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The first few steps were sloppy. Running over the sandy terrain proved to be more difficult than Beck had anticipated. Dazed by the flashbang, the two bandits were unable to retaliate. They needed to be dealt with before the other two could make it around the gryphoness' massive form.

His T4 hungered for life. The stiff blade found cloth, then ceramic body armor. Not straight enough to puncture the solid material, the strike slid harmlessly off to the side.

Footsteps. Clock's ticking.

He pushed the man down to the sand. Shifting the blade, he aimed for the neck this time. Beck pulled the blood-coated weapon up after the downward stroke. Three left.

Disoriented, the next bandit's arms flailed around wildly.

"Behind you!" Jason barked into his microphone.

Beck's hand was quick to reach for the hanging ballistic shield. His thumb compressed an orange button as he whipped around. The third bandit had rounded the downed beast and was aiming his submachine gun.

Sand whipped up from the ground. A translucent, pale blue field appeared in front of him, the edges receding back into the source in his hands. The incoming hail of bullets flew randomly, intercepted by the shield. A stray shot veered off the face of the barrier and into a motionless talon. Blood flew out from the impact.

Panicking, the bandit reached for another magazine. Beck turned back to the stunned enemy behind him. The T9 sat by his leg. His deft fingers ripped it from the sandy earth before he required his target.

Two shots ricocheted off ceramic plating. A third struck the man's scarlet mask, a loud ping drowned by the howling wind. The fourth tore through the weakened body armor. The magazine and unloaded weapon hit the red sand shortly before the body.

Beck hugged his objective's side, the soft fur touching his tattered cloak. "Where's the last one?" he said into his mic.

"Don't see him."

He aimed the pistol with his right hand, the other holding the ballistic shield. His movement slowed as he pushed towards the gryphoness' right hind paw. Finger on the shield's activation key, he aimed around the furry corner.

Nothing but the shifting sands.

"He must've bolted," he whispered.

The results of his incorrect assumption annihilated is right shoulder. Shards of bone fiber shot out, joining the spray of blood in the explosion. Beck staggered, deafened by the blow. His finger only now activated the shield.

The eagle-lion stirred. She groaned, then opened her eyes and began moving from her resting position.

He had never really thought that anything like this could happen. The boy looked to his opponent through the defensive barrier, his blood covered wrappings whipping left and right as the sand navigated the shield's curved structure. Feathers dominated his field of vision as the creature awoke and spread her wings, and while he has glad they blocked the beating sun, he was also afraid of what their presence might mean for his wellbeing. Her behavior indicated that anything but kindness was to follow.

Despite this, saving the gryphoness was really all he had wanted to do. Just like he had prevented the death or injury of many other distressed individuals in the weeks prior, he had used what little skill he had to save her. But after this error, there was little he could do but let her help him.

The fourth mercenary had outmaneuvered him. Using the dunes as cover, the man had altered his position while Beck had busied himself with the rest of the crew. Assault rifle primed for the shot, he had waited until the commandeered ballistic shield was lowered, and it was then that Beck learned of the stinging pain of eating high-velocity metal.

Due to the winds, the shot was not as true as was required to end him. Skin tore and the muscle underneath erupted into a shocking surge of agony. Bone was displaced from the force of the bullet's impact. Beck's crumpled frame met the sand as had the bandit's allies moments before.

Gathering her bearings in the face of the harsh sounds of combat was not a quick process. It did not matter, however, as the gryphoness' groggy movements were enough to push the armored gunman into a state of paralyzing fear. She shook the sleep from her mind and rose to her full posture. Looking down to meet his gaze, she tilted her brown-feathered face to the side. He promptly dropped his rifle.

Shifting her head to inspect the rest of the situation awarded her with a perfect view of three downed bandits and one particularly annoying and familiar looking wanderer, who's shoulder was bleeding profusely.

She returned to the man shaking in his red mask as things began to click.

"That's no way to treat one of my kind, you insect," she said. Sand entered her open beak and she coughed twice. "But one does not receive two chances at a first impression."

She raised a goldenrod talon and held it a few feet above the bandit's head. She could see part of him try to turn and run, but another few parts and then some held him where he stood. The fear was too strong for him to take any action in a timely manner.

The sharp claws bolted from their hanging position with surprising speed and rent the man in two about the waist, his ceramic body armor failing to protect him in any capacity. Focus moving between the now two halves of her target, she sat pleased with herself.

Her satisfaction was interrupted by groans of pain somewhere behind her. To her surprise, she found a balding man in a shining gambler's coat making his way across the sands. His footprints trailed back from behind a sand dune off to the side. He stopped in his tracks when he saw her, eyes wide for just a moment, before quickly turning away and resuming his panicked efforts to get to his friend.

Chuckling to herself, she disregarded the man. No threat there, she thought. There was still the source of the groaning unaccounted for, though, and it bothered her. She did not like anything being hidden from her, especially now since her senses were being toyed with by the sandstorm's obnoxious torrent of grains. Her tail swayed back and forth as her entire form turned to scan the terrain again.

Something touched her right hind paw as she rotated. Without thinking, she lifted it and stamped hard into the ground where she predicted the source of the sensation would be. With an audible crunch, the powerful foot compressed the body of the previously stunned bandit into the sand. Bones and ceramic were reduced to pieces under her weight. With an expression of disgust, she lifted her weapon from the turf and wiped it on the sand in an attempt to clean the blood and armor shards off.

"You idiot. I told you this was a bad idea."

The gryphoness turned from her kill to the agitated voice. She eyed the two humans for a moment. It was then that she remembered the attire and voice of the one who had bothered to talk to her earlier that day. She drew closer as she thought.

"Jason," Beck said. He held his shoulder with one hand and tried his best to prop himself up with the other. The wound had bled through his brown cloth cloak, warping the material's color to that of a dark, sickening red. Coughing up some blood, he strained out a few more words. "Is she alright?"

"You're such a stupid kid, you know that?" Jason shook his head and looked up to see the feathered behemoth's perplexed face. "She's fine. But I don't think you saved her so much as she saved you..."

She lowered her head to their level before letting out a soft chirp. "I know you, bug," she said, looking to the boy. "You know not how to keep yourself safe."

Beck ignored the pain the best he could. All he wanted to do now was rest. He didn't care if Jason disapproved. He didn't care if the winged beast appreciated his actions. He just didn't care. He was selfish, he thought. All of this was for no one but himself. So he could feel like he mattered.

But no matter how many people he helped, no matter how many bandits he stopped, no matter what form of legendary creature he defended... He just couldn't shake the feeling that it didn't matter. That he didn't matter.

"Bug," he heard, this time more forceful. The gryphoness' voice tore him from the depths of his thoughts. She was hovering over him alongside Jason, worry on her face and masked fret on the older man's. "You mustn't let him drift off, gambler," she said. "His wound is grievous for one so young."

Before he knew it, he was being dragged by his pant leg across the bloody landscape. In his tired stupor, he observed the results of the day's mission. The body of the man he stabbed sat sprawled on the ground. The submachine gun wielding hostile was motionless where Beck had shot him, the weapon and magazine where they had dropped in the sand. To his surprise, he found the remains of the last two bodies as he was dragged past them. Both had received the full wrath of the angry thing he had fought to save. He marveled at her apparent power.

His limp body was hoisted into the unfolded passenger attachment of the sand bike he had driven here. "I was wrong about you," the gryphoness said. Her viridian eyes stared into his scratched goggles. "And so you will accept my apologies for my behavior earlier."

"Wow, not even a 'please accept my humblest?'" Jason chimed in from the left. He couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "I'll be damned if I'm not impressed, though. You got a fuckin' gryphon to apologize to your sorry ass." He roughly patted Beck's bloody arm with one hand before reaching into the storage compartment of the bike and retrieving an adrenal infusion with the other. He flicked at the tip of the needle after removing the safety cap.

Ignoring the comments, she leaned in closer. "But you must live so that you may accept." Her breath made it to him at this distance, the scent invading his face wrappings. He nodded slowly.

"How- how are your-"

She hushed him with a wing. "You worry about my wounds in your condition?" A smirk crept onto her face. "You perplex me."

She took a few steps back from the two humans and brought a wing up to her face in an attempt to block the unending sands.

"I figure you made a good enough impression, boy," Jason whispered after she gave them some space. "She doesn't look like she's gonna leave."

Lining up the needle with Beck's leg, he practiced a stabbing motion. "I hope she doesn't think she's stayin' at my place, though." The infusion found its way into flesh. The burst of pain was enough to push Beck over into unconsciousness.

His mother handed him the paperwork and transport seal. She smiled, tears making their way down her face. "Safe trip. Write us when you get settled, okay?"

Beck looked to his father. "Why can't I just stay here?"

Looking down, the man shook his head. The suit he wore was dirty and torn at the ends, but it was the best thing he had to see his son off. "There isn't enough food here, Beck," he said. "Not for us, not for you, not for anyone. And that isn't going to change."

A chilling bolt traveled up Beck's spine. The air around him felt very cold. Tears began to well up in his eyes. "Why can't you come with me?"

"We couldn't afford more passes," his mother said. "But don't worry; we'll join you later."

"How much later, Mom? Dad? How much later?" he said. "I don't want to leave. I want to stay here, with you."

The front door burst open and sand rushed into the tiny home. Wallpaper tore from the walls and brass lighting fixtures fell to the ground. A man with a crimson, ceramic mask entered through the doorway. He pulled a pistol out from his pocket and fired two shots.

Beck opened his eyes. Shoulder aching, he arched his back as he rose from his lying position. His shoulder stung despite the obvious medical treatment. The bandages were still fresh, their cloth length wrapped around the offending area. He looked around. The lighting was dim and there were no windows, but the room was still used by someone if the discarded trays and outfit pieces populating the room were any indication. The boy tried to sit up and realized he had been moved to one of the basement rooms in Jason's estate. He had taken him all the way back to Port Welling.

"Beck! Beck, wake up!"

The door to his right opened and in came Sylvia, one of Jason's personnel. Beck had been introduced to her when Jason first brought the boy to his estate. During the first week of his new life, he was glad to have met such a nice and caring person among all the chaos. She was dressed in Jason's favorite black maid clothing, though the tights and dress were torn along her left side. Dirt had settled on the now off-white pieces. Out of breath, she looked to him with a pained expression.

"Beck, we have to go. Grab your stuff and get to the courtyard," she said. She swatted at her sleeves, dust and dirt flying up into the air in front of her.

Beck blinked in his sickbed. "Go? What do you mean, what's wrong?"

The distinct sound of gunfire penetrated the room. Following a jarring quake, dust rained down from the old ceiling and the lights flickered, struggling to stay on.

"Shit," he said. He threw off the bedding and scanned the dark room for his equipment, which he quickly found on a nightstand.

Sylvia ran to the door after grabbing what he assumed was her backpack from the blue couch in the corner. "C'mon, those psychos are shelling the north walls. Jason's waiting for you at the courtyard."

"Great," he said. The maid was already out of earshot and ascending the staircase outside the room. "Thanks for your help." So much for caring among the chaos. He strapped his belt to his waist and followed her, trying in vain to remember which direction led to the courtyard. As he hiked up the last few steps, the sky came into view. Bullets could be heard deflecting off the walls ahead of him. "What are these guys doing here?"

As he took a left down one of the familiar hallways, he came upon his friend.

"Beck!" Jason yelled over the sound of shells hitting the dirt. Yellow and brown bricks exploded outward as a shell collided with the top of a nearby wall. The shrapnel and debris flew past him, some smaller pieces hitting Beck's back as he turned away.

"These guys aren't playin' around," his friend quipped. "How's your shoulder? You holdin' up?" He helped Beck to his feet and began jogging with him towards the north end of the courtyard.

The boy kept up rather easily considering his injured state. "I'm fine, it's feeling better now." He looked around, ducking his head in response to another explosion, but this one was too far away to make the flying brick any threat. "Where's the bird? I assume that's why they're here."

"You'd assume right, Captain Obvious." Jason pointed to the sky. "She took it upon herself to pay those bastards back for their recent mischief."

"She better be careful..." Beck nodded. "What's the plan, then? Are you evacuating everyone?"

"Pretty standard," Jason said. The two had covered about half the distance to their target. The estate Jason had built for himself over the years had many an emergency system in place. Of these varied protocols, the rich man's favorite had to have been the array of speed-modified water vehicles he bought earlier on in his career. They would come in handy today. "Everyone should already be gone, if they listened to me when I told them to leave. They should've left a few ocean jets for us to use. We just gotta get over there and hop on out to sea," he said. He reached into his pocket and threw Beck some keys, which were barely caught.

A shock wave from another explosion knocked the two to the ground, the keys to the drifter buried in pieces of the nearby wall. Beck used some of the momentum to roll towards a large plant pot. In a fluid motion, he straightened himself out to a kneeling position and took aim with the T9 he swiped from his belt. The firearm was not fully loaded, he remembered, but he wouldn't need all the shots if he aimed well.

Out of the smoke came a group of three raiders, their crimson masks adorned with golden trim and their body armor much more ornate than that of their scouting counterparts. Spikes, a common intimidation feature, grew out from the front and back of each chest piece. They brandished their firearms in unison and began to scan the area, not seeing anything of substance through the dust cloud their entrance had created.

Jason scrambled to some cover to his right while Beck slid behind the pot. Separated, the two took different defensive positions. "They're too heavily armed to fight, Beck," came Jason's voice. The communication system the two had set up earlier was still working. All the action had made Beck forget about the piece in his ear, though he did not respond to the warning.

He returned the pistol to his belt, exchanging it for the sole flashbang. The motion of pulling the pin and tossing it over the extravagant cover was second nature to him. The toss was on point, and his check out from safety showed him all three bandits on their knees, clutching their face masks.

His hands shook and his throwing arm pulsed as a spike of pain wracked it, his shoulder serving as the epicenter of the shock. He undid the safety pin on the fragmentation grenade and held it in his opposite hand. One second passed. Then another. He threw his arm up over the pot again, this time missing the angle by a minuscule amount. The flak wave sent sand and shrapnel flying up and around the area of impact.

Pieces of the pot exploded as Beck realized he was being fired upon. A shot tore the cloth of his new cloak, pieces of it now joining the clouds of dust and brick in the air.

"Two down," came Jason's voice. "Flash out."

Beck grabbed for the T9, this time holding it in his left hand. It would have to do.

Adjusting his grip on the pistol, he waited for the bang. Fighting the fatigue, he pushed himself up with all his strength and rounded what was left of his cover. He snapped the sights over the disoriented man. Kneeling down thanks to the flash and facing the opposite direction, the back of his head was exposed from Beck's vantage point.

He pulled the trigger and sand kicked up at the impact. Wide. Again, this time compensating for his awkward handling. The bullet bounced off the base of an armored spike with a pang. Turning to him, the heavily armored hostile shook the flashbang's effects off and raised his weapon.

The third shot seemed to whistle through the air for a longer period than the two that came before it. It followed a path through the dusty air, flying past the suspended particles of flak and wall, before finally making its way through the right eye hole of the armored man's mask.

Dropping his machine gun, he grasped the wound with an inhuman howl. Blood oozed down the already red armor. The following yell instilled into Beck a doubt that his target was in fact a man at all. It sounded more like something a monster would produce. Deranged and seemingly changed from the hit, the bandit tore the face piece in two and threw the halves to each side. He then initiated a full on sprint towards the boy.

Beck opened his stance and reached for the T4. There was no running from an enemy moving at this speed. He would need to dodge the hit, but the positioning of his knife would be the deciding factor. If he could hit the face before dodging, then maybe he could-

His train of thought was derailed as the raider's body was crushed beneath a large talon. Feathers joined the particles hanging in the dusty air. Beck took a few cautious steps back before falling completely. Gazing up at the winged beast that had just taken out the threat, he couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. The form of his savior was truly majestic. Her brown wings were outstretched, her dark blue beak slightly ajar after her attack. She slowly twisted her goldenrod talon left and right, making sure there would be nothing left of her mark.

"H- holy...," was all Beck could scrounge together.

She lifted her bloodied talon from the mess that was previously the hulking raider. Wiping it on the courtyard ground, she sat upright in her preferred regal pose. "This seems to be the second occasion on which I've saved your life, bug," she said with a slight, playful smirk.

More shells collided with what remained of the courtyard walls. Jason ran up from behind his cover and patted some dust from his coat. "Ah, yes. Where were we? Oh yeah," he said. His calm demeanor morphed to an urgent exclamation. "Let's go, let's go! They've prolly got a few Joggers, and I sure as hell don't want to deal with those!"

Beck motioned to follow the gambler but stopped in his tracks. The gryphoness tilted her head as he cursed his own incompetence. "Jason, I've lost the keys."

He turned back to face the boy. "You what?"

Patting his pockets and scanning the ground, Beck looked back up and shook his head. "Damn it, that blast must have knocked them somewhere. You don't have any extras?"

"The spares are in the garage," Jason said. "Guaranteed to be crawling with raiders at this point."

"Can the drifter not hold two?"

It was the gambler's turn to shake his head. "Together, we'd be too heavy."

The winged beast chirped, but neither of the two noticed. They continued to suggest potential solutions to the problem until she let out a louder one. Simultaneously, they looked up to her in confusion.

"I am large enough to carry you both," she said before spreading her wings to their full span. "And I can fly. What is the issue here?"

The two looked from her down to each other, then back up to her. "That's..." Beck said, "...not a bad idea."

"No way in hell am I ridin' that thing," said Jason. "I'm sorry, but you can risk your life all you want. I'm takin' a drifter."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine, gambler. Leave us," she said, shooing him away with a wing. She looked to Beck after the older man complied and began running down the length of the courtyard. "Are you ready, bug? This place is rapidly becoming unsafe." Yet another explosion shook the ground.

He reached his left arm over to his newly bleeding shoulder. The pain had been rekindled thanks to the wound opening up again. "As much as I'd love to fly, I- Urgh..." She took a step closer to him. He cringed and almost took a knee as another wave of agony rippled through his arm. "I- I really don't think I could hold onto you in the air."

The gryphoness held an amused expression. Her calm demeanor intimidated him.

"Then I will hold onto you." She thought she heard him let out a tiny "squeak" as she reached her talons around his small frame. Her balance was impressive compared to the typical beast, and her hind lengths had the strength to keep her steady as she slowly gripped the boy.

"So fragile," she said under her breath. She was careful not to crush him in her hold.

"I'm not sure this is-" Beck tried to finish, but before he could do so, she knelt down and boosted herself into the air. The takeoff was surprisingly smooth given the chaos that had infected the immediate vicinity, but that could have just been a testament to her experience.

Panic found its way into his mind. What if she dropped him? Held him too tight? Decided he wasn't worth the effort? Where was she taking him, anyway? Jason hadn't clued either of them in as to where he was headed, so she must have had her own destination in mind. He fidgeted in her grip, but not too much, as he didn't want to suddenly become a skydiver.

Blue and white, the color palette at this altitude was much nicer on the eyes than that of the sandy hell that was the desert surface. Jason's estate grew smaller and smaller as they went higher. It was at this point that he became eternally grateful of his goggles and scarf. Though the cloth writhed wildly as they flew, he preferred that over the wind in his face.

Looking up to his feathered carrier, he noticed she had been inspecting him the entire time. "W- what?"

"First time in the air?" she asked.

He couldn't help but laugh. "Was it so obvious?" Her talons tightened around him ever so slightly and he gasped at the minute discomfort. "I'll take that as a yes."

She smiled. "Well, what do you think?"

"Makes me wish I was a rich man like Jason," he said, still marveling the sight. The landscape below resembled an artist's painting, the way the sand dunes weaved back and forth. "I hear he's got machines capable of flight on some other property."

It was her turn to laugh. "Those are nothing but inadequate substitutes," she said. Her wings caught a particularly powerful gust and they gained more altitude.

"I suppose they are."

He let her words seep in for a moment before opening his mouth again. He had learned to turn away from his front while speaking, so as to avoid the wind's forceful presence. "Hey, uh..." he paused. "Where are we goin' anyway?"

Beck looked up to the gryphoness to find her viridian irises and a predatory grin.

"That's pretty funny," he said, gulping nervously. "You wouldn't."

She looked back to the sky.

"...Would you?"