MM - Chapter 205 - YOU WERE MISSED

Raine’s robotaxi silently glided toward the curb before Belehorn Tower. The structure’s simplistic soliglass finish was transformed into an imposing edifice by Astra’s logo blazing across its front. The building was grand in Raine’s eyes; a physical manifestation of the empire he was only beginning to build.

He saw her before the vehicle came to a complete stop. Mel was a splash of softness against downtown Carter’s harsh, corporate facade. She wore a grey suit jacket draped over a tan blouse, her newfound professionalism undoubtedly influenced by Celeste. Still, the getup failed to contain her inherent warmth. 

The necklace and earrings he’d bought her caught the afternoon light, reflecting a splash of aquamarine across pale, perfectly smooth skin. ReGen had chiseled her features into a sharper, defined beauty. The changes were beyond surface-deep; taking the elixir at such a young age had at least doubled her life expectancy. 

A sudden gust of wind toyed with her messy hair, and she tightly clutched a handwoven picnic basket at her waist. She turned as if sensing Raine's approach. Her gaze locked onto the arriving car. She was breathtaking.

Raine hurriedly tucked away his half-eaten nutrient bar as the car parked itself. He exited slowly, putting on a show for any watching eyes.

Mel rushed to his side, her earlier composure dissolving into a flurry of concern, the picnic basket momentarily forgotten. Her smile was a valiant attempt to mask the worry etched around her eyes and lips. "Let me help with that!" Her voice was a touch too bright as she grabbed at the medical hoverchair unfolding itself from the trunk.

Something snapped, and Mel squeaked, jumping back. Raine chuckled, leaning out to look around the car at the piece of metal she hastily shoved inside the basket.

Not used to her strength yet? Hilarious that even Genesis wasn’t enough to cure her troublesome nature.

Mel’s smile became even more forced as Raine’s thoughts tumbled into her head.

[Mother trucker, Melbelle! Keep it together! Be cool, be calm. Breathe. You got this. Your man needs your help. Not the time to turn into a dangleberry clutz!]

Mel’s gaze roamed over Raine’s casts and expression, a desperate search for any way she could make up for her faux pas and offer comfort to his injuries.

Raine had little patience for her fretting. Tricking his enemies was one thing; letting Mel eat herself up thinking he was still injured was another. He endured her mothering glances just long enough to position himself in the hoverchair. His good hand shot out, fingers tangling in the fine hair at the nape of her neck. She stiffened in shock, but was utterly at his mercy as he pulled her in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was long, hard, and unapologetically possessive. 

Her surprise melted into a boneless sigh as her entire body went pliant. Her toes curled inside her shoes, and by the time Raine released her, she was a dazed, loopy mess. "Wow," she breathed, voice husky. "You really are doing better after a little rest, aren’t you?"

Without breaking eye contact, Raine's hand snaked into her picnic basket, snatching half a roast beef hoagie. He took a sizable bite, chewing with gusto. "Yup," he half-mumbled, half-whispered around the soft, flavorful roll. "Honestly, I've never been better, but don't tell anyone. It's a secret." He shot her a conspiratorial wink, then scanned the bustling entrance of the tower. "Where's Celeste? We don't have a lot of time."

Mel sighed deeply, voice listless and expression still reeking of hopeless infatuation that had Raine's heart hammering. "Upstairs, finishing a meeting. You never did tell us where we’re going…"

His only response to her question was a secretive smile that had her pouting cutely. Mel stuck close to Raine’s side as he guided the hoverchair toward the grand entrance.

The lobby was a hive of activity, far more crowded than anticipated given the recent exodus of members. He barely cleared the threshold before being recognized. The low murmur swelled into a wave of enthusiastic greetings as people swarmed, eager to offer their personal congratulations on his victory over Jedidiah and to express their hopes for a speedy recovery. Raine navigated the impromptu receiving line with practiced ease, offering polite nods, fist bumps, and even a few charming smiles for those who requested volfies (volumetric 3D selfies).

One of the building's sleek service drones came to Raine’s rescue. "This way, if you would, Master," Morty's synthesized voice announced with authority. The crowd parted as if stung. Many had learned the hard way that outside of ZionLine, Morty was king. With regretful waves, the well-wishers dispersed.

The drone led them to the very elevator bank they’d once fought off CronGate’s assassins. The chrome doors slid shut, and Mel’s eyes settled back on Raine. While adorable, her sidelong glance still contained a mixture of residual concern. "I missed you." The words were simple, the emotion behind them anything but.

Raine stuffed the last bite of hoagie into his face. With puffed cheeks, he leveled a stare at her packed with affection. “Damn, that was delicious. It's good to be back.” His hand found hers and enveloped it in a firm, reassuring grip. The touch combined with his intense expression was enough to make Mel turn away and fold in on herself, blushing from head to toe. The journey upward was over before either was ready for it to end.

The elevator doors opened onto the 22nd floor, revealing a network of interconnected offices transformed into a bustling command center. Celeste and the rest of the core members, minus Fizgore and Rhino, were in the central glassed-off suite. The redhead was a whirlwind of frantic energy, pacing like a caged animal as she orchestrated a new defensive formation for the recruits' next foray into ZionLine.

Her clothes were rumpled, and her hair was a mess from fingers run through its length too many times. The dark circles under her eyes screamed of exhaustion. Yet, there was nothing defeated in her stride. She was fierceness personified. When her eyes landed on Raine, they flew wide, her entire body freezing for a fraction of a second before she spun back to the team, rushing to conclude the meeting.

Raine entered, Mel in tow, and waited patiently. He made no attempt to interrupt Celeste’s flow or countermand her orders, even though he identified several potential flaws in her strategy. Before wrapping up, she turned her full attention to him. “Is there anything you wanted to add?” Her tone held a mixture of dread and genuine inquiry.

Raine shook his head. “Nope, you're doing great.” He meant it, too, and everyone present could tell.

Celeste’s frustrated, yet relieved sigh was squeezed through tightened lips. She adjourned the meeting with a light clap. Richtor wasted no time, shooting from his chair and racing across the room. 

Raine’s only sibling wore his jitters on his sleeve. “It's really you! I couldn't believe it, even after seeing the duel. How did you do it?” Delora, Kevin, Milson—Milkdud, and Jared—TwistedReligion, unanimously goggled at Raine, scanning him up and down, unable to process the physical changes he’d undergone in so short a time.

Instead of a direct answer, Raine offered a coy smile. “Glad you all made it to Carter. Any issues settling in?” He already knew the answer. Morty, in his infinite efficiency, had ensured that his childhood friends and little brother were well provided for.

"Who cares about that!" Kevin pleaded, rocking forward on his toes. “C'mon, give us something!”

“Sure.” Raine’s expression widened to a full-blown grin. “If you can beat me in a fight, I'll tell you everything. To make it fair, you can all come at me together.” The challenge effectively silenced them. Their eyes flickered to his casts. Not one of the group harbored the delusion that they could take him.

“You suck,” Richtor crowed, though the insult was softened by his wide grin, familiar yet not.

Raine’s gaze affectionately lingered on his brother; Richtor looked good. He was fit, eyes sharp and alert, the same as they’d always been. 

Having family at his side filled Raine with warmth that he would never relinquish now that he had it. "And you're still a wuss," he retorted, the familiar banter a balm amidst the storm their lives had become. They chuckled, then Richtor threw awkwardness to the wind, embracing Raine in a heartfelt side-hug. “You look… happy. It's a good look on you, little bro.”

“Aww, thanks. I am. It's been a crazy month, week? How long has it been? ZL time’s got me all messed up.”

“You can say that again. Hey,” Raine’s tone turned serious, “I’ve got an important job for you. Take the rest of your team, too.”

“Job?” Delora moved to stand beside Richtor, holding his hand with a hint of concern.

“Yeah. I’ll flick you the details. Need you to head out of town for a bit.”

“What?! But we just got here.” Jared whined.

“Trust me. You’re going to be glad you missed what's coming.” With those cryptic words hanging in the air, Raine shut down the conversation.

He turned to BarelyAlive—the ex-martial a silent observer in the background. He had accepted Raine's offer of an upgraded wheelchair. While the model lacked hover capabilities and life-support functions, it was far more suited for travel, capable of reaching speeds of up to 40 kph. The sparkling wheels suited the burly man’s new look. He sat ramrod straight, clean-shaven, hair neatly combed, and biceps bulging through his immaculate suit and tie; he looked every inch a proud man not yet given up on his dreams.

They shared a respectful nod.

Celeste, having finished pushing the conference room chairs back into place, finally approached. The others instinctively moved aside. The subconscious deference did not go unnoticed. She was pushing herself to the brink, harder than anyone else. It was clear that in doing so, she had earned their loyalty. Raine’s chest grew tight with pride. Faster than he could have possibly imagined, the Crimson Nebula was turning into a woman that any man would want by his side.

No matter the mistakes she might have made over the last few days, she nailed the most critical aspect of leadership. Bravo, Crimson, didn’t know you had it in you.

[W-what?! Why is he complimenting me now! At least wait until we’re alone!]

Celeste spoke quickly to cover her embarrassment, voice tight with restrained emotion. "I thought you were going to be here hours ago." When she didn’t immediately erupt in a fiery burst of anger, a collective, silent wave of surprise rippled through the room. All attention swiveled to her, and she rolled her eyes.

Raine’s playful demeanor was replaced by sober seriousness. "Something important came up. Tell me what I missed on the way." Raine crooked a finger at Morty’s drone, "You’re coming, too."

"Mkay," Celeste nodded, meekly accepting his command as her hands automatically moved to straighten her collar and vest. She hustled past Raine, leading the way back to the elevator.

After a quick round of goodbyes, Mel and Raine followed, the trio piling into the elevator. It was a snug fit, but not uncomfortably so. The moment the doors slid shut, sealing them in privacy, Raine began his critique. His voice was gentle, carrying the tone of one accustomed to mentoring. "You're struggling with the beast rushes because you're missing the first and most important aspect of any defensive line: the ditch."

Celeste’s brow furrowed. She remained silent, listening attentively.

"Even if it can't contain them, it breaks the flow of a charge and creates angles of approach that you decide in advance. The disruption also gives our forces time to account for unexpected variables. It creates easy targets out of those forced to jump, and especially those who stumble. Most importantly, seeing your enemies falter and trip is a powerful morale boost, only matched by the enemies seeing their friends fall and die in a hole."

"A ditch can do all that?" Mel questioned, curiosity piqued. "With attributes, can't they just jump over it?"

"Sure, if you let them," Raine countered smoothly. "Widening the ditch and adding a few rows of spikes at the far side fixes that right up. Coordinated ranged attacks break the focus of jumpers as well. You'd be amazed at how trivial stopping a charge becomes with a sufficient ditch."

Celeste didn't respond immediately. She couldn't. Her jaw was slightly agape. The simple, almost primitive concept overtook her imagination. Even at a cursory examination, she could spot a dozen ways to enhance her defensive formations.

Just before the elevator doors slid open, Celeste straightened and adopted a sharp-edged focus. She strode with purpose across the expansive lobby. The crowd had grown in the few short minutes they had been upstairs, and fresh faces gazed at Raine, hoping for a word. No matter their eagerness, they gave Celeste and Mel a wide berth, a silent acknowledgment of the two women who had fought at the forefront of numerous battles, standing between them and another gruesome death.

Celeste’s sleek orange sports car met them at the curb. The trio piled in slowly thanks to Mel’s insistence on waiting until Raine was comfortably situated before entering herself. Having followed them out, Morty’s drone took the front passenger seat. Once settled, both women fixed Raine with intensely curious stares. He let the silence hang before gratifying Mel’s previously unanswered question. “We’re going to Soulgen HQ. They’ve moved the board meeting forward.”

Celeste’s lips twisted into a sneer of contempt. Her arms folded tightly across her chest. “Of all the idiotic, rock-brained - are you going to kill them?”

Behind her, Mel choked on the sip of water she’d just taken. Liquid sprayed across the expensive upholstery of Celeste’s headrest. “Why would he kill them?!” She spun to face Raine, horrified. “You’re not going to kill them, are you?”

While Celeste dabbed in annoyance at her now damp hair, Raine offered a noncommittal shrug. “Depends on them. Taking advantage of an opponent's injury is common sense, so I won’t go too far unless they force my hand.”

The vehicle accelerated smoothly into the flow of traffic, and city lights blurred past. Too exhausted to care about a little water, Celeste slumped into the plush seat, shedding the heavy mantle of leadership for a few precious minutes. “Just make an example out of one or two of them. The rest will fall into line.” While her words were innocent enough, the underlying tone was chillingly clear.

Raine shook his head, expression hardening. “This isn’t ZL. Outside, killing is the absolute last resort. Don’t become complacent and take the easy path just because you’re tired.”

Celeste looked back, hurt in her eyes. “I didn’t…” Her rebuttal withered as she met his cold, unwavering gaze.

Had she not accumulated a staggering body count in the past, and not so casually suggested murder, Raine might have let it slide. “Killing anyone who causes us trouble is not how Astra Infernum will build its legacy. Minds can be swayed, situations reversed, and weaknesses exploited. But death is final. Once you cross that line, there’s no return. Worse, each death invariably spirals into cycles of hatred and retribution that can consume thousands more lives before the echoes fade, if they ever do.”

Celeste nodded solemnly, accepting his chastisement. She’d overheard enough thoughts about the Crimson Nebula from Raine’s past to know she didn’t want to go down that route, either. “You’re right,” she admitted quietly. “I spoke without thinking.”

“Good.” Raine’s features softened. “Now, let’s go over how we’re going to turn whatever schemes they’ve come up with against them.”