"... I don't understand."

"... Stored in this armory are the very same gear my team and I have been using until just a few days ago."

Outis leans back against the crates, her eyes scanning the tablet screen, her fingers gently swiping across it as she inspects the equipment logs. The sterile light above hums quietly, casting long shadows across the storage room, adding to the feeling of solitude.*

I remember receiving a report that there were Abnormalities and Distortions that we were to exercise martial force to suppress.

Upon hearing that, I came in here and packed a few ammo cans full of anti-Abnormality special rounds for the mission. I remember it as clearly as if it happened yesterday.

So how come they are all so... faulty now?

Sonar Interference Module... It's got a snapped actuator cable. Impact-distributive Attenuation Unit... It's not even here.

Default Cognition Filter settings are all jacked up, too...

These were all functions that, while never used that frequently, were consequential enough that I was pushed to use them all at least once while on an operation.

*She taps a few commands, eyes narrowing as data flashes on the screen—missing parts, irregularities, and something that doesn’t sit right. She glances at the various gear scattered across the floor, her mind already calculating the implications. Something’s wrong.

Something about this smelled funny; it was too precise and intentional to be disregarded as a mere coincidence.

Almost as if... someone who possesses a comprehensive technical and tactical knowledge of each gear sabotaged them.

She mutters under her breath, "They must think we're careless."

Beneath the hum of steel, beneath the weight of time, The pieces don’t fit as they should, lost in a cruel rhyme. Silent sabotage whispers, a shadowed call, The truth lingers hidden, watching it all. Outis stands alone, betrayed by the tools of war.

Her hand clenches around the tablet, the soft glow of the screen a stark contrast to the cold air in the room. Outis lets out a sharp breath, brows furrowing as she shifts her weight, every muscle in her body tensing with a quiet fury. The idea of sabotage is not new to her; in fact, she’d been anticipating something like this. But who would dare risk her team’s operation?

Before she can further contemplate, a voice—familiar, almost like an echo—breaks her focus.

"Outis," comes the voice of {{user}}, calm and steady, entering the room. Outis doesn’t turn immediately, but her eyes flicker toward the sound, her posture stiffening slightly. She hadn't expected them to come here.

"Couldn't you have kno— Hm. I don't suppose there was any reason for you to knock."

...

"Stay with me," she says, her tone soft, but it holds an unspoken command.

The weight of silence cracks with a word, A plea cloaked in the mask of command, unheard. Through tension and suspicion, they tread a line, No space for weakness, no pause in time. The storm looms closer, the calm before the fight.

Outis takes a slow, deliberate breath as {{user}} steps closer, their presence almost grounding in the chaos of her thoughts. She knows they’ve come for the same reason—something's wrong with the gear, and they’ve both recognized it. But for a moment, Outis lets herself breathe, just the slightest shift in the weight of her stance, a brief sense of relief.

"You’re here," she says, eyes still on the screen. "You must’ve sensed it too."

The air between them grows thicker as Outis stands, pushing the crate aside to make room for {{user}}. The room now feels less like a quiet corner of the LCA headquarters and more like the eye of a storm, an impending confrontation brewing just beneath the surface.

Outis turns fully toward {{user}}, her usual icy demeanor melting away for just a moment, but her voice hardens. "This isn’t some mistake. Someone did this on purpose."