The desolate field, scorched and scarred from the exchange of powers, stretched out like an open wound beneath the bruised sky of Tellus. In the distance, fifty yards out, the Boss and A2 were statues of menace, just sitting, watching, their patience a coiled spring ready to snap.
Pulse kept his eyes locked on the figures. Beside him, Crystara was finishing the meticulous process of securing their captive, A1.
"Relax dude," Crystara grunted, yanking tight a specialized polymer restraint that dug brutally into A1's neck tendons. A1, battered and broken, offered only a choked, wheezing sigh in protest. "You're currency now. We'll keep you pristine."
She rose, wiping a smear of A1's bloodied sweat onto her already soiled cut-off jeans. "Keep an eye on them," she ordered Pulse, her voice low. "I've tied this fucker so tight he won't even feel his spine for a week. He's not going anywhere."
Pulse nodded, his gaze unwavering. He could see the Boss's posture, rigidly still, unnaturally calm. That calm was what set his nerves alight.
"Something ain't right," Pulse muttered, the vibration humming under his light armor deepening. "They're too close to being compliant. I feel like if we let this guy go after we board the ship, we'll be blown to bits before we clear the atmosphere. That Boss doesn't strike me as a man of his word."
Crystara's smirk was sharp and predatory. "I know. That's why I have a contingency plan. I already contacted our ship on what specialized delivery to bring."
"Were you able to raise Celestial Muse?" Pulse asked, the urgency tinging his voice. Muse was the heavy hitter, the only one who could truly tip the scales if this escalated into a bureau war.
Crystara knelt briefly, pulling a small, heavy audio dampener and jamming it deep into A1's ear canal to ensure he missed their strategic conversation. Cruelty was efficiency.
"Actually, no," she admitted, rising. "She's not answering. Zero response to encrypted channels. So either something gigantic is happening, or something I truly don't want to think about. But I left her a message. Until now, complete radio silence."
Pulse shifted his weight, resting a hand on the hilt of his primary sword. "What the fuck is actually happening now? Does this kind of shit happen frequently? Bureau heads going dark, field ops turning into hostage exchanges on dead worlds?"
Crystara leaned back against a charred outcropping, crossing her arms, the crystal sheen on her skin catching the faint light. She inhaled deeply, recalling the old, ugly tensions.
"Well, not exactly frequent," she said, tilting her head. "This caliber of chaos? No. But the major shit... yeah, that's standard operating procedure for our sector. The biggest beef, the one that turned Bureau rivalry into actual national tension, was the Cindervale clusterfuck."
Pulse listened intently. He was relatively new to the political nightmares, having spent most of his life simply surviving the rifts.
"In the world of Cindervale," Crystara continued, her tone growing colder, recalling the details with distaste. "The Revenant Authority tried to recruit Muse. She, predictably, told them to shove their gilded invitation straight up their revenant asses. Things got heated. They desperately tried to blackmail her with something she never elaborated on, but judging by her reaction, it had to be deeply personal and vile."
Crystara paused, a genuine tremor of respect coloring her voice. "Muse fought back. She didn't just fight; she issued a formal, inter-bureau challenge to Grave, the Revenant's branch top field operative in this city. The terms were simple: they fight on Cindervale. If Grave defeated her, Muse would join the Revenant Authority."
"But she told me," Crystara confided, her eyes darkening, "that she would rather rip her own heart out and eat it than swear allegiance to them. If she'd been defeated, she planned to kill the ones who tried to blackmail her, then kill herself right on the battlefield."
Pulse let out a low whistle. "Damn."
"Thankfully, she was the visitor and the victor," Crystara finished, a triumphant edge returning to her voice. "She beat the living shit out of Grave and Obsidian Veil. Oh, they tried to cheat. Veil's power being able to phase through anything, moving matter aside like water is incredibly convenient and flexible. But once Muse figured out the physics of his phasing, and Grave's reliance on pure, suffocating malice, she broke them both. Viscerally. Gory, terrifying efficiency."
"I didn't know she was that good," Pulse admitted.
"She is, Pulse. She's the reason the Vanguard Bureau is still feared, not just respected. And here's the funny part: after Cindervale, the Revenant branch tried to demand a rematch, claiming Grave wasn't in 'proper condition' you know, because Muse nearly pulverized his internal organs. They wanted their main branch's ultimate Awakened, 'Pillar,' to fight Muse next."
Crystara spat on the ground. "That dude's power is total physical invulnerability, paired with the strength of a thousand men. A walking, talking concrete battering ram you can't scratch. Our main branch, sensing the political maneuver, countered: if Revenant wanted Pillar, they would face Gravity Warden our chief strategic weapon."
"Never happened," Crystara concluded. "The tension was too high. Revenant finally stopped actively going after Muse, but... maybe... it set the stage for everything that's happening now. It's why we don't trust them that much."
As she finished, the low, powerful thrum of anti-gravity engines filled the air. A massive, charcoal-grey Vanguard Bureau transport ship, a vessel built for fast insertion and extraction crested the plateau and began its descent.
"Vanguard One, this is Crystara," she barked into her earpiece. "Clear to land. Immediately bring me the specialized request. And keep the ramp locked until further notice."
"Roger, field operative. Coming in," the pilot replied.
The ship slowly lowered itself onto the dirt field nearest to them, its landing gear crushing the baked soil. The moment the engines began to throttle down, the air behind Pulse and Crystara erupted.
A searing wave of heat hit Pulse's back. He spun, blade already halfway drawn, but froze at the sight.
The Boss and A2 were now standing not ten yards away. The Boss looked like a creature carved from magma, his eyes burning with controlled fury.
"Stick to your deal, punks," the Boss growled, his voice a low vibration that made the air feel heavy and metallic. "Let A1 go now."
Crystara, moving with deliberate slowness that belied the danger, lifted A1 by the throat, the polymer restraint cutting sharply into the man's windpipe, eliciting a pathetic gagging sound.
"I said a couple of yards away," Crystara stated, her voice flat, devoid of the earlier sharp humor. "That's too close, Boss. You're making my crystal skin crawl."
The Boss took a menacing step forward, the ground beneath his steel-toed boots beginning to shimmer and crack. Molten veins of orange began spiderwebbing outward.
"I'm just making sure you're sticking to the deal," the Boss hissed. "I couldn't let you suddenly drag A1 onto that ship and blast off. That's already like killing my men. If that happens, I would rather bring you all to hell with my men, right here, right now."
Crystara matched his intensity, squeezing A1's neck a little harder until the man's face went a vivid, purplish red.
"I know," she replied. "And I'm not stupid. I know you'd hit us before we reached orbit. So, I have a special gift for your goon. And a necessity for me. A guarantee, so you fuckers wouldn't suddenly ambush us on our way back. Wait here for the exchange."
Dragging A1 with a painful, steady pressure on his neck, Crystara pulled him toward the boarding ramp. Pulse followed, throwing a final, calculating glance at the seething Boss.
Inside the pressurized bay, a junior staff member looking terrified immediately handed Crystara a small, heavy black device and two thick, metallic chokers. They looked medieval, industrial, and utterly unforgiving.
Pulse stared at the hardware. "What the hell is that?"
"The specialized delivery," Crystara said, clicking the device to life. It displayed a flashing timer set for one hour. "It's a C-7 explosive collar, specifically designed to be tamper-proof."
Pulse felt a chill, despite the heat of his lingering vibration power. "For what?"
"It's our way out," Crystara stated plainly. "I'll wear one, and A1 will wear the other. This ensures that the moment we cross the line, the Boss knows we're not going to betray him, and he's not going to betray us. If he fires on the ship while I'm still wearing this... I'll make sure It'll be a mutual self-destruct."
Pulse looked down at the cold, thick metal band, feeling its weight. He understood the logic instantly, but the raw, brutal danger of the plan hit him like a physical blow.
"Let me wear that choker," Pulse demanded, his voice dropping to a gravelly register. "You can't risk yourself, Crystara. You're the tactical lead."
Crystara looked at him then, a genuine, soft smile touched her lips, quickly followed by a short, mocking burst of laughter.
"I'm so sorry, my handsome, brave white knight," she purred, her finger tracing the outline of his armor-clad shoulder. "But I need to be the one who wears it. The Boss needs to know I'm the leverage. Maybe next time, my precious Savior."
"Handsome my ass," Pulse gritted out. "And this is a serious situation. Stop joking."
Crystara simply winked, the spark of reckless adrenaline dancing in her eye. She marched back out onto the field, dragging the suffocating A1 behind her.
The Boss was steaming, literally lava was now actively pooling around his feet, the stench of sulfur heavy in the air. A2 stood ready, tension radiating off his massive frame.
Crystara stopped, forcing A1 to stand upright despite his failing legs.
"New terms," Crystara announced, her voice projected over the oppressive silence. "A new deal for our safe return. Me and this guy," she gave A1 a jarring shake, "will wear these chokers. If you fuckers try to kill us while we go back to the base, your man, along with me, will immediately die. But after the one-hour timer expires, the choker will immediately unlock."
The Boss stared at her, pure, murderous rage tightening his jaw. The lava pool beneath him visibly expanded.
"You know what I'm doing is for our lives," Crystara insisted, projecting absolute fairness despite the sheer aggression of the move. "You value yours and your men's lives, we value ours. I'm trying my best to be fair in this situation, Boss. You could even check the integrity of the chokers. They're heavy-duty. Trust me."
The Boss let out a guttural roar, part disbelief, part fury. "Fucking fine!" he shouted, the sound cracking the air like a whip.
Crystara tossed the two heavy devices toward the Boss. They landed with a hard thud in the pooling lava, which instantly vaporized the dust on their surface, leaving them gleaming and dangerous.
The Boss picked them up, his gloved fingers testing the seams, running a spectral scanner over the device. He knew the Vanguard Bureau's tech; he knew these wouldn't fail. They were designed for high-profile political prisoners and compromised agents, a death sentence wrapped in cold metal.
After a tense, drawn-out minute, Crystara called out, "Bring the chokers back now. The clock is running."
The Boss hesitated, his gaze glued to A1's miserable face. He fought the urge to simply crush the devices in his hands, knowing that he truly had no leverage now. He hesitantly tossed the chokers back to Crystara, hatred radiating from him like heat.
Crystara caught them effortlessly. She snapped the first one onto A1's neck with a sharp clack, making him choke on a scream. She then lifted the second one, its cold weight contrasting sharply with the warm pulse of her crystal skin, and snapped it onto her own neck. It was tight, constricting, and terrifyingly real.
"Pulse, get to the ship," she ordered, not taking her eyes off the Boss.
Pulse, seeing the cold metal encircling her slender throat, felt a wave of protective fury, but obeyed. He was better leverage on the ship, ready to cover the extraction.
Crystara then shoved A1 toward A2 and the Boss. "Done. Deal closed. One hour."
She turned her back, the explosive collar glinting dangerously, and marched up the ramp. The moment she was clear, Crystara didn't look back.
"Pilot," she commanded, buckling into a seat, her hand resting on the detonation trigger device. "Immediately go back to base. Full burn. Full speed. Now."
The Vanguard ship's engines flared to life with an ear-splitting shriek. The ground shook violently as the massive transport lifted, shooting straight up into the sky, leaving a rapidly expanding cloud of dust and vaporized lava where it had landed.
On the ground, the Boss immediately rushed to A1, roaring orders for A2 to check the collar, looking for any possible way to disable or cut the device without triggering it.
The Boss stared into the sky, his eyes burning with a hatred so profound it felt like the raw, crushing gravitational force of a black hole. He watched the Vanguard ship until it was merely a metallic blur fading into the furthest reaches of the atmosphere. He had been played by a girl in cut-offs.
In the rapid ascent of the Vanguard ship, the oppressive tension slowly began to bleed away, replaced by the deep, physical exhaustion of survival.
Pulse removed his helmet, running a hand over his sweaty, vibration-rattled hair. He looked at Crystara, still gripping the controller, the heavy black choker standing out starkly against her pale skin.
"I'm gonna rest for a bit," Pulse muttered, slumping heavily into a jump seat near the cockpit entrance. "I didn't get the chance to rest on that night shift. Holy fuck, I'm drained."
Crystara finally relaxed, a tired, genuine laugh escaping her lips. The adrenaline was crashing hard.
"Oh, right," she chuckled, rubbing the bruising on her neck where the collar sat. "Rest well, vibrator man. You earned it."
Pulse gave her a dry look. "Oh, shut up. We can finally go home."
Crystara smiled, the dangerous glint in her eyes softening into pure relief. "Yeah. Let's not go to other worlds for a week or two. Not until this whole shit show is dealt with. I need a real, deep cryo-nap and about a million credits of downtime."