An odd sensation jolted the Observer known to his peers as Goldblum awake, followed by a voice that he quickly recognized as his captor, Anil.

"Good morning, Sunshine. That's it. That's the cold stare I know and love. You dead fish. This is my friend," the captor Anil gestured to his companion, a rather shabby looking native who looked… what was the word Goldblum was searching for? Irate? Yes, Irate. Though it was no different than how most natives looked at his kind.

The captor continued. "He's meaner than I am. So I guess you know where that leave you…" He turned to his compatriot and asked him, "You good?" Goldblum deduced that Anil would leave his companion to try to glean information out of him, whatever that may be. He couldn't do a read just yet as he was still groggy from the drugs that had been keeping him unconscious.

The Native accompanying Anil replied, "Good. Thank you," before turning his attention to Goldblum. "You recognize this, right? You're gonna help me put it together."

Goldblum soon enough rose to a level of consciousness that allowed him to read the man before him. He learned that this Native's name was Peter Bishop. Awfully arrogant, this Peter Bishop, he thought before replying - "You do not have a use for it." After all, what would, no, what could a Native use their End Dock Stabilizer Unit? The level of physics and the unit's operation would be beyond his level of comprehension.

"Oh, but I do have a use for it. I just need to know how it fits together, and I need to know what powers it, and I need to know how it works. To do that… I need to turn it on…" the cocky Native said, getting ever closer to the Observer's proximity. Peter brought what appeared to be a camera device closer to Goldblum's eye.

Goldblum focused on it for a moment and cocked his head before turning his attention to Peter. "You must understand, your compatriots have gleaned no information from me. You will not either," He replied hollowly before pausing for a moment, picking up a subtlety in Peter's thought patterns. A smug determination. Another head tilt. "You think you will succeed where others will not." The Observer's intonation changed slightly, almost imperceptibly, to one of amused curiosity.

"You read me. See if you can read my thoughts now. Anything?" Peter asked before quickly continuing, "It's okay. I know you know. I can feel you banging around inside there. But it doesn't matter what you find out. 'Cause you and I both know... you're never walking out of here. Whatever the closest thing it is to fear that you can feel, I know that you're feeling it right now. You're not the only one with a skill for reading people."

Peter exuded arrogance, Goldblum thought. Peter believed himself to have an edge over him. He would find himself to be sorely mistaken. Stilling himself for a moment, Goldblum's vision began to fade to blue as he looked into the future in regard to Peter's thoughts and actions. Peter's little scheme would ultimately fail, he surmised as he droned the words, "You don't even know what you don't know," in response to Peter and tilted his head in the quirky manner of his kind.

Peter's eyes narrowed, and he uttered, "We'll see," with that same cocky intonation as he powered up the camera. He intended to use an antiquated method of determining a person's emotions using pupillometry. Goldblum wasn't worried in the slightest. His kind didn't have the emotions that would betray them, even on a subconscious level. It would be a very ineffective method. The Observer's keen hearing picked up on a fly that zoomed about the room, and he decided to turn most of his attention to that. It was more interesting than what this Native was rambling on about.

"You and I both know the variation of a magnetic field produces an electric current if the pieces of the cube are assembled in the proper order. But what's the proper order?" Peter asked Goldblum, as if he would respond, before correcting himself, "Oh, that's right. You're not going to tell me."

"You are pleased with yourself," the Observer stated, his eyes following the path of the fly. To Peter, it would only look as if he had a slight nystagmus.

Peter snorted and replied, "I'm feeling optimistic… if that's what you mean." He began assembling the Unit piece by piece, watching Goldblum's pupils.

Goldblum glanced at Peter's progress. "Your skill is impressive… But it is of no consequence," he droned. To be truthful, Goldblum was surprised Peter had not blown them both to smithereens yet.

"You have no idea what we are capable of," the other retorted in turn.

"I think of you as I would an ant colony as I pass by it. I don't care about the workings of the colony, why one ant is mad at another or why one ant would kill another or not," the Observer said, feeling the closest thing to peeved that one of them could feel and wanting to put this lowly Native in his place despite the circumstances. "To me, it is insignificant. And like an ant colony, you are oblivious to your limitations. You think the black over your heads is dark skies," his jaw clenched a bit, and some semblance of pride creeped in to his voice, "When it is really our shoe."

Peter rolled his eyes, unfazed by the bald man's attempt to shake him. His unrelenting fury against Observers drove him onward to try and complete the cube. "You talk a good game, but the truth is… You're worried." Peter held up a component of the cube, so his captive could see it. "Now, this next piece… if I attach this incorrectly…"

"-We will be obliterated," Goldblum finished Peter's sentence calmly, returning to observing the fly.

"But how do I do it? Which is the right way? Four possibilities. Three of them are wrong. And I'm relying on you to tell me," Peter said, more at him than to him.

A pitiful attempt at mind games at best… Goldblum thought before speaking in reply, "Then you are relying on a faulty premise. I do not fear death. Whatever choice you make, it makes no difference."

"Consciously, yeah. That may be true. But your origins are human. No matter how advanced you've become, you will endeavor to stay alive at all costs," the Native paused, attempting to let the statement sink in before explaining, "In extreme situations, your body will react on a subconscious, organic level. There are 'tells' that your mind can't control."

"For instance…good news…" Peter moved the piece into different positions, watching the Observer's pupils closely on the computer screen. When he noticed Goldblum's eyes dilate, he held the piece over the hole it would be inserted in. "And your pupils dilate. Bad news, and they contract. Not just a theory. In fact, I'm sure of it."

"Are you?"

Peter let go of the piece and it was pulled into the machine via magnet. The cube didn't blow up, and Peter's face turned into one of smug satisfaction. All of a sudden, his cellphone rang, and Peter left the room, leaving Goldblum to contemplate flies and the future.

When Peter returned, his face was furious. He grabbed a sheet of hanging plastic and started towards Goldblum. Goldblum snapped to attention as he saw the sheet get wrapped around his head, suffocating him of precious air for a few moments before Peter gave him a reprieve from the choking. "Why didn't it work?" Peter growled, barely containing his anger.

As if by some instinct, the Observer read Peter, seeing flashes of memories in which Peter was conversing with Anil about pursuing revenge. "You don't even know what you don't know," he said flatly, though internally he was jolted, scared shitless as he could get. Being suffocated with a plastic sheet, and nearly dying of it would scare anyone, though this Observer would never admit to his fear. A primitive emotion. "Before going on a journey of revenge, dig two graves. Your friend was correct. Emotions get in the way of judgement."

"Emotions did not get better of me. I read your tells to help me assemble the device," Peter asserted, anger clearly showing, jaws clenched and eyes ablaze with fury.

"Your assertion regarding the involuntary response of the body to physical threat was interesting but highly antiquated. It does not apply to us." The Observer took a breath, trying to readjust himself. "In truth, there was a fly on the window. As my cerebral cortex registered it, there was a small irregularity in my heartbeat, causing a slight deregulation of my oxygen to my brain which in turn affected my oculomotor nerve. This oculomotor nerve is what caused my pupil to dilate." Goldblum figured by giving the reason for Peter's observation of his pupils, he could calm himself internally. He was right. Though it clearly wasn't helping Peter any. Goldblum didn't care. "That's what you picked up on, my observation of a fly," he continued, gaining his composure back. "But you ascribed meaning to something that was not there. You saw what you wanted to see. You believed what you wanted to believe, because that's what your emotions do. They ascribe meaning to something that is not there. They fool your perception as to what is real."

"No, you're wrong!" Peter growled. Though the Observer wasn't far off from the truth, things always have two sides to them. This Peter knew. Emotion helped see things that cold logic could not.

The Observer's eyes narrowed in response. "A dog does not smile, no matter how many times your kind might think it does. You put together the device because of your intuition and your knowledge and your experience as an engineer." Peter tensed as the Observer continued. "You simply needed confidence, so you made sure you saw what you needed in my reactions. You blame us for her death, but it is irrelevant. She was here, now she is simply not here."

Peter felt his rage reach its boiling point. He was not going to sit here and be psychoanalyzed by an Observer, nonetheless stand for one calling his daughter "irrelevant". He slugged Goldblum as hard as he could across the face, splitting open the man's cheek.

The Observer's eyes widened slightly in response and he blinked at Peter. He felt only the warm, wet sensation of blood dripping down his cheek, and a sensation of being shoved hard. It was unpleasant, to say the least, but not painful like Peter would hope.

"Did you feel that?!" Peter's voice shook with all the fury and heartbreak in the world. He wanted so bad for this man to suffer, to feel his pain despite knowing that it was futile. "She is not simply gone! SHE WILL BE REMEMBERED!" Peter shouted, the love for his deceased daughter showing in his voice.

Goldblum did not understand why. Why was it so important for her to be remembered?

"Unlike you! If I kill you right now, no one will remember you. No one will miss you!" Peter spat.

"…Miss… me?" This idea caused confusion in Goldblum's mind.

"You are nothing but tech! I would be ten times what you are if I had that tech in my head!" Peter tilted the gurney that the Observer was on down so that Goldblum was facing the floor, neck exposed to Peter.

The insult Peter had delivered made Goldblum question his purpose, and he felt a strange emptiness. What was he really, but technology in a living body? He didn't have much time to pursue this question before an unimaginable sensation that would be the equivalent of pain for an Observer shot down his neck and radiated throughout his body. The Observer gasped, feeling what could only be sheer terror as Peter began to tear the implant out of his head.

"You're wrong about emotions not being real. My feelings for her are very real. Can you feel that? The pain of a piece of you being torn out? That's the pain a father feels when he loses a child," Peter hissed in Goldblum's ear as the man started to pass out. Peter held the strange sparkplug like tech in his hand and walked over to a mirror, picking up a scalpel that lay on the sink. Fighting through the pain, he made an incision in the crook in his neck, and brought the tech to the incision. The tech inserted itself into the incision and seared the wound that Peter had inflicted shut, leaving him with a hell of a headache. Peter didn't have long to contemplate this as he heard signs of a struggle outside.


One Week ago

Loyalist Headquarters: Captain Windmark's Office

Windmark was filling out what seemed like an endless supply of paperwork when he looked up from said paperwork and said "Come in," shortly before a knock could be heard on the door to his office. A rather slender woman in the Loyalist uniform walked in the office. She was rather tall, Windmark noticed, as she stood almost as tall as he did. "Ah, Officer Bell."

"Captain," The woman replied, brushing her wavy brown hair out of her eyes, "What did you want to see me for?"

"It appears one of our technicians has gone missing. It is likely he has been captured by the Resistance…" He began to explain.

Officer Bell frowned. She rather disliked having to deal with the Resistance. It meant more paperwork, and more bodies to dispose of. "Do we have information on where he was last seen? And which technician was it that went missing?"

"Goldblum. He was last seen in Sector 3-D. It is imperative that you retrieve him. He is important to our work," Windmark droned, and then pulled his lips into a fake smile.

Officer Bell fake-smiled in turn, before saluting Windmark. "Yes sir! Permission to assemble the team, sir?"


The woman turned on her heel and promptly exited his office. Windmark found this woman to be a tad off from most Loyalists. Not so much that he suspected her of treason, but that she was… an anomaly? Perhaps. He would have to make a mental note to look into it. However, she was effective at her job, so he saw no need to do an intensive reading. He brushed these thoughts aside. There was work to be done for his 'crap detail' as Phillip had so eloquently put it, and he would not stave it off any longer with entertaining ideas about his officers simply because they return his false smile with a false one of their own. He sighed, and set to his task of paperwork.


Meanwhile, Officer Bell set herself to assembling a team. Her first stop would be to retrieve a Brandon Fayette from the Ministry of Science. Since the Invasion had begun, this man had sworn his loyalty in an insatiable quest for knowledge about the Observers and their technology. He would be of great aid, as he was well versed in many areas of science. She hoped that he would be able to provide some insight as to where Goldblum would have been taken to, or he could at least point her in the right direction.

Officer Bell exited headquarters and went to her company car: a jet-black jeep with sirens on the top. She retrieved her keys from her pocket and entered the vehicle, where her partner Kirk Mitchell waited. He was snacking on a donut, perks of being a Loyalist officer. Bell eyed him with some degree of envy, for personal reasons: her sense of taste was duller than most people's, and she secretly wished she knew the full extent of flavor that they did.

"So… where are we going Sparrow?" Kirk asked between bites, powdered sugar decorating his lips and beard.

"Captain Windmark has informed me that Goldblum has gone missing. We are heading to the Ministry of Science to contact Brandon Fayette," she replied. "Also… you have some donut on your face, Kirk."

He chuckled a bit, brushing his mouth free of the donut crumbs. "You know… if I ever became Captain…" Sparrow shot him a look as he said this, "I know, fat chance in hell, Sparrow. But if I hypothetically did… I'd be Captain Kirk." He grinned devilishly.

Sparrow deadpanned. She did not find this very amusing, nor did she get the joke. "Seriously?" She raised an eyebrow.

"What? Haven't you heard of Star Trek?"

"Star… Trek? I have only heard Brandon mention it…." She looked confused.

"One of these days I'll have to show you… There's a character who's a captain of a starship and his name is Captain Kirk," her fellow Loyalist explained.

Sparrow lifted her head in a semi-understanding, grunting in response, to which Kirk muttered, "Oh you're no fun." Ignoring him, she started up the car, and began driving towards the Ministry of Science building which had served as one of Massive Dynamic's laboratories in the past before the Observers had monopolized the company and others like it into an aggregate Ministry of Science. When they arrived, Sparrow stepped out of the car.

"Come with me, please?" Sparrow asked her partner, her voice containing little emotion. "I believe you would be able to help me speak with Brandon, considering your interests."

"What is that supposed to mean, Sparrow? Are you insulting me?" Kirk asked, about to be offended.

"No, not at all," She shook her head, almost over emphatically, "You seem to share similar interests as he does, so I believe you would get along with him, and this would coerce him into being more… cooperative, I suppose, is what I'm meaning."

Kirk let a small sigh of relief escape him, before also exiting the vehicle. "Ah… Okay. I'll help." He began to follow Sparrow into the Ministry of Science building, and they both flashed their credentials, allowing them passage past the lobby. Sparrow had stopped at a computer directory and started punching in words that Kirk could not read as it was written in the Observer's language, and he was not at a high enough level in security to know it.

"Ah, he's on the third-floor lab right now…" she muttered to herself, before leading her partner onward through what seemed like a maze of hallways and stair cases. Finally, they arrived at what Sparrow knew to be the location of Brandon Fayette. She stood outside the entrance to the lab and hit the buzzer, notifying those inside of her presence.

An emotionless voice came from a speaker under the buzzer, "State your business."

Sparrow looked at the pinhole camera seated above said buzzer sharply, and straightened herself. "Officer Sparrow Bell of the Loyalist Infantry, Level 6 Ensign. I am here with my partner Kirk Mitchell to speak with Brandon Fayette," Her voice sounded authoritative and matter of factly.

Kirk looked at her like she was crazy. He knew the voice on the buzzer belonged to one of them, the Observers. Who did she think she was talking to one like that?! But in Sparrow's mind, she wanted to be taken seriously, and for them to know that she was on a mission. She had no time for any pleasantries.

Whatever the case was, the door opened with a slight hiss as the airtight seal was broken, and the Observer standing on the other side gestured for them to come in, a neutral expression on his face. Brandon was occupied with a severed head in a glass box, taking readings from a computer screen attached to it as the head was being reanimated by electrical impulses from thin filaments attached to neurons that remained in the head.

Kirk paled, having only seen this kind of horror in sci-fi movies, while Sparrow appeared unmoved. "Brandon, it is imperative that I talk to you," the ensign spoke, frowning when Brandon didn't budge from writing his notes. "Fayette. NOW," Her voice was firmer, and bore a semblance of annoyance, as she put her hand on his clipboard. He looked at her with an exasperated expression which quickly evaporated when he realized who she was.

"Oh… Officer Bell… Terribly sorry," He dropped his clipboard on her foot. She blinked at him in turn. "What do you need?" He clasped his hands, a bit nervous at the thought of an ensign wanting something from him. The ensigns in the Loyalist Infantry were in charge of entire squadrons, and were almost similar to the chief of police in some aspects, while performing some functions of military police, enforcing the rule of the Observers.

"What I… no, we," She glanced over at Kirk who was bent over a trash can, much to the disgust of the Observer in the room who pulled a face at the sight. Sparrow sighed and turned to the Observer. "Excuse my compatriot… He's relatively new and unused to some of the more subtler workings." Returning her attention to Brandon, she continued "What we need is your aid, Brandon Fayette."

"With what?"

"Captain Windmark had informed me that Goldblum has been missing and was last seen in Sector 3-D," She replied. Brandon snorted at the name of the sector, an amusing joke to him. He looked at her, imploring her to continue. "I personally know that you are an excellent scientist, one loyal to the cause, and I believe that you would be able to point us in the right direction as to where he would have gone, and or what happened."

Brandon flushed red a bit, feeling flattered at receiving such praise. "You embarrass me. Though, currently I think your… compatriot may need help more at the moment." He eyed the now ailing Kirk.

"I-I-I'll be fine. I just… I just need to… oh no.." He retched into the trash can again.

Sparrow sighed heavily, and shook her head. "Perhaps moving this conversation elsewhere would help. And some anti-emetics."

"How about my office? I have something that could help him there."

Sparrow nodded. "Kirk, grab the trashcan and let's go." He did so, and tried to stand, only to start to lose his balance. Sparrow quickly caught him, and hoisted him to his feet. "Lean on me, then. You're going to have to get used to these things…"

Kirk nodded and the two of them followed Brandon to his office, with a trashcan in tow, only to pause for Kirk to vomit occasionally. When they arrived, Brandon searched his desk, and gave Kirk a pill to stop his vomiting, leaving him pale and clammy. Brandon sat down and pulled up a computer screen, a mere holo projection now, with the Observer's technology.

"You said Sector 3-D, correct?" Brandon asked. Sparrow nodded as Brandon entered data into the computer. "Running facial recognition software…. Search Goldblum…." He muttered to the computer. "…It seems that city-cams saw him four days ago taking measurements for something…." He showed Sparrow and Kirk the screen. An Observer was shown using a strange futuristic tape measure in a blocked off section of the street in the area. Brandon allowed the footage to continue to play.

The footage showed Goldblum being caught off guard by someone with an injection to the neck. Goldblum fell unconscious, and the person that administered the injection dragged him into the back of a station wagon before driving off.

Kirk wiped his brow with a handkerchief he had kept in his jacket, and took a deep breath before speaking, "Can you use the city-cams to see where they took him?" Sparrow glanced at Kirk approvingly.

"… Certainly." With a few more strokes of the keyboard, Brandon followed the car up until they vanished into a section of abandoned subway tunnels. "It seems that they were heading for the old subway tunnels up on Fleet Street… They've disappeared from the view of the city-cam after that point."

Sparrow withdrew a notepad from within the confines of her jacket and made a note about the location, writing in the same script as the Invaders. Their script was used as code among the higher ranked officers, and Sparrow often made a habit of using it to cover her ass in the event that a Resistance member should come across any of her work. "Thank you, Brandon. Kirk, are you feeling well enough to gather the posse?"

"…Can we eat first? I practically threw up the only food I've had today."

"How can you think about eating after emptying your stomach contents?" Sparrow looked at Kirk, her eyes slightly widened. She thought he was indeed very strange.

"What can I say? I guess fear makes me hungry?" He shrugged.

Sparrow sighed and mumbled begrudgingly, "We'll stop for coffee and donuts on the way." She stood up, thanked Brandon again, and walked out with Kirk trailing behind her. After returning to the vehicle, and stopping for food, Sparrow drove the two of them to the Loyalist barracks to retrieve the rest of her squad.

Entering the building with some degree of authority, Sparrow looked about for her underlings, as well as the commanding officer of her unit. The commanding officer, an Observer named Cardamom, appeared before her in an instant.

"You were looking for me?" He queried, head tilting to the side, steel grey eyes boring into Sparrow's amber ones. He sensed that he was wanted and or needed by his subordinate, and thought it'd be faster just to find her.

"Ah, it seems you have found me instead, Cardamom," Sparrow stated before proceeding to answer his question. "Captain Windmark has asked us to find Goldblum. I went to the Ministry of Science and was able to track his last known location- "

"-To the abandoned subway tunnels on Fleet Street," Cardamom and Sparrow spoke in unison. Cardamom flinched a bit after reading Sparrow like this. It sounded like he was in an echo tunnel with Sparrow's thoughts and his own being repeated over and over, louder and louder. He ceased his reading of Sparrow, the cacophony in his head being too much to bear, despite feeling no pain.

Sparrow put her hand on her head as if she had a headache, and spoke quietly, "Some privacy, please. It is not a pleasant process to have my thoughts read." Nor to hear yours echo in my head, she silently added.

Kirk again looked at Sparrow as if she were crazy for challenging one of them. He opened his mouth and closed it, uncertain of what to say. Instead, he decided to watch Cardamom's reaction to her request.

"It is not particularly pleasant to for me to read you either… It is, what you say, a force of habit to read people," He replied, adjusting his tie. "What has happened to Goldblum?"

"The Resistance has captured him…" Sparrow answered grimly. "I certainly hope he is in one piece… and alive."

"It would be a shame to lose him. He is useful, but replaceable."

Sparrow frowned at this. Goldblum was still a person. Not just something to be replaced. She hated that their kind had this attitude. Kirk looked unsettled by the statement, and felt very small indeed. That was how the Observers viewed them: 'Useful, but replaceable'.

Cardamom turned about on his heel and headed for his desk, in which sat an intercom system. He pressed a button and the intercom system came on. "Attention Squad Epsilon, please gather in the briefing room for your new assignment," his voice crackled over the intercom.

Sparrow and Kirk met up with Cardamom in the briefing room, and other Loyalists from Squad Epsilon started to file in. They looked to be in varying degrees of sleep deprivation. Sparrow had a brief conversation with her superior, asking permission to set up the visuals for the mission briefing, before heading over to a computer and bringing up pictures of Goldblum on an overhead projector. She glanced over at her C.O. before speaking. "Alright everyone, listen up. Captain Windmark has given orders that Goldblum, shown here," she gestured to the projections, "is to be retrieved. Now I have reliable intelligence that the Resistance movement has captured him. His last known location, as far as we could track him via city-cam, was the abandoned tunnels on Fleet Street."

Cardamom stepped forward, seizing an opportunity to speak. "Sparrow, Kirk, Cedrik, Ventus, Benedict, you will take the eastern side of the tunnels. The rest of you are with me on the western side."

The Loyalist Squad chorused in unison "Yes Sir," and saluted him. The squad would soon discover that the search for Goldblum wouldn't be simple, as the subway tunnels were difficult to navigate. The vehicle that Goldblum was kidnapped in didn't leave much of a trace, leaving the team to comb through the tunnels bit by bit. It took them nearly a week before they managed to find the building the missing Observer was being held in.

Sparrow's team was the first on the scene, standing approximately one hundred meters from the building. Her subordinates looked to her for instructions, to which Sparrow responded by keeping her voice low and commanding, "Alright, I believe we have found an enemy base. We can't be sure of what we're walking in to, so use caution and don't be reckless; I'm looking at you, Benedict."

The man addressed as Benedict scoffed and rolled his eyes, but otherwise didn't protest. He knew better, as Sparrow had saved his ass on multiple occasions and he had a begrudging respect for the woman.

"Cardamom and his team should arrive short- ah, just as expected…" Sparrow glanced up and saw the Observer leading the remainder of the squad from the opposite direction in which they had come. Some of her subordinates looked at her odd. She always seemed to know approximately when Cardamom would arrive. Kirk often referred to this as her "spidey-sense", much to her confusion as she had no knowledge of Spiderman.

The Observer acknowledged her presence with a glance before turning his attention to the building. Sparrow figured he was using his ability to read the future, and opted to wait for him to make the first move. He held up his hand, giving the signal for radio silence. The team switched off their coms. The next hand signal to come was the signal for Sparrow's team to take the back entrance, his team would take the front.

Sparrow nodded her consent and took her team to the back. Hearing a noise, she held her hand up, the team stopped. She tilted her head trying to locate the source of the sound. The noise came from a security camera that was moving on its stand. It looked like this would not be an easy rescue mission. The Resistance would know that they were there.

"So much for the element of surprise," Sparrow thought. She drew her gun, and lead her team to the back door. The door, of course, was locked. With a swift, hard kick, Sparrow wrested the door open, and signaled her team to split. Kirk and she would take the right fork of the hallway, while the remaining three would take the left. As Sparrow and Kirk swiftly walked down the right side, they saw Resistance members swarm out of the rooms in the hallway, some looking to flee, while others had their weapons drawn and ready to fight. "Resistance is futile. Surrender and you will not be harmed," reciting a line she had said many times before, Sparrow released the safety on her pistol and aimed. They wouldn't surrender, but it was protocol to give a person fair warning before you open fire upon them in the field of law enforcement. She opened fire attempting to make as many non-lethal shots as possible, as it would be a hassle to fill out paperwork for the dead. That, and she didn't particularly enjoy killing a person. There was already enough blood spilled on behalf of the Invaders.

The Loyalists worked their way through the building in their search for Goldblum. The toll of injuries rose as they did, though more Resistance members were injured, forcing the Resistance to evacuate and retreat. The Loyalists didn't bother with pursuing them as their main goal was to retrieve Goldblum.

It was Cardamom who had found Goldblum, and alerted the others to his location. Peter was making a swift back exit when he heard the Observer approaching, though his head hurt like a bitch. Cardamom called out for aid upon seeing his fellow Observer unconscious and wounded, sounding like a loud, monotonous robot.

Sparrow and others quickly rushed over as fast as they could, working their way through any remaining Resistance members. When Sparrow arrived, she checked Goldblum's pulse. It was sluggish, and she could see he had lost a lot of blood. "He's alive… but barely…" She spoke, and wiped away the blood from his neck. "Whomever did this, removed his implant." Cardamom looked deeply unsettled by this statement. "He'll need medical attention," Sparrow continued. "I can't replace blood, only seal his wound. You look… upset, Cardamom."

"I do not feel any emotion, Sparrow."
"Fear… Your kind still knows fear in extreme circumstances. What is wrong?" Sparrow asked, insisting that the Observers could still feel something.

"We… cannot help him," he said slowly. In Cardamom's mind, the removal of tech was about the equivalent of death for one of their kind.

"Why not? An injured Loyalist gets medical attention… why not an Observer?" Her eyes widened. "We can't just leave him here. He's still alive! Now help me fix him!"

He grabbed her hand as she tried to suture the bleeding man. "You cannot fix him." He stated firmly. "Once the implant is removed, he is dead in the eyes of my kind."

Sparrow currently did not care about what was considered "dead" by Observer standards. "Forgive me sir, but I currently don't give a rat's ass. Our mission was to retrieve him, and return him to Captain Windmark," she gritted her teeth and growled. "I will not leave him to die here." She shoved Cardamom's hand away, and proceeded to try and save the injured man by suturing his wound closed and applying a first aid spray to the injury. The spray sped up the process of healing, and soon enough, Goldblum's injury was starting to disappear into a scar.

"Then it is on you to explain this to them," Cardamom said, almost coldly. If Sparrow was going to be so insistent on saving a dead man, then it is on her to take the fall. He wouldn't be the one to take the blame for this, nor stick around to watch. He disappeared in the manner that Observers do, appearing to blink out of existence, when the reality was that he simply teleported.

"Why… did you just defy him?!" Kirk squeaked after Cardamom left.

"Just shut up and help me get him back to the medical bay at HQ," Sparrow grunted as she moved the unconscious Observer off the table. "The more time we waste, the more likely he will die. I am not going to fail the mission, nor lose a man."

Kirk felt he was getting too old for this, as he moved to aid her in moving the Observer to their jeep. "I really hope you know what you are doing, Sparrow."

She sighed, and the two of them moved Goldblum to the Jeep, while the remaining Loyalists pulled what information they could from the electronic devices present in the Resistance hideout. Sparrow gave them an order to bring any information, and bodies back to headquarters for processing; the Observers would most likely want to interrogate any viable corpses for information using their reanimation technology. Then she and Kirk left to return to HQ, leaving the remainder to do their work.

They took Goldblum to the Medical Bay for treatment, which consisted of blood transfusions and a banana bag of iv fluids. Sparrow paced about while the medical team brought him back to consciousness. She wanted to make sure he lived before reporting to Captain Windmark. A nurse came out of the room where Goldblum was being treated and informed Sparrow that her presence was requested. Lacing her fingers together out of anxiety, she entered the room. She looked at the now conscious Observer.

"Officer Bell… Why… why did you bring me here?" Goldblum asked.

"Because I wanted you to live."

"Wanted me to live? I did not think I mattered." He looked genuinely confused.

"You are a person, too. You are human. You still deserve a shot at life, just like anyone else," She spoke quietly.

"There was no point to saving me. They will kill me, now that I no longer possess my implant." Strangely enough, the Observer looked remotely sad.

Sparrow felt a deep sense of pity. She made a move as if to comfort him, but retracted her hand as she thought better of it. "I will not let that happen," she spoke with a conviction and reverence that Goldblum had rarely heard used about him or his kind.

The Observer felt a strange sensation. He felt what he thought was relief as the tension he had been feeling loosened its grip on him. Something about the way she spoke, gave him the impression that she would fight to make it so he would be able to live. "You are an interesting Native, I will give you that." He felt a wetness on his face and moved to wipe it away.

Sparrow looked at him confused. He was crying? "… I am simply doing what I believe is right." She said slowly, before Kirk told her that Windmark wanted to see her. Her last words to him before leaving were "You are more than your implant."