"This… existence is fascinating."

István reached out a long, slender finger and passed it through the critter that I was still holding rather tightly. It was corporeal in my hands, but the second his finger would touch it, it turned hazy and indistinct, and the digit passed right through.

Viktor looked on, arms crossed.

"We should call it Steve," he finally said.

"I'm pretty sure it's a female," I said. To be fair, when we attempted to discern what sex it was, all we really learned is that it was very good at preventing us from doing so, employing a litany of tricks in order stay perched upright or laying flat in my arms. It would phase out, go through me, clamber onto my head, or any number of other odd but somehow also charmingly playful antics.

"Okay, Steeve, then," he replied, holding the vowel out longer.

"I'm not sure how that's any different," I replied.

"It has more 'eeeeee'."

"I… see."

Viktor nodded sagely, seeming confident his point had been understood.

We'd long since finished off any of the stragglers, or rather the gentlemen with me had done so while I was otherwise occupied by this fox that couldn't decide if it wanted to be a real girl or not. The giant ears and huge, completely dark eyes that seemed to contain all of the stars in the skies didn't really help make it feel anchored in reality, either. Nor did the litany of odd noises it'd make in response to different external stimuli.

At one point, I just gave up and set it down, at which point it hopped back directly into my arms. Apparently it liked sitting there, which forced me to occupy both hands. Hands I'd need to either operate a BeetleMech or to sit on one.

"This isn't going to work, my little friend," I said, looking down at it. "I need my hands for things other than holding you, as nice as it is."

It looked up at me, seemingly recognizing what I was saying. Then it vanished, and the weight sitting on my arms disappeared. Startled, I looked around.

István had his eyebrows tracking towards his hairline. "Again - fascinating," he said.

"It's still here… somewhere," I said. I could feel the presence, almost like a weight. It was as though the weight in my arms had transferred into my soul. As if to confirm my conjecture, I heard a slight gekkering noise, a 'kikikik' sound that seemed to echo from everywhere but nowhere at the same time. István didn't react, so I assumed he couldn't hear what I had.

"Oh, that is for the best," the man in question said, "I have so much more to learn from it."

Viktor was looking at the horizon, a dingy ochre haze through which a forlorn maroon ball of a sun was fighting to rise. "We should get a move-on," he said.

István nodded, standing up. "Yes, we shall. I can not imagine the Umbral Veil will just leave us be, not after all the effort they have expended in not doing so."

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It being morning again didn't bode well for me, mostly because I was already exhausted, but also because I knew my family would be quite worried about me at this point. There's a big difference between 'being out late', and 'not coming back'.

Despite her gruff demeanor, Gram would undoubtedly be the one who was most aware, and therefore, most worried about my absence. My own mom was somewhere between Liam's age-driven detachment from the passing of time and the obliviousness of an inanimate object. I wasn't sure how Alessa would fare, to be entirely honest. Her vibe was kind of 'delicate flower' but at the same time she wasn't really a pushover, previous abduction non-withstanding. So maybe one of those flowers made out of metal or something.

Either way, best if I could hurry back.

We were currently trudging back towards the elevator, our feet sometimes sinking into the sandy soil of the desert scarp. Try saying that five-times fast. I'd be all 'scandy soil of the dessert sarp'. Or something. And now I was thinking about dessert. Or was that desert?

I probably should find some water.

Five minutes and a bottle of said water helpfully provided by István later, we arrived back at the scene of the battle.

Where was he keeping those anyway? He'd just pulled it out from the inside of his overcoat, but there was no way there was enough room for all the stuff he seemed to have stashed in there.

Anyway, back to the elevator. Turned out I'd tracked my new friend, who I refused to call 'Steeve', quite some distance. While my friends were fighting. I'd say fighting for their lives, but I'm pretty sure any fight with those two and fewer than twenty average mooks was just entertainment.

Either way, not my finest moment; I'd gone 'squirrel', for a fox, no less, and was now kicking myself for it. Metaphorically speaking, that is. As bad as my coordination is, I'd likely injure someone else in the process if I was being literal.

One thing that did make me feel a little better was that István undoubtedly would tell me that finding the fox was more valuable than my help in combat, and Viktor would be happy he didn't have to share. It's the little things, sometimes.

That said, I didn't want to be that guy, so I really needed to work on my propensity to exist in my own little world. That, and my fighting skills, and my control over my Nebula, among many other ways my little self-survey turned up all my deficiencies.

I simply could not imagine that the Veil would stick to sending their lowest common denominator for much longer. That meant I needed to not be the worst version of myself either. There was a pressing need for me to be better-er. So I would do that, if at all possible.

As it turned out, the BeetleMechs weren't exactly happy at being 'elevator potato cannon' ammo, and one of them was completely trashed, having landed sideways. One of the other ones was saved by István's quick-thinking actions, having yanked it off with the one he was piloting just before the whole contraption was aggressively motivated into the sky.

So we had two operational BeetleMechs, with István's being a little worse for the wear after duking it out with a bunch of angry dudes and their even angrier firearms. He helped me into the other one, and I was determined to do a better job of driving it this time.

The problem was that it kept 'fighting' me. At least that's what it felt like. I'd ask it to move a little forward and it'd lunge like it got bit on the ass. It was so annoying. I kept asking for smaller and smaller motions until I'd just kinda nudge it in a specific direction and it'd move a decent amount, but not so much that I'd lose control and ram it into something.

István, who'd been oh-so-patiently coercing me through the whole process, had many reassuring words. Not the least of which was: "I do not think this is only you. It seems like there may be some fundamental incompatibility between you and the way these are controlled."

"You don't say," I said, trying very hard not to run him over with it as I drove in a tight circle. "At least it hasn't exploded."

"That is for the best, yes," he acknowledged with a laugh.

I was beginning to realize that my life - as of late - consists of either exploding things or trying to keep them from doing so. Could be worse, I guess.

After I'd kind of gotten the hang of it, we were good to set off. A set of two BeetleMechs, with one ferrying what appeared to be their rather lumpy love child, and one which seemed to have a concussion, walked off into the new day.

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