Interrogation: Red
Teleporting back into Cincarion was the riskiest part of the day so far. Blue could have interrogated Red earlier, before he left to talk to Black and Pink, but he knew better. Red would've wanted answers, and if he didn't have all the information ahead of time, she'd be disappointed in him. That thought gnawed at him as he made his way through the corridors.
Red, disappointed in me? Blue caught himself thinking. Where had that come from? He tried to shake off the thought, but it lingered at the back of his mind, a persistent itch he couldn't quite scratch. He didn't know if he believed Black or Pink's version of events—whether any of it was real—but they felt real to him, and Nova hadn't noticed anything overtly wrong either. Still, something about both of them nagged at him, like a subtle, out-of-tune note in a familiar melody.
It wasn't anything blatant, nothing obvious that he could confront directly—just small things that pricked at the edge of his mind. Black hadn't asked a single question about his family or his fiancée after being told that he had been missing for ten years and presumed dead. That was wrong. Painfully, obviously wrong. Blue had expected Black's first words to be about his parents, about the life he'd been building before everything went sideways. But there was nothing. Not even a passing mention. It was as if those pieces of Black's life had been wiped clean, replaced with a cold, calculating focus on the mission.
And then there was Pink. She was still Pink—sharp, playful, dangerous in that way she had always been. But now, she counted in multiples of six or eight, numbers that added up to twenty-four. It was such a small detail, one that most people wouldn't even catch. But Blue remembered how she had always counted in sevens. It was a habit that dated back to Alphabet, where the white coats made their rounds every seven hours like clockwork. It had become part of her—ingrained in the rhythm of her thoughts, her movements, even her sniper calculations.
Now, when she rattled off coordinates or counted down time, the sevens were gone, replaced by a new rhythm that felt foreign. It gnawed at Blue's mind, a nagging sense that he was looking at something out of place—a painting hung slightly askew on a familiar wall.
Nova had picked up on it too, though she'd tried to keep him focused on the bigger picture. They've been gone for ten years, she'd said, her voice cool and logical in his mind. They aren't going to be exactly the same, Joey. Even if the time felt shorter to them, there are going to be... adjustments.
And she was right—disappearing for a decade, only to wake up in a world that had moved on without you, would leave anyone off-kilter. But some part of Blue couldn't let go of the unease. The details stuck with him—the absence of questions from Black, the changed rhythm in Pink's counting.
They seemed small, almost insignificant against the backdrop of everything else, but they were there, whispering to him that something wasn't quite right. And now, as he walked into Red's interrogation room, those whispers followed him like shadows, tugging at the edges of his thoughts. If those small things did matter, if there was something fundamentally different about Black and Pink... what would that mean for Red?
Getting through security was easy enough. Servo and Kilokahn were now three for three, ensuring Blue's entry into Cincarion remained under the radar. As long as General Kassens didn't round the corner, no one would stop him. But something caught him off guard as he passed through the halls: Yellow was visible on one of the security monitors. She was in the lobby, accompanied by a royal escort. No guards, though, which meant the Aquitarians were likely satisfied with her condition. That's a relief, Blue thought, filing it away. He'd get her story later, but now wasn't the time.
He took a deep breath and walked into Red's interrogation room. The tension hit him immediately. It was heavy and palpable, thick like the air before a storm. Red stood in the center of the room, her posture steady, arms crossed, her eyes sharp as they bore into him. She didn't offer a seat. The power dynamic was clear—she intended to control this conversation from start to finish.
"Ten years," Red said flatly, the weight of the words filling the space between them. Her voice was even, but there was a sharp edge to it, a simmering undercurrent that Blue recognized all too well. "I thought the interrogator was lying. Some Elvinurus plot. Maybe a psychic shared dream world." She paused, her eyes scanning him from head to toe, assessing every change, every detail. "But I can't hear Nova, Aegis, or any of the others. So, it must check out."
Her eyes narrowed as they settled on his face, her scrutiny unyielding. "You've been here for ten years. Mostly making a mess of it from the sound of things." A faint smirk tugged at her lips, but her eyes remained cold and focused.
Blue stayed silent, knowing she wasn't looking for a response—at least not yet. She was sizing him up, trying to fit the Blue she remembered into the one standing before her. He could feel her eyes lingering on the small changes—the touches of gray in his hair, the thicker lines around his eyes, the added muscle to his frame. It was like she was scanning him for weaknesses, looking for the slightest cracks in his armor.
"I have to admit, though, you did pretty well in the jungle against the four of us." Her tone was mocking, but there was an undercurrent of genuine appreciation. "Not bad for a drunk who spends most nights in the ditch by The Grid. You gave us quite a run for our money. Imagine my shock when I learned that the 'Rogue Operator' giving my team hell was you."
She tilted her head slightly, watching for his reaction. Blue remained impassive, but he could feel Nova tense at his side, the faint hum of her presence vibrating through his thoughts. Red's smirk widened a fraction, like she had caught a tell.
"And the report..." Red continued, her voice taking on a knowing edge. "It didn't exactly paint you as a by-the-book operator, either. Outmaneuvering us, leading my team into ambushes, all while half your equipment was failing. I almost didn't believe it when I got my hands on the file."
She said it casually, but the implication hung heavy in the air—Red shouldn't have had access to that report, not from inside this facility. The corners of her mouth curved into something almost reminiscent of the old days, but her eyes glinted with a sharper, more dangerous light. She had managed to manipulate someone, or leverage her way into the information, as she always did.
Blue raised an eyebrow, but didn't question it directly. He knew better. Red had always had a knack for bending the rules just enough to get what she needed. If she'd managed to squeeze information out of her interrogators, it wouldn't have been the first time. And she knew he understood that without needing to say it.
"Locking down the planet," she continued, her tone shifting to something almost approving. "Smart move. Not exactly regulation, but effective. Following orders to a T—even better. It kept you just enough in the clear to avoid any serious disciplinary action from the higher-ups, didn't it?"
She took a step closer, her boots clicking sharply against the metal floor. Blue resisted the urge to back away; he knew better than to show any sign of retreat. Red's gaze flicked down to his collar, taking in the lieutenant bars still pinned there.
"Why are you still wearing lieutenant bars, Blue?" she asked, her voice carrying a dangerous curiosity. "How many promotion evals did you fail while I was gone?"
The smirk that followed was pure Red—sharp, teasing, but laced with a deeper meaning. She was always precise with her jabs, and this one cut right at the heart of Blue's situation. The fact that he had remained stuck in rank while she had been missing spoke volumes about the last ten years.
"What's the matter?" she continued, her tone turning colder as she leaned in, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that demanded answers. "Not able to keep in line?"
Blue felt the sting of her words, but he held her gaze, refusing to let her see any sign of the frustration he felt. He knew she was right—his record over the past decade had been rocky at best. A string of incidents, moments where he had barely kept himself in check. But he wasn't about to admit that to her.
Red's scrutiny intensified, her eyes moving over him like she was taking stock of every scar, every change, as if trying to map out the difference between the Blue she knew and the one standing before her. Her gaze lingered on his uniform, the faint creases, and the stubble along his jawline. It wasn't just an observation—it was a subtle, unspoken reprimand.
"You're out of uniform, soldier," she said, her voice a low growl, like she was talking to a subordinate rather than an old comrade.
Red's eyes sharpened, and the edge in her tone deepened as she shifted the focus of the conversation. She leaned back slightly, arms crossing in front of her, but the scrutiny in her gaze never wavered. "So, let's talk about your tactics in the jungle, Blue," she said, her words measured, each one dropping like a stone into the heavy silence between them.
She tilted her head, as if replaying the events in her mind. "You know, seeking higher ground is standard procedure, especially in pursuit situations. Get the elevation, observe the battlefield, divide and isolate the enemy forces. It's what we drilled into every recruit's head back at the Academy. And I know it's what you would've done—if you were thinking straight. But when it came down to it—when you had us chasing you through that jungle—you ignored your own training."
She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing with the kind of intensity that had always made her a natural leader. "Instead, you kept on the move, sticking to ground level, forcing close-quarter engagements. What happened, Blue? Why not use the elevation to your advantage? Or did you forget the basics?" Her tone was sharp, almost accusatory, but beneath it, Blue could hear the genuine curiosity, the desire to understand the deviation in his tactics.
She let the words hang, recalling the chase through the dense foliage, the rapid exchanges, the way he'd maneuvered through the terrain. She remembered how Yellow had set traps in the canopy, aiming to catch him if he went higher, how Black had plowed through the underbrush like a living battering ram, while Pink's shots cut through the jungle air like deadly whispers. Red had positioned herself strategically, knowing he might try to make a break for the treetops, but he never did.
"Your first instinct has always been to use the terrain to your advantage," she continued, her voice taking on a harder edge. "You used to say that higher ground lets you control the flow of a fight, but out there, you ran. You stayed low. You kept diving into blind spots, forcing us to adjust to your pace. Why?"
She paused, studying him closely. "Or maybe it wasn't a choice at all. Maybe something was driving you to stay down in the mud, where we could outmaneuver you." There was a challenge in her words, a demand for an explanation. "Was it Nova? Was she the one guiding you? Or was it something else? Something you're not telling me?"
Blue held her gaze, feeling the weight of her questions. He could still remember how he'd wanted to climb, to find a vantage point that would give him an advantage over her team. But General Kassens' orders had redirected him, forcing him to stay low, to engage on the ground. He took a breath, his mind replaying the moment, but Red's voice cut through his thoughts before he could formulate a response.
"And then there's the way you handled our abilities," she continued, a note of frustration creeping into her voice. "I've read the reports. Watched the footage. You used our own strengths against us—baited Pink into wasting her special rounds, drained Yellow's poisons from your system, turned Black's force against him." She paused, her lips thinning into a tight line. "That was you, wasn't it? Drawing on your own combat profiling to predict our moves?"
Her gaze pinned him, demanding an answer. "How did you do it, Blue? How did you know where we'd be, what we'd do? Was it some trick Nova cooked up, or have you been holding back on us this whole time?"
Blue stayed silent, knowing that whatever answer he gave would never be enough for her. Red wasn't one to accept simple explanations. She wanted every detail, every motivation laid out before her like a tactical map.
But before he could speak, her expression darkened, and her voice took on a harder edge. "And then, of course, there's the matter of that orbital cannon strike." The words came out like a slap, cold and unforgiving. "You called down an orbital strike on your exact location. What the hell were you thinking, Blue?"
Her eyes flashed with something between anger and disbelief. "You could have taken out the entire team—and yourself—in the process. Not to mention the millions in equipment and personnel just beyond the strike zone. Was that the plan all along? Get yourself killed so you wouldn't have to face us directly?"
Blue flinched internally at the accusation, but he kept his expression steady. He remembered that moment vividly—trapped, outmaneuvered, with Red's team closing in fast. He had made the call to direct the strike on his position, hoping to turn the chaos to his advantage, knowing it was a gamble with no guarantee of survival.
Red's voice softened, but it carried a dangerous undertone. "Or were you just that reckless, Blue? Did you really think that was the best way to even the playing field?" She leaned forward, her eyes boring into his. "You and I both know that a real leader doesn't take risks like that—not without a damn good reason."
She let the words linger, heavy with the weight of judgment. Blue could see the fire in her eyes, the frustration that came from watching him break rules she had always held close, even when the odds were against them. To her, this wasn't just about the mission—it was about the trust that had once defined their team, a trust she expected him to still honor.
Red straightened, the harsh lines of her expression softening only slightly, but there was a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. It was a look Blue recognized—one that meant she was about to dismiss something she considered unimportant, or at least, not worth worrying over. "And let's not forget," she continued, her tone almost casual now, "the 84% casualty rate among the forces sent to bring us in. But I know what you're going to say, Blue. You think that was too high, don't you?"
She let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking her head. "Acceptable risk, given the circumstances. You sent them in to subdue four Rangers who'd just woken up after a decade, armed and ready for a fight. What did you expect? A handshake?"
Her eyes met his again, and for a moment, there was a coldness in them that made Blue realize just how deeply Red had compartmentalized the aftermath. "I knew what had to be done, and so did my team. If that means a few marines didn't make it back, that's the price of combat. Casualties happen. They died in the line of duty, and their sacrifice will be remembered."
Blue felt the weight of her judgment settle over him. To her, the deaths of those marines were a tactical consequence—a regrettable but necessary outcome. She wasn't heartless; he knew that. But she had always been able to look at a battlefield with cold logic, to see the losses as part of the equation. To her, the lives lost during their battle were part of the cost of securing the mission.
He opened his mouth to respond, ready to defend his choices, to push back against the cold detachment in her words, but Red's hand shot up, cutting him off sharply. Her eyes locked onto his with a command that brooked no argument. "Sit down, soldier."
The authority in her voice left no room for negotiation, and Blue found himself complying, dropping back into the chair opposite her. It was like a reflex, the years of training and hierarchy kicking in, even after all this time. Red had always had that presence—a weight in her words that could cut through any resistance.
She watched him for a moment, her posture rigid, but there was a subtle shift in her expression, something that hinted at the weight behind her own words. She took a breath, as if gathering her thoughts, then leaned forward, the intensity in her gaze sharpening as she focused on him.
Her eyes scanned him again, but this time there was more than just a tactical assessment behind the scrutiny. She took in the gray at his temples, the lines around his eyes, the added bulk to his shoulders and arms. Her lips pressed into a thin line, as if she were making a mental inventory of every change, every new scar.
"You're different," she said, her voice quieter now, but still carrying that same unyielding edge. "Not just older—though you certainly look it. The muscle, the gray... It's like you've spent ten years preparing for a fight you never got. And yet, somehow, you're still here, still following orders."
There was a touch of something like curiosity in her tone, mingled with a trace of disappointment. She tilted her head slightly, and for a moment, it seemed like she was searching for the Blue she remembered, the one she had fought beside, the one who always had a plan even in the worst of situations.
Then Red's gaze darkened slightly, her eyes sharp with a hint of concern, something only a seasoned leader would pick up on. "Be careful around Pink," she said, her tone hardening. "She'll want a taste."
The comment wasn't just playful banter. There was a heavy implication behind it—Red wasn't talking about flirtation or teasing. She was talking about something far deeper. Pink was dangerous, and Red knew that better than anyone. She could switch from playful to lethal in the blink of an eye, and Red wasn't going to let that slip by unnoticed.
"Don't give her an opening, Blue. She's already restless," Red added, her voice quieter but carrying the same sharpness. "And with the way you look now—well, let's just say she'll take it as an invitation."
Blue held her gaze, the weight of her words settling in. He had seen that glint in Pink's eyes during their conversation, the one that hinted at the thin line she walked between camaraderie and violence. He knew exactly what Red meant, and he couldn't afford to dismiss it.
But Red wasn't finished. Her eyes softened for just a moment, and the look she gave him was almost unreadable—a mixture of exasperation, concern, and something like regret. "You know," she continued, her tone dropping just slightly, "I never thought I'd see you like this. If the team didn't come back—if one of us died—I thought for sure you'd leave Ranger Ops. Go nomad, wander out into the old world, chasing after ruins and relics, like your father used to. Maybe dig up the past, find something worth keeping."
She paused, letting the words hang between them, the weight of her expectations lingering in the air. "But instead, you stayed. Stayed here, in this mess of a world we left behind. What kept you tethered to it, Blue? Was it us? Or did you just get too stubborn to let go?"
There was a rare openness in her voice, as if she were genuinely asking, not just interrogating. She was trying to understand why he had chosen to remain, why he hadn't gone searching for answers in the ruins of the old world, following in the footsteps of his father's work. Blue could hear the unspoken undercurrent—she had expected him to grieve, to break away from the life they had built, but not to cling to the remnants of Ranger Ops like a lifeline.
For a moment, the air between them was thick with unspoken memories, of what they had once been and the lives they might have led if things had turned out differently. Red's expression softened, but just as quickly, she seemed to catch herself, her gaze hardening once more.
She crossed her arms, leaning forward slightly, the steel returning to her voice as she refocused on the mission, on the details that had brought them to this point. Sentiment was slipping away, replaced by the sharp-edged leader he had always known.
"Are you finished, Red?" Nova's voice cut through the silence as her miniature holographic form materialized directly on the interrogation table. The light cast a cool glow across the metal surface, making her digital presence impossible to ignore. She stood with arms folded behind her back, projecting an outward calm that Blue knew masked the simmering tension beneath.
Wrong move, Blue thought instantly, feeling the tension coil tighter around the room.
Red's attention snapped to Nova, her eyes narrowing into a glare that could cut through steel. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as her gaze bore into the holographic figure before her. Red tilted her head slightly, appraising Nova like a general sizing up a soldier who had gone off-script. "And you, Nova..." Red began, her voice carrying a cold, unyielding authority that filled the small space. "Let's talk about your recent... performance."
Nova's form flickered slightly, but she held her ground, her digital eyes meeting Red's with a steady resolve. Yet Blue could sense the tension in the subtle tilt of her head, the way her usually smooth presence seemed more jagged under the pressure of Red's scrutiny.
Red's words sharpened, each one carrying the weight of her judgment. "Sleeping in ditches? Pushing him into extreme training scenarios, far beyond anything remotely authorized? Encouraging him to go rogue as a Ranger without command approval?" She arched an eyebrow, her expression hard and unrelenting. "That's not what our AI are supposed to do, is it, Nova?"
The room seemed to grow colder, Red's words biting with each accusation. "Aegis wouldn't have let things go this far."
Nova's holographic form flickered again, but she maintained her stance, though Blue could see the tension in the sharp set of her jawline. This time, she didn't let the accusation slide. Her digital eyes flared with a spark of defiance, her tone gaining an edge that matched Red's. "Don't you dare compare me to Aegis, Red."
Red's expression darkened, but Nova pressed on, her voice rising with frustration. "For ten years, I've been keeping him alive. I've been doing my job and yours—fighting to keep the alliance stable while you were gone. Managing the simulations, the missions, the fallout from Ceres. Every time he needed a command, a direction—I had to step in because no one else was left to do it."
She stepped closer to the edge of the table, as if she could cross the distance between them despite being made of light. "So if I bent the rules, if I pushed him too hard, then it's because I was trying to hold together a ranger that shattered when you disappeared. You think I wanted this? To become some replacement for you?" Her words came out more clipped than she'd intended, but the bitterness was there, raw and unfiltered.
Red's expression didn't soften; if anything, her eyes narrowed further. But there was a flicker of something behind them—something like recognition. She was still Red, a commander through and through, but for a moment, she seemed to take in the full weight of what Nova had said.
"You think that justifies breaking protocol?" Red asked, her voice low, but the anger had tempered slightly, replaced with something more calculating. "You think that makes up for letting him slip further and further from who he was meant to be?"
Nova's form stilled, but her voice remained steady. "We did what we had to. You have no idea what it was like to grapple with the ghosts of a team that wasn't there. To see him fighting the war. So yes, Red—I bent the rules. But I kept him fighting. I kept him alive. You were gone."
Blue watched the exchange, knowing that neither of them would back down easily. He saw the reflection of their shared struggle in the tension between them—Nova's desperation to hold everything together, Red's relentless demand for order, for control. And in the silence that followed, he could feel the weight of all the years that had passed, the losses, the decisions that had shaped them into the people they were now.
Blue had let Red speak her mind, absorbing each sharp critique and every carefully chosen word. But now, it was time for him to step forward. He squared his shoulders, meeting her gaze. "I didn't come here to talk about my performance over the last ten years, Red. Whatever the brass decides to do, I'll accept the consequences. I know exactly what I've done, and I know exactly where that leaves me."
Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken challenges, until a glint of something almost like approval flickered in Red's eyes. "Extreme accountability with a side of defiance," she remarked, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "That's new for you, Blue. When you were younger, you'd have fought tooth and nail to justify your actions. Now you don't even care what they'll throw at you. You're willing to stand alone."
Her tone was a mix of admiration and satisfaction, like she was seeing something in him that she hadn't expected. But she quickly shifted gears as Blue leaned forward, steering the conversation toward what he needed her to hear.
"Let's talk about your medical reports, Red," he said, grounding the conversation in the hard reality of facts. "While you were unconscious, medical ran a full evaluation on the team."
She raised an eyebrow, curiosity flashing across her features, but she stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.
"Your results? No erroneous DNA markers, no chronitons in your system. Your telomeres... well, they were all aged appropriately. And your hormone levels?" He paused, choosing his words carefully, though there was a tightening in his chest. "Perfect."
He kept his eyes locked on hers, searching for even the smallest flicker of recognition—anything that might acknowledge what should have been a glaring inconsistency. But Red's expression barely shifted. She leaned back in her chair, brow furrowing as if she were merely processing an unexpected detail in a tactical report.
"So... no time travel, no cloning, and I'm not a cyborg?" she asked, irritation creeping into her tone. Red wasn't used to ambiguity—especially when it came to herself.
Her eyes narrowed as she leaned forward again, the tension thickening like a cord tightening between them. "Any magical resonance that matched the Elvinurus?" Her voice was clipped, sharp, as if she could force reality back into place by sheer will.
Nova's holographic form flickered on the table, her tone precise. "None that we found," she replied smoothly, leaving no room for ambiguity.
Red exhaled sharply, frustration bleeding into her posture as she leaned back. Her fingers gripped the armrests, tightening like she needed something solid to ground herself. "So what?" she snapped, a trace of exasperation slipping through her control. "All you've proven is that I am who I say I am."
She crossed her arms, regaining her usual confidence, her voice turning firm again. "Granted, between the morpher and Aegis, that shouldn't even be a question in the first place." A faint smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth, pride threading through her words. "The morpher's particular about who it bonds with, after all."
Blue's gaze stayed steady, but inside, a chill ran through him. He had expected... more. A crack in the facade, a moment of hesitation—something to acknowledge the deeper truth hidden in the medical report. Her lack of reaction was all the confirmation he needed. She wasn't Red. Not the Red he knew. Not the Red who would have immediately recognized what was missing.
This was the proof. He knew it with a certainty that cut deep, like ice settling in his veins. But he kept his face neutral, kept the tension wound tight between them. He couldn't afford to let her see his realization, couldn't give away that he knew.
Why doesn't this bother you? The thought pulsed beneath his composure, but he swallowed it back, forcing the question into the shadows of his mind. He leaned back slightly, mimicking her ease, even as his thoughts raced.
She noticed the shift in his expression, her eyes narrowing, suspicion creeping in. But she didn't press him, didn't push the point further. Instead, she leaned forward, reasserting control of the conversation. "Fine," she said, her tone dismissive, like she was closing the matter. "Then we're done here."
Blue nodded, as if conceding the point, but inside, the unease only deepened. He kept up the ruse, knowing that he couldn't show any sign of his thoughts. Not yet. Whatever had changed, whatever had taken Red and left this version behind, it ran deeper than either of them could acknowledge now.
As the silence stretched between them, he could feel Nova processing beside him, the weight of her calculations pressing in the background. The tension crackled, filling the air between them with an almost electric charge. And yet, for all of the control and certainty she projected, the Red across from him felt like a stranger.