Valiant: Tales From The Archive

[CURSEd #1: A Reckoning]

Log Date: 9/12/12763

Data Sources: Darrow Bennion

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

CURSE HQ: Deputy Administrator’s Office

1:14pm SGT

“Your showing on Valcorria left something to be desired.”

I do my best not to flinch at the disappointment in the words. Standing in front of the Deputy Administrator’s desk, it’s starting to become clear that I wasn’t called in here for a thank you and a pat on the back.

“The assignment did not go the way we expected.” I answer, doing my best to avoid Nazka’s cold gaze by staring at the shoulder of his chair. “I know that’s not an excuse, but we prepared for fighting a Mask Knight. We didn't plan on Songbird showing up as well.”

“You’re right. It’s not an excuse.” Nazka agrees, his dark grey eyes fixed on me. “And yes, while Songbird’s appearance was not something we had planned for, many things happen in our line of work that we do not plan for. We need to be prepared for them nonetheless. The Mask Knight now has the Challenger backup archive, and that development could have severe consequences for us. We cannot afford these types of failures, Axiom.”

He’s right, and I know he’s right, but the way he says it — like this failure falls square on my shoulders despite the circumstances — still irritates me. “Understood. I will do my best to factor the consequences of failure into my decision-making next time.”

“See that you do. The thorough drubbing your team received at the hands of Songbird has inspired doubt in many of our law enforcement partners.” Nazka says. “Our reputation is just as valuable as our Peacekeepers are. If the reputation falters, our clout diminishes. Our jobs become harder when we have to earn back that respect.”

“With due respect, sir, Songbird was not the biggest threat in that museum.” I reply, fighting the temptation to fidget with the cuffs of my uniform. “Yes, he caught me off guard, but that Mask Knight hit Blockchain hard enough to send him flying out of museum. I’ve only ever seen a Starstruck hit that hard, and personally, I think we should be more focused on the Mask Knight right now.”

“I understand why you feel that way.” Nazka says, finally taking his eyes off me and focusing on the files showing on the surface of his desk. “But you should not discount Songbird. Challengers don’t play all their cards on the first round. Just because he hasn’t been as flashy doesn’t mean that he is not dangerous in his own right.”

I try not to shift too much, even though my I’m getting a little uncomfortable after standing in my CURSE uniform for this long. “So surveillance is going to stay focused on Songbird, then? Why not the Mask Knight? You said the backup archive was of paramount importance — shouldn’t we be tracking her instead?”

“The backup archive is still important, but now Songbird and his rogue Challengers know about it.” Nazka says, looking up again. “They will be searching for it as well. If we can track Songbird, that will eventually lead us to the backup archive, and once the two of them are united, we can swoop in and capture both. Two birds with one stone, or rather, a Songbird and a backup archive with a single stone.”

I try my best not to make a face at that. “I still believe we should be proactive, and move to secure the archive and the Mask Knight. Then, use them as bait to draw Songbird in. But if tracking Songbird to the backup archive is CURSE’s preferred approach, then I’ll do my best to be ready when the assignment comes.”

“We appreciate your willingness, but the Administrator believes that this particular assignment would be better handled by Peacekeepers that have more experience than yourself, and in particular, have prior experience with Challenger matters.” Nazka says, lacing his fingers together as he rests his elbows on his desk. “We already know where Songbird is hoping to intercept the Mask Knight, and since it will be a more civilian event, the Administrator has given the assignment to a couple of our covert Peacekeepers.”

I take a sharp breath, unsure of what to say to that. I don’t agree with it, obviously, but it sounds like the decision’s already been made. “Alright, well… is there something you would like me to do, then? Stand by in case the covert team needs backup?”

“For now, I would recommend you take some time. Brush up on your skills. Repair your battle armor. I passed the workshop the other day and saw that it was still in there with combat damage.” Nazka says, maintaining a neutral tone. “That is all for now, Axiom. You are dismissed.”

Biting back the urge to give some retort, I incline my head to him. “Thank you, Deputy Administrator.” With that, I turn on my heel and leave the office, the door sliding shut behind me. Out in the hall, I take a few deep breaths, and once I’ve got my temper back under control, I pull out my phone and check the time.

Without an assignment and with nothing better to do, I might as well head down to the repair lab and see about fixing my power armor.

The News

“…the press conference today, the Vaunted reiterated their commitment to upholding and enforcing the Challenger Activities Ban. High Elder John Stanger did not comment on the escape of Songbird on Valcorria, citing an ongoing investigation into the matter, and would only say that the Vaunted were working closely with the Guild in response to the rumors that an obscure mercforce helped the notorious Challenger escape.

“On that note, we turn now to our information segment. In light of the recent, heightened profile and coverage of Challengers, today we have opted to examine CURSE — the group that opposed and supplanted them. You have likely heard of this group, as they became a household name in much the same manner that the Challengers were. For more on this topic, we go now to Dan Splainsworthy, our resident expert on CURSE and its history.”

“Thank you, Clarence. Good to be here again. Let’s start with the organization’s name — it’s actually an abbreviation of its formal name, Citizens United for Responsible Safety Enforcement, or as they prefer to be known: Citizens United. For most of the galaxy, however, CURSE is less of a mouthful and easier to remember.”

“Agreed, Dan. Now, most of us have a general idea of who CURSE is and what they do; I’m sure many of our viewers have seen a CURSE ad sometime in the last ten years. But let’s assume you’ve never looked at a holoscreen and you’ve been stranded on a dark space planet for the last… let’s say, twenty, twenty-five years. What’s the first thing you want to know about CURSE when you rejoin society?”

“The first thing? Well, that CURSE is an elite taskforce that operates as the galaxy’s defender against unusual or catastrophic threats. There is more to them than just that, but that would be the first and foremost thing that they dedicate themselves to.”

“Now, forgive me for playing the pedestrian, Dan, but isn’t that what the Challengers did?”

“You’re forgiven, Clarence. And you’re right! That is what Challengers did. If you examine both organizations in a vacuum, you’ll notice some striking similarities between the two. Both purported to dedicate themselves to protecting the galaxy; both had elite combat taskforces — Peacekeepers for CURSE, and Challengers for the Challenger program; both commanded considerable culture clout and popularity in the galaxy. But in spite of these similarities, the two organizations are fundamentally different.”

“How so, Dan?”

“There are a couple of different ways, but let’s start with the philosophy espoused by each organization. The Challenger program had a distinctly interventionist philosophy — in simple terms, the Challengers believed in intervening wherever there was perceived injustice, tyranny, or suppression. While it is an admirable intent in principle, it often clashed with the sovereignty of nations, planets, and alliances. CURSE, on the other hand, is defined by its Reduced Role philosophy — they only intervene if requested, or if it has become glaringly apparent to everyone that a crisis cannot be handled by the region in which it occurs. This is meant to respect the sovereignty issue, but critics have pointed out that this approach often means that CURSE only gets involved after damage has been done and lives have been lost.”

“Interesting, and enlightening, Dan. But — and if you don’t mind me taking the helm here for a moment — I seem to recall that much of CURSE’s central argument was that they were advocates of the galactic public, and that they were more considerate of the citizenry. It’s even built into their name: Citizens United for Responsible Safety Enforcement. Could you possibly shed some light on that?”

“Oh, without a doubt, Clarence. You’re not wrong — where it regards their stance towards the public, CURSE’s primary selling point was that they avoided the kind of reckless combat and collateral damage that became one of the primary grievances against the Challenger program. For a lack of a better way to describe it, Challengers became sloppy in their final years; many of the last-generation Challengers utilized indiscriminate combat tactics that often resulted in the deaths or injuries of innocent bystanders. Granted, Challengers always had a reputation for destruction — they did form around the goal of resisting and doing maximum damage to the Collective — but it was supposed to be targeted destruction. Many say that aspect of the Challenger program was lost in its final years, and honestly, there are many incidents to support that view.”

“A valid point, Clarence. And with their Reduced Role philosophy, I presume CURSE has minimized their civilian collateral?”

“Technically yes. However, there are some that make the argument that the Reduced Role philosophy lends itself to what some scholars have termed ‘the collateral of negligence’. Putting it in simple terms, this is a concept that posits that refusal to intercede in a crisis before it reaches a critical point places the burden of responsibility on those that had the power to intervene earlier, and by so doing, prevent damage and lost lives that occurred prior to the critical point.”

“Dan, I appreciate you and I respect you, but those are not simple terms.”

“Sorry, Clarence. Let me try again… basically, it means if you see something is about to go wrong, but you don’t do anything to stop it, and you only go to fix it after it’s happened, then you are responsible for all the damage that has occurred prior to that point.”

“That’s a little better. And that’s all the time we have for now; we do have to go to commercial now, but when we return, we can delve deeper into the history of CURSE itself.”

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

CURSE HQ: Kent's Lab

3:51pm SGT

“Axe, man. C’mon, focus!”

I pull a sharp breath and yank my gaze away from the window of the lab. Kent’s staring at me, hand held out expectantly. I realize after a moment that he’s waiting for me to hand him the chest plate that I’m holding.

“Right, sorry.” I say, shaking my head to try and clear it as I hand over the new plate.

“Is something up? You keep spacing out lately.” he asks as he carefully sets the plate into the suit of power armor that we’re working on.

“It’s nothing.” I say, looking back over my shoulder and through the workshop window once more.

“It’s never nothing with you, Axe. It’s always something…” He trails off, and when I look around, I can see he’s followed my gaze to where I was watching two of our coworkers walk by in the hangar outside. “…should’ve known. It’s Roya and Tess again, isn’t it.”

“I’m lettin’ it go.” I say, shaking my head as I fold my arms. “It’s nothing.”

“That’s such a lie I’m surprised your nose hasn’t punched a hole through the far wall just now.” Kent says, rubbing a bandana-wrapped hand across his sweaty brow. “Talk to me, Axe. What’s going down there? You’re bothered, and you’re shit at hiding it.”

“Yup. Yup, I am.” I admit frankly, focusing on suit of power armor. “What next? Plate’s in; it needs to be recalibrated now, right?”

“Doesn’t get recalibrated until you tell me what’s going on.” Kent says, hitching a hand on his hip and giving me the dare stare. “C’mon. Spit it out.”

I stare at him. “Seriously, Kent?”

“Seriously. No more work on your suit until you tell me what’s going on.” he says, rubbing at an oil stain on his forearm.

“What if I get an assignment or a crisis call?” I demand.

He shrugs. “Guess you’re going in without a calibrated chest plate.”

I huff, looking away. “Okay, fine. I’ll tell you, once my suit’s repaired. That’ll give me a little more time to be reasonable about it.”

“Drinks afterwards, then. You’re not worming out of this.” he says, turning back to the suit and starting to press on the plates bordering the replacement plate. Gears start whirring and clicking underneath the plates as the suit’s interlock mechanism starts to link up with the securing elements within the new chest plate, and pulls it flush with the other plates.

“Is that all it’s going to need for repairs?” I ask, picking up a socket wrench and fiddling with it. “Took a few hits on Valcorria, but that was the only big one. The rest of the suit should be fine, I think.”

“Yeah, that should be the only major thing. The entire suit probably needs a few tune-ups here and there, but they’re not critical.” Kent says, wiping his mop of his brown hair out of his eyes as he turns around and picks up the old chest plate, flipping it around to face me. The giant X that’s been cut right into the middle of it stares right back at me. “You wanna keep it? Mount it in your room with a plaque that says I fought Songbird and survived?”

I shake my head. “My ego’s not big enough for that. You can probably scrap it and recycle it. Melt it down into new replacement plates.”

“Nah man, I ain’t gonna do that.” he says, flipping the chest plate back around to look at it. “This is a piece of history now. Axiom’s damaged chest plate, from the battle at the Challenger Museum. A collector would probably drop crazy money on this two decades from now. We gotta keep it.”

“You keep it, then. I don’t have room for it in my quarters.” I say, making my way over to the scaffolding that supports my power armor and running a hand over it. It’s a custom suit, built a couple notches above other comparable suits, using tech salvaged from old Challenger equipment. I’ve been using it for the last three years, and I’ve developed a certain affection for it, despite its occasional hiccups. “Did you have any upgrades on the table for my suit?”

“Not recently. Gotta get permission to go back to one of the warehouses and dig through Challenger scrap again.” Kent says, setting the damaged chest plate down on one of his worktables. “It’s like picking through bones in there. All the good stuff’s already been snatched up.”

“Even the bones are better than some of the stuff that’s on the market now, though.” I point out.

“Challenger tech was decades ahead of its time.” Kent says, coming back over and watching as the new chest plate finishes calibrating and syncing with the rest of the suit, its pilot lights flickering on and glowing the same color as the other highlights on the suit. “With all the funding they got and the equipment ‘donations’ from tech companies, I’m surprised they didn’t take over the galaxy.”

“You realize that would’ve required way more manpower than they ever had at their peak, right?”

“Stop poking holes in my arguments.” he chuckles, reaching up and setting the suit into its power-down mode. “Alright, chest plate’s calibrated. You’re all set to go for your next assignment.” He turns to look at me. “Which means that now you and I are going to get drinks, and you’re gonna tell me what’s going on with Tess and Roya.”

I puff out an exasperated breath. “Really, it’s nothing—”

“Yeah, and I’m the king of Venus. I can tell lies too.” he says, clapping a hand on my shoulder and giving me a push to the door. “Let’s move, buddy. I fixed your armor; you owe me drinks and a peek into that doe-eyed brain of yours.”

“I’m not doe-eyed—”

“Yeah, and I’m a Viralix psi-pop star. I can do this all day, Axe.”

“Alright, fine, I’m going, I’m going. We have to sit in the corner booth, though.”

“Deal.”

The News

“Welcome back to Myrrdicato News Network, your first, last, and only source for nuanced reporting and daily news. With us today is Dan Splainsworthy, our resident expert on the multifaceted organization known as CURSE. Dan, we just got done talking about what CURSE is, and how they were different from the Challenger program. Shall we dive into the history of CURSE now?”

“With gusto, Clarence. I suppose it would be best to start with the origins of the organization — the first inklings of the group coalesced roughly forty years ago, in the form of a group of galactic civilians that had one thing in common: each of them had been personally affected by collateral damage that resulted from Challenger missions or actions. Now, this was not the first time that people had expressed their grievances with Challenger collateral, but it was the first time it was done by a group acting in a coherent, organized manner.”

“You’ve stated that this group was composed of galactic civilians — I assume these were ordinary people with no combat education, which is quite different from the CURSE we know today.”

“Quite. CURSE’s modern interpretation didn’t arrive until much later in the organization’s history. It took them about fifteen years to reach a critical mass point, during which time they grew their membership and made inroads in various political echelons across the galaxy. Most of their activity during those years involved filing lawsuits against the Challenger program that ended up crushed, undertaking advocacy campaigns focusing on civilians’ right to safety, and lobbying various governments to outlaw and ban Challengers. Though they had a growing audience, their legal efforts didn’t really go anywhere, and so they changed their approach roughly twenty-five years ago.”

“How so?”

“CURSE realized that though they had a good and reasonable cause, they were fighting against something they simply could not make disappear. While Challengers did cause collateral, and people were rightly aggrieved about that, they could not change the overall calculus of the galactic public: no matter the damage the Challengers did, it always outweighed the damage that could’ve been done by the groups and individuals that they stopped. The public might’ve disliked the collateral damage, but they would always view it as a necessary sacrifice so that they could keep the Challengers standing between themselves and harm. When CURSE’s upper leadership realized that, there came a paradigm shift in the organization’s purpose: instead of trying to convince the galaxy to get rid of Challengers outright, they realized they instead needed to offer an alternative to the Challenger program.”

“And this, I presume, was the beginning of CURSE as an organization with combat dimensions and dedicated combat staff.”

“You presume correctly. This shift was not without its difficulties — this represented a major adjustment in philosophy for CURSE, which at the time had some notable pacifistic overtones. The decision to create their own paramilitary initiative was something many of their members disagreed with, and resulted in some swathes of their membership leaving, and renouncing CURSE afterwards. On top of that, CURSE had very little military or special operations experience — this was an organization that was created and largely staffed by civilians that were opposed to the very thing CURSE was now trying to create. Though they had plenty of revenue to dedicate to the initiative, it would be another five years before CURSE’s Peacekeeper initiative truly came into focus as a functioning, legitimate extension of the organization that had funded it.”

“It’s been a while, but I do remember the CURSE Peacekeepers being ridiculed while CURSE was trying to get them off the ground. There were jokes about a single Challenger being worth more than a team of Peacekeepers.”

“Yes, and that was probably not helped by the fact that the Challenger program had a habit of snapping up talented and combat-skilled individuals, creating something of a monopoly in that department, and leaving CURSE to pick through the leftovers. However, disillusioned Challengers defecting from the program and joining CURSE started to lend more legitimacy, experience, skill, and talent to the Peacekeeper initiative. By the time the Songbird Incident occurred, the galactic public was starting to seriously consider CURSE as an alternative to the Challenger program.”

“Thank you for walking us through that history of CURSE, Dan. We do have to go to commercial break now, but when we return, we’ll be examining the individuals that make up the heart of CURSE and its mission — the Peacekeepers themselves.”

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

CURSE HQ: Gritter’s Bar

4:14pm SGT

“So sock it to me.” Kent says, moving his glass to the side. “Actually, no. Let me guess, I want to see if I’m right: you’re bothered because Tess scored Roya before you did.”

I stare at him. “What?”

“Alright, struck out on that one.” Kent say, scratching at the stubble on his chin. “Not gonna lie, I’m drawing a blank on what else it could be. I fold; tell me what the deal is.”

“You’d be a terrible detective.” I say, leaning back in the corner booth we’re sitting in. The leather’s cold, even through my uniform. “Giving up after one question?”

“They hired me to figure out machines, not people.” Kent says, tapping an oil-smudged finger against his temple. “Ask me to get in the gears any day. People, though… just when you think you’ve got people figured out, they switch it up on you.”

I shrug, sipping from my glass. “You’re not wrong…”

“But now you’re trying to dodge.” Kent continues. “Spit it out. What’s bothering you? I know it’s gotta be something with Tess and Roya. It has to be that Tess scored her.”

“Not really. Sorta. It’s complicated.” I say, looking away as I waffle on the answer.

“Are you going to do the thing where you tell me that I couldn’t possibly understand because I’ve got the emotional capacity of a ‘roided spaceball jockey?” Kent asks, deadpanning it.

“Hey, you’re the one that said it, not me.” I say, raising my glass to that.

“An honest sinner, through and through.” he says, clinking his glass to mine. “Anyhow, I think I’ve got enough alcohol in me to put up with your romanticized emotionally sensitive bullshit, and you’re hitting the point where you’ve had enough that you’ll spit it out instead of holding it all in. Spill it.”

I glance down into my drink. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about something else? Like Songbird, or the Collective, or how Nazka thinks he’s so much better than the rest of us?”

Kent lets out a sharp laugh. “Oh man. Don’t get me started, Axe. You rip that cord, we’re gonna be here for hours talking about the high and mighty Prince of Shadows.” Leaning back against the booth’s seat, he tilts his glass towards me. “Nah. We’ll save that for another day. Today I want to hear what’s bothering you. Friend to friend.”

“Fine.” I say, looking away again, watching the traveling colors of the neon tubes running around the bar. “Like I said, it’s complicated. It just feels like Roya doesn’t value me as much now that she’s dating Tess.”

“Well, duh.” Kent says, rolling his eyes. “Of course Roya’s gonna be biased towards Tess now. How is that complicated?”

I give him a flat look. “Okay, maybe it’s not complicated. I dunno. It felt complicated when I was thinking about it. I was having a hard time figuring out why it bothered me so much.”

“Well, don’t stop there. Tell me why it bothered you so much.” Kent says, shuffling and slouching in his side of the booth like he’s getting ready for a long-winded explanation.

“I dunno. It just…” I pause, looking for the words to describe it. “Roya takes Tess’s side in disagreements more often now, and generally speaking it just feels like I’m less important to her than I used to be. She’s got less regard for me and how I’m feeling. The way she approaches situations now is from Tess’s perspective, and when I’m on the wrong side of that, it feels like I’m getting the cannons twice over. Which… y’know honestly, Kent? It sucks. It really does. I’m used to people giving me pushback, and hell, Roya would give me pushback about half the time, but when she gave me pushback, it was on the merits of an issue. Now she only gives pushback when Tess does, and only for the reasons that Tess brings up — never her own reasons.”

Kent stares at me. After a moment, he rubs the rim of his glass against his forehead, like he was trying to process all that. “Alright. So. Bottom line: Roya’s taking Tess’s side every time all the time and you don’t like that.”

“Well I mean, yeah, but there are other reasons it bothers me.” I say, leaning forward and resting my chin on the rim of my glass. “Roya and I used to be close, but she barely talks to me any more. I feel kinda like she just… discarded me after she started dating Tess.”

“Mmph. Yeah. That’s no good.” Kent says, shaking his head. “But if you don’t tell her how you feel, she’ll never know. You should go tell her that you love her, man, or Tess is gonna get away with brainwashing her.”

“What? No.” I say, lifting my chin off my glass. “This isn’t an I’m in love thing, this a you’re my friend and you’re treating me like shit thing.”

“I dunno, you’ve always been pretty sweet on her.”

“Friends. Strictly friends.” I repeat. “I just don’t like being treated like this, I suppose. It bothers me, mostly because of how long we’ve known each other.”

Kent shrugs. “I dunno what to tell you, Axe. This is how people get when they get shacked up with someone else. Their brains turn into wet toilet paper and friends fall to the bottom of the priority queue. It’s happened to me, and it’ll happen to you one day.”

I give him yet another flat look. “You’re telling me I’ll meet a nice girl and it’ll turn me into an asshole.”

“Like a charm, every time.” Kent replies confidently. “It’ll start small, but at some point you’ll stop going out for drinks with me, then you’ll start blowing me off on game night, and eventually I’ll barely see you anymore. Same as Roya’s done with you right now.”

I puff out a long breath and take a sip from my glass. “Hopefully you’ll feel less resentful towards me than I feel towards Roya right now.”

“I’ll think you’re an idiot and a fool, but that’s okay.” Kent says, waving it off. “Eventually she’ll break up with you because she can’t handle how clingy you are, and we’ll start having drinks again, starting with your breakup pity party.”

I scowl at him over the rim of my glass. “How supportive of you.”

Kent shrugs. “Just telling you how it is, Axe. Trust me, I’ve got life experience.”

“What you’ve got is brain damage.”

“I’ve got that too. Doctor said I hit the part of my thinker that processes emotions.”

“Explains a lot.”

We’re silent for a moment, staring at each other. After a bit, we both crack a smile and chuckle a little. Sipping from our drinks, we take a moment to pause our conversation, searching for ways move on to a new topic now that I’ve gotten the angst out of my system. Eventually, Kent tilts his glass towards one of the screens hanging over the bar, playing the news on it. “Media’s still hyperventilating over Songbird. They’re treating it like it’s the story of the year.”

I look up to see what looks like a panel of pundits giving commentary on the Valcorria attack, while amateur video from the battle plays off to the side. “You know, I was… kinda let down when I fought him.”

“Oh?” Kent says, raising an eyebrow at me. “You didn’t say much about it after you came back. I wondered why that was.”

“Yeah, I just… was expecting more?” I say, watching the screen. “Fifteen years, you always hear these stories about Songbird. The Challenger that killed Nova. I thought he was going to be this deadly supersoldier, powers untold… I get there, and he’s just a guy with a couple of swords.”

“Nah. Really?” Kent asks. “Can’t be. He killed Nova. Gotta be more than that.”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong — he was good with those swords.” I say hastily. “But yeah. No powers, nothing. Just some guy with swords and a gun.”

“How’d you lose, then?” Kent asks. “If he’s just some guy with swords and a gun, your team should’ve been able to kick his ass. Hell, Blockchain could’ve flattened him like a pancake.”

“Blockchain did smack him around.” I say, sipping from my glass again. “Come to think of it, Songbird did get up pretty fast. Usually when Blockchain hits someone, they stay down. Songbird just kept getting back up. But he wasn’t the big problem. The big problem was that Mask Knight.”

“Oh yeah, that’s who you were actually after, right?” Kent says, peering into the bottom of his empty glass. “You guys were supposed to capture her, right? Because she had intel or something that the Administrator wanted.”

I furrow my brow. “How’d you know that? The briefing was supposed to be classified.”

Kent gives me a sardonic look. “C’mon, Axe. The only reason Peacekeepers get sent after people is to kill them, protect them, capture them, or take something from them. And you obviously weren’t supposed to be protecting them, and killing Masklings doesn’t actually kill them, so that only leaves capture or item recovery.”

I frown. “Well, yes. We were supposed to retrieve something that she was hunting down. But she punched Blockchain hard enough to send him clear through two walls and across the plaza in front of the museum. We weren’t prepared for that level of pushback, and she escaped while we were still trying to regroup.”

“Damn.” Kent says, sliding his glass off to the side. “She sounds like a heavy hitter.”

“We knew she was dangerous, but there was nothing in the briefing about her hitting that heavy.” I say, running my thumb along the side of my glass. “Doesn’t really matter, though. Nazka took me off the assignment. They said she’ll be showing at a civilian function, so they want a couple of covert Peacekeepers to handle it instead.”

“Why you lookin’ so down about it?” Kent asks, untying the bandana around his hand and starting to use it to clean some of the grease and oil off his hands and arms. “Sounds like she would’ve caved in your face if you went after her again.”

“At least with my armor I’d stand a chance of surviving it.” I point out. “How are the covert operatives supposed to deal with that? Half the time they go in wearing civvies.”

“Hey, that’s their problem to figure out, not yours.” Kent says, shrugging and checking his bracelet. “I’m going to go see Spiderdrone 4 tonight. Wanna come with?”

“Didn’t the critics nuke it into the ground?” I ask, lacing my fingers around my glass.

“Yeah, and people still went to see it.” Kent says, tapping his bracelet to the register panel in the middle of the table so he can chip a tip to the bar. “It’s one of those holos that’s so bad, it’s good. You should come so I don’t have to suffer through it alone.”

“Think I’ll pass. Horror and suspense franchises aren’t my cup of tea.” I decline. “You can tell me how bad it was next time we hang.”

“C’mon, you owe it to me for playing your therapist.” Kent cajoles as he stands, tucking his bandana in his back pocket. “Unless you’d like me to charge by the hour?”

I give him a smirk. “I’m paying for your drink. You’ve already been fairly compensated.”

Kent shakes a finger at me. “Fair. Guess I’ll find someone else to go with, then. But you’re missing out.”

“I’m okay with that. I’d rather not have nightmares about my cleaning drone going rogue and murdering me in my sleep.” I say, taking another draw from my glass. “Don’t have too much fun, Kent.”

“And you should try to have a little more fun.” He makes his way off, waving over his shoulder. “Have a good one, Axe.”

I watch as he leaves the bar, then look back to my glass. Draining the rest of it, I set it down, then stand to go settle up at the counter.

The News

“We return now to our informational segment with Dan Splainsworthy, our resident expert on CURSE and its history. When we left off, we had just finished discussing CURSE’s origins. We continue now by taking a closer look at CURSE’s best-known employees and representatives, who are tasked with carrying out its mission: the Peacekeepers. Dan?”

“Thank you, Clarence. Yes, the Peacekeepers — in many ways, they are not so different from Challengers, and one might even say Peacekeepers are the spiritual successor of the Challenger concept. Peacekeepers are, like Challengers, extremely skilled or talented operatives whose combat prowess is usually rivaled only by elite soldiers in other militaries or organizations. Typically they possess an edge of some sort, whether it is arcane, technological, or biological in nature; they typically operate in teams, or as leaders over rank-and-file CURSE operatives. And like Challengers, they are usually given callsigns or codenames that set them apart from normal operatives; and in many instances, they enjoy celebrity or idol status with the galactic public, in much the same way the Challengers did.”

“So what I’m hearing is that they’re basically Challengers with a different name.”

“Practically speaking? Yes. On a conceptual level, there is very little that sets apart Challengers and Peacekeepers. It is mostly their loyalties and the philosophies of their controlling organizations that distinguishes them from each other. Challengers took an interventionist approach to crises at the direction of the Challenger program; Peacekeepers take a reduced role approach to crises, at the direction of CURSE. But they are, if you examine their role and clout within galactic culture, fundamentally the same.”

“Do they have the same influence as Challengers, though? I only ask because even now, fifteen years after the Songbird Incident, we have a preponderance of Challenger media and loyalists. There seems to be a sizable portion of the galaxy that’s nostalgic for the Challenger days.”

“A legitimate observation, Clarence. You have to consider, though: the Challenger program had a century to build its legacy. At one time they were considered the quintessence of the galaxy’s best qualities. Something like that doesn’t go away overnight, or even over a decade. CURSE is the new kid on the block, and they’ve got a long way to go before they can completely supplant the Challengers as the galaxy’s heroes…”

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

CURSE HQ: Axiom’s Quarters

6:22pm SGT

Stepping out of my bathroom, I finish toweling my hair off as I head to my bed and the set of pajamas I’d picked out for tonight. After drinks with Kent, I hadn’t had much to do; I had no pending assignments, so there was no research to be done to brush up on a case or a target. I could’ve gone and trained down in the gym, but I wasn’t really feeling that, so I told myself I’d do it tomorrow. And even though I’d talked it out with Kent, I was still bothered by the thing with Roya and Tess. So I’d gone and taken an early shower, because a shower was usually my default activity for relaxing and clearing my mind.

But now it was a little past six in the evening, and I had no idea what I was going to do with the rest of my night. And going to bed at this hour was not an option unless I wanted to find myself waking up at three in the morning.

“You like to air dry after your shower?”

My adrenaline instantly spikes at the voice, and I whirl around, yanking my towel off my head to hastily cover my lower body. Most of the lights in my room are off, so it takes a moment to pick it out the irregularity in the shadow by my bathroom — it’s a vaguely familiar outline that I’d completely missed when I was stepping out. “Jeezus! Whisper! What the hell are you doing in here?!”

The outline moves, a svelte young woman pushing off the wall with an amused expression. “Figured I’d stop by and see how you were doing. Didn’t think you’d be taking a shower this early in the evening.”

“How’d you get in here! I locked the door!” I demand as I fumble to get the towel secured around my waist.

She gives me an exasperated look with glacier-blue eyes, taking a moment to puff a lock of her short black hair out of her eyes. “Dare. Did you seriously just ask me that?”

“Yes! I did!” I say defensively, opting for simply holding the towel around my waist. “I know you’re a covert Peacekeeper, but you’re supposed to used those to skills in the field, not at the HQ!”

She shrugs. “Gotta get my practice in somehow.” She tucks her hands in the pockets of her slimming combat jacket, the hexagonal weave shimmering slightly as the fabric creases. “You just gonna stand there in a towel looking stupid?”

“Well, I was planning on getting dressed.” I say, giving her a pointed look.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’ve seen you in a plugsuit what, a billion times?” she scoffs.

“Plugsuits are different! They are a necessary piece of equipment needed to operate the Axiom power armor.” I say, trying to fold my arms and then quickly unfolding them to catch the towel as it starts inching down my waist. “Are you gonna let me get dressed or what?”

She rolls her eyes, and turns around. “You never answered my question. You like to air dry after your shower?”

“I like to be completely dry before getting into my nightclothes.” I answer as I lose the towel and quickly start wrestling my way into my pajamas. “Why are you asking?”

It earns an idle shrug from her. “I like to air dry too. Was just curious.”

“You ask the weirdest things sometimes.” I say as I finish pulling my shirt on. “Did you just come back from an assignment?”

“About to go on one, actually. The one you were assigned to.”

I pause on my way to my dresser wall. “The one with the Mask Knight? And the Challenger backup archive?”

“Yup.” she says, looking over her shoulder, then turning back around when she sees I’m dressed. “Covert assignment with Gossamer. We’re supposed to be intercepting the backup archive and capturing Songbird if possible. But the archive is the priority.”

“Guess that makes sense.” I say, slowly crossing over to the wall and pressing in one of the panels, which pops open, a drawer of socks and underwear sliding out. “Gossamer’s a former Challenger, and Nazka did say he was going to put someone with Challenger experience on the assignment.”

Whisper gives me a look. “What am I, chopped liver? I’m a former Challenger too!”

“Wait, you are?” I ask, pausing in pulling a set of socks out of the drawer.

“Yes, I am. I’ve told you this before, doofus.” she sighs. “But unlike Gossamer, I don’t swing it around and rub it in everybody’s face every three seconds. She uses it like an all-purpose bludgeon to get what she wants and back up her arguments.”

“I can kinda see that.” I admit as I push the drawer back into the wall and walk back to my bed, sitting down on the edge so I can pull my socks on. “I haven’t really worked with her much, but I’ve watched a couple of her one-on-ones with the news. She harps on it pretty hard.”

“I know! It drives me up the wall!” Whisper says, throwing her arms up as she starts pacing, a sign that she’s agitated. “I’m like we get it! You’re a former Challenger! Give it a rest already! But no, she has to bring it up every chance she gets. You’d think that after fifteen years she would get tired of mentioning it to everyone, but nooooooo.”

I can’t help but smile at Whisper’s pacing, her exaggerated handwaving and tone, the way her personality spills out of a body too small to contain it all. She’s always been a special sort of lively, honest and unafraid to speak her mind. “Well, since the both of you were Challengers, you should have an edge on the assignment, then. You two would know Songbird better than I do.”

“That’s why I stopped by, actually.” Whisper says, running her hand through her hair as she stops pacing and looks to me. “Neither of us really knew Songbird before the Incident. I wanted to see if you could cue me in on what to expect, since you fought him on Valcorria.”

“What?” I say, furrowing my brow as I finish pulling my left sock on. “But you’re both former Challengers, and he’s… he’s Songbird. I thought former Challengers would know more about him.”

“We don’t.” Whisper says, giving a mighty shrug. “If you’d asked me who Songbird was before the Incident, I would’ve said literally who? He was a nobody; I think the only time I could remember seeing his name was on the support staff rotation, which was basically the fill role for missions. I’m not even sure how he earned his callsign because I can’t remember him doing literally anything important.”

I have to take a moment to soak that in. “Weird. I grew up my whole life hearing his name and what he did. Guess it makes sense that he was a nobody before he was somebody, though.”

“Yeah. So if you could tell me a little about him, that would be great.” Whisper says, planting her hands on her hips. “Because all I know is he killed Nova, and he’s a vampire.”

“Guess that explains a few things.” I say, scratching the back of my head as I think back to how he kept getting back up after Blockchain had knocked him down. “Wish I could tell me you more, but… I mean, there’s really not much to him, at least from what I saw. Vampire, so if he’s drunk blood recently, he can regenerate injuries. He’s got a couple of swords that look like they’re made of rainbow glass; the blades project from the hilts. He’s really good with them, and he seemed pretty expert in close quarters combat.” Falling quiet, I rack my brain for anything else I can remember, furrowing my brow when I remember something particular. “He was able to intercept and deflect one of Onslaught’s plasma bolts with one of his swords. Straight up used the blade to ricochet it into the ground. I don’t know what happened there, but even as good as he is, there’s no way he should’ve been able to move that fast.”

Whisper raises an eyebrow. “He’s able to deflect shots from a plasma rifle?”

“Well, he only did it once.” I explain. “Onslaught strafed him after that and he wasn’t able to block any of those shots. So I don’t know if it was just luck, or something more. It didn’t happen again, though.”

“Well, if he couldn’t do it twice, it was probably just a fluke.” Whisper decides, letting her hands slip from her hips as her gaze goes to the far wall of my room, which is made of glass. Outside is a balcony, and beyond it, the vast, speckled darkness of space. “I’ll keep all that in mind, though.”

“If you do go, be careful of the Mask Knight.” I say, following her gaze to the wall. “The one with the green hair. She’s extremely powerful.”

“The Mask Knight’s not our concern.” she says, heading over to the wall and tapping the door open so she can step out onto the balcony. “Normally we’d be hunting and neutralizing agents of the Maskling government where we find them, but the archive is more important. If Songbird gets his hands on it, he’ll be able to track down all the Challengers that were forced into retirement. Not to mention he’ll have the access codes to the Bastions and any of the secret Challenger facilities that survived the fall.” She looks over her shoulder at me. “If he gets the backup archive, he can start building an army. That’s a much bigger problem than a single Mask Knight.”

“Is that why it’s so important?” I ask, climbing over my bed to sit on the edge nearest to the balcony. “Nazka never told me why the mission was so important. All we knew is that it was high-priority, but I assumed that was because it was Songbird, not because of the archive.”

“Don’t get me wrong; Songbird’s a problem, a big one.” she says, leaning on the railing of the balcony, staring out across the thick spray of stars that bisects the sky, marking the orientation of the rest of our galaxy. “But the backup archive is a lot of potential problems bundled into a single item. Some of them big, some of them small, but all of them dangerous in the wrong hands. We can’t let him get his hands on it.”

“Probably why Nazka was so pissed we bungled the assignment at the Museum.” I sigh, leaning my arms on my knees as I glance to the side, checking the time on the wall. “Anyhow, you’re the former Challenger. What do you think will happen if Songbird gets his hands on the archive?”

Whisper lifts a foot, tapping the toe of her boot against the balcony’s floor. She doesn’t look around when she answers. “There’s gonna be a reckoning.”

I look back to her. “A reckoning?”

“For those of us that abandoned the program and joined CURSE.”

It takes me a second to parse that. “The Challengers that never surrendered feel like the ones that joined CURSE are traitors?”

“There were a lot of hard feelings over that. I don’t think time’s softened them.” Whisper says, the toe of her boot still tapping steadily against the floor. “Either they ignored the fact that the program had been corrupted, or they were blind to it. Some of them sincerely believed in the cause; others were scared of losing their power and privilege. Most of them saw reason in the end, but there are others that never accepted that the program was done.”

“Rogue Challengers.” I guess.

“Yeah.” Whisper says. “Out of all of them, the rogues are most likely to still be pissed off about the fall of the program. And some of the ones that went into retirement did it just to stay out of jail. If Songbird finds them, I think it’s entirely possible he could talk them into coming out of retirement.”

“We really need to get that archive, then.” I say, lacing my fingers together. “Do you want me to come with you…? Not in an official capacity, since Nazka’s benched me for now. Off the books, just in case something goes wrong or you need a backup.”

Whisper grins over her shoulder at me. “You’re already in the doghouse, Dare. Probably best you don’t dig yourself deeper into it.”

I give a light shrug. “You know me. I didn’t join up just to sit around.”

“I hear you. And I respect that.” she says, pushing off the balcony to step back into my room. “But you know how we work. Reduced role. Act only when we’re requested or needed, that way we don’t step on anybody’s tail or get ourselves into trouble.”

“Sounds like there’s gonna be trouble if we don’t get this archive.” I say, kicking my legs back and forth where they hang over the edge of my bed.

“There is. But you believe in me, right?” she says, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll get the archive back. And if what you say about Songbird is true, it won’t be too hard to handle him.”

“You should still be careful.” I caution her. “Nazka says that Challengers never play all their cards on the first round.”

“He’s not wrong.” Whisper says, letting her hand slip off my shoulder as she sits down on the bed beside me, bouncing a little on the mattress. “But that’s enough about all that. What about you? Kent told me you were in a funk over Roya and Tess.”

I roll my eyes. “He told you? He’s paying for drinks next time we go…”

“If you wanted someone to keep secrets, you spilled ‘em to the wrong guy.” Whisper says, looking at me sidelong. “Said you were bent out of shape because Roya was giving you the cold shoulder?”

I lean back on my hands, sighing and staring out at the star-speckled sky. “It’s not the cold shoulder. She just isn’t treating me like a friend anymore. I just…” My voice drifts off as I struggle to find the words, struggle to express myself without sounding overdramatic.

“Okay.” Whisper says, watching me. “Why are you still wasting time on her, then?”

The harsh question draws my gaze to her to see if she’s joking, but the way she’s looking at me is simple, straightforward. No hint of sarcasm or humor. It’s an honest question she’s asked me. “Because she’s my friend, even if she’s not treating me like it—”

“No, she’s not.” Whisper says, cutting me off. “Kent told me how she was treating you, and how she behaves around Tess. And Tess is a whole ‘nother omelette, so I won’t say anything about that right now. But the way Roya is treating you, she’s not your friend. Friends don’t treat each other like that. And don’t you dare trick yourself into thinking that you have to keep being her friend just because you’ve been friends for a while. There’s no such thing as tenure in friendships; being someone’s friend for a long time doesn’t give them the right to stop treating you like a friend.”

I’m quiet for a bit while I soak that in. “I just don’t want to burn any bridges.” I say eventually, looking down. “I guess I’m hoping that things will go back to the way they were before, even if they won’t.”

“They probably won’t.” Whisper says. “That’s the way the universe works. People grow up; they move on, and sometimes they leave a mess on their way out the door. And the rest of us have to clean up that mess. I could tell you a thing or two about cleaning up other people’s messes, since I had to clean up a lot of those after the Songbird Incident.” She reaches over, poking her forefinger into my chest. “But you don’t have to stand there and take it. You’re a good friend. And good friends deserve better than that.”

“I guess you would know.” I say with a little smile. “Six hundred years of experience must come with a lot of perspective.”

“And yet not a day over twenty-five.” she says, tilting her head back and running her hand through her hair as if she was posing, then looking at me and giggling. “But yeah. I’ve seen a lot of friends come and go in my time. I’ve seen good ones and bad ones and I’ve seen friends that have been both but at different times. Roya’s being a bad friend right now. Hopefully she goes back to being a good friend. But until she does, you don’t owe her anything. If she’s going to treat you like trash, stop hanging out with her. Find something better to do.”

“Kinda hard when I’m off the only big assignment for now.” I say, leaning forward again.

“Assignments aren’t the only thing in the universe.” Whisper offers. “CURSE has started recruiting for operative positions again. A new batch of recruits is slated to come in tomorrow morning. Granted, you’re not going to be the one training them, but you can go greet them, get to know them. Maybe size up which ones have potential for Peacekeeper training.”

I consider that for a moment. “Yeah. I guess so. I think I’ll see if I can do that tomorrow.”

Whisper nods, smiling. “There you go.” Pushing off my bed, she stands up. “I have to get going. The assignment’s out on Sybione, and if I’m going to get there on time, I’ll need to leave within the hour. Gossamer’s probably already on the interceptor, pitching a fit about me holding up her departure. Don’t have too much fun while I’m gone, okay?”

“No promises.” I say, folding my hands in my lap. “Be careful out there, Whisper.”

She reaches out, planting a hand on my head and ruffling my damp hair. “You worry too much, Dare.” With that, she starts around my bed, headed for the door and waving over her shoulder as she goes. “Hold down the fort while I’m gone. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Will do.” I reply as the doors cycle open, then closed behind Whisper. In her absence, my room’s uncomfortably quiet; getting up, I head over to the glass wall, about to tap the balcony door closed. I hesitate, though, and after a moment, I step outside onto the balcony, walking to the railing and leaning on it. Watching the thick band of stars bisecting the sky; the distant, burgeoning glow of Myrrdicato’s core and the supermassive black hole at its center. The dark heart of our galaxy, shrouded in unending light.

I think I’ll stay out here a little longer, watching the stars that I call home.

Event Log: Darrow Bennion

CURSE HQ: Arrivals Platform

9/13/12763 9:08am SGT

The transport with all the new recruits gets in early the next day, just a little after breakfast.

I told Kent that I’d planned on being there to greet the new recruits as they came off the transport, to which he’d replied that I should show up in the Axiom suit. I’d shot down the suggestion, mostly because it’d be too close to idol worship, and besides, if Nazka caught me, he’d have an aneurysm. But I’d also declined the suggestion because I didn’t really want the recruits to know I was Axiom. I wanted them to meet them and be treated like a person, not a legend.

So now I was standing here on the arrivals platform in my CURSE uniform. The stars and bars on the shoulder of my dress jacket would make it clear that I was a ranking operative, but I’d taken off the pin that had my callsign printed on it. While waiting, I tried to decide whether I should stand at attention, or take a more casual stance, with my hands tucked into my pockets. I couldn’t make a decision, so I settled for folding my arms, looking around the wide floor of the arrivals platform. Sizing up the decor plants along the wall, staring up at the balcony rimming the second level of the platform, staring through the glass ceiling overhead to the distant command tower of the HQ.

When a shadow falls over me, I tilt my head a little further back to see the rusty, hulking, industrial colossus that is Blockchain, standing behind me.

“…what are you doing here?” I slowly ask after a moment.

Blockchain doesn’t answer. As far as I can tell, he doesn’t have audio capacity, and he’s never really made any indication that he would like to be upgraded with a vocal suite. There’s honestly really not much I know about Blockchain, period; he doesn’t talk, we don’t know where he came from, and we’re not exactly sure how CURSE came across him or why they chose to bring him on as a Peacekeeper. He’s something of a mystery, even to the people that frequently go on assignments with him.

But he hits like a runaway space freighter, and that’s pretty handy when you need some metal muscle to back you up.

The sound of the airlocks hissing open pulls my attention back forward, and I look forward to see that at the end of the platform, dozens of new recruits are starting to spill through the doors. Most of them are young — graduates and cadets from prestigious academies and combat programs that earned the chance to join CURSE’s ranks as operatives, and if they rose to the top of their recruiting class, potentially join the elite ranks of the Peacekeepers. Sprinkled in here and there are a different breed of recruit, older and more rugged — veterans that have already proved their worth and are transferring to CURSE from some other military or organization. But whether they’re fresh meat or beef jerky, all of them arrive here with only a duffel bag full of their belongings, and the clothes on their back.

“Alright, don’t wander off!” one of the disembarking recruiters shouts, while the others try to corral the recruits into some semblance of order, and get them moving to the other end of the platform and towards the desks where they’ll be assigned their bunks and access bracelets. As they go, the vast majority of those recruits seem to be going out of their way to avoid me. After a moment, and watching where their eyes are going, I realize that it’s not me they’re avoiding.

I look up and over my shoulder at Blockchain, towering behind me like a scrapyard sentinel. “You mind? You’re scaring off all the rooks.”

Blockchain’s visor slit tilts down, those crimson digital eyes fixing on me for only a brief moment before rising again to continue watching the new recruits streaming out of the airlocks.

I really have no ability to shift him, so I sigh and accept that he’s not going anywhere. Going back to watching the new recruits filing past us, I take note of the racial diversity of our recruit pool. There’s everything from dwarves to Halfies to Cybers to orcs to vashaya’rei to wereckanan and more; tall and small, scales and skin and fur, tails and claws and pointy ears. It resembles a cross-section of all the galaxy’s major races, and in a way, it’s an inspiring thing to see. By some measure, it also makes me feel a little self-conscious, being starkly reminded of how plain and human I am.

As the stream of new recruits starts to fizzle out, the arrivals platform starts to empty, recruits departing as they’re assigned their bunks and bracelets and wandering deeper into the HQ under the guidance of the recruiters. As the last stragglers filter past us, I drop my folded arms, glaring at Blockchain as I turn to make my way after the last of the recruits. Not that he’ll know what the glare means, but still.

But when I go to move past him, he twists one of his massive hands, blocking my way with metal fingers that are each as thick as my torso. I come up short, surprised at the obstruction, and look up to him, but he’s not looking at me. After a second, I turn back around, following his gaze to the airlocks.

Stepping through the doors is a last recruit, a young human twenny-something with tousled white hair down to her mid-back. Unlike the others, she’s not rushed or excited; she’s got a calm, composed, unshakeable demeanor. Dressed in nothing more impressive than jeans and a tshirt, with a duffel slung over her shoulder, there’s a quiet intensity to the tawny eyes as they wander across the arrivals platform, up to the glass ceiling, then back down to pause on me for a moment. There’s a certain steadiness, a certain stability there that the other recruits didn’t have.

I think I’ve found the recruit that’ll one day join the Peacekeeper ranks.