Planet Telex

Tiaris poked her head into the bar and looked around. She had remained outside at her post for an hour or so, and decided that it was too long for a chance visit -- this was where her trail was spending her time.
She slid inside the door and gently closed it behind her, trying not to attract too much attention. Quietly, she walked around the empty tables, eyes scanning the handful of Avians in the darkened room. Her focus quickly went to one at the bar, sitting alone.
"Uhm, Mistress, it's not even lunchtime..." Tiaris said as she climbed up onto the bar stool. "Aren't you supposed to be at work?"
Claws of Purple scoffed into her drink, which she mixed with a light twirl of her hand. "Director's given me another two weeks leave to get my head right again." She feigned a smile, but soon returned to her hunched position, nursing the drink.
"But you said-"
"Tiaris," Purple cut her off, voice sharp with annoyance. "I'd prefer if you let me recover in peace." Purple took a swig out of the glass and tried to hide the sour look on her face from the flavour. "I'm not in need of a saviour, just rest."
"But..." started Tiaris, quieting when Purple turned back to the bar. "At least tell me how much you've had."
Purple looked down at the half-empty glass, and the bits of garnish within. "This is the first. I can't stand the taste." she replied, a little meekly.
Tiaris nodded. "Okay, well. I'll go home." She slipped down from the bar stool and straightened up her grey uniform. "See you tonight. I'll have dinner ready when you get home."
As Tiaris moved to leave, Purple turned to face her. "Assistant... Did you follow me?"
Tiaris was caught off guard by the rather impersonal title, one that Purple didn't use often. "...yes, Mistress." replied Tiaris, breaking eye contact. "Silver had some documents couriered yesterday, about the mission. I figured you wouldn't have needed them sent to you, if you were in the office."
Purple chuckled dryly. "Ah, so you're not just Agent in name, but thinking like one..." She turned back to her bar and the drink, shoulders hunched over as if to make it clear she was finished with the conversation.
Tiaris tilted her head in confusion, not sure if she was in trouble, but decided not to press for answers. With footsteps as light as those when she approached, she retreated from the bar, and towards the Ministry office.

Feathers of Silver poured a cup of tea from the pot and handed it over to Tiaris. "I was afraid she'd take it that way." she said with a sigh. "Difficult missions affect everyone differently, and with how that one went, I can't exactly blame her."
Tiaris took a sip from the teacup. It was hard to hide the frown on her face, so she didn't try. "She told me she was heading in to work, like everything was fine. She was terse in the evenings, but... nothing like this."
"Nothing like...?" probed Silver, who sat down beside Tiaris on the couch.
"She seemed a little... angry." replied Tiaris, shaking her head. "I'm not entirely sure, but... she seems to resent me, right now."
"Because of what happened on the mission?"
"I don't know. She did say something about 'not needing a saviour', like... she hates that she needed my help." Tiaris sighed and leaned back on the couch. "Isn't that what I'm for?"
"Yes, well." Silver tapped her talons against her glass, thinking over her next words. "It's always difficult when you don't perform as well on a mission as you hoped you would."
"So, what do I do? Just let her drink herself to death in whatever bar she finds herself in for the next two weeks?"
"I wouldn't worry about the drinking. She's never been that into it. But, there is a stereotype of where one finds themselves when they think they're beyond redemption, so maybe she's just finding comfort in that."
Tiaris nodded. She stared into her tea, as if it had answers. "There was something else. As I left, she said I was 'not just an Agent in name'... which. Well, I'm not."
Feathers of Silver looked up in surprise, but caught herself and tamped her reaction back down. The raised eyeridge from Tiaris signalled that she hadn't hid her response in time. "Well. You'd find out anyway, in time."

As the Director of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, Feathers of Silver wields absolute power in regards to Avian and exo-species resource allocation. Such powers are given by the Primus herself, without the requirement for legislation or public approval, meaning that whatever the Director says, goes. Many would object to the idea of an Assistant being given a formal rank within the Ministry, but few of them would ever know about it, and even less would dare speak their concerns.
Tiaris had the ID card and clothing already, but being formally assigned a Reserve Agent role meant that she now had the right to use them. She'd never heard of an Assistant being effectively un-assigned like this.
"Mistress, I don't understand," Tiaris said as she turned the ID card over in her hands. "Why would you allow this?"
Claws of Purple leaned back in her armchair and took a long gulp of her tea. "Not my decision. Besides, you did all the work."
Tiaris tilted her head in confusion. "We went on the mission together, Mistress. You ought to get as much credit as I do."
Purple took another long gulp, and placed down the empty cup. "I've already got more credit than I deserved," she said as she pulled herself up from her chair. "It's all there in the report. I got spaced and almost enslaved. You at least managed to get the signal out. That's just what happened. And in a week, everyone will know."
"I'm sure it wouldn't be that bad..." Tiaris replied, unsure how to respond. "You were just in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Everyone'll understand..."
"That's not how these things work, Tiaris. I failed, you didn't." Purple started off towards her bedroom. "Enjoy your promotion."
Later that evening, after all her tasks were complete, Tiaris's eyes swept over the Agent ID card she'd left on the side table. After so long as an Assistant, it was impossible to think of ever returning from being one, but... that card was as close as she was ever going to get. Any other Assistant would savor the taste of freedom, but to her, it was bittersweet.

"You do know that the Agent outfit is much more appropriate for this weather," said Feathers of Silver as Tiaris entered her office. "It's much warmer than your dress."
"You have to recall that report." Tiaris closed the door behind her, skipping the formalities. "I don't deserve the promotion, and Purple doesn't deserve having her name dragged in the mud just because of luck."
Silver didn't respond for a second, a little caught off guard by the Assistant. "I'm sorry, you'll have to start that again."
"The mission report, Director." said Tiaris, a little exasperated. "I don't want her humiliated just because I'm an Assistant and I completed the objective."
"Well..." Silver gave a little smile towards Tiaris as she placed down her pen and pushed aside the papers she was working on. "You're not an Assistant. You're an Agent, and that's what the report says."
"I... what?"
"The report details the mission success of Agent Purple and Reserve Agent Grey. They infiltrated a defector installation, confirmed the existence of hostiles, and signalled for appropriate backup." Silver tilted her head towards one of the chairs in front of the desk, for Tiaris to sit in. "As it was filed after your promotion, and the means of Purple's incapacitation and recovery are omitted, there isn't much to be embarrassed by."
Tiaris sat herself down in one of the chairs. "Wait... then why would she be worried about the report?" she asked, confused.
"Well. For her, this mission was a matter of pride, a way of proving herself, showing she was still fit for duty." Silver sighed, as if sympathetic with Purple. "She thinks she failed, and likely just thinks it's a matter of time before what exactly went wrong becomes common knowledge. Not that I'll let that happen, of course."
"A matter of pride... I see." Tiaris nodded in thought, thinking she understood it a little better. "I must admit, I... don't remember what it was like to have those kinds of feelings. They kind of... take them out, when the chip turns on."
Feathers of Silver drummed her talons together in thought. "That likely makes it hard for you to fully sympathise, yes. But, I don't think it means you can't help, Agent Grey." Silver retrieved a thick folder from her desk drawer, and placed it down in front of Tiaris.
'Agent Grey' was something Tiaris found very weird to be called. Talons of Grey was fine, she'd got used to that. But 'Agent Grey' felt... odd. It certainly wasn't a very Assistant-like title, and she wasn't sure how to feel about it. For the moment, she pushed the thoughts away, and decided to focus on what the Director was showing her.

Talons of Grey found it weird that such a lawless place existed on the Homeworld of all places, but she figured that even the noblest of beasts still did have a dark underbelly. Her destination was a bar, one that she had received conflicting information on, as befitting its reputation as a place where information didn't leave. She knew her target lay within, and she also knew to not let her eyes linger too long on whatever higher echelon Avians she may find inside. Even those at the top had vices only found in places like this, and they would do whatever they could to preserve their privacy.
With a tap on the door, the vision slit opened to reveal a pair of accusing Avian eyes. "Yes?"
Grey stared back, the chip maintaining a stone-cold gaze. "I have business inside."
The eyes glanced down at the Ministry of Internal Affairs insignia on Grey's coat, and then up at the top of the stairs to see if she was being accompanied. "Very well." The door opened up to reveal a guard, covered in a baggy jacket to attempt to conceal the laser pistol tucked under his belt.
"You really should keep that in a holster." Talons of Grey said cooly as she walked past, the guard shifting the bulge of the weapon away from her sight. "Did nobody teach you how to handle firearms?"
"Er, no, ma'am." he replied, surprised that it was noticed that easily. "Come right through."
Past the corner of the entrance was the greater expanse of the speakeasy. It certainly smelled and sounded like a seedy bar, with loud music and the smell of alcohol floating in the air. A dancefloor was occupied by a dozen Avians all in varying states of inebriation and undress, while the tables around it were filled with hunched over figures either drinking or muttering amongst themselves. They all noticed the entry of the Agent into the bar, the well-dressed and well-groomed Grey standing out amongst them like an emerald in stone, but everyone quickly returned to their own business after making sure it wasn't them she was looking at. It was best to not be the one the Agent ended up dragging out, after all.
Talons of Grey found a seat at the bar, inbetween two other Avians, who promptly got up and found another place to sit. "What's popular today, barkeep?" Talons of Grey asked, struggling to have her voice heard over the music. "Give me one of them."
"As long as you're not hanging around too long..." the barkeep replied, grabbing a bottle of wormwood spirits and several flavoured liqueurs. "Makes everyone nervous, y'know?"
"I'll be here as long as it takes me." Grey replied as she took the drink. "I'm looking for a lizard. Green scales, scar on his face, goes by Splinter."
The barkeep froze in the middle of cleaning the serving glass, and turned back to the Agent. "Uh, I don't think you'll find anyone by that description here, ma'am..."
Grey smiled and pulled a small bottle from her inner jacket pocket, a quarter litre of pale yellow liquid, which she placed over the counter. The barkeep raised an eyeridge, and leaned forward to figure out what he was being offered.
"Does this cover the inconvenience?" she asked, turning the bottle to show the flower stamped on the bottle's label.
The barkeep recognised the symbol instantly. Morningflower liqueur, made from the yellow flowers of Themos Prime. Its production was banned, after the effects of the flower on Avians was discovered. Despite the dangers, it was still incredibly sought after. "Where did you..." the barkeep started, before pushing it further under the lip of the bar, out of sight. "Fine. If you don't want to leave well enough alone, that's not my problem."

A few minutes later, the barkeep returned. "VIP Room 12. Three knocks." he said quietly, before returning to making drinks and pretending the Agent didn't exist.
Talons of Grey downed the rest of her drink and put the glass back on the counter with a smile. "Thanks."
The barkeep took the glass, but continued to ignore her.
Grey shrugged. "Suit yourself." She swivelled the barstool and slipped off, being careful to not slip on the accumulated sludge of a day's spilt drinks. She took a look around the rest of the bar -- the dancing figures, the Avians hunched over discussing who-knows-what in quiet tones, and the ones in the private booths surrounded by others in various states of undress. She couldn't shake the feeling that such a place ought not exist, at least not here. But, if it was as Silver was implying, the place at least was a sticky trap that yielded occasional results.
Grey wasn't sure what was mustering in the back of her mind. Fear? She knew what she was walking into, and she knew what would likely happen. She was prepared, but it wasn't without risk. With a shake of the head, she pushed the fuzz of uneasiness away. She was concealing the existence of the chip, but it could at least help in some ways.
The VIP rooms were past a thick curtain, designed to keep the light of the hallway in and the noise of the dancefloor out. Grey pushed it aside and slipped through and down the hall. The floors and walls were bare concrete and the doors were a metal-braced wood, as if designed to be impenetrable to even the non-casual observer. She didn't know of any ways out, so she wasn't sure what the extra time that the doors provided would be used for, but places like this rarely matched the official plans.
Number twelve was near the end. The steel door handle was covered in small scratches, and not the kind Avians often left. They were more careful with their prized talons.
"Here goes," muttered Grey, lifting her hand.
She placed three sharp knocks on the door. A few moments later, a deadbolt snapped open, and the handle was turned. It opened to a darkened room, only the table and chairs on the far side in any sort of light. A dragon was sat there, waiting expectantly, but Grey knew that wasn't all there was to the space.
She stepped forward, ignoring what the chip was telling her. It offered her a light-amplified image, but she already knew what lay within. As she passed the door, it swung shut behind her, and there was a flurry of movement in her amplified periphery.
Even though it was expected, the baton to the back of the head still hurt for the fraction of the section that her consciousness held.

“Who was that grey that came in the other day? Seemed like she knew you.”
Purple peered up at the barkeep. The characteristic slang of a Ministry of Defence veteran matched the shrapnel scars across their face. "My Assistant." she replied, sharply. "Aren't you supposed to be refilling my drink?"
"Sorry. Just trying to make conversation." replied the barkeep, pouring another glass of the wormwood liquor that Purple had asked for. "Not like there's much else to do, mid-morning, Agent."
Purple glanced around at the empty bar. "Yeah, guess not." She took the glass and scowled a little at the liquid inside. She hated it, but at least drinking it made her forget how much she hated itself as it ravaged her tastebuds. "And, really, she's not a true Assistant anymore."
"How so?"
"Assistants don't usually get given agent billets, do they?"
"No, I... guess not." replied the barkeep as she took the empty glass. "One of the ships I was on had a grey in charge for a few days after the entire bridge got food poisoning. Turns out the slop the greys get served saved the comms officer from sickbay."
Purple chuckled darkly. "The thing is, you know... they're smarter than us, quicker than us, more reliable than us. If they weren't all programmed to be a servant class, they'd be able to crush us in an uprising pretty quick." She took a sip of the glass, and her face turned as sour as her thoughts. "Sometimes I'd have to wonder if I'd be better at my job if I just... took all that Avian fallibility out."
"I don't know about that. Have you ever seen a grey try and interrogate someone? They don't get any training uploaded other than the target's language and which bones are the easiest to break."
Before Purple could reply, the door to the bar swung open, and an Avian ran in and up to the bar. "Agent Purple?"
Claws of Purple sighed and took a swig of her drink, guessing she'd need it. "What does the Director want?"
"Nothing, ma'am." replied the panting Assistant. "It's Miss Orange, your departmental head. She says that Agent Grey has gone missing in action on an assignment she was given."
"And?" Purple replied, swirling her drink for a second before it clicked. "Wait. Talons of Grey?"
"Yes... yes, ma'am."
Purple looked at her glass, and considered that maybe keeping a sober head was a good plan.

"You sent her out on a mission?" Purple exclaimed, the Agent on the edge between surprised and furious. "Without at least telling me?"
Feathers of Silver held her hand out to quieten Purple. "You must understand, it was at short notice. One of our double agents set off their emergency beacon, and there was nobody else able to respond in time. Grey was in the office, and wanted to prove herself." Silver swirled her drink in her glass thoughtfully. "She wouldn't take no for an answer."
"Do you know where she is now?" asked Purple, shifting her accusing gaze to Plume of Orange.
The departmental head quickly broke eye contact. "Most likely." she replied, trying to sound reassuring. "Her chip's last reported location was the speakeasy that was chosen as the initial contact site. It's lost contact with the mesh, suggesting she's somewhere further inside."
"That was two hours ago, and the time she was supposed to report in has since passed," continued Silver. "...so we decided to let you know."
Purple paced around the Director's office a few times, scowl across her face as she thought. "I'm going to go get her, then."
"We have a team on the way for her recovery, we just-" Orange said, before being cut off by the Agent taking off her dress jacket and tossing it at her.
"I'm going with them. They can be my backup, if they must." Purple opened the top button of her button-up shirt, and undid the buttons on her cuffs. "You deal with that. I'm heading down now."
The Director nodded, seeing Orange's sly smile in her peripherals. "Very well, Agent. Just play it safe, we don't have much information about them." She glanced down for a moment, making sure the inch-thick dossier on the Tarnash group was hidden from Purple's view.

Purple had invited herself into one of the armoured transports that the response team was assembling in. Nobody dared ask her to leave, the scowl on her face making them feel like the black composite plates covering them would do little more than delay her wrath.
Purple looked around for a weapons rack once the vehicle had started moving, but didn't find one. "You." she said, pointing at one of the suited-up Avians in the back of the transport with her. "Give me that shotgun."
The Avian blinked in surprise at the request, confusion visible on his face even through the protective goggles. "I don't even know who you are."
"Agent Claws of Purple." she replied, looking at the shoulder plate of the officer. "Which outranks you, Captain. So, hand it over."
The officer looked between the others in the van, each hiding their smirks underneath the protective helmets. "Fine." he replied, checking the safety and passing over the weapon. "Do you want, like... an ammo pouch?"
Purple pressed the magazine release and checked that it had been fully loaded. "No, I think this will do." she replied. "I'll bludgeon them with it, if I have to."
The armoured car came to an abrupt stop. "This is Carrion Two. In position." said the driver over the radio. "Go, go, go."
The half-dozen Internal Affairs grunts filed out the door in sequence, each taking a different angle and assuming a kneeling firing position, eyes scanning the buildings and windows of the side street. Claws of Purple followed down the ramp, shotgun in hand, and headed for the front entrance, where another half-dozen fully uniformed soldiers were waiting.
"Agent Purple? The Director said you're running this now." said one of the grunts at the top of the stairs. "Just say the word."
"Good. Once we're in, secure the main area, and I'll figure out where Grey is." Purple nodded towards the captain that she had taken the shotgun off, who was now brandishing his sidearm. "If you see any Tarnash come out of that door, I want them alive. I'm going to chip them myself."
The captain nodded and rallied his team to set up a perimeter.
Purple looked to the first team that had arrived before hers, and waved for them to follow her as she briskly descended the staircase to the door. At the bottom, she took a moment to compose herself, and gave the plain steel door two hard knocks.
The window slit opened, and the eyes behind it went wide in surprise when they saw the guards piling down the stairs with the Agent at the helm. The door opened without a complaint.

The speakeasy was nearly at capacity, and certainly over the capacity that it'd been authorised to have. It didn't take long for the ones on the dance floor to notice the Agent pushing through them, and everything went silent once they saw the suited up response team following.
Purple walked up to the bar, and pushed one of the more stable occupants out of the way to make room. "Splinter. Where is he?" she asked as she put her shotgun on the bar. "The Ministry wants him."
"Oh, goddess, I knew I should have turned her away..." the barkeep said. He glanced over at the bottle of Morningflower syrup. It hadn't even been opened yet, and it was already giving him trouble.
"I asked you a question." Purple said sharply. "You're not hiding an enemy of the Accord from me, are you?"
"No, no!" he replied, jumping. "VIP Room 12! Knock three times!"
"I'll knock as much as I please." Purple said and turned away. She gestured for the captain of the team with her to come over. "Get everyone out of here, and get your engineer. I need them."
The captain called over one of his subordinates. "Go with her."
Purple pushed through the heavy curtains separating the bar and VIP area, pioneer in tow. She wasn't glad to see steel doors, but had asked for the engineer for a reason. "Wire the hinges." she said as she gestured towards door number 12. She had hoped that a good kick would free it from its lock, but even the Tarnash were smarter than to be that lax on security.
The engineer retrieved breaching charges from the pouches on her vest and pressed them where the hinges would be. She plugged wires between each of them, and then the detonator, and gave the thumbs up.
"I want the ringleader alive." Purple said. "The others -- if they have a weapon, shoot them."
The engineer nodded and pulled her sidearm from its holster, readying it for the breach. "After you, Agent."
The pair of Avians backed themselves against the wall and out of the way of the impending blast, the engineer counting down on her gloved fingers. As she did, Purple could only think that if everything went wrong, at least there'd only be one direct witness to her failure.

Having disabled her pain blockers and interrogation resistance to avoid giving away the existence of the chip, the past three hours had felt like days to Talons of Grey. At first they had relied on intimidation, but now they were resorting to more direct methods to figure out how the Agent had got there. Lacking the conventional training, she just had to make do the best she could.
Without much chance to resist, she had been thrown over a weapons crate, back arched, with her wrists and ankles crudely tied to each other and then tethered between broken wooden panels of the crate. The position was uncomfortable enough, but it did also make her helpless to resist anything her captors wished to do.
"Who told you where we were?" the leader of the group asked, leaning forward as if to shout directly in Grey's face. "I'm sick of asking the same questions, featherbrain!"
Breathing in through her nose, Grey braced herself as one of his subordinates decided she'd not spoken quickly enough, and gave her another shock with the electric prod on her side, the pain forcing her to writhe around in the ropes uncontrollably, wood creaking underneath her. "Agh! Fuck! I don't know, it was just in the report! I've told you that already!"
"Agents know many secrets." growled Splinter, gesturing for the subordinate to give her another prod. "It just takes time."
"Hnnnn... Oh, goddess..." groaned Grey as the shock forced her again to kick and thrash in ways her body wasn't designed to. "You're not going... to get anything... out of me..."
"Fine, then. We try not to leave too many marks, but if you insist..." the dragon chuckled darkly. He stood up and gestured at one of the smaller henchmen, who was off to the sidelines watching "You. Get the rifle. Let's see how she copes with that."
Grey bent her head to the side, to see where the smaller Tarnash went. He had beelined towards a crate, similar to the one she was bound on. Her eyes widened as she saw him rummage around in it and pull out a full sized Accord laser rifle. "W...where did you get that? You weren't supposed to have..." She groaned, and let her head fall back limp. Silver didn't mention that they had high-powered laser weaponry...
"Oh, surprised? You Agents do always underestimate us. We've already distributed most of these, but we have a few left... maybe you'd like to see what your kind's done to ours?" Splinter brandished the rifle as if it was a toy in the large dragon's hands. "You. Set up a target over there."
One of the smaller dragons ran off to lean a wooden crate lid against the far wall, within Grey's line of sight. The rifle was fired, and she could barely hold in a gasp as a fist-sized hole appeared in the planks, the edges black and burning.
"You Avians like to say you have the better weapons, don't you? How good do you think they are now?" asked Splinter, crouching down to bring the end of the rifle near Grey's shoulder, placing the searing-hot focusing lens assembly dangerously close to her feathers.
She tried to squirm away from it, but found that she had no room to move. "Aah! No, no!" she howled as the assembly was moved closer and closer to her now smouldering feathers and skin underneath.

The explosives detonated, blowing the steel door off its hinges. Purple sprung into action immediately, slamming into the door with her shoulder and shoving it free, moving to the left as the engineer took the right. Her eyes only took a fraction of a second to scan the room and for her mind to identify the threats, the glint of the laser rifle in Splinter's hands registering instantly. Splinter was rising from the crouch to respond to the intruders, but it was too late for him. Purple had already acquired her target, and a pull of the trigger sent a bundle of flechetttes into the dragon's chest. A second shot partially hit the laser rifle, shattering the focusing lenses and causing the battery pack inside to ignite.
The engineer had seen what Purple was responding to, and turned her attention to the rest of the room. Of the four others, one had a standard issue Tarnash projectile rifle, and the other three were scrambling for where they had put theirs down. As per Purple's directions, her sidearm was aimed at the armed one, and she fired.
Splinter, the largest of the five, fell onto his side, howling from both the pain of the flechettes embedded in his scales and the burns of the exploding laser rifle. Purple pushed forward as the engineer began firing, and stomped down on the dragon's chest to restrain him.
"Don't you fucking move." Purple said. She heard the engineer fire again, but there were no return shots from the other Tarnash. "This is over."
And in barely enough time that it took the pain-dazed Grey to realise what was happening, it was over.

Tiaris sat in the back of one of the armoured vehicles, huddled in a blanket, and watched the wind-down of the mission. Three of the Tarnash were led out by the response teams, she didn't bother asking the fate of the other two. She had been whisked away by other members of the response force as Purple held Splinter down and in custody, and hadn't yet spoken to her, but she knew it would be soon.
"We need to look at those burns, Agent." said the paramedic, once again. "Please. Not to mention the cuts."
"Not until she's gone." replied Tiaris. "She can't see me like this."
The paramedic shook her head in confusion. "I'll... see what I can do." she replied, and turned to speak into her radio. "Can I get a status on the Agent down there?"
The radio chirped back into the paramedic's ear.
"Okay." She turned to Tiaris, and shook her head. "Agent Purple is coming up to see you, Agent Grey."
Tiaris sighed and pulled the blanket in closer to her as Claws of Purple ascended the stairs. "If she has to."
Purple surveyed the scene, the pair of armoured transports now joined by medical evacuation vehicles, domestic security, and the previous patrons of the bar together in various groups. She noticed Tiaris, and immediately headed for her.
"Oh, thank the goddess you're okay." Purple said, almost jumping on the other Avian. "Are you hurt?"
Tiaris winced in pain as Purple squeezed her, causing her owner to withdraw a bit. "N... no, not much." she replied, with a bit of effort. "You go home. I'll see you there."
"No, no, you're hurt." Purple said, inspecting her closer, and noticing a fresh chip in her beak. "Has anyone triaged you?"
"Not for want of trying." mumbled the paramedic, slightly too loud than to just herself. "She's refusing treatment, while you're here."
Purple turned to the paramedic, and then to the shuddering Avian in her arms. "Tiaris. That's an order." she said, into the other's ear. "You don't need to hide it from me."
Tiaris sighed and shuffled the blanket off herself, revealing the ripped shreds of what her Agent uniform once was. Her top was nearly entirely gone, only the collar and one shoulder remaining, with lacerations and burn marks down her chest. A major one was over her shoulders, the feathers melted and revealing a nasty burn underneath. Her wrists were mostly stripped of feathers from the rope, and there was a large chip out of her upper beak. It wasn't anything Purple hadn't seen before, but it was the first time she'd seen it on someone she actually cared about.
"Okay." Purple said, with a deep sigh. "Let the doctor do what she needs to do. I'll... I'll go debrief Silver and Orange, if that makes you more comfortable."
Tiaris nodded, silent.
"You're going to be okay. I'll see you back at home." said Purple, into her ear. "I love you."
Tiaris could barely choke it back in response.