the infiltration operation

[tactician]

The research outpost on one of Gladsheim's more distant moons was less a functioning facility than it was a glorified storage closet for all the projects the militaristic government abandoned in favor of stealing from other planets' research sectors. Now that they had acquired the Seventh, which meant that they were privy to a great deal of information from the Sixth, a large portion of Gladsheim's more legitimate research facilities had been shut down, according to what reconnaissance agents the Circle still had out on the field, many of its previous scientists placed under obligatory planetary residence as to avoid leaking anything.

But the research outpost on Gladsheim's distant moon contained one thing that was still highly relevant to modern day prosthetic sciences, even if the government itself didn't realize as much - a field of study regarding the signalling of brainwaves to operate machinery not only attached to the body, but perhaps even in an entirely separate form itself. If brought to fruition, it could limit the need for human casualties and greatly reduce the Circle's disadvantage of lesser numbers. It was something one of its previous researches had been looking into on the down-low.

Speaking of which.

"You're looking a little pale," Evan said, checking himself in the car's side mirror as he combed a hand through his newly dyed hair before donning a pair of red-rimmed, plastic-lens glasses. His eyes slid sideways in his reflection. "You remember where it is, doc?"

Comments

[aphelionix]

Bentley was quiet, eyes still closed. The anti-anxiety medication he had been on was wearing off, and at the worst possible time, when the events began to settle in, hitting him like a sack of rocks.

"I'm sorry," he said with a soft laugh. "I'm truly pathetic."

[tactician]

Evan's brow raised as he withdrew. "Why would you say that?"

[aphelionix]

He shook his head, lowering his gaze to the plastic bag in his hands. "I can't handle any of this."

[tactician]

"We made it out, I wouldn't say you're not 'handling' it," Evan pointed out, leaning back into his chair. Bentley looked a bit like a wreck now, but he had shot off a gun, had helped formulate their escape plan, and had even come out here to enemy territory on his own in the first place. Evan would hardly call that, 'not handling.'

[aphelionix]

Bentley smiled wryly. Evan couldn't hear his pulse beating too fast, or feel the shake of his nerves; he supposed it'd be easy not to understand. He had been terrified.

"I didn't used to be like this," he said quietly.

[tactician]

"What do you mean?"

[aphelionix]

"I wasn't... always jumpy and overwhelmed and anxious," Bentley clarified. "Had I not been dosed with that medication, I probably wouldn't have been able to walk in there."

[tactician]

Bentley was rattled, so that might have explained the spotty explanation, but it didn't mean Evan could make any more sense of it. He frowned, leaning his head back against the seat cushion as the view from the vessel's front window darkened from gray sky to the black of space.

"You took medication prior to coming here?"

[aphelionix]

He nodded. "A simple anti-anxiety med. That's what I mean by not being able to handle this. I would've been useless without it."

[tactician]

"You're here, and we finished the mission. It doesn't matter what you needed to take to get here," Evan responded, easily, flippantly.

Bentley was hardly the first person who took anti-anxiety medicines in the Circle, and would hardly be the first one to take any supplementary drugs for the sake of the mission. Evan had tried a good variety himself, though none worked as well for him as a good piece of sound mind that came with meticulous preparation. There wasn't anything shameful or odd about the usage - the Circle was organized crime. A whole sector of the Sixth focused on the stuff.

[aphelionix]

With a sigh, he leaned back again. His gaze was turned to the window, watching the deep, freckled black space.

"The fact that I had to use anything is distressing. It just... reminds me that I'm not the same person I used to be."

[tactician]

Evan hid a smile behind his hand. "What? You were jumping into all sorts of danger a few years ago?"

[aphelionix]

"I most certainly was not," he said, frowning at Evan. "Not... any danger I didn't have to, at least. But I wasn't a coward, either. Before all that."

[tactician]

"Being anxious doesn't make you a coward," Evan said, still looking ahead, his voice deceptively calm.

[aphelionix]

"Then I'm a coward separately of that."

[tactician]

"You're very insistent on that," Evan remarked, neither refuting nor agreeing. In his experience, people who talked like that were rarely dissuaded.

It seemed as though both Foster siblings were just as stubborn after all.

[aphelionix]

Bentley fell silent, closing his eyes again. He was remembering a lot of things he didn't want to, and overall just felt terrible. Curling into a ball on the floor was about the only thing he wanted to do, and he couldn't even do that.

"I don't suppose you have a sleeping pill or five?"

[tactician]

Evan tapped his fingers against his armrest. "You're the doctor here - I don't suppose you need me to tell you the possible side effects of taking five at once."

He leaned his cheek against his fist and, after a pause, said, "It's your brother setting you on edge, isn't it?"

[aphelionix]

"I just stepped into the last place I want to be, and ran into the last person I want to see ever," he said, almost exasperated if it weren't for the mental exhaustion setting in, hands over his face.

"So, yes."

[tactician]

Well, that was better than having Bentley just sit there feeling sorry and calling himself names.

Evan tread gently, regardless. He had read Bentley's files and had seen enough interaction between the two bothers (however brief) to understand that the relationship was hardly a peaceful one. The exact details of the obvious preexisting tension wasn't written in the report, but he figured it wasn't easy when your only remaining family was a person quite like Commander Joel Foster of the Gladsheim military, especially when Bentley was at such a polar opposite in terms of personality and disposition.

"You gotta think on the bright side sometimes, doc," he said slowly. "It turned pretty hairy back there, and we both still made it out of there in one piece with the mission objective completed. I'd say that's a good job."

[aphelionix]

"Barely," Bentley mumbled, his hands dropping back into his lap. There was truth behind Evan's reasoning, even if he was being stubborn and negative. But Evan was observant - he was sure to notice the defeat on Bentley's face, and the way he had already relaxed without seeming to notice himself.

Although he quickly seemed back to normal when he looked at Evan with concern, remembering something.

"God, I didn't even ask - are you all right? Your face is... well, all bloody..."

[tactician]

Evan blinked at Bentley for a moment and then began to laugh.

"Well, thanks for noticing, doc, haha!"

[aphelionix]

"Is... that funny?"

[tactician]

"You ask about it when I've all but stopped bleeding," Evan pointed out, running his knuckles against the underside of his chin. He could feel where the open wound was beginning to scab over on his jaw and over his lip, but no doubt the mess of the fight was still drying all over his face. "Great doctor you are."

[aphelionix]

He stared a moment longer before giving a huff of amusement.

"Quiet, you," Bentley said, reaching under the seat for the small first aid kit. "I was... preoccupied."