Chapter Text
Time bled quietly as the three of you pushed deeper into Hydro Dam. More than half the squads had already been erased—victims of greed, impatience, or just too much gunfire too soon. The echoes of their battles lingered in the steel corridors like ghosts.
Caustic paused, his gloved fingers tapping over his wrist display. “The next ring closes into the swamps,” he announced flatly.
You folded your map closed and drew in a deep breath. The air was warm, tinged orange by the fading light. Golden hour draped the arena in soft fire—beams catching against the glass, casting fractured pools of brilliance across the dam. For a fleeting moment, it almost looked peaceful. But night was coming.
Valkyrie strode toward you, tossing a gleaming golden shotgun bolt into your hand. You nodded, murmuring a low thanks.
But she didn’t leave. She lingered, cocking her head as she studied you. Then, with a scoff, she shook her head.
“Why are you so damn sad? You’ve looked like you’re about to cry this whole time.” Kairi’s tone carried more annoyance than concern.
You said nothing. No defense, no denial. Just silence.
Your boots shifted against the concrete as you turned, slipping the bolt into your pack before walking away, shoulders heavy with something unspoken.
Behind you, Valkyrie frowned, glancing sideways at Caustic. For once, her sharp, restless energy dimmed into something uncertain.
Caustic met her eyes, the faint hiss of his mask filling the space between them. He didn’t speak, but his gaze tracked you as you disappeared deeper into the dam’s shadow. He noted, in the precise, clinical way he always did, the tremor in your steps. The way your posture caved as though under invisible weight.
And though his face was hidden, his eyes narrowed behind the glass. It did look, unmistakably, like you were on the verge of tears.
The three of you made your way toward the swamps, the air cooling as the last veins of sunlight bled out over the horizon. The golden glow gave way to a creeping violet dusk, shadows stretching long and heavy across the waterlogged ground. The swamp hummed with low, insectile noise, a constant drone that felt more alive than the silence of the dam.
You moved ahead without waiting, weaving through the moss-choked paths toward the cluster of buildings on the outskirts. Your boots sloshed against shallow water, each step sending ripples across the stagnant pools. The others lagged behind.
Valkyrie leaned closer to Caustic, her voice lowered but not enough to hide the edge in her tone.
“She doesn’t talk much, huh? Always looks like she’s carrying the end of the world on her back.”
Caustic didn’t break stride, his breathing mask hissing faintly. “Trauma leaves its mark,” he said simply. “But silence can be a strength. It breeds calculation.”
Valkyrie snorted, unconvinced. She shifted her rifle against her shoulder, eyes narrowing on your back. “Or it breeds trouble. Hard to trust someone when you can’t tell what’s rattling around in their head.”
You slowed your pace just enough to glance over your shoulder. Their conversation broke instantly. Valkyrie plastered a quick smirk onto her face, too casual, too sudden.
“So, Doc,” she said lightly, almost mocking, “ever regret your little science projects? Or were human lab rats just another day at the office for you?”
Caustic’s lenses flicked toward her. “My work has always been in service of progress. Regret is a waste of energy.” His voice was as cold and measured as ever, but the weight behind it pressed into the swamp air like a toxin of its own.
That made you pause, just slightly, your ear catching her words.
Caustic turned his head toward her, unbothered. “My work was clinical. Necessary. Human test subjects provided clarity no simulation could achieve.”
The words hit you like a blow. Your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t known—not until this moment—that the man who had been stalking the battlefield at your side was one of them. A scientist. An experimenter. Someone who had looked at people and seen data points, not lives.
You didn’t stop walking, but your pace faltered. Your hands clenched around the strap of your pack.
Behind you, Valkyrie arched a brow, smirking as though she’d expected his answer.
“Yeah. Clinical. Sure. Guess that’s one way to say it.”
You picked up speed, boots splashing through the water as if putting distance between you could drown out the echo of his voice.
Inside the nearest building, you busied yourself with clearing cover, shoving aside crates and dragging boards across broken windows. Caustic entered behind you, silent but methodical, setting traps with practiced precision. The faint hiss of gas filled the stale air.
You kept your back to him, though every nerve in your body screamed at his presence. You didn’t look at him—couldn’t—but you felt the weight of what you’d just learned pressing like ice into your spine.
For the first time, your silence wasn’t just a shield. It was survival.
And though you didn’t speak, your glare followed him in every reflection, every flicker of glass. Guarded. Sharp.
Eventually the other squads move into the swamps and all hell breaks loose.
Gunfire cracked through the swamp night, shattering the low drone of insects. Muzzle flashes lit the mangrove shadows, sharp bursts of orange cutting across the violet gloom.
You were crouched by the upstairs window, Volt braced against the sill as you traded bursts with a squad across the waterlogged path. The damp air reeked of rot, cordite, and gas drifting from below where Caustic had layered his traps.
Valkyrie ducked behind a board you’d nailed up earlier, her grin wild despite the chaos. “They’re pinned!” she barked, wings twitching as her boosters whined. “I’m takin’ ‘em myself.”
Your head snapped toward her. “Don’t—”
Caustic’s voice followed, clipped and commanding. “Stay in formation. Recklessness ensures only failure.”
But Valkyrie just winked, already vaulting through the shattered window. “Try and keep up, gramps!” Her jetpack ignited, fire cutting through the darkness as she shot toward the enemy.
You swore under your breath, pushing against the sill as her silhouette blazed through the air. Gunfire tore into her almost instantly. Her laughter twisted into a strangled shout as bullets shredded her shields, her body slamming into the mud with bone-jarring force. A final crack of gunfire ended it—quick, brutal.
Silence followed.
You stood frozen, Volt trembling in your grip. Anger surged hot under your skin—not just at her recklessness, but at the hollow pit her absence left behind.
Caustic’s voice broke it, low and venomous. “Predictable.” He moved with practiced calm, setting another canister at the stairs. But his words carried weight, judgment heavy in the air.
You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The building felt smaller now. Tighter. Every hiss of his mask seemed louder, pressing against your ears until all you could hear was the faint echo of Valkyrie’s last laugh.
Another squad stormed the lower floor, boots pounding against the stairs. Gunfire roared from below—Caustic’s flat bursts, the hiss of his traps erupting. But it wasn’t enough. You heard his grunt, sharp and pained, then the heavy crash of his body hitting the floor.
“Down,” he rasped, his voice crackling over comms.
Three enemies poured up the stairs, weapons raised. You didn’t hesitate.
The Volt bucked hard against your grip, bursts shredding the first in a spray of sparks. You swung, the Peacekeeper hammering into the second with a crack that folded him mid-stride. The last lunged for you, close enough for you to see the panic in his eyes before you shoved your SMG into his chest and held the trigger until he stopped moving.
Bodies collapsed in a heap at your boots. The silence after was deafening.
Breathing hard, you looked down over the railing.
Caustic lay below, blood spilling dark against the boards. His mask hissed weakly, his fingers twitching against the rifle still clutched in his grip. He tilted his head just enough to meet your eyes.
“Well?” His voice was ragged but sharp, cutting through the shallow gasping of his breath. “Do it. You’ve already demonstrated your… miraculous gift. Or does your silence conceal cowardice?”
You didn’t move. Didn’t kneel.
You just stared down at him, the glove on your hand glowing faintly with the power you refused to call on. His words from earlier echoed in your head, the confession of human test subjects spoken with cold certainty. Clinical. Necessary.
To you, he wasn’t a teammate. He wasn’t a man.
He was vermin.
His voice rose, desperate beneath the mask. “You think you are righteous? You think letting me bleed out erases whatever filth clings to your own hands?” His tone fractured, anger sharpening each syllable. “Pathetic. Hypocrite. A fraud hiding behind pitying eyes and silence.”
You turned away.
His voice chased you, sharp as broken glass. “You’ll regret this.”
But you didn’t answer. You didn’t even look back.
Your boots thudded against the stairs as you walked away, the swamp’s drone swallowing the hiss of his failing mask.
For once, your silence wasn’t a shield.
It was a sentence.