[i]Collab with [@Mercenary Lord][/i]

    Daryll was the last to enter the truck, having taken the moment to check the dent Zimmy left behind. While he was no expert, it clearly wasn't about to make the rust-bucket break down. He closed the door behind him and took a seat on Zimmy's left, away from the hand Lee was focusing on. He had no phobia of blood, but averted his gaze from the sight regardless. 
    A minute later, even after Lee had finished his work, Daryll knew something was up. Zimmy's quiet was unnatural to someone who had known her for so long. Even in the past, when she'd have the standard WARDEN mid-year confidence crisis, there was always a face put forward. An act of normalcy while she tried to tuck away the pain. Not even that was present on this morning.
    "Hey..." Daryll said, quietly as he could over the rumbling engine. He set his hand gingerly on Zimmy's shoulder, hoping to provide some comfort. "You know you saved my ass last night, right?" 
    
    Zimmy didn't look at anyone while Lee worked on her hand. She didn't want to see their sympathy, their confusion. "Thanks, Lee," was all she said, before turning to face Daryll. She looked at his feet, her lips moving wordlessly for a few moments. "I wanted to be something special," she said. "Mom and dad: they were something special. They were Second Class, you know? Higher-ups. They could have gone First if they hadn't had me."
    "So, you know, they wanted me to carry the torch. Pressured me a lot to get into training and practicing and reading. They were...tough on me. Not mean or hurtful, but I had to earn my praise, yeah?" She sniffed, rubbing her nose with her non-damaged hand. She would [i]not[/i] cry.
    "I told them that something really big had come my way. Something special, that would make them proud. They believed me. I believed me. Any now look at me. I got duped. Fuckin' doomsday cult recruited me to be a spy, to spy on my own friends. And I didn't even stop to think about why I was special. Why they'd chosen me. Because I'm a fucking gullible idiot, Daryll. That's why."
    
    Daryll stayed quiet for a few moments, processing what he had heard. None of the details were new, but the framing was. He chose his words with some care.
    "Everyone has a weak point. It's as true in combat as it is about ourselves. These guys don't sound like any sort of joke. I don't wanna know how long they spent researching you and creating the perfect pitch, but I doubt any of us could've resisted if they had chosen a different target. But do you know why they chose you? Not for gullibility, but because you're the best of us at that shit. Let's be honest, if anyone in this truck was going to not only sneak their way behind enemy lines, but cause pandemoneum while [i]still[/i] staying uncaught? It'd be you. It's like a vote of confidence."
    Daryll put on a cheesy gruff voice, hoping to lighten the mood on their corner of the benches. "This girl! This one's gonna survive! We can't let all our work go to waste!" He dropped it, looking Zimmy right in the eyes with a smile. "And you know what? They're right. You're alive, I'm alive, we all made it! Heck, they [b]underestimated[/b] you! Realistically speaking they got what? One day of intel out of what must've been at least a year until they approached you? You've practically thrown the whole thing in their face!"
    
    "Never been very good at following instructions," Zimmy muttered, before looking at Daryll for the first time. "Doesn't change the fact that I'm an idiot. Am I a traitor to my country now? I know I can spy. That's all I can do, Daryll: I'm not great a fighting head on, if you haven't noticed."
    She sighed. "I can't even remember if I went anywhere classified after they gave me that fucking bracelet. For all I know, it could have been recording everything I saw as well. Who knows what weird Mist shit they've cooked up?"
    She nursed her recently repaird hand while she spoke, as if not quite believe that it was whole again. To be honest, she hadn't even felt any pain after she'd smashed it to bits. She snorted. "You know, I used to be the funny one. Now look at me."
    Daryll decided to take her literally and gave her a quick scan. Her clothes were as clean as anyone's, although she seemed even more exhausted, hunched over, with her elbows on her knees and head on her hands. Daryll didn't expect some instant recovery, but brooding would only hurt his friend. 
    "I don't understand why you say "used to." Everyone has slumps, and this one is just hitting particularly hard. I'm not going to claim it'll all go back to whatever we're supposed to call normal, but you're still the Zimmy I've known. Perhaps a bit more wary and a touch more wise, yet I have no doubt you are fundamentally the same excitable young woman who had half our year guessing at what the hell was going to happen next. Plus, there's no use brooding on what they may have seen. You can't take it back, you've stopped giving them more, and even that info is becoming more outdated by the second."
    Daryll gave a long pause, wanting to find good words which could give some sense of temporary closure. "No matter what happens, Zimmy, I'm here if you need me. Just say the word and I'll be there to listen, to fight, or help with your latest mischief. I'm sure Trent and Lee would be delighted to as well." He gave her a gentle pat on the back and a smile. It was a sad smile, but sincere. 
    "Lee literally just wants to have sex with everyone I swear to god," Zimmy muttered, leaning back and putting her head against the wall. "He'd fuck his own shadow if it had tits."
    Daryll was right, of course. Dickhead. Always being rational. There was nothing to do now but keep moving. Their lives were very much in danger. "Well, we did kind of kick some ass, didn't we? Did you think that aerial shit would have actually worked? I told everyone, didn't I? It's genius."
    Daryll perked up slightly at the change of topic. "Probably best not to do it without good covering fire, but yeah. Leaves them helpless!" He mused for a moment, knowing very well that Lee was still mere feet in front of them, and Zimmy was just as aware. "We might wanna come up with a few more tricks, actually. And coordinating that stuff would be awesome. Both of us up in the air would be tricky, especially since you didn't spend too-many-goddamn-hours practicing spot-teleportation. Still, I'm sure there's a load of shit that we could cook up..."
    They passed a solid hour this way, tossing suggestions back and forth, cooking up absurd "tactics" that may be liable to get them killed. They even pulled others in for feedback every now and then, whiling away their time in the rickety old truck.