[center][hider]In Collaboration with JBRam2002[/hider][/center]

The eyes of the PSICOM tracker gradually blinked awake from where he lay, previously unconscious from the battle only a moment prior. The exertion of the battle left his mouth dry and his muscles sore. He groaned, his vision wavering behind his mask as he looked up, no, glared at Julian through his mask. Before him his friends and his boss lay with their bodies on the ground. His body shook, exhausted from the battle before he slowly staggered up, his chest heaving as he raised his blade up to them.

“We’re not…” Huff… huff… “Done yet…!” His suit muffled his voice, and from how he looked ready to fall over, it was clear his body wasn’t intending to keep up. “You,” His voice wavered, pointing his blade at Julian. “Why would you… betray…” A step forward had the soldier staggering to remain upright, his chest heaved painfully. The PSICOM tracker growled softly in frustration. He had no other items to raise his downed comrades; only enough for the mission at hand with the intent to avoid all confrontation possible. Another step and the soldier crumbled at Julian’s feet, by how he trembled it was clear that alone was done with immense effort. He still clasped his PSICOM-issued blade in shaking fingers against the ground, the shadows of his comrades just behind him made him want to push on. “Damn you…!”

As the man struggled forward, Julian held a hand up to the others as if to suggest they let him speak. Julian stepped forward to meet him where he came to rest, and with an easy flick of his wrist, his cane batted the blade from the Tracker’s grasp. His actions earned a small gasp from the Tracker at his feet. “I betrayed no one,” Julian replied, kneeling down before the PSICOM soldier. “The Sanctum betrayed me. They betrayed all of Cocoon. They want this war, perhaps even more than Pulse does, and I aim to find out more.” He extended a hand to the Tracker. “What’s your name, soldier? I am sorry for your comrades, but as long as you do not attack, I have no reason to harm you. You will join us, at least as far as our base. If you are cooperative, perhaps further.”

“Hh… ha...haha…” The tracker had a laugh besmirched on his breath before smacking away Julian’s hand. His leg slowly pulled itself under his body, through the mask at his proximity, Julian could make out the glower of of grey eyes staring back at him. Human. “People like you… are what others get killed fighting against. You, l’Cie, [i]scum!”[/i] 

With a grunt, the Tracker launched his weak body onto Julian's, springing onto him with a surprising ferocity that put all his body weight onto the dark skinned man. As the man crashed into him, Julian grappled his opponent, his hands grasping those of his attacker. “People like me are what real people, you and your squad, are sent to kill with no regard for their lives!” He countered, shoving the man back from him. The tracker grunted, landing on his butt with his hands propping him up as he glared back up at Julian who continued on; “You don’t have the energy to continue on. You have two options: you can stay here and be destroyed by the Cie’th like a common dog, or you can join me and learn what a l’Cie is really like. Who knows? You might learn something.” Julian pointed the cane he carried at the Tracker, ready to counter at a moment’s notice. “Your choice.”

There was a moment of silence between the two of them, the Tracker staring up at the former commanding officer before him with his emblazoned symbol of dishonor, the mark of the l’Cie, branded on his hand. Rage welled within the the soldier and his exhausted hand shot out, without thinking, and grabbed the cane in both hands as he pulled himself to his knees, resting back on his legs. Once he’d pulled himself up, he used one hand to tear away his helmet, throwing it away and sending it skittering across the ground as a poff of white hair slid free, the sweat causing it to stick to his dark olive toned flesh only really a few shades off from Julian’s own. Wide, wild grey eyes glared back into Julian’s brown as his hands pressed the end of the stylish wand to his chest. 

[color=chocolate]“If you’re going to leave me, then just kill me!”[/color] The unmasked tracker declared, gritting his sharp canines together. [color=chocolate]“That’s what a l’Cie is, isn’t it? Heathens that leave the rest of us to die for their own glory. I’ve already failed. [i][b]If you’re going to kill me then just do it!"[/b][/i][/color] The trackers eyes stared coldly into Julian's, never relenting in its soldiers gaze even for a moment. Daring him. Challenging him. 

Begging him. 

Julian stared back into the PSICOM soldier’s eyes, pity filling his gaze. “Here is your first lesson: I am not a killer,” he replied softly. “What is your name, soldier?” Julian repeated, his voice calm and inviting. 

More silence between the two of them.

[color=chocolate]“...Isis Ainmerht.”[/color] The dark skinned soldier said at last, his expression beginning to soften. Despite this, his expression remained firm in its amount of distrust, his lips coming together into a soft line. Still, his eyes glared into Julian’s. 

“And I am Lieutenant Julian Cagle, Isis. I used to live three blocks from here. Pulse soldiers destroyed my home.” Julian held the gaze of the other man, his voice still remaining calm and calculated. “I love Bresha. This is my home--”

[color=chocolate]“Save it,”[/color] Isis spat impatiently, his teeth seeming to gleam in the light. [color=chocolate]“If you’re not going to kill me, then help me out of here before we all become Cie'th food.”[/color]

Julian nodded. “Noir, he is in your charge for now. Bind his hands; keep him safe. No weapons, of course. And Isis, if you wish to prove yourself useful, it would go a long ways towards ensuring everyone’s trust.” With that, Julian pulled the cane gently from Isis’s grasp, the magical energy he had been charging now dissipating harmlessly from the tip of the cane. “Camp is about an hour’s walk from here. No more detours. It's time to go home.”