Chapter Text
As soon as Firefly's recovered, not even a week after her sudden, rude awakening in the Stellaron Hunter base, the woman known as Kafka takes her shopping.
“A Stellaron Hunter must have a fitting coat to mark the occasion,” she tells Firefly.
“But I'm not a Stellaron Hunter.”
“You’ve struck a deal with Elio, have you not?”
…she supposes she has. That must have been the disembodied voice that had guided her throughout her dream.
She still hasn’t met him - in fact she hasn't met anyone apart from the woman who was there when she awoke in the infirmary, head pounding and mouth dry. But that all changes during their impromptu shopping trip, because as luck would have it one thing ends up leading to another and suddenly Firefly finds herself on the run with a horde of furious IPC soldiers hot on her heels.
“How strange!” Kafka laughs as sprints down the streets of the planet they're on (the woman can even make running look elegant). “There was only a 50% chance of this eventually occuring.”
“50% is a lot, isn't it?!” Firefly gasps, rounding the corner once again. She's not even fully recovered and yet here she is - quite literally running for her life with two bulging shopping bags in hand (Kafka really knows how to shop).
Truth be told, Firefly could easily decimate the crowd of soldiers behind her if she so wished. With SAM, it would be over before they could say 'Glamoth's Army'. She wouldn't even break a sweat.
But she's tired of fighting - she hasn't even been given the privelage to mourn her fallen comrades yet - mostly because the reality of it all hasn’t quite sunk in. Her brain still can’t comprehend that she’s the last one of her regiment left. It refuses to.
Kafka has promised that she'll be there for Firefly when the weight of it all inevitably comes crashing down on her, (all of the Stellaron Hunters will) but for now Firefly just appreciates the strange shopping trip as a welcome distraction.
“Turn right!” Kafka says, gliding around a corner. It’s just barely enough time for Firefly to respond. She digs her heels into the cobblestones and swerves around, following the woman's footsteps as the voices grow louder behind her. The growing hum of approaching vehicles echoes in the air.
Luckily, it seems Kafka has planned for this eventuality.
“In here!” she calls, standing beside a car, pulling open the door and sliding into the passenger's seat. Firefly only briefly catches a glimpse of a serious, bandaged man holding the wheel, before she's wrenched in unceremoniously by a pair of hands, and strapped quickly into the back seat.
“Drive!” someone yells, there’s a quick thump from the roof (...from the roof? ) and the car revs into action–
The wrong way. Firefly screams as they smack into the barrier behind them, before the driver grunts out a curse and fiddles with the gearstick, spinning the steering wheel with reckless abandon.
They zoom off in the right direction this time, one wheel on the pavement and the other skidding wildly against the road. Firefly bites down another scream, choosing to look down at her feet instead. Bad idea - she's beginning to feel carsick. The others stick their heads out of the windows, taunting the soldiers that chase closely behind them in IPC-issued vehicles of their own.
The sunroof opens and a head sticks through, one hand holding a phone and the other waving down to catch Kafka's attention.
“Head over to the star-ports - Elio's waiting for us there.”
Is that someone on the roof ? Firefly cranes her neck up to catch a glimpse of the girl, but she's gone with a pop of bubblegum before she can find any words to say. The car screeches dangerously close to a building as the driver switches direction.
What the hell is happening right now?
Firefly was quite literally born to fight in wars, but believe it or not she actually values her own life quite a bit. Which is more than she can say for the rest of them. She's entirely convinced the driver is suicidal because they've almost died 3 times by now.
There's a deafening clash as the car slams through a barrier and skids onto a motorway. Firefly dares to peer out of the window for just a second, and watches as cars dart past their own with drawn out honks of anger.
They’re all driving the other way.
“So!” the boy next to her says, with an extravagant flourish of his hand. “Introductions!”
“Here?!” Firefly screams.
The car jeers left with an unholy screech. She clings onto the door handle for dear life and tries valiantly not to throw up.
“Where else?” Kafka says, turning around so she’s facing the back. Through the windshield Firefly can see cars that come dangerously close to their own - the driver twists and turns the wheel like he's playing some twisted version of a video game.
She's going to be bruised black and blue by the time the day is up.
“You already know Kafka, right?” another voice says, and the boy beside her leans back so Firefly can see who's speaking. Both of them have the same grey hair and golden eyes - siblings then, or maybe even twins.
“I think so,” Firefly says weakly. Her stomach is doing flips - she'd prefer even a crowded spaceship compared to this.
“I'll introduce myself again anyway,” Kafka says with a gentle smile. Firefly would even find it reassuring if she hadn’t seen the woman string up a dozen soldiers and snap their necks like glass back at the shopping mall. Kafka is not to be underestimated.
“I'm Kafka, Elio's second in command and the person you should go to if you have any worries.”
The sound of another explosion echoes loudly behind them, and the car whizzes off the road and races down a cliff-face track. Firefly dares to look over the edge - the drop is enormous, tree-tops reduced to the size of mere vegetables. The driver honks his horn and slams his foot down on the pedals.
Hmm. Any worries.
“I'll go next!” the girl says at the end of their row. “The name’s Stelle, but you can call me the Galactic Baseballer. I like trashcans and gacha games, and I can play the piano but only because Kafka forced me into learning when I was 11–”
“I never force you to do anything–”
“Sorry Kafka,” says Stelle, almost by reflex. “Anyways, this guy over here is Caelus and he likes hot chocolate, being a royal pain in the ass and–”
“Hey!” The boy twin - Caelus - shouts. “I wanted to do my own introduction!”
“Tough! You were too slow!”
“I was being patient! But of course you wouldn't know what that is, now would you Miss-I-have-to-always-be-the-centre-of-attention–”
“As if you know what the meaning of patience is anyway!” Stelle retorts.
“Now, now,” Kafka says, reaching across to wrench at the wheel before the driver can slam into an approaching truck. The screeching sound of metal against metal rattles Firefly’s very bones. “The two of you just made up yesterday, don't start again.”
“We should've put Caelus on the roof instead,” the driver says wearily.
“Did someone say roof?” a voice calls out, and Firefly looks up to see the head peering down again. How are they even staying up there? “Oh. Hey Firefly. Didn't see you there.”
“Hey,” Firefly echoes.
“We’re doing introductions!” Caelus says, all previous resentment forgotten. “You're up next.”
“Oh, ok,” the woman says looking down. “The name's Silver Wolf.”
There’s a beat of silence, broken only by a biting curse from the driver, in a language Firefly’s unfamiliar with.
“Is that your actual name?” Firefly says incredulously.
“You're called Firefly, it's not that hard to believe,” she says with a roll of her eyes. Which…is fair, she supposes.
“Be nice to the new recruit,” the driver says.
“Got it Bladie.”
“ How many times –”
“Yeah yeah, Blade, Bladie, same thing.” Silver Wolf says with a wave of her hand. “I'm the resident hacker of the faction. You can ask me to do anything but babysitting and things I don’t want to do.”
“Which is everything,” Stelle adds. Silver Wolf rolls her eyes.
“I can also hack into pretty much any server - if you want something from the IPC then I’m the girl to ask - but don’t beg me to release leaks for the new patch of Jenshin Impact because I'm not going to do it –”
“Pleeease, Silver Wolf!” the twins chorus with wide eyes. Silver Wolf gives them both a very rude gesture and shimmies right back out onto the roof again.
The car begins to slow down, but they’re still breaking at least 20 basic safety laws and while Firefly has almost no knowledge when it comes to cars, spaceships and other things, she's pretty sure this is the wrong way to drive a vehicle.
Honestly, does this guy even have a driver's license?
“You may call me Blade,” he says after almost knocking down a cyclist.
Firefly waits for more, but that's all apparently he's going to give.
“He's an immortal.” Caelus grins.
“So if he dies don't sweat it,” Stelle adds on. Blade heaves a world-weary sigh, and Firefly sympathises just a little.
(He's still a terrible getaway driver though).
“And, of course, there's Elio.” Kafka says. “In total, there are now 7 of us that make up the Stellaron Hunters.”
“Speaking of Stellarons!” Caelus cries excitedly. “Since Stelle rudely stole my spotlight–”
“‘Cos you don't deserve it!”
“Ignore her.” he says, planting a palm on her face. “Just letting you know that if you ever come across a Stellaron, make sure you shove it inside of me instead of Stelle because I can totally handle them better–”
“Caelus,” both Kafka and Blade say warningly.
“What?”
“Sorry,” Firefly interrupts, her brain reeling like she's just been delivered a punch to the jaw. “Did you just say inside of you?”
“Oh yeah,” Caelus says sheepishly, scratching his cheek with a finger. The car gradually slows to a halt. “Didn't I mention? Both Stelle and I are receptacles for Stellarons. We’re your friendly neighbourhood storage containers! Wanted for a various assortment of crimes in 50 different star systems–”
“51,” Kafka reminds him.
“-under at least 12 different names. None of which are our real ones of course. If you need anything, then come to me first."
Stelle scoffs beside him, and Firefly smiles a bit.
“I'll keep that in mind.”
They pile out of the car, Stelle and Caelus arguing again over nothing in particular as Blade gently takes the shopping bags from Kafka while they walk. Silver Wolf nudges Firefly to show her a new high score on the game she's been playing, and Kafka hums a soft tune while tapping out a message to Destiny's Slave.
The Stellaron Hunters are a very strange group of people.
But Firefly finds that she doesn't mind that in the slightest. She's met many strange people in her lifetime after all.
And she's not very ordinary herself.
It's only once they've all entered the spacecraft meant to take them to their new destination, that Stelle turns around with a horrified gasp, putting both hands on Firefly's soldiers.
“We forgot your introduction!” she cries.
Firefly smiles.
“It's fine, really.”
“Still, you need an introduction!” Caelus insists, coming forward. “Who are you Firefly?”
The others stop, waiting for her answer.
She lets the words sink in, the silence stretching out as she chooses her answer carefully.
Who is she?
Is she a member of Glamoth's army? Is she a soldier?
Is she a tool? Is she a sacrifice?
Is she SAM?
She is a soldier of blood and sweat and loyalty and loss. She is a teenage girl who never asked for any of this. She is alive and she's here and that's all she can ask for (and yet she still wants more.)
She’s all of those, and yet none of those at the same time.
“I'm Firefly,” she says, shifting her weight as the hangar door closes soundlessly behind her.
“We know that already,” Silver Wolf says, “but that's not what we're asking.”
Firefly nods.
“I know it's not. So, then, I suppose this is my answer. I'm Firefly. I'm SAM. I'm a soldier. I'm a girl.”
She smiles.
“And I'm a Stellaron Hunter.”
And, strangely, that's enough for her.
~
A fortnight or so later, and the day of their latest S Class finally arrives. All of the Stellaron Hunters, bar Elio, stand gathered around an enlarged hologram of the Script.
The play title shines bright and bold above them all: The Jepella Rebellion.
Stelle watches as Silver Wolf enlarges a section and runs through the details for the thousandth time this week.
“We get it,” Stelle groans. “Enter the city, rally up the rebel groups, set fire to a few things, blah, blah, blah–”
Silver Wolf whacks her around the head.
“This isn't a joke, trash rat. If we mess this up one of us could die.”
Stelle’s lips purse. None of them will die here - at least, not according to Elio's calendar. But the words are enough to shut her up for now.
Maybe she could use this opportunity to practice using the Spirit Whisper again. It seems like the perfect time to try - her entire objective of this mission is to entice (just a fancy word for brainwash really) the rebels of Jepella into overthrowing the Brotherhood after all.
That, and…
“There are two Stellarons here, right?” Firefly asks tentatively. She's already been on 6 missions already, but Stelle's not been scripted to attend any of them. She's yet to see that seriously cool mech in action, but if Caelus’ recounts are anything to go by, their newest member is incredibly strong.
“Probably more, but those are the ones we're interested in,” Kafka smiles, walking forwards and bringing up the map. Blade leans forwards in his seat, elbows leaning against his knees as he frowns.
“They're on opposite sides of the city,” he says.
“Which is why we'll have to split up,” Silver Wolf replies. She offers a pack of bubble gum to Firefly, who shakes her head. “Our two resident receptacles will fan out and head towards the Stellarons. On their way they'll cause a little bit of destruction here and there, and spout some lies to encourage the rebellion to kick off.
“Meanwhile Kafka's going to ensnare the Brotherhood with her Spirit Whisper, and Blade and Firefly will meet her there. We'll all rendezvous at the palace to make our grand escape.”
“What about you?” Caelus asks Silver Wolf. He's playing with a round plastic cat toy they bought as a joke for Elio, throwing it from one hand to the other. The bell inside chimes merrily in the air.
Silver Wolf blows a bubble in reply and taps a quick pin onto the holographic screen. Lines and lines of code swim in the air.
“My primary aim is breaking through this hunk of junk,” she sighs. “It would be fun if it wasn't so primitive - it's a pretty basic code, but it takes ages to actually type everything in and smash through the security walls. I wish we were heading over to Planet Screwllum instead.”
“Maybe next time Wolfie,” Kafka smiles as she closes the screen. “I think that should sum it all up. Is everyone aware of their roles?”
“Not yet.”
Stelle stops in her tracks, looking over her shoulder to find a familiar face peering right back from the hall. He leans against the doorframe, bright, unblinking eyes glowing against the gloom.
“I forgot to mention - I will be joining you this time.” Destiny's Slave announces.
There’s a beat of silence.
“ Elio ?” splutters Caelus. “There's no way. You're going on a mission?!”
“I told you it was an important S Class, did I not?”
“Well, yeah, but–”
Firefly nudges Silver Wolf, a tinge of excitement in her voice.
“Is this rare?”
“Oh yeah,” Silver Wolf grins. “I've barely ever seen him leave his cave. Only once has he ever gone on a mission with these guys, and in that case it was just with Kafka for a tricky Stellaron grab. That was before we had the twins.”
Stelle grins at Elio, all apprehension forgotten. If he's joining them, then they're bound to be alright.
“What’s the occasion?”
He stares right back with a frown, and Stelle gets the uncanny feeling that he knows something she doesn't.
He couldn't have known that I entered…no, there's no way! I know that room was empty!
“We're holding two Stellarons instead of one. It warrants my intervention. And plus,”
He glances at Caelus, who shifts sheepishly from side to side.
“I don't know how volatile our male receptacle is currently. Hosting a Stellaron may prove to be…disastrous.”
“ ‘Male receptacle ??’” Silver Wolf scoffs. “ Well damn, why don't you just call him a storage container while you're at it?”
Elio levels her a glare, and she quickly stops talking. Stelle would laugh, if the situation wasn't so awkward. It's been ages since Elio called them something like receptacles …even if that's what they actually are.
“Regardless,” Destiny's Slave says, “I will be joining this mission. Disguised in my feline form of course, but I will be there nonetheless.”
“We're glad to have you with us Elio,” Kafka smiles. Then she turns around and claps her hands twice. “That should sum it up. We should head off, but first, a meal. We can't complete this mission on an empty stomach after all.”
“That includes you too, old man,” Silver Wolf says to Blade. He rolls his eyes ever so slightly, but obediently follows them all into the kitchen. Stelle can smell something delicious wafting from the open doorway, and she hopes Blade has made his amazing potato salad again-
“Just a second, you two.”
She freezes in her tracks, hoping its not her that Elio is calling. But the piercing gaze he shoots at her says otherwise. Stelle feels fear begin to pool in her stomach, but if Kafka's taught her anything it's how to mask any form of apprehension.
Caelus languidly stands to full height beside her (it doesn't do much, she's still taller than him). The jittery energy pulsating under his skin is tangible in the air.
“What's up Elio,” she says lightly. Or tries to anyway. He's clearly not willing to entertain her efforts.
“I'm glad to see you two are getting along now.” Destiny’s Slave begins with a porcelain smile.
Well. Stelle likes to think of it as a mutual truce. There's still some palpable tension towering over both her and her brother whenever they're together, but the jealousy has matured into healthy rivalry again. Normal.
…as normal as they can get anyway.
He's still hiding something, but then again, so is she. And there's no rule that says they have to share everything with each other, right? That's something only little kids and fools do and Stelle likes to think she isn’t either.
“Yeah,” Stelle replies. “We are.”
“Is this about that time we tried to tie knots in your tail while you were asleep?” Caelus asks. “Because if it is, then as the mature sibling among us it’s my solemn duty to do the right thing. I must always tell the truth, am I right?”
Elio raises an eyebrow. Caelus presses a hand to his chest with dramatic flair.
“It was Stelle’s idea.”
“Oi!” She shouts. She should've known. She really should've known. “You were the one who actually tried do it! Don't you dare go blaming this on me!”
“But it was your idea, wasn't it?”
“That still doesn't mean you get to–”
“If you'll please allow me to continue,” Elio interrupts in a way that makes it very clear that he's going to carry on anyway. “I summoned you here away from the others for a reason.
They both fall silent. He clears his throat.
“It's about the Facility.”
Whatever Stelle thought he was going to say, it certainly wasn't that. It's been a lifetime since she's heard that phrase.
“By Facility you mean…” she says hesitantly.
“The place you came from, yes. The place that, well, made you.”
He says it so nonchantly it stops Stelle right in her tracks. She hasn’t heard that word in…in forever. Beside her Caelus stills, probably remembering a time a thousand years ago when they weren’t Stellaron Hunters, when they weren’t receptacles, when they weren’t Kafka’s children.
Why in the universe is he bringing this up now ?
“I've been drawing up some of your old documents and…”
“Sorry, wait,” Caelus says, holding up a hand. “Pause. Rewind. What the fuck do you mean the Facility? I thought you burned that hellhole down to the ground? We’re heading over to Jepella aren’t we?”
He's desperately trying to replace his confusion and hurt with fury but it isn't fooling anyone.
“We are,” Elio sighs. “I have little knowledge about your home planet and frankly I don’t care much about it. My attention has always been on you two.”
“So then why–”
“In your childhood,” Elio says, his words reverberating around the room. “And I detest bringing this up because no child should ever go through what you two were subjected to. They aren’t pleasant memories I’m aware. But needs must - in your childhood, did anyone else ever escape the containment?”
Stelle swallows and finds her mouth is dry.
She doesn’t remember much of the place she came from, bar the prick of a needle and the press of a cuff. The scent of fear in the air. The feeling of constant violation - nothing ever belonging to her, not even herself. If she tries to chase after a memory it lingers just at the edge of her mind, never quite forming.
(That’s normal Kafka tells her, that’s normal, she was only a child when she was recruited after all.)
But she remembers the day they escaped. She remembers the other kids in the capsules (her brothers and sisters ) and above all she remembers the helplessness that hung like smoke in the air.
Why would anyone ever escape when there was nowhere else they could run to?
“No,” Stelle says firmly. “I would’ve remembered something like that.”
They were the only ones that managed to escape and she's pretty sure they're the only ones that managed to survive to tell the tale.
“I knew it,” Elio mutters under his breath. “I knew it.”
“What?” Caelus says, his voice trembling ever so slightly. “Why’re you asking us that, Elio? You wouldn’t ask us that if there wasn’t a reason.”
Elio runs his hands through his hair and breathes deeply. His eyes which are normally so sharp and sure seem clouded now. Stelle hates it. It makes her skin crawl.
“Caelus,” he says, “what did you learn about the IPC at the Tavern?”
Caelus rubs the back of his neck, then fiddles with the base of his hair. He’s worried about something. Stelle feels like nerves are shooting throughout her skin.
“Something about a Stellaron. That Masked Fool…Sampo. He said something along those lines. That the IPC are using a Stellaron.”
“To do what ?” Stelle asks, but a part of her has already guessed. She desperately hopes she isn’t right.
She remembers the documents in Elio's room. Her documents. Bringing up the Facility after all these years wasn't a coincidence, and neither is this new development with the IPC.
Caelus says it before she can find the words.
“Don’t tell me they’re creating another receptacle,” he hisses. “Another one of us ?”
Elio says nothing, but he doesn’t need to. They both know already.
“Have they done it yet?” Stelle demands. “How long have you known?”
“I’ve had my suspicions,” Elio says, and Stelle can’t help the sick feeling of betrayal that settles like lead into her stomach. “But nothing concrete. Not yet. The fates have told me that the IPC are planning to reveal something at the Summit this system year, something ‘revolutionary’. There is a chance it could be…”
“ This ,” Stelle finishes, panic rising inside her. “The others can deal with Jepella, Elio! We have to do–”
“Do what Stelle?” he says a little harshly. “There's no evidence that the IPC are committing unlawful experiments. We may be Stellaron Hunters but even we cannot invade Pier Point on a whim. You will only get yourself killed.”
The sound of ragged breathing fills the silence, and Stelle can't even pinpoint where it's coming from. Probably all three of them.
“What can we do then?” Caelus asks bitterly.
“Have patience,” Elio says. “I am writing a new Script, a Script unlike anything in the history of this Faction. It will write us all into the stories of legends.”
Stelle doesn't doubt that but still. Giovanni's prediction, Kafka's death, and now this shitshow with the IPC? Can't she ever catch a break?
Not to mention the fact that Caelus is still hiding something from her. It's enough to drive her insane, Stellaron or no Stellaron.
The sound of Silver Wolf's voice snaps them all out of their thoughts. She peeks her head around the door, munching on a carrot.
“Hey! You three had better hurry up - Firefly's already finished half the potato salad.”
“That was you!” a voice cries from the kitchen.
“We have more!” Kafka shouts. “Come quickly before it all gets too cold.”
“Coming!” the twins chorus, though Stelle isn't sure how much she's going to be able to stomach now. She exchanges one last look with Elio and then promptly decides to stuff her problems with good food. They can't do anything about the IPC right now, but they can give the Destruction hell like usual, and they can definitely already follow the Script they've already got.
It'll be enough.
It has to be enough.
She only barely catches Elio's last reassurance before she heads into the other room. It's soft enough that she has to strain to hear it.
“When the Summit comes we will be ready.”
In a quieter whisper, he adds under his breath.
“I hope.”