaku looks at the haphazard pile of metal gears and parts that form the imitation of a pipe. Beside it lies a spear with a similar device on the blunt end of it, white in shape and pulsing with light. Kusanagi moves his gaze back and forth between them, lifting up the spear to inspect the gadget on its end before looking to his own creation. He tweaks something with an item reminiscent of a screwdriver and then shakes his head in frustration.

“You missed an area,” Yusaku says, crouching down to point out the lack of a bolt. “That and your lacking a wire to this button here. Try using that spool of copper threads to fix that. I think you forgot to add it on our sixth try.”

Kusanagi nods and then does as Yusaku suggests. Once done, he pulls back and holds his creation up. “Do you think it will work now?”

“No.”

The man scowls at him. “Y’know, you could try to be hopeful for me for once.”

“Judging by the last eight times we’ve tried this, I’ve given up all hope entirely,” he states flatly. “Even if you duplicate the device, you’ll probably need the data to get it programmed properly. And, considering mine doesn’t have a chip to transfer data from, I can only assume it will fail again.”

Kusanagi rubs the back of his head. “Alright, alright, I hear you,” he stands up and transfers his device into a protective chest. Yusaku picks up the spear and uses it to replace the one he had used earlier. “Still, all this about a ‘chip’ and ‘data’ and ‘programming’...I don’t think I understand it. Such strange words, where do they come from?”

“They’re Old One’s terms,” Yusaku tells him. “Specifically, they’re terms about how you get technology to work properly. How you get machines to work properly.”

The man rolls up the curtain to his shop. “Ah, figures. The Old Ones certainly had a strange sense of language.”

“It’s not that strange.”

Kusanagi clicks his tongue. “To you, maybe. You’re the only one who understands all this.”

Yusaku shrugs back at him. The boy leans forward and peers at the Watcher lens. “So, who’s the lucky client you’re expecting? And why can’t they get these lens for themselves? It’s not like Watcher lens are that hard to obtain. Rare in such good condition, yes, but certainly not as hard to get as something like a Trampler’s heart.”

“He’s some bigshot in the higher ranks of SOL. Apparently, he needs the lens as soon as possible and doesn’t have the time to hunt Watchers down himself.”

“A bigshot, huh?” Yusaku rubs his chin and then offers his friend a soft smile. “You’re getting popular.”

“My reputation gets around,” he smiles to himself and then fiddles with a bag of medicinal herbs. “Oh, by the way, Yusaku?”

The boy raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you. Does the word Cauldron strike a match with you?”

“Cauldrons? No, I am unfamiliar with that term.”

Kusanagi pulls up a chair beside the counter to his wagon shop. “Cauldrons are the places where machines are made. They are mysterious areas that relate to the Old Ones in some strange fashion. I thought you might be able to find clues to your past there.”

“I see. Perhaps,” Yusaku nods. “It’s not out of the question. There’s still so much to this world I don’t understand. And, it wouldn’t at all surprise me if what I’m looking for lies in what I don’t know about. Namely, these Cauldrons of yours.”

“That’s rather deep for a sixteen year old boy.”

“…Shut up.”

And Kusanagi laughs.

~~~

Time passes by at a slow rate.

In all fairness, Yusaku could probably up and leave the shop whenever he wanted to. But, he couldn’t.

There was something about helping Kusanagi that kept him rooted in the shop. Such monotonous work was boring in of itself - the customers were bland and their words even blander – but the amusement he garnered from working alongside Kusanagi was well enough.

Many of their clients were travelers just like them. They came to exchange metal shards – the equivalent of money in this time – for resources and weapons. They occasionally exchanged stories – a dead partner here, a failed escort mission there – but, overall, nothing significant was achieved from such chats. Information was repeated by tongue and, unless something newly significant happened in a far-off country, repetition quickly got to the head. Everything was, in one way or another, rehashed until Yusaku could only nod along as he did transaction after transaction. Once their customers came and went, Yusaku would roll his eyes and share a relieved glance with Kusanagi because damn did they never want to hear another story about Grazers exploding ever again.

“How much more time do we have left?” Kusanagi inquires.

“Roughly half the day until nightfall.”

“Ugh,” Kusanagi props his chin on the back of his hands. “Business is rough.”

Yusaku chuckles at that. Kusanagi is as impatient as he is in closing up shop, itching to end the day as early as possible. Yusaku feels it too, feels the impending dread as the sun slides slowly over head and the bland numbness that associates with stiff words and postures. Yusaku looks at the sky and then finds himself startled as he misses the manifestation of a man before him. He stares at the stranger, surprised, and Kusanagi immediately stiffens.

“Good afternoon,” the man says, donning a cloak that is blue in color. The image of a sun embroiders itself onto his breast pocket, golden threads forming the symbol for the Order of SOL. A brown-haired girl stands beside him. “I believe I asked for a Watcher lens earlier from you as of yesterday?”

“A-Ah, yes!”

Yusaku’s gaze slides from the man to the girl as Kusanagi hurries off to retrieve the lens. His stare is observant, flitting up and down in his curiosity.

The first thing he notices is that she is not a knight. At least, not a proper one. There is no Order of SOL emblem attached to her blue robe or red-painted armor on her shoulders. There is only a sun-shaped clip that tucks away a strand of her hair behind one ear.

The second thing he notices is her gaze is kept firmly on the man and Kusanagi, gaze flicking between them with subtle interest. She seems to be ignoring Yusaku, gaze pointedly cast in every direction but his.

The man inspects the lens by holding them up to the light of the sun. He moves it back and forth and then up to his face. Careful eyes scrutinize every detail and then he nods at Kusanagi, a polite smile on his face. “Thanks for this,” the man says and then nods to the girl. “Aoi, if you mind? The payment?”

She nods and extracts a small leather bag from her person. She hands it to Kusanagi and he stares at her, baffled, because Watcher lens don’t cost this much in metal shards but yet here she is giving him a-

For the briefest of seconds, her gaze darts to Yusaku. It is only in an instant but he notices the way her brown eyes prod into him, finally taking him into observation before she moves them away. A hidden smile graces her face in that span of a moment, a kind of cunning that suggests more than meets the eye. However, as her gaze drifts away, she refuses to address him, acting as if her sudden slip in attention hadn’t occurred.

She’s blatantly ignoring him and, for that, Yusaku feels annoyed. Such disrespect would have itching for his spear but he knows better than to let his feelings get ahold of him. He doesn’t need to make himself a murderer quite yet.

A subtle shift of motion. Something moves where nothing exists and Yusaku slides his gaze from the girl to a spot behind her. A marketplace square lacking in people meets his eyes, wagon curtains drifting in the wind and the smell of bread fresh in the air. His imagination? Perhaps.

He turns his gaze back to the girl but she has suddenly become disturbed, her amber stare drifting to where his had been. She tugs on the man’s cloak and he stops the string of conversation he’d been having to pause and collect himself.

“I thank you for this, Kusanagi,” the man says, a smile evident. “Perhaps I will visit your shop at another time. Will you always be stationed here or will I have to wait for your next reappearance?”

“I travel, sir,” Kusanagi says with an off-handed smile. “I’m only here during the end of summer before I leave for the VRAINS.”

The man of SOL frowns at this. “If you want, I could give you a permanent spot in the royal city. Your wares would be much appreciated there.”

Kusanagi pretends to ponder over it but Yusaku can already see the decision clear in his eyes. “I thank you for this offer, Akira,” Kusanagi bows his head, “but I’m afraid I must refuse. I have clients who would need my wares as much as you. One day, though, I may take you up on that offer. Perhaps when I feel the need to retire or perhaps when I grow too old to travel.”

Aoi narrows her eyes at the man and Yusaku reciprocates the gesture with her, bristling. Her thoughts are clear on her face and she is unhappy with the rejection her friend. Her wrinkled nose, scornful lips and the haughty tilt of her head towards the atmosphere suggest that she has begun to think of them in a lesser light (and probably him much more).

Her companion, however, takes it with a chuckle. “Well, if you ever decide on coming to the royal city, please ask for my name and then give your own. The guards will be on strict orders to let you pass.”

The girl spins at that, twisting to face the man with a hushed exclamation. “But, brother-!” she starts.

She’s cut off by the frown that graces the man’s face. She raises a hand to her ear, twists a lock of brown hair in frustration, and then pulls up the hood of her robe over her face. A subtle pout of her lips is all that remains. Her brother does little to fight back against I her tantrum, merely sighing as he gives his goodbyes and escorts her off.

“…Who was he?”

Kusanagi picks up a feather pen and twists it back and forth between his fingers. “Akira Zaizen. Head of the Order of SOL and perhaps the closest thing the Kingdom of SOL has to a second-in-command.”

“And he came alone? Out here? In the lower cities? Why doesn’t he have more guards?”

“There are undoubtedly knights all around here that are secretly keeping watch on him. That, and his sister gives him all the amount of protection he needs.”

“That girl?” his mind flashes back to the brown-haired stranger who’d walked alongside Akira. She had called him her brother but to think that she was a guard…? Unbelievable.

“Yes, her. She’s one of the best fighters in the SOL Kingdom. Well, maybe not as good as, say, Blue Angel, but don’t let that girl’s looks fool you otherwise. She’s as dangerous as they come.”

“Her looks? What do her looks have to do with this?”

Kusanagi smiles at him. “You were staring at her the entire time.”

The boy analyzes Kusanagi’s words for a moment. “And?”

“Taking an interest?”

“She was blatantly ignoring me,” he says, a subtle push in the direction of ‘yes’. “She only looked at me once and, even then, it felt like there was almost something…off about her.”

“She…seemed fine to me?”

Yusaku frowns. “She wasn’t too happy when you refused her brother’s offer.”

“Really?” Yusaku nods and Kusanagi chuckles. “Well, whatever. It’s not like I really want to be up with the wealthy-class anyways. I like it down here in the lower cities, don’t you?”

“There’s definitely less people who believe they’re all-mighty,” Yusaku agrees with a shrug of his shoulders. “And even less people to bother around the poor.”

There’s a noise of agreement from his partner and then Kusanagi prods into the bag of metal shards he’s been given. “It’s real leather,” he states, long fingers running alongside the fabric of the bag.

Yusaku glances over at it. “That must be expensive. And, to hand you a whole bag of metal shards on top of it? Pretty gracious indeed.”

“Watcher lens aren’t that rare, are they?” Kusanagi inquires in wonder, pinching out a small amount of shards and than letting them drop. “This feels a little too charitable.”

“I wouldn’t stress over it.”

“No,” he puts the bag in a cabinet, “you’re right. Business is business. Even if it’s from the Goddess-damned second of command himself.”

Yusaku lips move into the beginning of a smile. “Relax,” he tells the man, “it’s not like Akira’s going to put a witch-hunt on you for refusing his offer. He, unlike his sister, seemed decent.”

“Witch-hunt?”

“Ah, yes. Something else you might not know. It’s an Old One’s phrase relating to the idea of hunting down witches. The witches here, unlike their fairy tale counterparts, are metaphorical representations of people targeted by the masses via the command of another. The so-called witch is hunted down by a mob under the command of someone else in order to gain a reward of some sort. Usually, money – or, in laymen’s terms, metal shards – became the main motivator for finding such a person.”

Kusanagi blinks up at him and Yusaku fears he may have lost the man yet again. However, Kusanagi shakes his head and chuckles at him. “The Old One’s were a mysterious race. It’s a wonder you can even understand them.”

“Your people are just as strange,” Yusaku retorts. “Always believing in such weird things such as Goddesses and fearing the machines.”

“And you don’t fear them?”

“I-!” Yusaku pauses and then frowns, caught in his own web. “Yes, well, I admit I’m afraid of those machines. They’re not at all like the ones we had.”

“You’ve come from quite a strange time, then.”

Yusaku quiets. “It sure seems that way, doesn’t it?” He peers up into the sky, chin propped on his lower palms. “Sometimes, I wonder myself what it would have been like to have lived in it.”

His partner leans back on a chair. “Must suck to be unable to remember nothing else but the bare specifics.”

“Mm.”

The man hums something. “You know, one day…one day I hope you find it.”

Yusaku looks over to him with questions wide in his eyes.

Kusanagi looks back at him and continues speaking.

“I hope one day you find your answers.”

~~~

Yusaku can’t sleep.

He twists and turns under his covers, hands pulling at the sheets above him and twisting them into wrinkles. The wooden floor beneath arches up into his back, clawing at him until he is in an eternal state of discomfort. Heat flares up his body, sweat building on his skin, and he leaves the comfort of his sleeping bag to appear before a starry night sky. Cool wind brushes against him and his eyes wander up and into the flecks of silver the decorate the world.

“I wonder…” he says, reaching out for the stars. He grabs at them and then lets them slip through his fingers. Unsatisfied, he climbs to the roof of Kusanagi’s wagon. “Maybe, if I had…”

Creeeeeeeak.

His head perks up and he ducks until his chin meets the wooden planks of his hiding place. The boy’s hands reach for the spear he has on his back.

He crawls forward.

Cuh-lick. Cuh-lick.

Tapping noises that increase at a steady rhythm. Yusaku peers out for the hint of blue and red that he suspects, shifting over from the rooftop of the wagon to the wall of the city gates. He jumps and grapples at a handhold, swinging himself onto a boardwalk that overlooks the outside world.

A world of red awaits him. Red eyes and red veins pulse in the midnight darkness, all fixated upon the walls that stand before them. Striders and Watchers huddle at the entrance, silent and waiting. They stood as if they were already dead, motionless and awaiting the commands of something greater.

Yusaku stares with furrowed eyebrows, switching to his bow as he nocks an arrow. Where were the guards and why hadn’t they sounded the alarm? A massive army of machines would surely raise the need for a doomsday call. Yet, the air was thick was silence, unwilling to be broken with the sound of urgency.

Clickty clickty.

Something moves in the darkness. A tall, lumbering shape that moves its eye in odd ways scuttles forward. It was reminiscent of a scorpion, its long tail curling above it like a while, beneath it, four legs moved in a motion of near complete stealth. It was only the gentle sounds of this beast that had alerted Yusaku to the presence of the machines. But, where were the soldiers who’d greeted him earlier that day? Off patrol, somewhere else?

No.

Dead.

Two lonesome bodies sat underneath the scorpion’s claws, mutilated and bloodied and beyond any recognizable repair. The armor of SOL’s finest was shredded into pieces, the emblem of the sun tattered and in ruins.

Yusaku pulls out a fire arrow and lights the tip. Amber flames sprout to life, lightning up the darkness. The machines pay no heed to it, ignoring it much as they ignored the wildlife that graced their haunting sites. They knew no association to fire just as they knew no association to light. The machines were fickle in that way, they saw only by movement and cared for little but the humans that hunted them.

The boy nocks the arrow and pulls the string of his bow back. But, he does not aim for any one of the machines. Rather, he aims for the tower that sits behind him, gaze pointed to the doll-shaped siren that settles at its core.

He lets it loose and the arrow flies, plunging straight into the heart of the alarm. Flames catch and an unworldly scream echoes from the device.

The machines break their stance of silence. They rear and hiss, coming to life as the scorpion beast became alert with attention. It makes a loud cooing sound and the creatures around it became enraged, ramming themselves into the walls of the lower city and crying out for dominance.

Knights and sellswords materialize from the darkness, all united under the unsaid code of oath that leads them to the wall.

Fight. Win. For your brethren, for your brothers and sisters against the machines that plague us all.

Yusaku watches as they climb over the walls, initiating battle cries that threaten the earth itself. Fire arrows launch into the air. Bombs go off just beyond the wall and machines shudder as electricity steals their ability to move. Yusaku follows the masses and slips out over a wall. A Watcher immediately jumps out to greet him, chortling with anger as it slams its head forward. He dances out of the way, nocks an arrow, and then shoots it in its red eye. It dies instantly, sparks fizzling as it collapses. He loots it for a few metal shards and then returns to the foray.

Two Striders ride up to him and he rolls away just as they stomp their feet down. The first Strider huffs, pawing at the ground with its hoof, and then charges. He jumps aside. Its friend rams straight into him and he hits a wall with a startled grunt.

Shaking, he raises two fingers to his mouth and whistles.

In no time at all, a Strider with a glowing blue neck appears and barrels into its two friends. He boards it and then races off with the other two behind him. Yusaku urges his horse forward and then turns around, shooting fire arrow after fire arrow until both machines ignite with flames. They wilt to the ground in a shower of sparks, collapsing upon themselves as he returns to the outskirts of the fight.

The people of the lower cities of SOL are battling desperately against the machines, spears slicing through wire necks and arrows burning through melted metal. There are too many machines to humans, Yusaku realizes. And, with each second that passes, the scorpion-like machine calls for more to join it.

The scorpion. The mastermind of the whole operation, the manipulator behind a metal mask. It is an odd creature, a variety of technology that Yusaku has not seen in his time awake. There is something rather cunning about it, something so alive and ruthless that it sends shudders down his spine. It is as if the creature is injecting poison into the machines it encourages, its red eye pulsing in time to the red that streaks down its followers’ melting wires.

In a millisecond, Yusaku knows what he must do.

He must take this machine down.

He urges his Strider forward and carefully sets a bomb in place. Then, he puts down another. A Watcher takes note of his presence and tries to interfere but it is destroyed by his Strider’s quick hooves. Metal crunches against metal and the slender creature fails to warn its brethren of the impending danger.

However, what it does not fail to do is attract the scorpion’s attention to him. It turns its crimson gaze upon him and his Strider and there is something eerie about the way it observes him, head moving up and down its body in subtle interest.

Then, it launches itself forward.

The attack is entirely unprepared for and Yusaku finds himself crashing upon the ground as he is knocked off his mount. His Strider nickers, dazed and legs running on top empty air. The machine gives one glance at it before its tail swipes at him. Yusaku dodges, jumping away as a gash is formed into the earth.

“NoT…” a jarring voice edged with distortion speaks. “NoT aLLoWed.”

He pauses at its words, furrowing his eyebrows for the briefest of seconds. Then, he nocks a fire arrow and sends it loose.

Flames sizzle against metal and then bounce off. The creature crawls forward, its tail hovering above him.

“ErrOr,” it says, jumping forward. Yusaku rolls away. “NoT…NoT huMAN.”

He urges it forward, pulling out his Tripcaster. The beast scuttles after him and lands in front of a bomb. Bright light flickers and then explodes and the beast falls upon itself, dazed. Yusaku shoots at the ground, forming three strings of trip wires that lead up to him.

The machine awakens quickly and does not play prey to his newest trap. It hops over it and then rams its head down upon the ground. Yusaku darts away, but not before the shockwave catches up to him. He trips and falls face-first into the ground.

“WhY Do YoU…?” its contorted words continue. “ERroR…”

It walks straight into the wires and collapses yet again. Yusaku bounces forward and drives his spear into its eye. It screams in agony, legs flailing, and he has to retreat to avoid being tossed aside.

“SOn of MaaaAAn,” the creature moves its head back and forth in an upside-down u-shape. “SoooON of MaaCHIneee…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Something rams into the scorpion. From behind it, Yusaku’s Strider rears up and then charges at the creature. The scorpion machine hisses and then swipes its tail at the interloper. Yusaku sends fire arrow after fire arrow after it, letting his Strider act as distraction while he leads the offense. He paces himself a certain distance back and then bends down. He places cluster of hot-air balloon shaped items on the ground and waits.

His Strider cries out, hooves raised to stomp down upon the scorpion, and the last of its life is taken by its opponent’s claws. The odd machine chortles at its victory before remembering its previous opponent.

It turns to face Yusaku.

“Come on, come get me,” he says, voice dulled by disinterest.

It scurries forward gleefully, machine parts screeching against each other in a dissonant laugh. “MAAn. MaaaaCHINE.”

It takes the bait and scurries headfirst into the minefield of bombs he has set up. He barely has time to blink before the impact sends him flying back. Gears and metal parts race past him, nicking his cheek and outfit. He can already taste the beginning of blood on his lips, feel his wounds sting at open air. The machine collapses into a heap of flaming parts and he watches as it falls in utter awe.

“Goddess be damned,” a pink-haired lady says, eyes reflecting the corpse before her. She doesn’t seem to notice Yusaku in the shadows next to her, merely inspecting the broken machinery with terrifying fascination.

“Eye on the prize, woman!” someone shouts and she rolls away just in time from a Watcher’s jump-attack.

Yusaku nocks a regular arrow and then shoots the Watcher’s eye before it can attack him. It slumps to the ground, molten metal dripping off it. Metalburn. Yusaku waits for the woman to leave the scene before he grabs a vial to collect a few drops. The liquid sizzles inside the container as Yusaku tucks it away.

Kusanagi will want to see it later.

The machines, without their leader, grow frenzied. Their attacks become wild and unstable, reckless and without thought. The humans who are left to fight them fend off their numbers easily, dwindling them down until the last red-veined beast is vanquished. When it all comes to an end, everyone gathers to marvel over the scorpion-like machine that has caused them so much trouble.

“Just what is it?” a pudgy knight inquires, poking at the metal body. He jumps back when it falls towards him, jittery. “W-Woah, is it still a-alive?”

“No, it isn’t,” the pink-haired lady from earlier bends down to inspect it. “If anything, it’s an old, old relic. I’ve never seen a machine like this. It’s got so much dust on it that I’m surprised it could even move.”

There’s a sudden fuss of voices and the group of people around the corpse part ways to reveal Akira Zaizen. The man is stiff, gaze flicking over the machine with frustration.

“Who took this machine down?” he inquires, gaze flitting to the woman. “Was it you, Ema?”

Ema raises an eyebrow at him. “Me? No. I got here just after it was taken down.”

“Then who was it? If it wasn’t you then…who…?”

Yusaku pauses in his breathing as the woman’s gaze flicks in the direction of his hiding spot.

Was it possible she had…?

“I don’t know.”

Oh. Maybe not.

“Someone must have. Machines don’t just die on their own.”

The pudgy knight of SOL pulls out an arrow from the scorpion’s corpse. “Ah!” he screams. “Look at this, sir, look at this!”

Akira wastes no time in rushing over. “Yes, what is it?”

The boy points to a subtle design that embeds itself into the arrowhead. And, even though Yusaku can’t see it, he knows exactly what it looks like. It’s a long and slender image made by the use of a carving pen.

“The mark of a feather?” Ema muses with vague interest. “Isn’t that the symbol of some wannabe hero? I’ve heard the rumors of him.”

“Playmaker,” Akira says. He dismisses the pudgy knight and the kid is more than happy to wander off to inspect the giant corpse.

“Playmaker?”

“He’s been a reoccurring presence in this area. A vigilante whose been hunting down rogue machines. He’s quite a famous hunter and it’s been rumored his skills are on par with a Machinist.”

“A Machinist? Wow, I had no idea a wannabe hero could obtain so high a status.”

Akira gives her an off-handed glance and Ema merely returns it with an innocent smile. He continues on. “If he was here tonight then perhaps we could offer up a reward to the town’s citizens for information. He’d be useful as a member of the Order of SOL.”

“My, it’s almost as if you want to get yourself a new toy. As charitable as you are, sometimes I think you have other motives.”

“I do what is best for my kingdom. This Playmaker would make a highly-beneficial asset for our kingdom, don’t you think?”

“What, and Blue Angel and Go Onizuka aren’t enough?”

“The Machinists are good, that I will admit. But, keep in mind, we still need to prepare for what is coming. Adding Playmaker to our cause would merely raise our potential for achieving our goal.”

Ema goes quiet at that. “Yes, I see your point.”

Yusaku arches an eyebrow at that. What’s coming? he wants to ask but holds his tongue as he notices intruders approaching.

From the depths of the forest, two Sawtooths emerge. Cat-like creatures with wires protruding from their shoulder blades stalk forward. On top of them sit two people, one for each machine. One is a girl who’s much too blue for comfort and the other a man who seems much more muscles than human.

“We came as soon as we heard the alarm,” the girl says, hopping off her machine. Ema eyes the Sawtooth uneasily, inching away from the beast and to Akira’s side. “I didn’t imagine the Corrupter would get here so fast.”

The girl’s companion remains on his ride. Yusaku recognizes him instantly. Go Onizuka. “We were tracking its path from the Cauldron but were attacked by bandits. We lost sight of the tracks after that.”

Cauldrons?

“Bandits, as in…?” Akira looks between them.

“The Knights of Hanoi,” the girl confirms.

Yusaku’s eyes narrow.

Akira pinches the bridge of his nose. “Goddess damned, Blue Angel. You weren’t supposed to confront them. You were on strict orders to avoid them.”

The girl – Blue Angel – raises her head defiantly. “Go was with me and we took them out easily enough. I don’t see what your issue is.”

“Taking them out won’t stop them from slitting your throat in the middle of the night.”

“Not if they don’t know who I am. My real life identity is as hidden as the moon behind the clouds.”

Her Sawtooth growls in agreement, teeth clicking with threats at Akira.

“Can we please not anger that thing?” Ema huffs, gaze kept focused on the beast in front of her. “It could turn on us at any second, you know!”

“What? My Sawtooth?” Blue Angel laughs at that and strokes her companion’s head. “It’s been overridden. It won’t turn on me unless I turn on it. Or, until it’s corrupted. Or until it dies. At the very least, I’m sure I’ll never have to worry about it.”

It makes a purring sound and Ema cringes.

“Blue Angel, stop teasing Ema,” Akira sighs and then turns to Go. “Did the Knights follow you?”

“No. There was a bomb along the way but nothing else.”

Akira nods his head and then muses something to himself. He looks over both of them. “I want you to return home for now. We’ll deliberate over this in the morning. Meanwhile, Blue Angel, I want you to come with me specifically. We need to talk”

The girl’s eyes widens but she nods, lowering her head. Her Sawtooth makes a move forward but she beckons it off.

“Wait here,” she tells it. The machine rumbles but makes no move of protest. Go’s Sawtooth meets up with it and the pair of machines wanders off and into the edges of the woods.

The man and girl disappear. Go looks over at Ema with a hint of concern. “Aren’t you leaving too? Everyone else has,” he sweeps a hand to the abandoned battlefield of machine corpses and scorched land. Not a single soul remains except for the both of them and Yusaku himself.

“Right, I…I’ll be coming into the gates soon. There’s something I want to check out first. Loot whatever’s leftover.”

Go nods and then returns inside the city walls. Ema stands alone in the field, gaze cast to the stars.

“Playmaker, huh?” she says. “Are you still here?”

Yusaku doesn’t move.

“Didn’t think so,” she shakes her head and then begins to make her way back. “Well, it’s not my problem. Whether you’re here or not…be careful for what lies ahead. You’re going to wish for some help in the future.”

And she leaves without any other words to suggest her meaning.

Yusaku’s not sure he wants an answer.

~~~

Kusanagi greets him with a hug. The action is so unexpected that Yusaku gags at the sudden restriction of airflow through his body. His friend huffs at that and releases him.

“I’m not dead yet,” Yusaku tells him.

“No, definitely not. You’re alive,” the amount of relief and glee that accompanies those words is enough to make Yusaku smile, “ and that’s all that matters to me.”

“You’re getting sentimental.”

“And you’re far too calm for someone who just joined a death mission.”

Yusaku pulls up a chair and sits down in it. Kusanagi does the same a little ways from him. “So,” his friend says, grabbing a flask of water to sip from, “tell me, what happened?”

“The machines attacked.”

“I know that. Let me rephrase it: what did Playmaker do?”

“Oh,” Yusaku rolls his eyes. “He took down what is known as a Corrupter.”

“A Corrupter?”

“A massive beast bigger than a Trampler. It resembles a scorpion.”

“A…scorpion?”

“Think of a spider-like creature with eight legs and a tail curled over its body. It has a stringer attached with poison on the end of its tail.”

“Hmm, okay, I think I can picture that.”

“Regardless, I – Playmaker – took the Corrupter down using fire arrows. At least, that’s what the public probably believes right now. They’ll find fragments of some bombs and a dead overridden Strider soon enough.”

“What a tall tale,” Kusanagi teases and Yusaku raises an eyebrow in mild protest. “I’m kidding, of course. Playmaker’s endeavors are no fable. You’re considered a hero in this part of the world. I wouldn’t be surprised if you become just as famous as the Machinists themselves after this little scandal.”

Yusaku wrinkles his nose.

“Regardless, what ‘s Playmaker going to do from here on out? Correction,” Kusanagi smirks at the boy before him, “what are you going to do from here on out, Yusaku?”

“Head to the Cauldrons.”

Kusanagi looks as if he has not expected that answer, eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“It’s where the Corrupter originated from,” Yusaku frowns at the floor. “That machine…it…it spoke to me. Utter nonsense, all of it but…it seemed like it recognized me.”

“Ah,” Kusanagi nods. “You think this Cauldron might have something to do with your past?”

“I’m hoping, anyways,” he admits with a shrug. “If the Corrupter came from there and it knows me…maybe whoever programmed it will recognize me too.”

“Whoever?” Kusanagi echoes but Yusaku stands up and offers him a hand.

“Come on,” he says, “I need to get packing.”

Kusanagi grins. “Nice to see you’re finally motivated.”

“Don’t ruin the mood.”

“Alright, alright! Let’s get moving into action then!”

“…Better.”

~~~~

Yusaku stands before a giant hole.

He can’t see the bottom of it, can’t see how long it stretches down or where it even ends.

He breathes.

And then he falls.