Private Ticket to Ride

[Gyro Zeppeli]

@Diego Brando || October 28th, Year 110 || Halfway between Lethe and the Dusk Forests, Anarchy Road

For an undetermined amount of time, Doctor Gyro Zeppeli will be taking a temporary leave of absence from Nanoball Frontier. If you need to visit a primary care physician, there are other doctors available. If you need to contact Dr. Zeppeli, then please leave a message and we shall forward to him as soon as possible. Thank you for your understanding, and we hope that we can continue to help with anything else.
Sincerely,
The Nanoball Frontier

For months, a choking feeling has grasped him by the throat. While it was satisfying to work at a clinic that he has built with his own two hands, it did nothing to squashing the stifling air that seemed to follow him wherever he was going. Despite his attempts, it wasn't home. Dread Wastes wasn't Naples, nor was there anything truly that tied him to the people of Lethe. It wasn't as if he didn't want to help them, he did... But each day he lived anticipating for the other shoe to drop. There'd come a time that whatever forces brought him to Pandora would be done with him, that they would toss him back over the net to the death that was awaiting him on America's eastern coast. It was a terrifying prospect to realize, and yet he was doing what, exactly? Sentimentally clinging to something that never would be.

So he set up the books and prepared his permanent staff for his temporary departure. There was no telling how long he would be allowed to enjoy Pandora, and he wouldn't waste the rest of that time just in the Wastes. He sat aside supplies for his trip, and for the first time since the race, packed Valkyrie's bags to prepare for a journey. There was no destination in mind, just a map of Pandora that he traded for in the market and luck. He'd ride where fate would lead him and the rest was decided by which side of the net he fell into. Yuna and Devorak were notified the day of, giving him plenty of time to leave the city behind him without any trouble.

The only one left unaware of his plan was Diego, though there'd be no doubt the jockey would assault his phone once he came to realize his disappearance. It hadn't felt exactly fair given the... well, it wasn't friendship but they were no longer hostile to each other for whatever that was worth. So it didn't feel fair given the slow break down of animosity, but even so, it was just Valkyrie and him. It was odd, though, riding through the desert with neither Slow Dancer nor her rider in view. With the way the heat bore down, sunlight glaring through the holes of his hat, it was as if he was in Arizona again. It was hard not to cling to old memories, even if it was his Achilles' heel. Sentimentality. His father had always warned him against its dangers, it had always been opposite to the life he was raised in, but he could never quite abandon it. Even if it meant death, he carried it in a piece of his heart.

As it turned out, the executive decision to leave Diego out would later bite him in the ass. He would've preferred one of Anarchy Road's bandits attacking him over spotting a familiar-looking reptile weaving through Valkyrie's hooves. It was much too small to be its master, but it was a sign that Dio himself wasn't far behind. After a moment of deliberation, Gyro pulled his steed to a walk and watched as the lizard similarly slowed as well. Glancing over his shoulder, he could spot both the man in question and Silver Bullet; they weren't close enough for him to have noticed their approach, though at the speed she was cantering, it wouldn't take Dio long to catch up.

"Lethe's the other way, lizard-brain!" He shouted witha hand cupped to his mouth to make sure the bastard heard it. Well, if Dio wanted to chase him down, he could certainly try. He spurred Valkyrie into a canter, easily falling back into the rhythm of her sway. One breath, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, then she swayed to her left. A billow of dust sprayed up as she ran, blazing a trail down the dirt of the road.

 

[Diego Brando]

Anger, as Diego has come to know, is a fickle and altogether unpredictable emotion. Different from the frustration that settles just beneath the surface so easily that it may as well be a second (or third, counting scary monsters) skin, unpredictable and wild in ways that chip away at whatever semblance of control he might have until all pretenses fall away. At the end of the day, it's a reminder that he's just another mindless pigeon in his own right when push comes to shove. Prone to emotion just like the rest of them, with decisions made through rash impulse built off of instinctive, animalistic reactions alike.

There's never been such a thing as sentimentality when it comes to him. Always a matter of ambition for the sake of making it to the top no matter what, with whatever connections made along the way just another stepping stone on the path to becoming bigger and better than anyone and anything else. In all senses of the word, Gyro should be no different, should be less considering the history shared between them. But a debt is a debt is a debt all the same, and the pride that his mother gave to him all those years back simply won't let it go unpaid.

In the months passed since his first arrival, perhaps it was - in hindsight - foolish to think that anything had really changed between them. No reason to expect a passing notice of any changes as far as the daily routine goes, except when the irritation festering in his gut reaches a boiling point of no return at the mere thought of Gyro going off to who knows where without at least a proper send off - no see you later, no goodbyes. A slow build that mimics the hooves pounding on the dirt beneath his feet, fangs already digging into his cheek as Diego hunches forward to watch the velociraptor tracking up front as it weaves back and forth out of sight.

"What's the hurry, Doc?!" Not the loudest sound in the world, though the not so subtle intensity behind it speaks volumes alone. "I just want to talk. Give you a proper send off, that sort of thing." Diego curls his lip up, exposing a sharp row of teeth as Silver Bullet's energy hums beneath him. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're afraid or something. But that couldn't possibly be the case."

why are you running? wHY ARE YOU RUNNI -

 

[Gyro Zeppeli]

When he set off on this trip to satisfy an itch that's been building under his skin, Gyro didn't know what to expect from Diego. A part of him in hindsight felt guilty for leaving him in the dark, but it wasn't as if they were friends. Sure, they weren't actively hostile to each other more. When they saw one another, Gyro didn't need to prepare for the possibility of an attack. It wasn't friendship, but there was no more animosity between them.

That didn't change the fact that there was an angry man capable of transforming into a dangerous, giant reptilian that was steadily catching up to Valkyrie. He could hear his accusations clearly despite their race, the sort of words that was capable of making his blood boil. "Couldn't possibly because it isn't the case!" Gyro bit back as he slowed back down to a trot. Diego wasn't the type to let go, and it was better to rip the bandaid off.

Gyro pulled Valkyrie to the side, steering her into a semi-circle. It was easy to spot the raptor that had been tracking him for who knows how long, perhaps a few miles until Dio caught up. "Just a talk? And what about, Dio?" He thought that he of all people would be glad that he was taking a break from Lethe. It meant that there wasn't any necessity to see one another, no chance of running into one another. Diego owed him for saving his life, and that was a fact they were both aware of. It created an odd sort of tension that Gyro thought he'd be happy to be rid of.

 

[Diego Brando]

Surroundings that were once a blur steadily clear as Diego's own pace slows to something resembling comforting, with only the blood rushing like fire through his veins still a frenzy of invisible movement. Strange, almost, that he feels as though he has some obligation to know of Gyro's movements. At the same time, it's infuriating that only he would be left out of the loop out of all people, especially considering how much of each other's proximity they've both had to endure since arriving in Pandora.

"I'm not so sure I believe that." Diego bares his teeth, fangs glinting off the sunlight overhead as Silver Bullet's trails just far enough behind Valkyrie that it's not entirely uncomfortable. "You wouldn't be running in the first place if you weren't scared of something. And you wouldn't be asking that sort of question if you didn't know the answer already. I know you."

"So what's this about you leaving on some sort of trip, huh?" Circle around like a predator would his prey, except in this case they're each equally likely to be one or the other, maybe both. "Couldn't have given me a courtesy call first." Part of Diego hates the way frustration seeps into his tone not out of hostility, but genuine irritation at being the last to know. "Not that I expected anything personal, but a heads up would have been better than whatever this is."

<3

 

[Gyro Zeppeli]

There hasn't been a point in his life where he's felt scared of Diego; threatened, yes, given their past but never scared. They've competed against one another and fought over the same goal despite, in the end, sharing the same enemy. There's a begrudging seed of respect for the jockey given his tenacity to survive anything trains included. The time they've spent orbiting one another due to the circumstances Pandora has put them in has forced him to see Dio in a new light.

Perhaps that's why he felt so angry now, literally chasing through the Waste's barren desert for a goodbye. And in retrospect, that's exactly why Gryo had left without a word to him. Parting ways, even for a temporary trip, signified something more than begrudging interactions. Seeing Diego Brando as anything more than an unwelcomed acquaintance was an uncomfortable thought to confront, and it's made even worse that he's being presented with this fact.

His lips tug into a familiar scowl, lip quirking upwards in the expression of annoyance as he regarded Diego. The bear of teeth is characteristically animalistic of him, though what would one expect from a character such as Diego Brando? The man literally transforms himself into dinosaurs, predators of a bygone era. Yet even that visage fails to frighten him, as he meets Dio's eyes with the closet look he can school to neutrality. "If you knew me, then you would know that I'm not scared of you, Dio." Gyro retorted with an ill-mannered huff.

"I wasn't aware that I was obligated to tell you." And it's a half-truth, given his earlier realization. He couldn't have predicted how frustrated Diego would be, and there are only a few reasons to explain this behavior. But them circling one another in this facade of a western-show down is a contest of pride, just as the untold words between them were. It was a question of who would first address this shift between them, moving from hostility to what some may regard as fellowship. "The head's up was the note I left the rest of the staff. Did you expect something more?"

 

[Diego Brando]

Such a strange situation to find himself in. Indebted to what was once his greatest rival and enemy on a competition that demanded the best of their abilities and more, with nothing besides a respect that exists solely for the purpose of conflicting with what should be hostility at its most intense and volitaile. Because if not for Gyro, then where would he be now, not only back in their own world but under the circumstances when entering Pandora to begin with? Dead before even getting the chance to make a lasting impression, and with a false knowledge of victory when it couldn't be farther from the truth.

"Why run, then?" Diego snaps, sharpening each word like daggers pushed through the thin gap between his two rows of teeth. "After everything you put me through ever since coming to this world, isn't too far-fetched to expect something more personal out of you on this one, Doc." He has seen and done everything up until this point with the intention of repaying what can never be at the end of the day. Purpose in its simplest form one way or another, and a void that stretches out into infinity at the prospect of it all being stripped away.

"Why are you even doing something like this, anyways?" He turns his head, looks at the ground and away while Silver Bullet dips its head and shuffles relentlessly on the spot. "It doesn't make any sense. There's no reason for you to just leave everything you have here, even temporarily."

<3