It's a Third Party (and I'll Cry if I Want To)

I woke up inside an automedic, manacled to the bed while the surgical prostheses worked on me. I recognized the muzzy-headedness that was the aftermath of an e-mag stun bolt. The good news was that would go away before long.

The not-so-good news was I had no idea where I was.

Then the automedic whooshed open, and the girl in pink and silver armor was standing before me, holding my pistol. At least she wasn’t pointing it at me; I supposed that was a good sign.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Now is that any way to talk to the girl who just saved your life?” She couldn’t have been much more than 18; her carrot-colored hair hung in a ponytail pulled forward over her left shoulder and her brown eyes twinkled.

“I’m grateful, but the question stands.”

“Well, I’m not Aegis, but I’m not a Marauder either. As I think you already know.”

I nodded. Neither side used hoverships or bikes like the ones she had. “And what do you want with me?”

She smirked. “That’s a long story.”

I shrugged. “Guess I’ve got time.”

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