Kyne lounged on the couch in his apartment in ZBC City, the town that had grown up around the ZBC HQ in the Elemia Desert. He had a catalogue of zoids and part designs on his laptop. Dawnstar's manager was looking for something to give his Team that extra 'oomph' to make their battles all the better. He paused at the latest model of the CP-01 -- some psycho had made it a frelling GASER -- and continued on until he reached the end.
Nothing had really appealed to him. Kyne wasn't the engineer his father was, and really couldn't make his way around the inside of a zoid. He couldn't work the magic Rick could, the magic that took an ordinary Guysack and make it something that took out a DiBison, even without Lament's help.
"Incoming call," the telephone's announcement voice intoned.
"Who is it?" Kyne looked up, despite knowing the phone couldn't see him.
"It is Timothy Fry."
"Patch it through." Kyne sat up, closing his laptop. He would have words with Mr. Fry about the hotshot pilot's having failed to show up for the battle yesterday. "Mister Fry."
"'Ello, Mr. Xaratan. Sorry 'bout not showing up for the battle yesterday."
"You had better be." Kyne spoke sternly, his tone letting the young man know his displeasure.
"Y'see, I had a pretty good reason." Tim's tone switched from apologetic to almost challenging. "Some fellas swiped my Command Wolf. I had to file a report, and that left me stranded in the middle of Zeebeecee City with no way to the battle site."
"You know how to contact us." Kyne settled back on his couch, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb. "So why didn't you call us so we could postpone the match?"
"Guess where my cell phone was."
"Indeed." Kyne smiled thinly. When it rained, it poured . . . "Fortunately, we managed to beat the enemy."
"Yeah, I saw the broadcast." There was a short pause. "Is Craters really . . ."
"You betcha." Kyne's thin smile turned to a wicked grin. "Hank's a born timmeh. The rule for battling alongside him is to stay out from in front of him, and to watch his back while he takes 'em out."
"You mean to tell me he can't distinguish between friend and foe?"
"I mean he tapes down the firing triggers and points his zoid in the enemy's general direction," Kyne replied calmly. "You get used to it, after a while."
"And you guys took the Royal Cup?" Fry was downright incredulous.
Kyne shrugged, despite the fact that Fry couldn't see him. "Not quite. My father, Hank, and a fella by the name of Jon Stryker took the Cup."
"Ah."
"Where are you, anyways?"
Fry waited a moment before replying. "Says here that I'm at the Memorial Plaza."
"That's about six blocks from here." Kyne pulled his coat off the rack. "Hold on, I'll meet you there."

Monument Plaza was a somber reminder of the cost of war. It was a quiet garden with walks throughout, tracing paths around a towering granite monolith. The names of every man on all sides who had served in the recent war were inscribed on the cool grey surface. The men who died in service were in gold letters, the men who survived in silver. The Trillstani names are on the eastern face, the Republican on the western face, the Imperial names on the northern face, and the names of those who died in Midnight City inscribed on the southern face.
Kyne found Tim standing at the monolith, neck craned as he took in the sheer numbers of dead. "Mister Fry."
Tim turned around, sizing up Kyne. This was the third time they'd met in person, and the first they'd met when Kyne hadn't been in his business suit. Kyne seemed almost normal, now. A tall scarecrow of a man with classic Trillstani features -- gaunt, grey eyes and black hair -- wearing a jacket and baseball cap sporting Dawnstar's emblem.
Kyne in turn saw a cocky young kid. Tim was on the tall side, cleanshaven, with dark blue eyes behind wire-framed glasses, fair skin, and auburn hair. He was clearly a non-Trillstani, and most likely of Helic stock. Tim wore a red short-sleaved-shirt and blue jeans.
The shirt had the Knights of Oblivion emblem on it.
Kyne narrowed his eyes. "An Oblivious Knight fan?"
Tim shrugged, smiling faintly. "Just like Mom."
"You do realize that the Kay-oh-Oh are Dawnstar's biggest rivals, right?"
Tim laughed. "Sure thing, Xaratan. But don't worry, 'cause I'm not planning on letting my preferences get in the way of getting paid, eh?"
"Oblivious Knights."
"I'm diehard."
"Clearly."

Kyne looked up from Tim to the monolith. "My father's is the only name not up there."
Tim's eyebrow popped up. "I heard he was quite the hero in the early stages. Presidential Seal and all that."
"Valorious Silver Cross, actually." Kyne smiled thinly. "Gabriel and Arthin won Presidential Seals."
"In my defense, it was almost fifty years ago." Tim shrugged, his gaze following Kyne's. "What's it like, growing up the son of a war hero?"
Kyne looked down to Tim. "People expect a lot out of me."
Tim bobbed his head. "Yeah, I'd suppose so." He thought for a moment. "So, I'm to be piloting a Shield Liger?"

Out a fair distance from the city, the three zoids of Team Dawnstar deployed from the Gustav. Kyne sat in the Gustav's cockpit, connected to the other three through his headset. "Alrighty, folks. I just want to get a feel for how y'all work together."
"Roger that, Kyne." Jenny was the first to reply as her Shield Liger meandered out in front of the Gustav. "What're our exercises?"
"Courses and the like," Kyne replied. "Simply stuff. Kid stuff. I'm looking for you to get a good idea of how the other will act."
"So it's mostly Jenny and I?"
"Ten-four. Hank is going to observe and point out holes, as will I." Kyne called up the holographic display, turning his chair around to face the briefing room. The surrounding terrain was etched out in a holographic topographical map floating a couple of inches above the round table. The three zoids and the Gustav were highlighted in bright blue wireframes. "Alright. Get going, you two."
Jenny's Shield Liger turned around and set off at an easy run, where Tim's hesitated a moment before the pilot reacquanted himself with the controls and caught up.
Kyne slid out the keyboard, entering in commands. Suddenly, two-dimensional blocks of text appeared above the two Ligers, displaying their internal temperatures, external temperatures, strides per second, overland speed, power supply, and sundry other details. "You're running hot, Jenny. Try and decrease your strides per second and pull some more length outta 'em."
"Roger that, Kyne." Jenny adjusted the right control stick by a hair as she eased up the pedals a bit. A few seconds later she glanced at the communications screen, which simply showed the Dawnstar logo. "How's that?"
"You've shaved off a coupla degrees. I'll have Holtz take a peek at your coolant systems when we're done here." Kyne glanced at the other Liger. "Tim, watch your power consumption. It's almost double Jenny's."
"Huh?" Tim's brow furrowed in confusion. "You're nitpicking on that?"
"Ten-four," Kyne snapped. "Hank, what's he doing wrong?"
Craters came back almost immediately with his response. "Talking back to you, sir."
"Beyond that," Kyne sighed.
Craters grinned. "That'd be overcontrolling his balance." His face appeared on the other communications screen of the two Ligers. "Kid, you're not easing up on the controls enough. A Liger, even those mass-produced pieces of crap you're piloting now, has a helluvalot more instincts than a Wolf. And by instincts I mean 'automatic programs that look after the zoid'. The Liger's heavy, but it's not a stable platform. That tail back there really helps out a helluvalot, and your legs really aren't designed to maintain your balance like a canine's are."
Tim paused for a moment. "I'm doing what?"
"You're pushing too much!" Jenny snapped, her face overwriting Kyne's on Tim's control panel. "Only push the control sticks when you're actually doing something, not just when you're running in a straight line."
"Oh . . . kay . . . " Tim shook his head, trying to figure out the point in such a ridiculous and obscure conservation measure.
Then again, these were the people who took the Royal Cup.
Tim mentally noted Jenny and Craters's directive, then looked back at the screen. "Anything else?"
Kyne compared the two Ligers against the operating norms he had memorized. "Jenny, your Liger's running arrythmically."
"I know, Kyne. The gravel out here's rough." Jenny's gaze flickered from the distance to the communications panel and back again. "Should clear out in a tic."
"Ten-four," Kyne nodded. "Alright, it's looking like your Ligers are running fine. Tim, watch your over-controlling." Not only was his Liger burning more energy than Jenny's, it was burning hotter.
"Sorry."
"Don't apologize, just stop doing it." Kyne spun around in the chair as the Ligers drew closer. The Gustav's HUD highlighted them with targeting reticles, tracking their movement and giving relative speed and bearing.
"Hey, Kyne." Hank's voice came over the headset, not the Gustav's console. It was the tight-band communications system they used in combat to get around some jamming.
"Hank?" Kyne put his hand over the console's mic.
"Should I see how well they react?"
Kyne hesitated a moment. "You loaded with blanks?"
"Nope."
"I'll upload the training programs, then." Kyne reached over and tapped in a couple of discs, letting the Gustav's onboard computer spin 'em up and read them. A few seconds later, the Gustav was a server in a very, very realistic training sim.

Tim became aware of the change when his zoid shuddered under the sudden 'impact' of a storm of illusionary bullets. "Shit!"
"Avast ye knave! Defend yerself! Argh!" Craters laughed as he turned the 'guns' on Jenny.
"Dammit!" Jenny flicked the shield on, pulling her Shield Liger around. She knew her shield could take shells much better than her Liger could. She didn't bother wasting time with any sorts of evasive maneuvers. She simply charged in at the Gordos, preparing to skirt around it and pounce on the flank. She came in low and fast, pushing the Liger's top speed, then planted her paw, pivoted, and came around in a tight arc to the left flank.
Craters grinned.
A split second later, Jenny was on her side, stunned. In front of her, the Gordos was withering down Tim's Shield Liger as Tim tried to arc around, getting cover in the foothills. She realized what had happened. Craters had countered her charge with the Gordos's tail spikes. "I'm such an idiot," Jenny moaned as the CSF on her screen faded out.
"In your defense, there really wasn't much you could do beyond distract Hank as your partner charged in," Kyne pointed out. "The Shield Liger has almost no long-ranged capability."
"Compared to the Gordos," Craters corrected as he hammered Tim's Shield Liger with illussionary supercannon bullets. The shield went down, exposing the feline to the Gordos's withering barrage.
Tim felt the controls go from somewhat jerky to almost impossible to control. The Liger was rattling under the impacts. Tim leaned forward, tightening his grip and bringing the Liger into a low, weaving run. Craters’s fire followed the weaving in a continuum of destruction only the zoids and their HUDs could see. But it kept some of the fire off of his Shield Liger.
Tim smiled grimly, then feinted a pounce to tackle the Gordos. The much larger zoid took a step back and froze.
Kyne had frozen the three zoids before they did any real damage. “That was good, you two. Would’ve been real good if you’d come in simultaneously. Maybe even good enough to beat the Storm Riders.”
Jenny snorted derisively as her Liger picked itself up off the ground. “Hero Cloud’s Team? That was harsh, Kyne.”
Tim cackled. “Ah, come on, Kyne. It’s not like we were that bad. I mean, Craters has won the Royal Cup. We didn’t even know we were going to be in a fight, much less ambushed like that.”
“Heh.” The corner of Jenny’s mouth quirked in the barest hint of a smile. “Not that being prepared would have counted for much.”
“Not really,” Craters agreed. As usual, he bounced between goofy and serious. Jenny couldn’t help but wonder whether or not he was a bit off in the head. “Then again, I’ve had a yearling pilot beat me. Real sim’lar circumstances, too. Thing was, he feinted for the leg, when his target was the Control Conduit. The Judgeman just about blew a gasket on that’n, but the Gordos was definitely outta the match.” He paused a moment. “Granted, Stryker an’ ol’ man Xaratan thrashed the poor sucker a couple seconds later.” The Gordos turned around, lumbering into the third trailer.

About a half an hour later, after the zoids were stowed in the trailers, the Gustav drove into the suburbs of ZBC City. Kyne was at the wheel, while Tim sat next to him. Jenny and Hank sat in the chairs next to the holographic projector. Hank had his customary cigar in his mouth, sitting near an air vent so the scrubbers would keep the smoke out of the other three’s noses.
“My hotel’s tha-” Tim started to point down a road, but Kyne interrupted him.
“You ever hear of Dawn’s All-Star?” Kyne casually adjusted the control stick, trimming a bit off the Gustav’s speed as he merged with the light traffic.
Tim shook his head.
“It’sh a bar-an-grill,” Hank explained around the cigar. “Y’shee, there’sh not that much money t’ be made through zhoid battling.”
“That would explain why you guys asked me what my prior job experience was,” Tim muttered. “I’m not working as a bus-boy.”
“Don’t worry,” Kyne chuckled. “I own the place, and part of the profits goes towards funding you guys.”
“We jusht go there after practishing.” Hank continued. “It’sh a tradishin. And they make a killer shandwisch.”
“And Kyne has a thing for the ‘Dawn’ in ‘Dawn’s All-Star’.” Jenny giggled.
“Does not,” Kyne snapped automatically. “She’s just my bleedin’ business partner.”
“He does?” Tim looked over his shoulder at the other two.
“Totally.” Jenny nodded her head.
“Eh.” Hank shrugged his shoulders. “I don’ learn y’all’sh pershonal livesh. I jusht shoot the shtuff ya tell me too.” He paused a moment. “Yeah. I’m shurprished he ain’t porkin’ her regularly.”
“Hank, hand me your lighter.” Kyne glanced over his shoulder, holding his hand out.
Craters dropped it into Kyne’s palm as he took out his cigar and tapped off the ash into the tray on the table. “What for?”
“Tim, in the glove box you’ll find a bundle of paychecks.”
Hank dropped to his knees, letting out a long and mournful “No!” He paused dramatically. “You can’t do that!”
Kyne cackled, tossing the lighter over his shoulder. “Shaddup about me an’ Dawn, then. We’re just friends.”
“Friends who kiss each other goodnight when they’ve had a bit too much to drink,” Jenny said impishly.
“One time,” Kyne corrected. “We kissed once. And I’m going by the evidence of Hank’s security cameras with this one, because I was quite toasted.”
“Security cameras?”
“It’s best not to ask,” Kyne said.
Hank had recovered his chair, and leaned back cockily. “They sheem to like living by the rule of ‘don’t make the crazshee pershon angry’.”
“He’s got security cameras set up at you guys’s places?” Tim looked at Kyne worriedly.
“Oh, no.”
“You were just that drunk?”
“Yeah.”
“Was she?”
Kyne shrugged. “I would hope so.”
Tim laughed.
“Burning paycheck. Just remember that’ne. Burning paycheck.” Kyne cocked an eyebrow at Tim, the corner of his mouth tugging back. “Should we call ahead or just surprise ‘em?”
“Sh’prise,” Hank said.
“Er . . . better call.” Jenny’s fingernails clicked as she drummed her fingers on the table. “Sometimes they have normal folks in there.”
“It only happened onshe!”
“Point.” Kyne nodded his head. “Jenny, you’ve got a phone. Call ‘em.”
“You only assume I do because I’m a teenage girl, don’t you?” Jenny pulled a cell phone from the inside pocket of her vest. “Actually, my Mom made me get one ‘cause she thinks it’s a tad unusual for me to be hanging around three grown men.”
“She’s twenty,” Kyne explained. “Her mother’s just a bit of a . . . well, let’s just be happy that we’re not related too terribly close to the old witch.”
“My mother’s not an old witch.” Jenny held off dialing to level a withering glare on her older cousin’s back.
“Right. But I can’t say what she really is in mixed company.” Kyne grinned as he pulled the Gustav up into a parking complex. “You’re not allergic to walking, Tim.”
“How far?”
“You ever try parking in a city?” Kyne popped open the cockpit hatch beside him. “A’ight, everybody out.”

Several hours later, the sun was setting and the night crowd was starting to come out. The grill was shut down, leaving only the bar open.
Jenny had gone home, and Tim left with her. Hank was outside, smoking his second cigar, leaving Kyne the only member of Dawnstar in the joint. He had an untouched drink in front of him, his gaze resting on the various mementoes on the walls. Particularly the Royal Cup of Eighty-Four in a display case against the back wall.
"You seem unusually moody today," a woman about Kyne's age said. She was a dainty little redhead with blue eyes, wearing jeans and a black polo shirt. She was Dawn Gallastre, Kyne's partner and manager of the All-Star. She was an unusually perceptive woman and an apt judge of character.
"The Cup's taking place in the near future," Kyne answered.
"And you're worried about not winning it?" Despite the fact that the Cup was held on a secret date that changed each year, Dawn didn't question Kyne's knowledge. He had sources high up in the ZBC. He was, after all, the son of Rick Xaratan.
"Something like that. Yeah."
Dawn nodded, sitting down at the bar beside him. "Well, at least you don't have a kid to abandon to that Tournament."
"Speaking of," Kyne gestured towards the television mounted in the corner. It was currently set to a zoid match. Replays of the battle between Dawnstar and Pointy Darkness. "The news mentioned that there were some disappearances in the north. They might be linked to a murder not too long ago."
Dawn nodded, waiting for Kyne to get to the point. She had a sinking feeling.
"One where Giga Gojulas tracks led to and from the site." Kyne glanced at Dawn. "It was not a pleasant death.”
“You don’t think . . .”
“I do.” Kyne watched as the commentators remarked on Hank’s inability to keep allies out of friendly fire. “I’m also trying to decide whether or not we should go up north for a spell.”
“It’s suicide.”
“I know.”
”Then why do it?” Dawn’s eyebrows knit together in concern and confusion. “You know he’ll shoot first, shoot second, shoot the survivors, and somewhere along the line screw the questions.”
“The man practically worshipped my father.” Kyne took his first drink of the beer in front of him. The bottle clinked when he set it back down on the lacquered bartop. “That, and there was a bounty out for the people responsible. We just need to confirm that Stryker’s making these attacks, survive the attack, and keep him busy long enough for the Empire to pick ‘im up.”

Tim had a sinking feeling when he got home from working at the cinema. It was well into the afternoon of the next day, about 1800 hours. The little digital readout on his answering machine blinked, indicating that he had a message waiting.
Tim clicked the machine. Kyne's recorded voice played back.
"Alright, Tim. When you get this message, show up at the All-Star. I've got something planned out."
Tim checked the time. Kyne called ifteen minutes ago. He sighed, then went to change into his KoO tee-shirt and jeans.
It didn't occur to him how profoundly stupid this trick could be.

Kyne looked up from the map spread across one of the tables. He was standing over it, tracing a route along the continent. Tim had just walked in. Kyne's eyes fixed on the tee-shirt. "You pick an interesting form of suicide, my friend."
Hank laughed heartily. He sat with his back to the door, and turned around to size up the younger pilot. "Well, that's only mildly insane. You do realize that they're not taking the Cup this year, right?"
"Shaddup." Tim walked up to the table. "What're y'all doin'?"
"Oh, just a little trip up north." Kyne gestured towards the map. "I figure you guys could stand to learn a terrain other than wasteland."
"So we're going up to the middle of nowhere?" Tim was a little incredulous. "Wouldn't it just be easier to head to Nyx?"
"Not a ba-"
"- Don' even think 'bout it," Hank interrupted. "We ain't goin' to Nyx. Period."
Kyne chuckled. "Nah. We're just going to take a road trip to the northern area, see about getting a battle or two from the ZBC branch there, then head back." He'd already told Hank about Stryker, but wasn't planning on having Tim or Jenny involved. Yet. "After all, the December Stardust Cup's taking place on a glacier this year. You guys could stand to learn cooler climes and tricky terrain."
Tim sighed. "Some of us have day jobs. You realize that, don't you?"
"You have vacation hours."
"You're sick."
"Hank, would you be so kind as to call in for Tim?" Kyne grinned wickedly at the other.
Craters grinned at Tim. "Ya won' have t' worry 'bout missin' work."
"You people are sick." Tim counted up the hours he had saved up. "How long's this gonna take?"
"I figure about a month or two." Kyne shrugged. "No less."
Tim figured it wouldn't be that hard to get a new job. "Where's Jenny?"
"Packing. We, being the cheuvanistic pigs that we are, forced her to purchase groceries for the trip." Kyne picked up a pencil and marked out a string of villages and waystations along the route.
"What?"
"Or she's the only one with enough sense. Pick your poison." Kyne rolled up the map. "Alrighty. Let's get packed, put our affairs in order, and meet back here tomorrow."

Nikos had the strange feeling he was walking into the jaws of Hell, as they say. The overly large man entered Dawn's All-Star.

"Damn Kyne, I know she's your cousin. . . but that's no reason to hate me." Nikos smiled as he saw the other man, noting that most people in the bar-and-grill were staring at him with an incredible hate.

"So, Kyne. . . is Fry really a Knights fan?" Nikos spoke, noting that a replay of Jenny raping him had just come on the screen of one of the All-Star's many televisions.

"Adopted cousin," Kyne said as he walked past carrying a couple of trays. He technically didn't work there, but he figured it didn't count as slave labor if folks got volunteered for it.
Or something like that.
Tim was over at the bar, playing a drinking game with a pair of other fellows. It involved them taking shots whenever Craters shot something. The game was a lot more impressive back when Craters had the WWU and four hiblits on his zoid, but they improvised.
With pints.
"'Ey, Frat Boy!" Kyne set down the plates with practiced ease, setting each one in front of a different member of a family of four. "You an Oblivious Knight fan?"
"Uh . . ." Tim looked over his shoulder at his boss. "Does my paycheck depend on my response?"
"You bet your sweet ass it does." Kyne walked up to the bar.
"Nosir." Tim shot the word out before downing another glass, the one accompanying the final blow to Marcus's Red Horn.
Kyne looked at the glasses in front of Tim and did a quick calculation of the boy's blood alcohol count. "Eh. You're still in the legal limits."

"Well I guess that means you don't get an autograph then. . ." Nikos grinned, hoping to tempt the man. "Anyway, I suppose I'll get a Screwdriver if you don't mind." The large man spoke, taking a seat beside Tim. "So Kyne, what's the deal man? I mean, I get a call to come here. . . if this is about bragging, don't."

Kyne grinned. "Nah. I'm looking for a handful of fellas to help me deal with a loose cannon up north." Somehow, the grin suddenly seemed a facade. "It's a former member of Dawnstar." He spoke in a low tone, so only Nikos could hear. He was counting on the fact that this man was an Arthin.

"Stryker, huh?" Nikos' low tone matched Kyne's. "I mean, nobody else of any note was really a member of Dawnstar, 'cept some guy named Solaris Druidine. . . and he hasn't been seen since before your dad was even on Dawnstar. Yeah, I keep multitudes of tabs on the opposition." Nikos added, noting Kyne's surprise at his knowledge of the Dawnstar.

"Don't worry bro. . . you can trust me. You forget that we go way back." Nikos grinned, reassuring his old friend. "Oh, and I suppose I could take an early vacation this year."

Kyne didn't even know about Solaris. Rick hadn't mentioned him at any point. But there was a lot of stuff Rick hadn't mentioned. "I don't have any solid evidence that it was Jon, but there're plenty of other reasons to want him taken off the street." He did remember that they went way back. That was why he asked them.
In the background, Tim fell out of his stool amidst somewhat tipsy laughter from the other folks around him.

"Like I said, I'm in." Nikos spoke, "so, you think he's the one behind all the disappearances?"

Nikos realized he could lose his job over this, being part of the popo an' all. . . but some things were more important than that.

"That's what we're headed up north to find out." Kyne gestured towards the younger pilot on the floor, laughing his ass off as Dawn started sending vile looks at Kyne. "And if you'll excuse me, Frat Boy needs a whuppin' and a lesson in not playing drinking games involving Craters and shooting."

"Alright. . . I may not be able to come with you, but if you leave me some sort of coordinates for where we'll be staying I can meet you all up there." Nikos spoke before Kyne began dealing with Tim.

"Hey, I never got that Screwdriver. . ." Nikos spoke as Dawn walked passed.

Marc walked into the All-Star wearing a huge grin, he couldn't help but find the humor in this situation. To top it off, he was wearing a navy blue t-shirt with KoO's emblem on the chest.

"I'm willing to bet that if one more of us show up they'll form a lynch mob," Marc smiled as he approached Nikos. He glanced around the bar, noting Kyne dealing with Tim and more than a few angry looks being cast toward Nikos and himself. Thus he decided to wait for Kyne to get done before he inquired about why he was needed here. It didn't occur to Marc that Kyne could've already told Nikos, so he didn't ask.

"If this is just a social call, Kyne sure as hell picked a hostile territory," he thought to himself, running a hand through the blue mess atop his head.

Dawn, paused, turned around, plucked the drink off the tray in her hand and passed it to Nikos without a word. She resumed her business with only a slight rolling of the eyes.
Kyne helped Tim to his feet. "Alright, Frat Boy." He looked over to Dawn, ignoring Tim's drinking buddies. "I'm going to get Hank to take Tim home."
Dawn looked over her shoulder at him. "Make it quick. We're getting busy."
Kyne nodded, half-carrying Tim out the door. Hank stood a bit away from the door, finishing off a cigar. The glowing ember at the end of it stood out sharply against the fading light of a setting sun.
"Ya need somethin'?"
"Frat Boy needs a ride home," Kyne answered. "I left the Zephyr back home."
Hank snorted at mention of Kyne's little pansycar. "He pukes on my seats, I'll kill 'im."
"Don't. Becky would complain." Kyne passed the semi-conscious Tim off to Hank, who held the semi-delerious kid up by the collar. Hank nodded, then flicked his cigar stub into the street as he turned and half-dragged Tim to the parking lot nearby.

As Kyne returned from escorting the "frat boy" to Hank, Marc walked up wearing a small smirk. He thought it'd be best to get the info he needed before Kyne got back to work.

"Mind telling me why i'm here?" Marc asked in a decidedly friendly tone.

"You're asking for trouble with that shirt. . . though I'd say we could take any of the drunks in here." Nikos smiled as Marc took a seat next to his. "I saw that eye roll Dawn. . . " Nikos poked fun as he sipped at the decidedly delicious drink.

Kyne slipped back in, taking a moment to spot the two Oblivious Knights seated at a table. He wound his way through the patronage towards the two, then took a knee on the floor between them.
"Alright, fellas. Listen up." Kyne's tone was low, but they could hear him quite clearly thanks to the close proximity. "There've been a few incidents up north, incidents I don't think anybody here really enjoys happening. Pretty sure Stryker's got somethin' to do with 'em, too."

Jon Stryker. Marc recognized that name, though his knowledge of Dawnstar was not nearly as thorough as Nikos'. His father had met the man once and didn't exactly have anything nice to say about him.

"Alright, so when are we leaving and how long are we gonna be gone?" Marc asked in a low tone as well.

"Soon, and as soon as we figure out whether or not Stryker's had anything to do with it." Kyne rose to his feet. "I expect to leave in a week or so, though. Pointy Darkness rose up to Tier C after beating the Storm Riders, and the Blue Heat Cup's happening sometime soon. You didn't hear it here, but they got me piloting the Blue Stinger this year."

"And who's piloting the Red one?" Nikos asked with some curiosity, still unsure whether he'd be participating or not.

"Well I'm all for the trip, it's been a while since I've gone anywhere with you two."

Kyne grinned. "It's the Institute. Probably some hotshot pilot I'll be recruiting fairly shortly."
"Yeah. I seem to recall a fishing trip when we were kids. Kane fell in."

"As I recall, Rick pushed him." Nikos smiled, remembering the thought of the only man he was ever really scared of dropping into the near-freezing water and complaining about his balls being the size of peanuts for the next hour.

Kyne chuckled, grin fading as the memories of that camping trip came back. "Yep. Kane'd been complaining about how it was so damn hot out. Lament suggested he take a swim, and Rick decided to help Kane make up his mind."
Kyne paused a moment. "Of course, Lament 'helped' Rick into the water a half a minute later."

"Heheh. . . whatever happened to that crazy blue organoid anyway?" Nikos asked, noting that he'd not seen Lament for quite a while.

Kyne was about to answer Nikos, but Dawn interrupted him by grabbing his ear and yanking him to his feet. “Kyne, aren’t you supposed to be working?”
“Dammit, woman!” Kyne rubbed his ear. “Alright, guys. I’ll catch ya later. Work now.”
“Atta boy, Kyne.” Dawn smiled wickedly. “Kyne’ll catch you two later.”

Two days later, Tim was preparing to leave in the wee hours of the morning. Moving quietly, he kissed his infant daughter goodbye and walked towards the door of their two-bedroom apartment. His suitcase with his clean clothes and toiletries was already at the doorstop, ready to go.
“Tim.” Becky’s soft voice breaking the silence almost made Tim jump out of his skin.
Tim turned around. “Sorry for waking you,” he mumbled. He was running late. Xaratan was gonna kill him if he was late.
Becky waved off the apology and the offense with a dismissive gesture. “Don’t go, Tim. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
Tim smiled thinly. “You always have a bad feeling, Becky. I’ll only be gone for a week or so. We’re only going on a publicity stunt, touring up and down the continent and taking local teams.”
“I know,” Becky said. She looked over her shoulder at the crib where their daughter slept peacefully. “Well, I suppose you’d better get going, then.”

The Dawnstar Gustav set off for the north, towing three trailers. It was still in the predawn light, though the sun was rising fast. Kyne and Hank were the only ones awake, Kyne in the driver’s seat and Hank sitting beside him. Jenny was curled up on the cushioned seats on the starboard side, wrapped up snugly in a blanket she’d brought. Tim was on the port side, sprawled out and snoring gently.
“Y’know the last time I saw a sunrise, Kyne?”
“Hm?”
“Eight years ago.” Hank nodded. “Tha’s right. Eight years.”
Kyne chuckled softly. “Am I going to hear the end of this, or shall I simply settle back and enjoy the ranting complaints?”
“Oh, I’ll get bored of it.” Hank leaned back, propping his feet up on the dashboard. “Eventually.”
Kyne checked the GPS display above the windshield. “We should be reaching Mondego in about two hours. Why don’t you catch up on your sleep until then?”
“That’d be my plan, boss-man.” Hank crossed his arms across his chest, settling in and closing his eyes. His breathing drew out, becoming slow and regular.
Kyne’s thoughts turned to the past. Jonathan Stryker had all but hero-worshiped Rick. While Stryker had always been an elitist ass, he’d never really seemed the sort to just wantonly murder people. Not for money, anyways.
Or had he?
Kyne’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel all the tighter. Kyne never really knew any member of Dawnstar before he took over. He only knew Hank because Craters had stayed onboard rather than drift away and disappear like Stryker. Kyne didn’t even know Rick well enough to make the call. He knew better than to go totally vigilante, though. He’d spent the last two days working with the BIA to try and trap Stryker in an ambush. They had worked out the plan, and it was a good one. They’d bait Stryker by looking like a normal Gustav hauling cargo. Kyne figured his pilots could take out a Giga Gojulas by themselves. And if they couldn’t . . . well, it’d probably be best just to figure they could.

Some time later, Dawnstar’s Gustav pulled up into the little farming town of Mondego. The Gustav idled to a stop just outside of town. Kyne geared it down, and the vibrating engines cut out. The silence was deafening to the city-dwellers.
“Well, ain’t this the sticks?” Hank, apparently awake, eyed the little town incredulously. “We’re supposed to find someone worth battling here?”
“Naw. I just thought it’d do us good to see where corn really came from.” Kyne turned around. Jenny blinked back at the both of them, still half-asleep, whereas Tim was stifling a yawn as he stretched. He looked to Hank. “You’d think these kids never woke up early in their lives.”
Hank visibly considered damaging Kyne, but instead drew a cigar out of the breast pocket of his flannel shirt. He snapped the end off and lit it. “Sho, you wanna go shee what thish town’s got?”
“Sure thing. You two show up when you wake up.” Kyne and Hank stepped out of the Gustav, heading towards the sleepy little town.

The three main members of Pointy Darkness walked down one of the main streets of the little farming town. Silberner was yawning constantly as they walked.
"It's too early, Siren. I need sleep."
"You'd sleep until noon if I let you. Anyways, we need food since a certain someone ate all of it after she passed her History test and decided to have a party."
Sil seemed to shrink as Siren angrily said the last sentence. Hughes then decided to break the two sisters up.
"Will you two stop it? We need food. Doesn't matter how it disappeared."
Siren gave Sil a glare and Sil started walking faster.

"Y'think they's shtaring at all the big-city folksh?" Hank snickered at the tractor driving down the main street. He maneuvered the cigar around his mouth, switching it from the left side to the more customary right.
Kyne chuckled. "You do realize that we're only about a hundred and twenty miles from the suburbs of ZBC Central, right?"
"Thish ish as close to the shticks as I get," Hank replied. "Sho, think I'll find me some willin' farmer'sh daughter lookin' t' make it wit' a shtar pilot?"
Kyne snorted. "Maybe, but don't expect me to help you out if a lynch mob comes lookin' for ya."

The three pilots walked down the street, still looking for a store. Sil and Hughes were talking to themselves about who would win between Team Nightblade and the old Dawnstar. This was starting to become a heated debate between the two.
"Nightblade could never beat Dawnstar! Everybody knows that," Hughes said angrily.
Silberner looked annoyed.
"You have no faith in our parent's fighting abilities?!"
Hughes shook his head.
"None whatsoever, especially my mother. Your mother may have been able to talk to Zoids, but I doubt she could actually pilot them correctly. Didn't she blow herself up in one because she couldn't pilot it?"
Silberner tried to hurt him, but Siren held her back. Silberner's green eyes glared at Hughes from behind her sunglasses.
"Don't you ever say that about my mother again! She knew how to pilot a Zoid well and was a better sniper than you'll ever be!"

Hank gestured towards the young woman in the black-and-purple flight suit. "'Ey, remember what I shaid about willing farmer's daughtersh?"
Kyne groaned. "Lynch mobs, Hank. I can see it now. Pitchforks, torches, assault rifles, the works. Led by an old Catholic priest with a funny little moustache. They'd kill us outright, and burn you at the stake."
"Now who'sh makin' shtereotypes about the hicksh?" Hank laughed, almost losing his cigar in the process. Holding it between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand, he continued. "'Sides, it's not like that Gustav o' yours can't break a hundred kilos an hour."
"You're incorrigible."
"Don' know what it means. Damn proud o' it anyways." Hank stuck the cigar back in his teeth, grinning. "What've any o' theshe folksh got that Dawnstar can't beat, anywaysh?"

Siren twitched when she heard the comment. Hughes laughed as he grinned at Silberner.
"Sil, you know I was joking, right? I respect your mother and I wouldn't make fun of her unless I was joking. So stop trying to kill me, okay?"
Silberner just glared at Hughes before adjusting her incredibly large shirt.

"Nobody. This was just a stopover to pick up some breakfast and put an ear to the ground," Kyne replied. "There's no publicity in beating up the local teams, after all. Especially not this close to Central."
Hank nodded. "Sho, if I were to, oh, say, engage in . . ."
"Don't even finish that sentence. I don't want to have any mental images even remotely related to you and not wearing clothing burnt into my brain." Kyne shuddered. "Just plain don't."
"One word." Hank took the cigar out of his mouth, tapping off the ash before he finished speaking. "Speedo."
"Okay. That killed my appetite."
Hank cackled, replacing his cigar. "Ya pansy."
Kyne rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh. I'm gonna go see if Jenny and Tim are up yet."
"'Ave fun," Hank replied. "I'd go with, but I'm too lashy."
Kyne nodded, then turned and walked back towards the Gustav. He blamed lack of sleep on his not realizing that neither of the other two would probably be able to find Kyne and Hank once they did rouse themselves from the Gustav.
Tim seemed to have reached the same conclusion. He sat on the edge of the Gustav's head, just to the side of the open cockpit. Jenny was nowhere in sight.

"Hey, fucker! Answer the damn comm!" Nikos yelled for about the fourth time through Mario's communication system into the Dawnstar Gustav's.

Jenny slid into the passenger chair and picked the mic up. "Who the Hell is this?"
Tim looked over his shoulder at her. "Oh, you're up."
"Am I the only one capable of receiving incoming calls?" Jenny rolled her eyes at him.

"I'll give you a hint. You raped me in a Liger." Nikos groaned remembering the match. "Anyway, is Kyne around?"

Jenny rolled her eyes, then tossed the mic to Kyne. "It's for you."
"Zah?" Kyne dove to catch the thing before it dinged against the Gustav's hull. Quickly recovering his feet, he looked askance again.
Jenny shrugged. "Some guy. Think he thinks you're my lawyer or somethin'. Something about my sexually assaulting him." She finger-combed her hair out of her eyes. Without it in the customary ribbons, Jenny's long hair had a bad habit of falling in front of her eyes.
Kyne ignored Tim's stifled laughter as he raised the mic and flipped it to 'send.' "This is Xaratan. We're just southeast of Mondego. Who're you? Over."

"It's Nikos. . . exactly how many people has Jenny raped with her Liger?" The large man spoke thumbing the 'send' button on the comm again. "Why don't you just have a phone, man? It makes it a lot easier to get ahold of you. . . and it would make it more possible to speak in private."