I didn't imagine things would change much since I was mia. The hallways are still crowding themselves with soldiers rushing trying to get around to their destinations. If they weren't tripping over one another then they were either cooped up in their barracks, chumming down in the mess hall, or they were clucking their guns within our personal shooting range. 

It was quite the operation the Founders put together here. All to combat Devastators insists on a robot lead valley. He claims since we failed to protect ourselves during The Great Terror, it should be him and his likeness to lead them forward. Sadly, the public ate it up, and now look where we are. Fighting a doctoral government led by machines and his followers.

Peter and I must practically stick ourselves to the wall while on our way to the hangar. Thankfully, there was always room for small talk.

"You know I could go with you to this reality," Peter mutters.

"Nonsense. Your signet warrior talents are needed here." I pause. "Once word fully gets around that Lincoln has died, I doubt Devastator won't be letting this time go to waste." Peter's eyes knot at the mere mention of his name. 

"That damm Devastator. I can't wait for the day I can put three bolts in between his gears for the valley he created." He grinds that all through his teeth then his body exhales. "Sigh my little Mary," he mutters under his breath with a single teardrop trying to let go from his face, 

Little Mary was the nickname given to his little sister by their mother. He told me once his nickname was Little Peat. From what I heard from him the last time he hugged them was when he became a commander in his shiny blue armor. Then the capital bombings happened. 

A bombing that took down most of Section Two's major capital buildings of the old world, which included what he had reclaimed after The Great Terror, which he said took his father.

Most people fought it was done by a separate party with their own twisted scene of sticking it to the current legislators trying to gather their own sense of government. However, another half-blamed Devastator.

I hope he will not be tempted by a clouded fog of rage, especially with him being a signet warrior of four, the best of us all. I do my best to pat him on the shoulder to try and comfort him while he finishes his passionate ranting. It seems to work as he takes a deep breath, his voice softening to tell me, 

"Very well, though with that being said how will you tell the little one that you're leaving?" Discarding the fact that he says as if he didn't just rant on for a few minutes straight, his words do snap me back to reality.

I knew Lana would be bummed about me leaving. Especially for who knows how long. Peter like spotting an eagle flying through a flock of geese utters

"Well, I guess you can explain it to her now." He's right. 

Lana runs straight for us, yelling out my name repeatedly like a pack of flocking crows rustling in the air. Most of the soldiers turn but don't mind, laughing with their eyes towards us as she dives past them hitting each of their calves in full aggression. They seem to find it adorable how I'm like an older brother to her. Especially since now, that her brother is dead.

 I can't picture handling all of that at seven years old. Though what can I say? The age of seven is the new twenty. Before I could even open my arms for her, Lana starts clutching my waist, tightly.

"Joseph, tell me it's not true...you can't be leaving." She whimpers.

Kneeling to her level I whisper, "Sorry Lana, this is something I got to do."

"Then take me with you." She blurts out. "We will win together or die together...I just...I just."

The tears from a riverbank flow down the emerging pathways on her cheeks. I wish she could start a chain reaction within me. Lana has been by my side for the longest time even through my darker days before I joined The Resistance Fighters. However, who knows what's on the other side of that bloody machine. 

If something were to happen, even in the afterlife, I would have sentenced myself to hell if there was even one scratch upon her. Though leaving now with Lincoln gone was a crime worthy of a blaster bolt to the head. I bet that would be less painful.

I soothe one of her downward pigtails, then try removing the tears from her cheeks. It doesn't work. So, looking directly into her puppy dog eyes, trying not to tear up myself I tell her

"It's ok Lana. I'm doing this not just for The Resistance Fighters but so you can have the life you deserve. I promise I'll return to you. In my current pieces."

 I bring up my metal arm, crushing its hand to make it squeak. She chuckles at my attempt to be funny, and with that, her eyes and face start showing brightness again. Lana then takes off her bright red cap that I could swear is attached to her head backward with glue and tits it towards the floor.

"You promise?" She asks, woefully.

"Of course, I will." My hands slowly took the cap from her tiny little hands. "Also tell you what when I get back, you and I can spend the whole day together doing whatever you wish."

"Really?!" Her voice blossoms.

"You bet." I proceed to put the red cap backward on her head. Not only does her face become elastic, but her eyes and mouth open showing off the two front teeth she's still missing.

"Say why don't you accompany me and Joseph back to the hangar," Peter says doing his best to not look soft. 

"That if she finished her welding duties," I smite back.

"Yeah, I finished." She whines. "Though I have oil and stuff all over me."

I shouldn't be surprised. She always wears a murky red T-shirt under navy blue overalls, with black Mary jeans rolled up to her ankles, and sludge is always covering her like frosting spread over a cake. Luckily, she presents the talents of a well-rounded blacksmith. Covered in grease and oil. And not a foundling who would be once of age, drenched in sweat and blood.

The hallway becomes thinner, less dense like a pathway leading into a space shuttle the further we move along it. Eventually, once someone gets to the hanger it will be like its own mini plane carrier.  Once we became forgotten, there were no new shipments of cars, trucks, or weapons. Therefore, whether we had, we adjusted.

Trucks became hovers, the bottoms of cars became rovers, and the old weapons were melted, providing shaping for the next generation. Granted the older ones knew how to stay together after firing it a few times. Though let me say, that the view of getting greeted by sunlight echoing from the huge doorway station from outside never gets old.

We pass either troopers stuffing hovers with boxes of supplies to be shipped to the commons, or teaching foundlings the inner workings of the rovers. Lincoln deemed anyone below 10 years old as non-combat-ready, so we would have them do other tasks, such as repairing vehicles or making/maintaining weapons. The wonderment at whatever the higher-ups told them is something I like to think they will never forget.

Seeing them all, the wandering soaking in my eyes wishes I had the opportunity to become embedded in the war as they did. I was already too skilled and too old. Only if they all knew what I'd been through to earn such skills.

All the sweat, all the lashes I have gained, and all the blood spilled to earn the title of commander on day one. If they knew, no one would ever want to grow up, and I wouldn't blame them either.

Walking past many of the soldiers, I notice them clearing out the room in the middle of the hangar. They only do that if we are expecting company. Being Mia, I wouldn't be surprised if I was out of the loop on something. 

"Say, Peter, are we expecting someone?"

Peter pauses for a moment seeming to forget that I was Mia for the last three days. His eyes seem to catch on quickly to that fact. 

"Oh yeah, I forget. You haven't been in the loop. Well to give you a quick update, we received a report that The Seekers are returning from a mission to retrieve some very important hardware deep down in quadrant four."

"The Heart of the Legion." I guess Hardcase was right for them to be on a dangerous mission. "What type of hardware are we talking he-"

Before I could finish the loud creaking of the hanger doors started slowly opening up. Alarms start going off in every direction as soldiers move into positions while foundlings move towards where we stand to wait in anticipation to see our jets in action which I failed to notice was gone. Peter yells out to me as he picks up the pace himself 

"I guess you're about to find out."