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  His face was drenched in rainwater. He could feel rough concrete scratching against his face. The pitter pattering of rain send vibrations through the plastic of his tattered uniform, letting the cold water touch his skin between the cracks. His blurry eyes slowly peeled open as the smell of something burning nearby filled his nose.

  Glassface, the garden behind his home, the seed, those images slipped from his mind as his eyes adjusted to the world around him. He was in darkness. Surrounded by a coffin of twisted steel. Gingerly, he tried standing, but couldn’t make it far before his cracked helmet banged off of another steel surface, forcing his head to remain bowed and his knees to remain crouched.

  Through cracks in the concrete, Eli could see sparse light. Daybreak. It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes that had passed since Eli was knocked unconscious, for the gunfire was still going just as strong as ever. But it seemed the darkness of night had already faded, though the storm kept up. Rain poured into Eli’s coffin through the gaps between the steel containers. He’d have to crawl his way out through one of the gaps.

  Though his body hurt like all hell, he forced himself to crouch low to the concrete. Pulling himself along the claustrophobia-inducing ‘cave’. The containers seemed to have settled in place since they’d toppled, but it would’ve been a suicidal idea to trust that they’d hold. Eli certainly didn’t want to stick around to find out.

  As he crawled along the concrete, the view of the port nearly blinded him. Somewhere along the tight alleyways, just beyond a wall of shipping containers, a fire had broken out. Large enough to silhouette the massive cranes standing high above. Black smoke rose into the stormy weather while the contents of the containers burned, crackling, and exploding. The smell that stung Eli’s nose took on a far more distinct chemical nature, and it made Eli cough as his sinuses and throat burned. But he continued.

  Squeezing himself through a narrow gap in the containers, and into the outside world, he emerged. His legs were shaking and weary, and he felt entirely distorted. The rain drummed almost soothingly against his helmet. His trembling hands reached up to the straps keeping it tethered to his skull, and despite fumbling the lock repeatedly thanks to the tremors that coursed through his body, he managed to get the thing off. The dark blue carbon fiber was stamped with a cyan and orange delta on the back where it hugged the back of his skull. The surface had caved in with a small crater punched into the helmet just above the tip of the delta. Though the hole was small, the message was clear.

  Eli shouldn’t be alive.

  He fastened the helmet once again, trying his best to soothe the tremors that coursed their way through his body. He was alright enough to walk, and that was good enough. Matteo could fix whatever else was wrong with him once Eli caught up and…

  Wait. Matteo?

  Eli’s eyes darted around. The moments that had led up to him being practically buried alive and crushed underneath the containers were all a blur, yet they came back to him the second he thought about Matteo. Where was he? Was he alright? He observed the port. There was no sign of the sentry, for now. And the crux of the fighting seemed to have moved on to a different section of the port, meaning that the Imperials wouldn’t be around.

  “Matteo!” Eli called out into the rain, hoping upon hope that he’d hear a response, “Matteo! Where are you?”

  Clumsily, Eli slinked his way around the scene of destruction. Toppled containers, a crater blasted into the concrete, devastation. The sentry tore this place to shreds. It was no wonder why they were such a massive threat to the rebels. And to think that Otaes told him stories about fleets of them terrorizing her home. And what of the Behemoths? He’d only seen them once, his first brush with danger here on Narva, surely a single Behemoth would be enough to bring a city to its knees. Much less several.

  “Matteo!” He screamed again into the void, his voice straining to keep up. There was still no response. He looked over at the crater that the sentry had blasted into the concrete. The main gun had missed Eli and Matteo, but the effects of the shockwave were enough to destroy everything. Had Matteo been vaporized? Or had he been buried?

  “Matteo! Can you hear me? Matteo!”

  He saw a pile of collapsed containers and twisted steel. Their contents had spilled out across the floor. Some had caught fire, though they luckily remained small and contained amidst the rain. There were a few places where the steel formed gaps large enough for a human to fit inside. Eli limped over to the mess, collapsing in front of a crevice as his hands tried to dig through the spilled cargo to tunnel inside, “Matteo! Say something!” His voice desperate to get a response, but there was none. He kept digging, refusing to take silence as a answer.

  Eventually his digging opened up a crevice which had nothing inside. Besides, the gap would’ve been too small. He limped over to the next crevice to continue digging. Ruined cargo standing in his way, boxes, envelopes, immoveable crates containing impossibly heavy objects, all of this clutter standing in his way. It was infuriating to dig through, but he had to. His arms cried for Eli to stop, but he the demands of his body. He wouldn’t stop until he found Matteo. When the crevice was opened, there was yet another empty coffin.

  Frustrated, he climbed the pile of debris to another crevice, calling out Matteo’s name the entire time, hoping for some response. Any response. A word, a scream, a grunt, anything that would let Eli know that the man was still alive. Another empty crevice. Eli was starting to run out of crevices that were accessible to him, and soon he’d run out. The next one over was also empty.

  His heart was racing, as it was fond of doing. Thrashing against his chest like a mad dog begging to be let out. His breathing was shallow, and now his arms were shaking. There had to be something out there… he wasn’t going to accept that Matteo had been buried for good. And even if he was, Eli would dig. He’d get Otaes to come down with Archer to dig him out. Or something! He’d have Sparrow’s rebels look for him. Hell, he’d wrestle Overwatch again to find him underneath the rubble. Matteo was here. He had to be.

  Just when Eli thought that perhaps he’d been buried underneath a different pile of rubble, he heard a weak gasp from underneath the rubble.

  A sudden renewal of energy shot through his veins, and he sprung into motion. Scrambling down the rubble to locate the source of the sound. His eyes led to a tiny crevice, hardly large enough to be a notice on the far side. His hands landed on the frame of some loose twisted steel blocking it off. He tried to tug against it, and the steel frame budged, but wouldn’t come loose completely. Yet in the faintest glimpse of light that trickled into the crevice, he could see it. An orange ring, a cyan delta, “MATTEO!”

  With confirmation that the phantom was there, Eli found his arms flooded with a strength he was sure had long since vanished. He fought against the steel frame until it came loose enough for him to squeeze through. Poking his head into the extremely narrow entrance, there he found Matteo. The bearded man was lying on the floor in a pool of rainwater mixed with his own blood, covered in shadows. Eli crouched low through the crevice, wrapping his hands underneath Matteo’s arms, feeling the plastic uniform’s slick surface against his fingertips.

  It was a struggle, but with some strong effort, he managed to pull Matteo’s limp body free from his coffin. The sight that awaited him was horrifying. As he dragged Matteo out into the open world, a thick trail of blood followed, painting the concrete a crimson red that refused to be washed away by the rain. Matteo’s chest was rising and falling, yet only slightly. What little it seemed he could speak came out in guttural groans and gasps for air. And his head… there were cuts, bruises, broken… everything. His mouth in particular was covered in his own foul blood, and it traced a path down his chin and throat to stain the rest of his body.

  Eli body dragged Matteo until he could lean the man up against the wall. His heart was still racing. He took a look over at Matteo’s body, knowing that the man in his current state was unfixable. At least not by his shaking and inexperienced hands. He took a look around at the battlefield, hoping he’d be able to spot anything of use, but finding nothing except danger, “Don’t worry Matteo… I’m gonna get you out of here, I’ll get you back to… to Otaes. She can heal you,” Eli said, looking up hoping to see Archer’s feathery figure cross the skies. But if he was even still alive, he wasn’t visible from where Eli stood.

  Matteo’s eyes were half lidded, somewhat aware of his surroundings. His breathing was worse than Rafael’s before he was healed by Otaes. Labored didn’t even come close to describing the way that Matteo took in his shallow, shaking, breaths. It was as if breathing hurt the man. And judging by the blood that covered his mouth, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that his lungs had been hit. Either by shrapnel or crushed by the weight of the containers.

  Eli unzipped Matteo’s prisoner jacket, revealing more bleeding wounds plastered across his chest. The color drained from Eli’s face when he scanned across all of the cuts and deep incisions. There were too many to fix now. And each cut seemed far too deep to brush off as minor. The explosion’s shrapnel had punched holes into his chest, and really it was a miracle that the man was still alive. Somewhat.

  Matteo’s chest shook as he took another painful breath of air in, gasping, struggling to inhale. Eli tried his best to look calm, cradling Matteo’s bloodied head into his arms, “It’s okay… you’re okay…” he lied. Honestly, Eli couldn’t tell if he was lying for Matteo’s sake or for his own. Panic wasn’t large enough a word for what was coursing through Eli. This man, the only one throughout all of Misfit that had understood him – sort of – was dying in his arms. This man, the one he’d pulled a gun on only a few short weeks ago and accused of being a traitor, was here. His head cradled against Eli’s chest, as Eli tried his best to keep the man calm. The light was slipping out of his eyes, but even still he attempted to speak.

  “E-E-li…” Matteo choked out.

  “No, no, just relax. Okay? I’m gonna get you back home. You hear me?” Eli told him. But of course, Matteo – even in this state – was too smart to believe that. He knew it. It was Eli who refused to accept it, “Don’t quit on me now, Matteo… think about Misfit. We need you. You’re our doctor, right?” Eli smiled, “What will we do if… I dunno… if Omar loses his arm or something? You gotta stitch it back. And Rafael he-”

  “Eli…” Matteo groaned again, he returned Eli’s smile though it was covered in his blood and the incessant rain… and his tears, “T-t-take my… my gun,” Matteo’s shaking hand rose to point towards the rubble. His rifle was halfway lodged in the pile, but it was accessible. It would’ve been no use to Matteo now…

  “Listen to me!” Eli shouted at him, “Not like this.”

  “I’m not going t-to hold you here…” Matteo whispered, “K-keep watch over… Misfit. T-they need you. Save them.”

  “I’m saving all of you!” Eli shook the man, “You included! Come on! When you talk like that you scare the shit out of me-”

  “Freeman,” Matteo again said his name. But it wasn’t like how he said it before. When Eli’s eyes locked with Matteo’s, he saw those tears building up within. Glossy eyes staring right back at him. His smile had faded into a painful grimace.

  “No…” Eli said, “No… you can’t… you can’t do this me… not now…” he said, “Think about… think about your kid. Ottavia, right? She’s waiting for you man, she needs you.”

  Eli shouldn’t have said that, for Matteo had begun to weep the moment he brought up her name. He broke, tears streaming from his eyes. They carved trails through the blood and dirt that caked his face, before disappearing into the dark depths of his beard. The tears of a father unable to reunite with his lost child. The tears of a man who’d die never to return back home. He was crying. A man defeated after so long. A man who’d lived his life playing by the rules with the hopes that those in charge would reward him with his normal life yet again. A man who’d done everything he could to bring himself one step closer to his family and his home. Dying in Eli’s arms.

  “Matteo.”

  “This isn’t…” he struggled to speak, even to keep his eyes open, “This wasn’t h-how it was s-s-supposed t-to end… Freeman. T-they were r-right…” And suddenly, as if Matteo had only just realized the hopelessness of the situation, his grimace turned into a exasperate smile as he let out one final exhale, “We were never going to make it out of here… I should’ve known…but it’s not t-too late for you!”

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  “But-“

  “K-keep Misfit safe… t-that’s your job… and…” His words trailed off, growing fainter with every weakened heart beat, “And remember… freedom is worth… worth fighting for… I didn’t listen to them… I…”

  Eli listened like it were the word of God himself speaking, he had no other choice.

  “I… never would’ve…”

  The trembling words stopped, Matteo’s teary eyes glazed over, staring into the distance behind Eli’s head. His expression softened as he trailed off, and his body went limp. A man drifting off into sleep.

  Eli had no words. He held the man close, wrapping his arms around him and cradling him, refusing to let him go. The top of Matteo’s head was planted firmly underneath his chin. He could feel Matteo’s weakening breath on the exposed parts of skin.

  One breath in… another out… one more breath in… and another out…

  And just like that, Matteo was dead. Matteo was dead and it was Eli’s turn to begin crying. He caressed his limp head gingerly, knowing that Matteo was not around anymore to feel his attempts to comfort. A part of Eli refused to believe that just as he’d begun to understand Matteo, he would be killed. Dying in his arms no less, an awful, horrible death. His daughter, all that Matteo longed for in life, gone.

  Eli didn’t remember crying like this over Cato. There was too much to say to Matteo that hadn’t been said yet. Matteo still had dreams of his own, buried under nihilism that there was little hope outside of collaboration with Overwatch – sure – but dreams nonetheless! In fact, beyond everyone and especially Eli, it was Matteo whose home still existed in some form or another. It was Matteo who still had a life on Earth.

  And now, Ottavia’s father was gone. Slain on another planet unbeknownst to her. Dying in his comrade’s arms. Perhaps she’d never know what had happened to him, just as Matteo never knew what happened to her. Perhaps she was already waiting for him in the afterlife, or perhaps not. It was the ambiguity that was most heartbreaking of all. So much to say, and yet… it would never be.

  He wished to stay here forever, holding the empty body of Matteo now growing stiff and washed in rain. But of course, he could not. From the distance, he could hear the sound of someone calling his name, rushing towards him. Misfit.

  Matteo’s gun was buried underneath the rubble. Eli did a once-over, before he was again staring at Matteo’s face. His eyes were still open, unflinching in the rain. Eli passed his hand over his face, closing Matteo’s eyes as he moved his corpse into position for a proper rest, “I won’t fail you,” Eli whispered to him, “I won’t make the same mistake twice. I’ll keep Misfit safe. Rafael, Badger, Dutch, Omar… they won’t die on this planet,” he stood up, looking down at the body of Matteo – now with his arms at his side, his eyes shut, and his head pointed upwards towards the storm clouds while the rain fell all over and around him. It looked… peaceful.

  “I swear they won’t,” Eli said finally. Matteo probably already knew that he would’ve. But now… it was guaranteed. If Misfit died on Planet Narva, Eli would die with them. No more running, no more games.

  From above, Archer the griffon circled not too far from the ground with Otaes and possibly Temetet riding on his back. Swooping down for a landing. Archer landed just as Misfit drew close, his massive feathery body sending a small breeze of wind flying against Eli’s body and peppering him with more rain for a moment, while his wings flapped one final time before he rested on his legs. Just as predicted, Otaes and Temetet were on his back, and they scrambled to get off.

  “Eli!” He heard Badger’s exhausted voice chime through the storm. Slowly, he turned from the resting body of Matteo to his squad. They were all absolutely drenched in the storm, just as much as Eli was. Their footsteps created splashes through deep puddles. Badger, Dutch and Omar. Rafael and Sosa were missing, worryingly enough. Badger was the leading the trio as was expected from her, “Eli! Thank god you’re okay!” She shouted through the rain, relieved as she drew near.

  “We saw the Sentry attack from our position,” Said Otaes, “We were going to send Sosa to try and find you two but the Imperials dislodged us from our ambush spot.”

  “The entire line has been smashed through. The rebels are on the retreat… everywhere. It isn’t looking good,” Dutch filled in the gaps between desperate gasps for air, “We need to find Matteo and…” As Dutch approached only then was he able to spot what the issue was. For Eli was still crouched over Matteo’s body. He hadn’t said a word, knowing that they’d find out what happened when they closed the distance and when the fog of the storm cleared.

  “Holy…” Omar whispered, stunned, “Is that Matteo?”

  Eli looked down at the floor, nodding.

  “Come on, we have to move him! We don’t have much time before the – “

  “There’s no point, Badger,” Eli said, “He’s dead.”

  “What?” Temetet slowly walked near, peering at the body from above, before he was joined by Badger and Omar, “What… what happened?”

  “It was the sentry. The explosion didn’t kill him but he was badly injured by the falling debris. I tried to fish him out but… his injuries were beyond saving. I’m sorry.”

  The news hit all of them like a train. He could see it in their faces, a range of emotions from shock, to horror, to uncertainty. They were speechless, all of them. What more could be said?

  ‘This wasn’t how it was supposed to end’, Eli thought to himself, knowing it was pointless to try and imagine any other kind of scenario where Eli would’ve been able to save Matteo. Maybe if he’d was paying closer attention, he could’ve noticed the Sentry sooner? Maybe he could’ve pushed Matteo out of the way or find somewhere else to hide among the containers. Maybe they should’ve tried to move as soon as the dragon was no longer a threat? Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve. But there was no going back now.

  Badger was the first one to come to her senses, “I’m… I’m sorry Eli… I know what he meant to you but… we really do need to get moving,” she said, standing up straight and taking a look around, “Rafael is fine, Sosa is carrying him to the Counting House where Sparrow and the last of the rebels are. We’re alone out here, all the rebels have already fled to make their last stand with Sparrow.”

  “If your transport doesn’t come now, it’ll be too late,” Otaes said, “We’ll never make it out of Helena. Not alive at least.”

  “D-do we take Matteo?” Omar asked, still visibly shaken from the sight of Matteo’s bloody corpse. His eyes were wide open, staring at him. Arms frozen at his side.

  Badger rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “We have to come back for him. He's dead. He can’t get hurt now.”

  Omar nodded only slightly.

  Eli sighed as he stood up. Matteo’s rifle was still buried somewhere in the rubble, “We’ll make it through,” was all he said as he did so.

  For this was it. Now or never. Misfit would have to regroup at the counting house with the rebels and make their final stand-

  “Shit! The sentry’s coming back!” Dutch screamed. The remnants of the squad turned their attention to the horizon, and sure enough, the silhouette of the final sentry – Matteo’s murderer – was making its way back towards them. Perhaps not actually trying to locate Misfit, but rather heading towards the counting house. between. And with the sentry getting closer, it was almost guaranteed that the brunt of the Imperial army was moving along with it.

  The four of them were stuck in the middle.

  “Damn! Can we outrun it?” Badger asked.

  Otaes shook her head, pulling out her bow and readying it, “Not likely. That thing is moving too fast and there’s bound to be Imperials escorting it.”

  “So, what do we do?”

  Eli, Badger and Otaes all looked at each other. There was only one more thing that they could do.

  “We hide, and if that fails…” Eli loaded a magazine into Matteo’s rifle with nothing but pure determination. Matteo’s murder would be avenged, that’s for sure. That sentry would come down, no matter what, and Eli’s friends would survive. They had to, “We fight.”

  “Not much of a plan if I’m being honest,” Dutch remarked.

  “What’s the alternative?” Eli asked him.

  “Have we tried surrendering?”

  “You think they won’t vaporize us regardless?”

  “It’s an alternative. I never said it was a good one,” Dutch shrugged, getting his own gun readied.

  “So… we’re doing this… for real,” Temetet asked, rather a bit nervously, “We’re fighting the Imperials?”

  Otaes looked at Eli. The way the rain washed against her mask was like something out of a work of art. Whether she was looking at him for reassurance, or for something else was obscured by the painted surface. But he knew she’d stick by Misfit. Temetet and Otaes were practically in the squad now. And it was a comforting thing to know that a warrior of her skill would be out there fighting alongside them, “Mom would be proud,” Otaes said.

  “Our real mother, you mean.”

  She nudged Temetet’s shoulder, “See? You’re getting it. There’s no place else I’d rather be right now, than right here, fighting against the Avonians. Especially with friends like you,” She said, glancing over to Eli and Misfit.

  “Likewise, Mirage,” he said her name with a slight inflection, “Likewise,” Eli said to her.

  “Then let’s find cover,” Badger said. Immediately, Misfit – one man down, and two more replenished – sprung into action. The fallen containers were a decent spot to hide and ambush the Imperials and the NSE as they made their way through the central alley of the port. The sentry wasn’t far, and soon its blaring red eyes would be trained on Misfit. Though Misfit lacked the rockets to take it down, Otaes had her explosive arrows, and there were still plenty of places to hide.

  Otaes rushed to Archer, gently cupping the griffon’s face in her hands, “Hunt,” was the order she gave him. Immediately the griffon understood, spreading his wings and ascending into the stormy morning skies above the Port of Helena to ward off any dragons in the area and to keep the skies clear for Misfit.

  “Man! He is still so cool!” Omar said in awe as he watched the griffon fly off to pursue the Avonian dragons.

  Eli and Badger surmounted a pile of rubble that would provide ample cover against the oncoming Imperial advance. Both of their rifles were pointed down range at the T-intersection where a few destroyed containers had their own containers spill out, that would be the spot where the Imperials would emerge. Already, a plan was forming in Eli’s mind…

  Otaes and Temetet had taken up a spot higher up above, climbing up the containers to gain a better vantage point. And right as Omar, the last one, found a spot to take cover, the rumble of the Sentry grew near – as did the familiar whine of an engine.

  Eli sucked a breath in to keep himself calm, hoping to steady his hand which he hadn’t even realized were shaking. So much was going through his mind. From Glassface to Matteo to this. His brain couldn’t concentrate. He’d have to force himself to relax. He was still alive, even if through Glassface’s intervention. And now, he’d have to fight to prove that Glassface’s “nudge” wasn’t in vain or wasted.

  And just as he opened his eyes to face the world, the first Imperial drone emerged from around the corner…

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