Fortnite: Project Mecha

Chapter 11: Calm Before the Storm

Drift was tired.
He was staying up later than he should've been considering the fight that would soon be happening... but his mind had something else to say. Something to say to Raz and Lynx. It was only a little note he wanted to write to them about a little idea, but he wanted it to be a secret from the Imagined and the Origin.
Because he wasn't just tired but also tired of the little arguement between the Imagined and the Origin. Drift missed his girlfriend, and he could tell that Mothy missed his boyfriend. He was talking less. Not very Mothy-like, in Drift's opinion. The note was an offer of a truce where the four would attempt to convince the Seven enemies to change their minds.
"I'm tired of this argument." Drift whispered the words he was writing to himself, before stopping writing.
He looked at the Imagined and Mothy, asleep on the floor of the tent. They were resting beside Condo Canyon while the Origin, Lynx and Raz made their way over. According to messages to the Imagined from the Scientist, the trio's heart rates were elevated. They were running... were they panicking? That'd be painful to explain. Would the Imagined get accused of exaggerated when Drift knew she hadn't when she'd called the Origin.
Drift looked at his piece. Written on paper but written in Klomberry juice and a crow feather used as a quill. Drift had gotten a field journal from the Foundation for Christmas for his use on his journey to IO headquarters. It had turned out that the Foundation was teasing the event before Drift had known. He also had a pen, but he'd lost it when he'd packed the gift last minute to take but had forgotten to even use it.
Drift looked at his meagre paragraph. His final piece read:

I'm tired of this argument. Can you two join us to try and stop things getting worse? I'll get Mothy on board, I promise. Also Lynx, I love you xx

It was short and sweet, just like what he planned to try to do to try and convince Mothy. Luckily, he was a very easy person to convince. Not in a manipulative way of course. There were too many bad things going on on the island and mainpulation was not something that Drift was willing to add to the equation.
"Don't you have a pen for that?"
Speak of the devil, there was Mothy now. He wasn't wearing a helmet and was rubbing his eye with his black gloves hand.
Drift admitted, "I used to. Must've lost it."
"Was it blue with red lines on it like the Foundation's armour?" Mothy asked indifferently, slowly reading the message in his sleepy mind.
"Yes, exactly like that!" Drift glanced at him suspiciously.
Mothy put on his helmet, "Haven't seen it."
Mothy layed back in the tent and made a quiet grunting noise as he did so. Drift set down the notebook and looked at his friend as he tiwddled his thumbs and studied the tent's ceiling. He rolled over slightly to face Drift, being careful not to bother the Imagined as she lay.
"When was the last time it was just us?" Mothy laughed quietly.
"I don't know." Drift shook his head.
"I didn't expect you to. But I do." Mothy replied. Drift felt a pang of guilt as Mothy continued, "We were in a tent just like this. Raz and Lynx were out hunting for food. I had just been shot, by you. You'd just woken up because you fainted after Raz had tried to kill you."
"I remember that bit." Drift winced.
"You always seemed so guilty, but it was just a misunderstanding." Mothy shook his head.
"Sometimes I still feel bad."
"Don't." Mothy commanded. It was the most serious Drift had ever seen him, "I think I was eating Klomberries. I didn't know that that was what they were at the time, and I was in pain. I was allergic to them, it turned out. Are you allergic to anything?"
"No." Drift admitted.
"Ah. Well, yeah. The Scientist said that I was allergic to them after I had a similar reaction the other day. So I can't write using that pen..." Mothy trailed off, "So write for me that I'm convinced."
"Of course." Drift got straight to it.
Mothy looked back upwards. The Imagined shuffled slightly and stretched awake just as Drift finished writing and slipped into his pocket. She sat up and flattened down some of her ruffled hairs. She tied them back in their bangs and sighed.
"I think that we have a big day ahead of us." the Imagined grinned, "It's good to see that you agree!"
Drift looked at Mothy as the moth man gave him a lazy things up. Drift gulped as he began to prepare to pack the tent away.

***

Plague finally made it to the Jonses. Since he'd spent most of his time on this island underground in an IO prison, he had no idea which way he was going. It had taken him all night to find the Jonses, something he absolutely would not be telling the Scientist anytime ever.
The Jonses was indeed filled to the brim with loops of ex IO agent Jones. Plague had no real idea who Jones was and didn't know when or if he was ever going to meet him, but he did know that he was within the ranks of the Seven. Maybe they'd meet eventually?
Plague's masked eyes were drawn to an adorable little pond and the tent beside it. Plague figured on the way over that it'd be a good idea to interview people. Plague shuffled in that direction, stepping around palm trees and avoiding stray vines.
"I have to start somewhere." he mumbled.
A man was stood outside the tent, doing push ups in a full suit of high tech armour despite the heat that was attacking the island in waves like a tsunami, battering the islanders until they would all inevitably melt. Plague was yet to have a day to himself to buy a tank top or shorts, so in the full plague doctor attire he remained.
"Hello?" Plague waved as the man leapt up. He was at least seven feet tall. Plague gulped.
"What is it?" the man boomed, his body like a brick wall and his voice laced with stormclouds.
Plague suddenly felt very small, "So, I'm friends with a scientist. He takes readings, many readings, some of which I don't understand but one of them says that there's been certain... goings on? Let's go with that. It's happening around here."
"Are you accusing me of something?" the man stepped closer, the man's puffed chest thrusted at Plague.
The amount of sweat on Plague's body from the heat increased in less than a second, "I- no! No! No! I just- um-"
"I'm only messing with you, civilian. But no, I've not seen anything." the man shook his head.
"Oh, um, yeah. Haha." Plague quivered.
"Sorry." the man apologized, "Most people call me Master Chief. Some people call me John, though."
"Like who?" Plague slumped ever so slightly.
"A girl I met. She was a great friend, but she also valued her privacy so I won't go into specifics." Master Chief/John explained. Plague could've sworn that his head jolted towards the tent a few millimetres.
"Did she stay with you? In the tent?" Plague commented, gaining an itching feeling that something was up.
Master Chief defended himself automatically, "She did. Once."
"You talk awfully fast for someone who seemingly knows nothing." Plague jabbed his finger into the Chief's puffed out chest as it seemed to deflate like a bouncy castle with a hole in it.
"You seem smarter than I thought you were." Master Chief's voice became cold again. This time, he would not be joking, "But then you do work with a scientist, so I don't know what else I expected."
Plague looked at the floor. He'd bitten off more than he could chew, he knew it, and now he needed to escape quickly and quietly without disturbing the man's neighbours. He'd already caused enough trouble; now he just had to make sure that he didn't end up like the crow to the raccoon. Which, if you didn't know, was eaten alive.
Maybe if he could get him talking... "I knew a girl once too. She was independent but she also appreciated the friendships she had. She's an excellent driver and she kept my brother company when he was lonely. I could really use her help right now."
"She seems like the girl I knew." Master Chief started to walk towards him, pushing Plague back.
Plague had a sudden revelation, "Unless we're talking about the same girl." Plague squirmed around the giant of a man and towards the tent, "Skye, are you in there?"
There was an awkward moment of silence where Plague looked, frightened, at an increasingly frustrated Master Chief.
And then, "Um, yeah."
Skye emerged from the tent, looking embarrassed. Guilty might've been a bit of a stretch, but she clearly did seem to care about what was going on. Master Chief appeared to deflate a little, his shoulders relaxing and his breathing steadying.
"Hey." she squirmed uncomfortably and looked at the floor.
Guilty didn't seem so much of a stretch now.

To be continued...