Goddess of Battle - Ishtar

by SwiftheBun

Summary:

Before the creation of the ark, back when countries once ruled the surface, the first iteration of Nikke's were created. These "Suitors" would try to woo their Goddess in ever riskier battles. As compatibility emerged between females and the Nikke system gained traction their male counterparts, found obsolete and dangerous, were soon sent to the most dangerous of fronts. With wiped minds and insufficient supply most if not all Suitors met their Goddess with eager eyes and smiling faces.

However not all Suitors found their glorious ends in those days of yore.....

Chapter 1: Two Dumbass in a Stone Coffin

 

“How's the horizon?”

 

“Still nothing, sah.”

 

Both men let out a sigh in unison. One lounges on a stone “bench”, one of many leading upwards towards a small concrete platform. At the top the other man sits cross legged in front of a console serving as the controls to the massive gun emplacement, his finger hovering over its firing mechanism. Both men wear white tank tops and gray urban patterned combat pants.

 

The man lounging stands up revealing his height being no less than 7ft. His body is pure muscle and mass, barely a “soft” spot on him. He walks up stairs to the man on the platform, and looks out the slit above the other man, being slightly blinded by the focused sunlight.

 

“I don’t like it, Barnabas.”, the man says crouching, placing a hand on the other man’s slender shoulder, “Been too long since the last assault.”

 

“Mhmm.”

 

Barnabas turns to the muscular man, his brown slender frame revealing itself, purple glowing unnatural eyes look at the crouching man. He shrugs and shimmy’s on his butt towards the ledge of the platform until his legs dangle over the edge. Barnabas stretches his legs out and slides off the platform lazily.

 

The muscular man chuckles wryly standing straight walking down the stairs to join his comrade on the ground floor. As he approaches Barnabas the height difference between the two becomes more stark. The smaller Barnabas is almost groin level, only barely over the belt that keeps the muscular man's pants up.

 

“How long since your last dose?”

 

Barnabas scratches his head ruffling his gray shoulder length hair. He counts on his fingers four digits peeking a fifth finger, but quickly putting it down. The other man’s brows furrow for a moment.

 

“Four hours I’d say…..”, Barnabas looks up at the muscular man with a hesitant smile, “...Give or take, sah..”

 

The muscular man moves over to his “bench” flipping the blanket that covers the concrete landing stair underneath. This stair in particular is slightly wider than the others and serves as the perfect place for a bed. He presses a panel against the stair opening a small compartment. Inside is a vial with a syringe attached, a foreboding black liquid contained within the medical glass.

 

Barnabas looks over the man’s shoulder to see the singular vial within the compartment and grimaces.

 

“Sah, is that…..”

The muscular man chuckles sarcastically, “It’s the last vial from command since they gave us our orders…..”

 

Both men go silent for a moment as the air of dread quickly fills their pillbox. They suddenly burst out laughing. The muscular man facepalms trying to cover his mouth.

 

“Oh God we really are fucking dumbasses aren’t we, pfftt haha!”

 

“Aye sah, ahaha!”

 

“Two dumbasses sitting in a stone coffin!”

 

“Aye, sah that’s us!”

 

The laughter starts to die as they sit on the concrete bench. They both put their hands to their neck touching the barcode on it.

 

“All for the future…..right Erasmus, sah?”

 

“Eyup.”

 

The muscular slowly nods as his comrades' words resonate within. His grin slowly fades turning to a screen just below the gun emplacement. It sits within the shadow of the platform above. Erasmus stands and walks up to it tapping the screen rapidly until it turns on.

 

“50 magazines of FMJ…... .25 magazine armor piercing ... .5 mags high explosive..…0 black tips….”

 

Barnabas grimaces, letting out a curt sigh. The black tips was the experimental ammo HQ equipped the emplacement to have, but the sudden invasion stopped their rearmament.

 

“The FMJ’s are useless….Saw the damn things ricochet like a fackin’ ping pong ball between a line of em…they’re armor is getting better ‘ery day, sah.”

 

“Should I send a rearmament request to command?”, Erasmus turns from the panel moving to Barnabas and takes a seat next to him.

 

“Good joke, sah,,” Barnabas starts to chuckle, “Next you’ll tell me we should ask for extraction!”

 

Both men burst into laughter filling the pillbox with their joy. They grab their stomach trying to not die from the morbid comedy. Erasmus lets out a heavy breath through his heavy chuckles.

 

“Wanna… whew! ..Wanna get some air,” Erasmus says, calming himself. 

 

The taller man points to the hatch above which serves as the only entrance and exit to the bunker. Barnabas nods, wiping the tears away from his eyes as his laughter reincarnates as a hyena-like cackle. He calms himself after a moment and stands climbing the stairs to his gun emplacement. He presses a panel beside his gun controls upon which a scanner flips to him. A green light serves as an eye which directs its attention to Barnabas.

 

“Specialist Barnabas Bunts: Nikke number 2681”

 

A robotic voice seems to emanate from all corners of the bunker. A secondary “eye” appears on the ground floor, above the ammo panel, and scans the room focusing on Erasmus.

 

“Second Lieutenant Erasmus Leofric: Nikke number 2521”

 

The voice states both their ranks in a robotic voice the secondary eye shuts itself leaving the one above the singular light.

 

“Request to go topside…..processing…..”

 

Erasmus stares at the wall until he hears a knock above. He looks up to see Barnabas leaning over the edge pointing with his thumb towards the light. The smaller man starts making a silly face while twirling his finger around his ear. Erasmus responds with a knowing heading shake making his own silly hand motions in response.

 

“Request approved,” the robotic voice chimes without warning, “The probability of enemy units in this region is 15%. Upon reviewing past combat knowledge the odds of attack are low enough for……10 minutes of topside time….. Please stay safe units 2521 and 2681 humanity is in your hands.”

 

They both let out a sigh of relief.

 

“Thank you, Ennik,” Barnabas smiles patting the eye, “You’ve been like tha’ma I nevea’ did have.”

 

“If you exceed the allotted time you will be labeled deser-”

 

“ALRIGHT! Thank you!”

 

Barnabas presses the panel sending the light flipping back into the bunker, “Just like mum.”

 

Barnabas leans over the edge again with a heavy sigh. The taller man below chuckles standing up and taking a step towards the platform taking a place under it. He can hear Barnabas coming down the stairs on the other side taking a seat on one of the stairs. They both look expectantly towards the hatch. Without a sound a ladder descends from the darkness around the hatch slamming loudly into the concrete.

 

Erasmus is the first to take hold of the rusty ladder and climbs it steadily. He reaches the top within seconds and opens the hatch. The bright sun nearly blind him at first, but after a moment he’s out of the dark box. He turns just in time to offer a hand to the struggling Barnabas, whose height makes ladders meant for Erasmus’s ‘batch’, difficult to climb to say the least. The smaller man grabs hold with a smile, the bigger Erasmus easily lifting him out of the bunker placing him gently on his feet. Both men stand proudly in the morning sun.

 

The bright mother shines over her children basking them in her warmth. The ivory Erasmus contrasts the golden brown skin of Barnabas. The smaller man lets out a yawn and stretches his whole body.

 

“Can’t beat this view, huh.”

 

Erasmus folds his arms looking into the distance. From the top of the bunker he can see the beachhead some distance away. He can hear the waves crashing against the metal corpses of humanity’s common enemy.

 

“Fucking robots…..”

 

Barnabas turns to his taller comrade with a confused look. Erasmus’s frown turns to a grin as he looks at his smaller companion with a knowing look.

 

“Right.”

 

Without a further word he picks up Barnabas and lifts him onto his shoulders. Barnabas is barely fazed by the action and upon reaching this new height frowns as well.

 

“Fucking robots.”

 

“That's what I’m saying.”

 

Erasmus lowers Barnabas back to the ground. They stay quiet for a moment as the waves washing to shore fill their minds. Barnabas squats down his heels not touching the ground.

 

“Looks like it's just us now…”

 

Erasmus looks at Barnabas to see his comrade pointing towards his left. He looks towards that direction to see a multitude of bunkers identical to theirs leading all the way to the end of the beachhead. All of them are faced towards the beach in a circular formation with both ends meeting a high mountain range.

 

Unlike theirs however, it's obvious all the other bunkers are “inoperable”. Many have their roofs completely caved in their massive guns nowhere to be seen. Some can only be identified by the foundation of concrete against grass that surrounds the location. One has the gun emplacement turned into the bunker, the back of the concrete structure, and most of the field behind it, blasted away.

 

Erasmus takes a seat next to Barnabas folding his hands over his legs. He lets out a sigh as memories of previous assaults flood his mind. The sounds of his allies dying only a bunker away flood his ears. The blood and sacrifice made bear as he had to listen to his comrades burn to death laughing madly. A sudden chuckle from Barnabas knocks Erasmus out of his thoughts.

 

“Remember the uh…..Samson brothers?”, his comrade says, drawing his finger against the pillbox, “They were like what….two…three boxes down?”

 

Erasmus picks up a pebble, throwing it indiscriminately towards his left. He can hear a close metallic thunk as it hits the neighboring bunker. Their neighbor’s gun completely ruined the massive machinery forming spikes in the fires of its destruction. The spikes pierces out the back of the concrete bunker filling the entirety of the inside.

 

“Four.”

 

“Ahh right….,” a small smile appears on Barnabas’s face for a moment, “four boxes down….”

 

Silence overcomes them again.

 

“They were always on the communicator,” Barnabas giggles trying to lighten the mood, “even when command told them to get off of it haha.”

 

“Remember when they left it on when their mom called?”

 

“Funniest shit ever. That poor woman is such a worrier.”

 

They both chuckle at the shared memory.

 

“At least she sent all of us that homemade shortcake,” Barnabas nods, “real nice lady she is.”

 

“Eyup.”

 

Erasmus nods in agreement, his eye looking over to the other pillboxes. He counts down until he reaches the fourth one. It’s angled in a way that they could use lanterns to talk due to the perfect geometry of the gunner slit resting above the emplacement controls. Besides the gun being missing he can see the inside of the concrete structure. The white stone is blackened to the point of melting in some parts. The word “Sun scorched” passes through Erasmus’s mind.

 

“....Command could have told us of the new variant….”

 

Erasmus throws another pebble this time towards the metallic corpses riddling the beach. He doesn’t know if the pebble hit one of them, but one could hope.

 

“Aye, sah.”,Barnabas smiles solemnly, “I wonder if their mom’s okay.”

 

“Last report of the war status from Command said South America had fallen entirely.”

 

“And we haven’t heard since, haha.”

 

Erasmus turns to Barnabas. His comrade chuckles, but his tightening grip around the tattoo on his arm tells a different story. The tattoo bears a combination of a flag from both the “New” and “Old” world. The blue and white is chipped while the black and yellow of the other half is nearly gone.

 

He allows a solemn sigh to escape him looking at his own tattoo. The red white and blue 50 stars proudly upon it. The last message he received from his family in Oklahoma was months ago. The message didn’t have the best of endings and knowing the enemy his home probably fell like most of the world.

 

“Doesn't matter right?”

 

Erasmus turns to his comrade who looks at him with hopeful eyes. The taller man can’t help but smile at his optimism.

 

“Yeah it doesn’t, we abandoned our homes when we joined the Nikke program.”, Erasmus stands up offering a hand to Barnabas, “Our countries may fall, but humanity presses on!”

 

“Aye, sah!”

 

Barnabas grabs his hand standing with his taller comrade. They both clasp hands as the glowing waves bask them in the light of glory.

 

“We should probably get back inside before Ennik shoots us.”

 

“....Barnabas….”

 

“Eh, sah?”

 

Erasmus points to his hand directing his comrades attention. Barnabas’s hand twitches rapidly, his pointer in particular pressing against an invisible trigger with a growing speed. He quickly grabs his wrist, the malignant hand sensing the threat reacts by grabbing at the non-anomalous hand.

 

“You can’t go any longer without.”

 

“No I’m fine….I’m fine…”

 

Erasmus can see Barnabas’s grip on his wrist go white as he attempts to force the hand still. Within a moment the twitching ceases.

 

“See, sah? Perfectly fine.”

 

Erasmus doesn’t hide his disapproval, but concedes with an audible sigh and pats his comrade on the head. The smaller man smiles gratefully. They head towards the open hatch, Banabas leading the way back into the concrete tomb.

 

“Nikke detected.”

 

Ennik’s voice greets them as they send the ladder back up from inside the bunker.

 

“Hey Ennik. Any threats detected?” Barnabas says climbing the concrete stairs to the panel.

 

“No Nikke:2681. No hostile entities detected.”

 

“Good shit.”, Erasmus shouts approvingly from his makeshift bed, “Always watching our backs. Couldn’t ask for a better girl.”

 

“Aye Ennik,” Barnabas presses the panel revealing Ennik’s eye, “You might be in every bunker, but you feel like family to me.”

 

“I appreciate the sentiment 2681. You and 2521 have stayed at your post for….Processing…..7300 days. You both are a shining example of humanity’s finest.”

 

“Stop, you'll make us blush,” Erasmus says, lying his head on the pillow beneath him.

 

He covers himself with his blanket and closes his eyes. He can hear Barnabas giggle at his comment. With his eyes closed HUD appears in the darkness filling the blackness of his eyelids. He searches through tabs checking multiple lines of data until reaching a number in bold letters.

 

15%

 

“Barnabas, wake me up in 2 hours. I need a quick charge for tonight.”

 

“Aye, sah, sleep well I’ve got us covered.”

 

Erasmus drifts into sleep instantly. He escapes from the concrete bunker to the fields of grain from his family home. The bright southern sun in the sky, the calm breeze of the autumn day. He can almost feel the calm of these sensations in what remains of his soul. The dream darkens as the clouds cover his sun. The sound of gunfire and bombs can be heard just off the distant horizon.

 

Within a moment he’s at the recruiting office. A man in a black suit stands in front of him talking about the future and humanity. They give Erasmus a brochure telling of the benefits of joining the “Nikke Program” and how it guarantees safety for his family if he accepts. He can feel the fight grow in his heart as a TV above the man plays footage of destroyed cities and slaughtered innocents. The image of a dying girl makes Erasmus snatch the brochure from the man's hand, and upon looking at it, turns into a contract with his name already signed.

 

“This body can only die once in defense of humanity! What I offer you is immortality to defend what you love. Will you rise to the occasion, coward! Or will you shoulder the burden to your daughter!”

 

The words echo in Erasmus’s mind before he’s taken by a swift blackness. His eyes open to a different venue, a far cry from the recruiting office. He’s strapped to an operating table as doctors surround him shouting indistinct words. He looks to his side to see his original biological body on a table adjacent to him, the brain ripped from the skull. He reaches for the body only to have it taken to a corner and tossed. His vision fades as his body joins the others in a unceremonious pile in the corner.

 

A bright light blinds him and upon adjusting he stands over another operating table not to dissimilar from the one before. His hands are against another man’s wrists pressing them down against the table, the reason fleeing his mind. The brown man being held screams for their God and family as the doctors rips his eyes from their sockets. Erasmus remembers the desperation of the “program” and how later gens were operated on without anesthetics.

 

He holds the screaming man down as the doctors cut into his chest pulling the skin apart. They take out his organic organs one by one replacing them with twitching mechanical ones as they go. The man ceases screaming as they start to install the sub-dermal armor underneath the outer layer of skin.

 

“The 2600 series will be as close to the enemy as possible while retaining their humanity,” a disembodied voice echoes in the operating room, the brown man going completely limp, “They can fight the enemy on their terms…….Myrmidons of Humanity!”

 

Disembodied cheers fill the room as the voice yells out the sound of clapping emanating from the walls, but for Erasmus the man beneath mutters prayers for death. The flag of their home country drenched in drying blood, the colors all becoming red.

 

Erasmus wakes up, a single tear streaming from his eye. He looks up at the concrete platform, the gentle murmuring of Barnabas talking to Ennik calming his racing heart.

 

100%

 

“ A nightmare….. ”

 

Erasmus looks at his watch to see the late evening approaching the lack of light through the gun slit telling. He sits up and moves to the back of the bunker opening a metal cabinet attached to the concrete wall.

 

Inside is a small sheathed sword for a person much smaller than him. It sits in the darkness hanging from a hook by a strap with a bunny pin on it. Above it on a shelf sits a few cans labeled “Rations”, no further information is given by the can other than the bold letters. He removes three cans, about the same size, from the shelf and places them on the stair nearby. He opens a compartment in the cabinet taking a folding table and chair from within.

 

He takes the furniture to his bed, putting the table in front with the chair on the opposite end facing towards him. Barnabas barely notices as his comrade creates a decent eating space for them. The smaller man only turns when the sound of the metal cans on the table hits his ears.

 

“Dinner time already?”

 

“Eyup.”

 

Erasmus can hear Barnabas get out from his seat and stop in front of Ennik’s panel. The sound of the panel being tapped echoes in the bunker.

 

“Ennik, watch the horizon will ya?”

 

“Acknowledged. Automated Defense systems engaging.”

 

Barnabas kisses two fingers and taps them against Ennik’s eye. He turns to the stairs and heads down giving a lazy wave to his comrade as he approaches the table. Erasmus uses his blanket as a makeshift cushion, folding it a few times over. His small comrade takes the folding chair across from him sitting in it.

 

“What's the bet this time?”

 

Barnabas looks at the cans then thinks for a minute. He points to the cans.

 

“Beef stew, tuna, and…….beans”

 

“God I really fucking hope your wrong.”

 

Barnabas lets out a dry chuckle in response. He sits patiently kicking his feet in the air as his comrade opens the cans. The smile on Erasnmus’s face fades with each opening. Not only was Barnabas correct, but he even got the order correct.

 

“Son of a bitch…,” Erasmus mutters looking into the cans.

 

“7300-0, tally me up, sah!”

 

Erasmus mumbles to himself lifting the sheet that covers his “bed” to reveal hundreds of indentations in the stair. He takes out a knife from inside his pillow and scratches the concrete adding a new tally to the most recent recording. He can see from the corner of his eye Barnabas looking enthusiastically to see if it's being done correctly.

 

“Ready?”

 

“Aye.”

 

Erasmus takes out a makeshift spoon from his pocket and begins eating. Barnabas watches intently as he starts to eat the beef stew.

 

“Mhmm this tastes pretty bland,” Erasmus starts, “Think the beef expired, but definitely better than that omelet from the other day.”

 

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

 

Erasmus puts down the stew and reaches for the tuna. He uses his hands to eat the slimy fish picking them up and slurping them loudly from his hand. He starts to chew trying to savor the taste, but his face tells that there’s not much to “savor”.

 

“Well?”

 

“It's pickled tuna Barny,” Erasmus says half-gagging, “Tastes maybe what…two…three years expired.”

 

“Hmmm.”

 

Erasmus downs the rest of the tuna with a wretched expression on his face. He begrudgingly looks at the beans before reaching a hand towards them.

 

“Ah wait!”

 

Erasmus looks at Barnabas with a curious brow watching his comrade run to the cabinet. He opens the metal doors and takes an unlabeled can from the shelf. He rushes back as fast as he left and places it on the table.

 

“Open it.”

 

Erasmus looks at the grinning Barnabas with a confused look, but eventually concedes to his curiosity. He opens the can and upon opening it the entire bunker is filled with a sweet aroma.

 

“What is this?” 

 

Erasmus looks into the can, seeing a red syrupy substance. The smell reminds him of home, but the reason eludes him.

 

“Try one.”

 

“One?”

 

Without further thoughts he stabs into the can with his knife until pierces something soft. He removes his knife to see a small red fruit attached to it dripping in the substance. He puts it in his mouth. He almost chokes as the sweet flavor hits his tongue. The taste transports him back to his home, and to a time less caked in blood.

 

“Is this…..?”

 

“Aye, sah, strawberries!”

 

“How….”

 

“Thank the Samson brothers and their worrying mother.”

 

Erasmus’s brows furrow for a moment before relaxing upon the realization. He grins softly at his enthusiastic companion.

 

“The little things, huh?”

 

“Aye, sah.”

 

Erasmus chuckles, “It's sweet. Sweeter than anything in this new ‘life’ so far. The syrup is rich and I think the fermenting process probably started when she gave it to them,” Erasmus has a hard time keeping his grin from turning to a smile.

 

He quickly finishes the strawberries slurping the liquid contents like a dog.

 

“Good shit Barny…..”

 

“Glad you enjoyed it, sah.”

 

Barnabas smiles somberly at his comrade. He takes the empty cans from the table and takes them upstairs. Erasmus can hear him crush the cans and stuff them out the gun slit.

 

“I’m sorry you can’t enjoy this Barnabas.”

 

Barnabas looks at Erasmus, stopping halfway down the stairs, and gazes at him for a moment. He shrugs and continues down the stairs continuing the cleaning by folding his chair placing it in the cabinet.

 

“2-6-Os like me lack a lot o’ ‘human’ qualities”, Barnabas says, turning to take the table up. “My eyes, skin, and organs were taken to secure the future for all Humanity…..”

 

Erasmus grits his teeth as the dream resurfaces in his mind. The image of the blood stained tattoo appearing in reality when he knows it's not so.

 

“You, sah, you still make me feel human still,” Barnabas says, putting the table away. He stops and looks at the sheathed sword, “I may not eat anymore, but I can at least taste it through you.”

 

“Are you really fine with that?”

 

Barnabas can’t help the sigh that escapes him, “Maybe before, no, but with you around it doesn’t bother me at all.”

 

“You trying to make me blush, specialist?”

 

“Neva’ second lieutenant, sah.”

 

Both men let out a somber laugh as the sun finally disappears from the sky.

 

“Enemy entities detected!”

 

Ennik’s voice reverberates in the bunker. Before her sensor can even appear downstairs both men are already at battlestations. Barnabas sits at his control finger hovering over the trigger mechanism. Erasmus looks through the gun slit, his night vision activating the instant he sees darkness. His eyes magnify into the distance frantically searching the beachhead.

 

“Barnabas!”

 

“I count 20 approaching from the water..their 5 clicks out and closing in fast. Gun is ready for command, SAH!

 

“Wait for 4 then begin stitching!”

 

“Aye, sah!”

 

“Enemy locations have been sent to Southern HQ, should I request reinforcements?”

 

“SOS will get us killed Ennik, fucking bastards intercept communications like nuts.” Erasmus rushes down the stairs as he hits the ground Ennik’s second eye awakens, “We’re on our fucking own!”

 

Erasmus strides over to a gun case near the metal cabinet. He rips the cover off, sending it into the ceiling. Inside is a massive rifle with multiple barrels. As he moves the gun a massive tube follows along its origin somewhere deep below the bunker.

 

“Open gun slot omega!” Erasmus shouts at the eye above, hauling the gun to the opening gun slot facing the beachhead.

 

He moves the gun into the slot until a mechanical click is heard. He positions it against his shoulder using the massive muscles to take the recoil. He takes a cord from the gun and attaches it to the port behind his neck. At the moment of connection his blue eyes turn a bright glacial blue.

 

“Hostiles are 4 clicks out approaching from Beachhead Sector 4”

 

The gun emplacement loudly screeches as old world gears position the new world weapon.

 

“Ready Barnabas!”

 

“Aye.”

 

“Humanity will rise from the ashes…” Erasmus chants the words like a prayer.

 

“....and the bodies of Nikkes shall pave the way!” Ennik and Barnabas speak in unison.

 

The gun emplacement fires artillery shells like a machine gun. Each magazine holds about 100 18” shells firing at a speed of 500 rpm. The reloading mechanism is loud, quickly entering shells without grace, making a noise reminiscent of a sewing machine. The shells whistle through the night sky finding targets on the beach. Flowers of fire light up the graveyard at the beach. The enemy entities march unfazed by their comrades' deaths. They climb over the corpses of past assaults, the water behind only showing more entities as the waves crash against the metal bodies.

 

“That looks like more than 20 Ennik!”

 

“Recalculating under current parameters……update. According to previous battlefield trends this force is most likely the vanguard. I have a 78% certainty that an invasion force, numbering the size that made Europe go dark, is approaching.

 

“Fuck me…..”

 

“Incoming message.”

 

Barnabas and Erasmus turn to Ennik.

 

“Playing Message….”

 

Enniks eye goes purple as the message is translated from data. Both men wait in anticipation for her reply

 

“Humans…..DIe…..dIe…..burn….choke…..kill..gas….strangle….diediedie…diediedie.”

 

A chorus of voices fill the bunker as the word bounces off the walls. The words affect Barnabas the most, the smaller male screaming loudly in pain. His purple eyes flicker like dying lightbulbs.

 

“Shut it off Ennik, and fucking triangulate that signal god dammit.” Erasmus shouts out, “Barnabas are you alright?!?”

 

“Second Lieutenant the signal has been triangulated. It comes from a communication station 4 miles….south…oh.”

 

“South!!!”

 

“Nononono,” Barnabas says disbelieving through ragged breaths, “That can’t be right Ennik. The Southern HQ is there. Run it again! Please…”

 

“Running………Signal is being transmitted at 100% strength from the communication station at the Southern HQ. It is being transmitted on all frequencies in a 150 mile radius.”

 

“Fuck!”

 

“...so HQ was gone after all…”

 

“Fucking assholes didn’t even warn us!”

 

Erasmus breathing becomes fast as his heart starts to race. Memories, thoughts and visions all flood his mind, not a single concrete thought forming. He barely notices his finger pressing the trigger of his weapon until the mechanical clicks beg for more ammo. In that moment he snaps away from the gun, ripping himself from the cord that connects them.

 

“Second Lieutenant, a disconnect like that is dangerous to your mind.” Ennik warns.

 

Erasmus doesn’t respond, choosing to silently run to the cabinet. He rips the door off in the rush and grabs the sheathed sword. He turns on his heels sprinting up the stairs to Barnabas. The smaller man remains at his position oblivious to the fussing downstairs. He continues to look blankly at the controls, his fingers doing all the actions. Erasmus leans his comrade back, multiple cords going under his tanktop connecting him to the emplacement. 

 

“Barnabas time to go.” Erasmus whispers, placing a hand on his comrades shoulder.

 

Barnabas blinks for a moment, his mechanical pupils connecting back into a circle. He turns to Erasmus with a vacant expression. The cords pop from their ports hanging limply under his shirt.

 

“....I had the most wonderful dream….”

 

“Come on dummy,” Erasmus ruffles his compatriots gray hair, “Set it to auto-battle and lets get the fuck outta here.”

 

“But Ennik….”

 

They both look over to Ennik’s panel to see the eye looking directly at them.

 

“Ennik…”

 

“.........”

 

“...Ma?....”

 

“Request to go topside approved……you have 525600000000000 minutes of recreation time.” Ennik chimes. “Humanity will never fall!”

 

The ladder slams onto the concrete below them the hatch above opening automatically. The men quickly run down the stairs. Erasmus hands Barnabas his sword and pops the compartments near his bed. Three compartments open to reveal a marksman rifle and 10 magazines of sabot rounds. The third holds the syringe with the black liquid. Erasmsus looks at it, his hand hesitating on lifting the tool.

 

He turns to find his comrade to see them looking at the ground floor eye of Ennik.

 

“Can’t you come with Ennik?”

 

“I’m sorry Specialist, but I cannot. Don’t worry for as long as humanity survives I shall persevere. This is not the end, 2681, for humanity will preserve long after we turn to scrap.”

 

Barnabas salutes the eye, his sword firmly attached to the back of his hip. He turns to see Erasmus looking at him, syringe in hand. Without saying anything the taller man throws it to him nodding in acknowledgment. Barnabas catches it and puts the tool in his pocket.

 

Erasmus climbs the ladder quickly making it to the hatch to record time. He pokes his head out scanning for entities, but upon looking, he realizes they haven’t reached their position. He climbs out completely, giving a hand to Barnabas who instantly takes it.

 

Their forms are illuminated by the explosions slowly inching closer. They slide down the back of the bunker landing on the grass below.

 

“Switch to short range comms.”

 

“Aye, Lieutenant.”

 

Both men tap their ears and meet up behind the bunker. Erasmus’s eyes are lit up the same as Barnabas’s, acting like beacons in the pitch black. The 2600s can operate without needing mouths, so when engaging in restricted communication a “gag” is placed over it. It takes many forms depending on the unit, in Barnabas’s case it takes the form of a retracting mask. Erasmus can see his comrade customized the mask to have the image of a hyena’s maw.

 

“What now?”

 

“Feel like a run?”

 

Barnabas scoffs, “Always, sah.” He stretches his arm, “Where we runnin’?”

 

“GPS says City X is close by.” Erasmus points to their east, “75 miles thatta way….”

 

“Nothin, but a jog then?”

 

“Easy for you 2600s.”

 

An explosion nearby casts their shadows on the grass. Erasmus glances at them for a moment, his eyes widening as a third non-humanoid shadow is cast. Before he can react a fourth shadow appears. The third shadow turns on it and is gunned down by the fourth.

 

“Let’s go!”

 

Barnabas spreads out from Erasmus giving a salute. “We stopping at the midpoint, or all the way?”

 

Erasmus thinks for a moment, starting to jog towards the somewhat far forest. “Yeah, but if I’m not there within the hour…all the way.”

 

“Aye sah,” Barnabas fully engages into a sprint, “Good luck lieutenant and stay alert!”

 

The small soldier turns and gives a two finger wave. He covers the distance between them and the forest within seconds leaving Erasmus alone still jogging across an open field. The bigger man starts to run, closing the distance quickly for a man his size. He crosses into the cover of the forest 5 minutes after Barnabas entered.

 

Before continuing Erasmus turns back to watch the chaos they left. Just as promised Ennik manned the emplacement in their absence, and much to Erasmus’s chagrin, uses it better than they did. However just as always she was correct, for every kill another entity would take its place. Erasmus watches with gritted teeth as they overwhelm their surrogate mother destroying the bunker. Like a last light the bunker erupts in a massive ground shaking blast. Erasmus smiles as the thought of Ennik detonating what ammo remained as a last “fuck you” to the entities warms his heart.

 

“Indomitable….”

 

He mutters with a closed fist raised in the air. He turns as the light fades shrouding the gunmetal colored entities leaving the beachhead behind….

Chapter 2: Freedom ain't Free

“Shite!”

 

A hail of gunfire flies towards the small soldier. He dodges, hands on his head, into a building avoiding a messy death. The soldier rolls uncontrollably, eventually slamming into a door frame. His back somewhat curves around the frame making an audible crack'n snap.

 

“Fackin’ell!”, Barnabas groans clutching his back, “Those fucking advertisements lied tha bloody bastards!”

 

A memory of a recruiter telling him that the 2600 program would make successful candidates “invincible and immortal”. His snapped spine doesn't give him much faith in the recruiters words. The nanites in his body move like a million ants under his skin moving towards the disconnected muscle. His mask covers his mouth muting his screams of having to feel his spine reattach and align itself.

 

“Oh thank you guys.” He sarcastically says acting as if the “bugs” can hear him.

 

With his spine repaired he gets up. He stretches his legs and within seconds it's as if he was never paralyzed. He moves quickly through the ruined building like a small gray cat, his tied long gray hair acting as a tail. He peeks through windows watching the hostile patrols and studying the movements. He looks towards the sky to see multiple hostile air units joining their land based brethren in the search.

 

“Some mess, huh?”

 

A voice speaks to him as if it were by his ear. Barnabas scoffs at the voice nodding in sarcastic agreement.

 

“Aye.”

 

“Erasmus nowhere to be seen?”

 

“Aye.”

 

The voice scoffs, “A fine mess you’ve gotten us into then?” It takes a disappointed tone, “Why didn’t you let me take the controls? We could have turned the tide!”

 

Barnabas grinds his teeth at the voice’s words. He sees a flaw in the patrol code in this sector. A twenty second window. A smirk starts to form on his face.

 

“You won’t make it.”

 

Barnabas stands up and stretches his legs, his gaze not leaving the path in front of him.

 

“They’ll see you, you fucking idiot. They will detect you the moment you leave the shadows.”

 

“If I’m slow.”

 

The voice groans as Barnabas bursts into a sprint. The twenty second “window” being an open part of the destroyed highway. The patrols are light due to the lack of cover to hide hostile movement. For the machines the probability of an enemy unit appearing and crossing unnoticed was low to negligible.

 

In one moment the entire “hivemind” corrects the probability from 0.01% to 0.05% as an air unit captures footage of a figure sprinting across the open space. Its energy rifle fires, alerting nearby patrols, but the round completely misses the figure.

 

Barnabas leaps over the barriers separating the road using it to go even faster. He dodges another round, easily jumping onto the highway wall. He scurries up the smooth surface before the unit can make adjustments to the firing algorithm disappearing on the other side.

 

“That was risky.”

 

Barnabas chuckles, catching his breath, “Ye any slower and it might have nicked me.” He shakes his legs out, “If their focus is on me it gives Erasmus more avenues to move.”

 

“You seriously think he’ll make it this far?”

 

Barnabas lets out a short giggle, “Dude’s part of the two-500s,” he sighs confidently, “I’m the one who should be worried.” He looks in the direction of the rendezvous point blinking on his hud.

 

“Are these 2500s strong?”

 

“Course they are…,” Barnabas scoffs, entering a cautious jog, “They don’t have to deal with you.”

 

“What? Me?”

 

The voice sounds slightly offended by the call out. Barnabas frowns, feeling its presence becomes weaker due to his words.

 

“....but y’know there's downsides to that as well,” Barnabas comforts, “I mean I couldn’t imagine being alone .”

 

“Alone?”

 

“Aye.”

 

Barnabas climbs a ruined wall entering a half-destroyed office building. He keeps his body low snaking his way across the floor towards an ascending staircase. His ears perk hearing the loud movements of the patrols just outside.

 

“They know.”

 

“Nay they’re in search mode,” Barnabas grins, “They can’t enter for a more thorough search so they’ll patrol outside for a while.”

 

“Are…are you enjoying this?”

 

“I’ve been stuck in a dark bunker for twenty odd years,” Barnabas can’t help the smile on his face, “Haven’t stretched my legs like this is a long time!”

 

He climbs the ascending stairs until he reaches the roof access. He kicks in the locked door sending it flying into the ruined city below. He steps out onto the roof, his shadow slowly growing as the light of late morning hits him. The roof is messy both from damage and the leftovers from the previous occupants.

 

Barnabas moves to a broken tent and a destroyed campfire. He kneels down and lifts a flap looking into the dilapidated shelter. He spots a decaying human leg before closing the flap directing his attention to the distance. He lets out a heavy sigh and stands up.

 

“Humans are so fragile.”

 

“.....Aye.”

 

Barnabas looks into the distance, his eyes begin to glow, as he uses them to scan the horizon. His eyes search until fixing themselves on an island west of the rendezvous point. A slow somber smile creeps on his face before quickly fading.

 

“What is that?”

 

The voice knocks Barnabas from his thoughts and with it his eyes lose their glow. He turns his head north towards the distant rally point. His HUD tells him the distance left and the duration if he continues at the light jog.

 

“Two more hours…..”

 

“What is that island in the water?”

 

Barnabas turns back to the west, “A tourist trap,” he lets out a sarcastic chuckle, “If I remember correctly you’d bring your kids there and pretend to be knights of yore.”

 

“Knights?”

 

“Aye. Knights.”

 

Barnabas turns and walks back to the darkness of the interior. He descends the stairs slowly carefully paying attention to the damage.

 

“What is this ‘knight’? I demand an answer.”

 

“For a hallucination you sure don’t know much,” Barnabas scoffs, “Can’t tell if my brain is melting faster, or if the white coats didn’t install something correct.”

 

“Your ‘white-coats’ have nothing to do with me,” the voice doesn’t hide its resentment, “What is a knight?”

 

“Mhmmm.”

 

Barnabas has to think for a bit, stopping just before the landing of the ground floor. His right foot hovers just a few centimeters above the floor.

 

“A knight, practically, was a soldier who could afford a horse and armor. They were the elite soldiers of their time,” Barnabas places his foot on the floor, “I’d imagine seeing them on the battlefield was frightening, especially their calvary charges.”

 

“Would that make you a knight, being the most elite of the other human soldiers?”

 

Barnabas can’t help the laugh that escapes him. He quickly silences himself as a loud thud from a nearby hostile responds to the sudden outburst. He hides himself behind a wall, his teeth biting his lip to stifle further laughter.

 

“Naw,” Barnabas says with stifled joy, “A knight needs a king. One to pledge their loyalty and honor too.” Barnabas looks around the corner and scans the building entrance, “Me and Erasmus sacrificed our humanity to protect humanity……I’d say we’re more akin to dogs.”

 

“Dogs of Humanity.”

 

“Aye.”

 

The sounds of heavy machinery fade as the hostiles disengage their search sensors. Barnabas lets out a breath of relief before peeking around the corner. He leaves his hiding place moving towards the shattered window of the ruined coffee shop.

 

“$20.00 for a black coffee?”

 

Barnabas looks over to see a hanging menu which displays the items the shop sold. He glances to see the absurd price the voice mentioned.

 

“Fuck thats expensive.”

 

“What is this…… coffee ?”

 

“Black bean water,” Barnabas says hopping through the window, “Gives ya energy when yer body says it wants sleep.”

 

“Typical human weakness. Your enemy needs no such thing. Their core would keep them powered long after your species bones turn to dust.”

 

Barnabas walks down the street using the building's shadows to conceal his movements. He crosses the four lane road quickly taking cover in a thin alley. He takes a look at his HUD to see a blaring 5% in red.

 

“Running out of steam?”

 

Barnabas chuckles, “Would it matter to you?”

 

“If you die I will lose my entertainment as well as my conversation partner. You’re the first Nikke to talk to me.”

 

“Awww are you feeling emotional, and all for little ol’ me. You’ll make me blush, caraid.”

 

“I hope you get scrapped Nikke 2681.”

 

Barnabas chuckles softly at the voice’s tsundere tone. He steps out of the alley and looks down the street.

 

“Ugh still got-”

 

Before he can finish he’s instantly swept off his feet and tossed into the air. He barely has time to register the attack, his body ragdolling into the air. The pain barely registers as he attempts to cushion his landing. He slams into a concrete wall, the force disrupting his vision, and incapacitating him for a moment. His audio recovers in time to hear heavy thuds of movement charging towards him.

 

He looks up to see the gunmetal body of the enemy. He reaches for his sheathed sword, but another heavy blow interrupts the action. His body is sent through the concrete wall collapsing a portion of the building. His body flies into the structure slamming into a load-bearing pillar, before rebounding off it and falling into the caved-in floor. His limp body falls into the hole in the floor landing in a shallow pool at the bottom with a loud splash.

 

Only the sound of dripping water can be heard as Barnabas’s HUD is filled with red flashing lights and unending lines of error code. Loud thuds can be heard above as the enemy tries to reach the damaged Nikke. The mechanical warmachine claws at the metal skeleton of the old building desperately trying to reach Barnabas.

 

“Barnabas wake up.”

 

The voice calls out, barely able to stifle their worry, but the Nikke doesn’t respond. Their body is contorted from the throw and fall.

 

“Wake up!”

 

The warmachine grows louder as the distance between it and Barnabas closes. The metal scaffolds can only keep back the suicidal charge of the machine for so long.

 

“Fuck this! I’m taking control!”

 

In a moment Barnabas’s lifeless eyes start to glow a purple-red and his upper body starts to shudder slightly. His facial muscles spasm uncontrollably as the voice takes control of what bodily functions still work. His arm, which is bent completely backward, loudly grinds back to its original location. 

 

The controlled limb goes for the injector in Barnabas’s pocket. Taking it out the mixed eyes stare at the black liquid through spasming eyelids. Without wasting a second they stab the injector into Barnabas’s neck injecting the thick liquid straight into his bloodstream.

 

“Don’t waste this.”

 

With the final words the glow from Barnabas’s eyes fade and his body goes limp once more. The machine above loudly struggles through metal wiring and beams. The one-minded charge, while effective at first, has ended up getting the warmachine more and more trapped in the building's skeleton.

 

The purple glow returns to Barnabas’s eyes, visibly missing the red hue, and in a moment his eyes blink but with an absent look. His body instantly jumps as an internal defibrillator activates. The shocks are directed to his biological heart which lies nestled behind an artificial mechanical one. Another shock is sent jumpstarting the barely beating heart.

 

“RAAHGHAGHA”

 

Barnabas shouts, jumping from the void of death pulled back to the reality of the crevice swinging his fists wildly. His eyes are wide, glowing brighter than before. For once his expression is full of fear and anxiety as he tries to survey his surroundings. The machine above quickly takes his attention as a single beam lies between it and its target.

 

“YOU!”

 

Barnabas shouts pointing at the warmachine. He struggles to stand letting the nanobots snap his limbs back into place. Ten seconds is all it takes for his body to completely heal from the damage. He reaches for his belt-knife only to find an empty sheath.

 

Desperately he looks around spotting a lengthy metal wire in the shallow water, just below where the machine will fall once free. Without an option the Nikke rushes for the wire, his sprint slowed by the deeping water. The machine can be heard spinning its weapons above as Barnabas approaches.

 

Without breaking stride Barnabas puts his arms in front of his body in a cross guard. The machine opens fire with its dual gatling guns eager to kill the target forgoing its current predicament. The sound of the guns firing fill the small crevice, the casings splashing as they fall into the water below.

 

Barnabas takes the damage fully using his arms to protect his head and heart. The bullets slam into his exposed body, but don’t pierce his skin, only able to slow his advance slightly. However the constant gunfire starts to erode the plating on his arms and starts to shred what armor survived the fall. Regardless he keeps forward towards the wire.

 

He grabs the wire through the hellstorm of bullets, and quickly dodges underneath the machine into its blindspot. Underneath he rapidly ties the wire into a lasso tighting the knot to make sure it taught. With a deep breath he steps back into the open taking one of the machine's legs directly to the head. 

 

“Fuckin metal cunt!”

 

The spiked foot of the warmachine stabs into Barnabas’s eye ripping the mechanical ball from its socket. The Nikke is barely fazed as he throws the lasso around one of the gatling guns securing it around the barrel. He turns his back to the machine taking a knee allowing the wire to rest over his shoulder. With a heavy tug he pulls against the wire forcing the machine to the ground. The skeleton can’t take the weight and the support beam finally collapses under the force.

 

The warmachine comes down with a crash falling directly on its frontal plating. The gatling guns fire desperately without control into the shallow water. Barnabas stands behind it breathing raggedly as he watches the machine struggle like a turned over roach. He tiredly saunters over to it coming behind its rear plating.

 

Barnabas raises his fist keeping it still over the plate he aims to strike. He strikes the plating with a flurry of straight punches until the metal bursts from the heat. With a new opening into its internals the Nikke forces his hand inside, the machine screeching a mechanical cry as he does. A swift grab and crush ends the screeching and with it the machine stops moving completely. The guns go silent, the sound of their slowing spin slowly disappearing being replaced by the ragged breathing of the victor.

 

Satisfied with the lifeless corpse he finally allows himself to fall to his knees. The sounds of internal alarms blare in his head all begging for maintenance. Steam rises from his body as the nanobots repair the holes in his body. They crawl out of the wounds cloning the skin filling the holes in his body.

 

The Nikke themselves stares absently at the ground, their lips trembling mouthing phantom words. He looks up with a tired expression to see if he can spot the exit of the crevice, but nothing but blackness greets him. He chuckles knowingly to himself as 2% blares itself on his HUD. He lifts himself up and walks over to the closest wall and begins climbing.

 

Barnabas forces his screaming body up the rocky wall. He only makes it up a quarter of the way before his body starts to stiffen. His HUD displays 1% in grim bold red letters.

 

“C’mon c’mon.”

 

0%

 

With the red zero Barnabas can feel all the drive in his body disappear. He instantly plummets back down to the ground falling onto the corpse of the machine. His body lies limp over the corpse, his eyes flickering with light.

 

“F-fuck…”

 

He desperately tries to keep his vision active, but the blackness comes over like a blanket. Within seconds his body goes lifeless once again. The light in his eye stops flickering, finally going completely dark.

6 hours later

 

In the dark grave, silence reigns over the corpses of both the Nikke and the machine. A droplet of water hits against the metal corpse of the warmachine sending an echo throughout the crevice.

 

Explosions can be heard above as another battle occurs above ground. They eventually reach the building above the hole, shaking the foundations. A part of the roof above collapses onto the corpses covering the duo. With the roof damaged, slivers of sunlight reach into the hole gently shining its rays on the corpses of the fighters.. The rays beam on a small portion of the Nikke's arm, illuminating  it slightly.

 

.00001% charged

 

AWAITING NIKKE INPUT…..

 

………………………………….

 

NIKKE INPUT EXPIRED.

 

BACKUP SYSTEMS ACTIVATED……

 

Est. time until systems can be engaged with minimum usage: 75-80 years

 

Waiting for approval of system diagnostics….

 

Nikke Input Required……….

 

Nikke Input Required………..

 

Nikke Input expired. 

 

Switching to autonomous directives… 

 

Sending orders to Command Post…….

 

Command Post Contacted. Order Received.

 

Engaging Repair and Recovery Protocols……

 

EVAC Requested……

 

Evacuation shuttle unavailable.

 

Engaging self repair protocols…..

 

Engaging backup Dermal Solar Panels….

 

Engaging Cor Engine for auxiliary power…..

Chapter 3: First Contact

“Call for medi-vac!”

 

“....It…hurts…..”

 

“I need covering fi-ahhhhh!”

 

“Twenty three’s down!”

 

“We can’t hold much longer!”

 

Orders are barked over the never ending sound of gunfire and explosions. On one side, in the open, multitudes of gunmetal gray machines march forward guns blazing. On the other a small faltering group of female soldiers. Behind them lies the smoldering corpse of a ground transport.

 

The machines push slowly, but steadily towards the women. Their guns fire unceasingly, eroding the cover the women fire from behind. A soldier with long blonde twin tails peeks above her cover emptying her entire magazine into the line of machines. Four cease functioning as their frontal plate is pierced, but their bodies are quickly crushed by the machines behind.

 

The twin tail soldier growls angrily turning to her comrade next to her. Their subtle pink hair is done in a high ponytail that hangs down her back, their gear sharing the same yellow-black motif the twin tail soldier has. The comrade performs CPR on a male dressed in military attire.

 

“How's the commander!”, the twin tail soldier shouts over gunfire, “He’s our only lifeline!”

 

The pink haired soldier looks at her with a dull expression and blood covered hands, “His heart won’t start….”

 

“Damnit!”

 

The twin tails soldier curses, turning to her other comrades. To her left the motionless body of Twenty Three three bullet wounds through the front of her eyeshield. She turns to her right to see Eight performing triage on the blasted arm of Twelve. Twelve desperately holds onto what remains of her arm, her eyelids flickering. The twin tails soldier curses.

 

“Pull back!”, the twin tails soldier shouts, “Fall back to the extraction point!”

 

“But the commander…”

 

“He’s dead, drag his body if you want, but we have to go!”

 

The twin tailed soldier turns to her remaining comrades, “Zero-Eight, Twelve, Flower and I will lay down covering fire. Get Twelve’s ass to extract, now!”

 

“Understood!”

 

Eight tightly bandages Twelve’s stump then lifts her up readying to run. With a silent nod the twin tailed soldier and Flower lay suppressing fire with their machine gun and rocket launcher combo. The first few lines of machines are quickly eliminated making a barrier of corpses that slows the advance slightly allowing a window for Eight to scamper away with the wounded Twelve into the ruined city they call a battlefield.

 

“Sun, both Eight and Twelve have left proximity command range, let's head out.”

 

The twin tailed soldier nods reloading their AR ditching the empty magazine on the ground. The duo run into the dead urban city, the sounds of the machines regrouping behind them.

---

Charging at 100%........

 

Recovery and Recharge Protocols disengaged…..

 

Dermal Solar Panels retracted for maintenance……..

 

Cor auxiliary engine disabled……..

 

System Diagnostics running………

 

Running………

 

System Diagnostics Finished….

 

Recovery complete One abnormality detected…

 

Left Visual Sensor missing……Replacement cost automatically deducted…..

 

Sealant dispensing…..

 

A low phizz sound emanates from the empty eye socket filling the empty hole with a quick hardening substance.

 

Engaging Wake-up Sequence…..

 

Psychological Evaluation engaging……

 

Psychological Readiness……25%......Not within Wake-up range….

 

Playing Psychological Motivation……..

 

“ Birds flyin’ high, you know how I feel….”

 

Psychological Readiness…….51%.....Within Wake-up range…

 

Engaging internal defibrillators….

 

The defibrillators charge up readying to deliver an overloaded electrical charge.

 

“... It's a new life for me….. ”

 

The load is discharged directly to the flatlined Nikke’s biological heart. In an instant it beats rapidly as if woken from a long sleep. Blood starts to pump through their body feeding the nanites clustered around the vessels. The tiny bots stick needles into the soft vessels extracting the flowing liquid powering themselves.

 

“... And I’m Feeling Good…. ”

 

Fully charged, the nanobots crawl through the corpse's cold body to bring life and warmth to the extremities. Bones snap into place and debris is cleaned from the body, the bots easily making exits through micro slits in the skin. The dead leaves are consumed and recycled by the bots being converted to energy for the intended wake up.

 

“.. River running free, you know how I feel… ”

 

The nanites continue their work for a few more minutes before finally retreating through the hole where his eye should be. They seal the hole by grafting a new input for a replacement eye to enter. Another shock from the defibrillator is the rest bell for the nanobots as they enter a ‘soft’ hibernation mode. 

 

“.. Dragonfly out in the sun, you know what I mean, don’t you know? ”

 

A third shock from the defibrillator stiffening his body shooting it up into a sitting position.

 

“ ....Stars when you shine, you know how I feel… ”

 

With eye wide and open the Nikke breathes raggedly as life and consciousness are given back to them. They look around confused utter blackness surrounding them. Without warning their stomach starts to retch. The Nikke flips over and throws up a black liquid from his stomach. The fluid is black and thick steaming as it leaves his body. The fluid starts to melt through the corpse of the machine below him.

 

“Shite, that's not good.”

 

The Nikke curses with exhaustion, and with a groan and gruff, they get to their feet and look up to see light peeking through a crack in the debris ceiling above. They rip a cloth from their damaged gear and wrap it around the sealed eye socket. They limp over to the nearest wall and start the arduous climb up to the surface.

---

“Air units above!”

 

“Flower watch out!”

 

Sun tackles Flower into a building, a missile exploding where Flower was. The shockwave from the explosion covers them in dust. Sun recovers quickly, grabbing her gun from the ground and firing out the window taking out one of the air units in a spectacular explosion. 

 

Another one quickly replaces the destroyed unit unloading its chain gun at the duo suppressing them heavily. Soon another unit joins in adding to the budding firing line.

 

“What do we do now, Sun?” 

 

Flower's voice is desperate and scared. She remains on the ground with her rocket launcher nowhere to be seen. Sun quickly scans the floor for it, but finds nothing, only to look outside and see the launcher in the middle of the road. She turns to Flower with an angry expression.

 

“Keep your hands on your gun idiot!”

 

“I-I’m sorry Sun….M-my finger slipped. I-I c-c-ca-!”

 

Flower starts to bawl uncontrollably under the duress of the suppression. The color leaves Sun’s face as the desperation of the situation sinks in. She shakes her head violently running over to Flower and grabbing her by the arm. Without letting her say a word Sun pulls Flower with her as she runs through the building's entrance and into the open.

 

The air units are slow on the upkeep turning late to the Nikke’s sudden dash. The duo sprint down the open road completely ignoring fighting in favor of flight. The sound of Sun’s heels against the concrete echoes through the rusted skeleton of the city. Their growingly exhausted breath is the only sound that accompanies their suicidal sprint. However the sound of chasing air units soon joins the symphony.

 

Sun leads them, holding Flower tightly by the wrist, into an alley in the shadow of two massive concrete skeletons. The shadow they cast leaves them nearly completely hidden, and as they watch the air units fly by, they realize it succeeded. The duo let out a combined breath of relief allowing themselves a moment of brief respite.

 

Resting against the wall Sun notices a building across from them. The wall is caved in as if something was thrown through, and from what she can see with her eye zoom, the building collapsed partially because of it. The size of the hole indicates that something big must have rammed through. A tiny energy signal attracts Sun’s attention completely.

 

“We can take cover there.”

 

Flower looks towards where Sun points to see the collapsed building. She turns to her twin-tailed companion with a worried expression.

 

“Sun that's across the open road. We just avoided the air units…can’t we just rest here a bit longer?”

 

Sun looks at Flower with squinted eyes, “No we can’t. That building will provide better cover than here considering we only have one weapon between the two of us.”

 

Flower turns from Sun with a sad regretful expression, but nods in agreement. The duo ready themselves, and with a minute to take a breath, they rush across the open road. They both dive into the rubble smashing their bodies against the jagged concrete. They lie motionless on their stomachs listening for movement, but none comes.

 

Sun is the first to get up and dust herself off. She looks over to Flower to see the pink-haired girl trembling her hands still on her head, face buried in the darkness of the rubble. She gently pokes Flower with her toe making the trembling girl jump. Flower looks at her with a scared expression before calming down upon coming too. Her mouth twists in embarrassment.

 

Flower looks around in the dark of the building seeing nothing out of the ordinary. She attempts to take a step forward, but is quickly grabbed by Sun.

 

“Watch out idiot!”

 

Flower looks down to see her foot hovering over a chasm in the middle of the room. She looks down to see nothing, but the inviting dark of the void. She instantly loses her cool, grabbing onto Sun like a life-saver in a deep ocean. Sun lets out an annoyed groan as Flower tightens her grip around her waist. She looks over her trembling comrade to see a staircase leading up.

 

“We can go to the second floor and regroup.”

 

Flower turn to see the stairs. She silently nods taking the lead towards the stairs. She's the first one up leaving Sun to secure the rear. The moment Sun puts her foot on the stairs she snaps her neck towards the hole. Flower turns with a worried expression.

 

“Wh-”

 

Sun puts up a finger stopping Flower in her tracks. The duo stay silent looking towards the hole. A minute passes. Then two. Then three. As he fourth minute passes Sun turns to Flower with an exhausted look on her face.

 

“Must have been nothing,” Sun says looking at Flower, “C’mon the sun's starting to set.”

 

Flower nods going to the second floor with Sun following close behind. They are greeted by a hallway cut in half by a collapsed roof. The doors that still look usable are closed the rooms behind a mystery. Sun immediately opens the closest door to reveal a small studio apartment. An extremely dirty bed and rotted wooden closet are all that remains to indicate anyone lived here at some point.

 

Flower immediately collapses on the bed, completely ignoring the dirt and debris from years of vacancy. Sun places her rifle by the door before closing it behind her. She looks down at the knob to see a locking mechanism. She turns it with an audible click before turning to Flower.

 

“An hour to charge that's it,” Sun says, taking a seat on the bed, “After that we head back to the outpost and report in.”

 

For the first time Flower smiles, eagerly nodding her head. She remains on the bed as she takes off her helmet placed on the ground next to her. She folds her hands over her stomach and closes her eyes entering a recharge mode. Sun takes a seat next to the closed door stretching her foot in front to act as a doorstop. She too removes her helmet and closes her eyes once satisfied scanning the room.

 

59:59 remaining.

 

---

25:23 remaining.

 

A loud thud wakes Sun up causing her to grumble slightly still half-asleep. A second loud thud sends the door flying off its hinges. Sun immediately scrambles to her gun, but it gets knocked out of her reach by the air displacement of the flying door. The airborne door slams into the awakening Flower covering her in the wooden slab.

 

The attacker rushes in with a purple glowing eye illuminating the dark room like a flashlight. They turn to Sun, nearly blinding the helmetless soldier. Barely making a sound they wrap their hands around Sun’s throat cutting any vocalizations off. They pin Sun in her sitting position using their height advantage to put pressure around her neck.

 

“Yer running a corrupted code ya metal cunt,” The attacker whispers, “Ya may have fooled Command, but… tsk tsk …. ya can’t fool me, deserter.”

 

Sun looks at her attacker as they move their face closer. She is surprised to see a dark-skinned human male. His gear looks somewhat like hers, but looks extremely aged and archaic, his bandaged eye only adding to the shabby look. The real confusion comes as Sun tries to understand how a human can have this much strength.

 

“Sun!”

 

Both the attacker and Sun look toward Flower, who has finally come from underneath the door. She starts to get up from the bed, still groggy from the wake-up process.

 

“Bad things come in two’s eh…”, the attacker mutters, turning his attention back to Sun.

 

Before Sun can even blink a searing pain screams from her cheek. She barely notices the attacker recovering from the strike, only when he moves to stand does the pain finally register. It feels as if her brain was bounced around in her skull, her vision going completely blurry and her sense of balance destroyed. She instinctively tries to stand, but her legs fail to respond. She can only make out the figure approaching Flower hands flexing in preparation for attack.

 

“F-Flower…”

 

Flower takes a step back, but keeps her hands up readying to fight in melee. Sun can hear the attacker chuckle approaching the visibly trembling Flower. She witnesses Flower’s flimsy attempt at a straight punch. The attacker easily dodges it going low, nearly dragging their knuckles against the floor, and lands a powerful uppercut to her chin. The blow sends Flower’s head snapping back causing her to collapse to her knees. She collapses to her knees loudly, her head hanging down a dazed expression upon her face.

 

“Urrghhh….”, Flower lets out, a string of drool leaking from her mouth.

 

The attacker shakes out his hand looking down at the collapsed Flower. He turns to Sun, his expression less hostile and more curious as the ‘easy’ victory cements itself. He walks over to Sun and squats in front of her balancing on his toes.

 

“Hey,” The attacker waves awkwardly at Sun, “What are you?,” his purple eye squints, “Your code is similar to mine, but…… different . Not a deserter, but not a part of the DOD database…..”

 

She opens her mouth to answer.

 

He places two fingers against her neck, “Names and IDs…..or my fingers pierce your throat, yeah?”

 

Sun looks past the attacker to see her unconscious comrade still dribbling on her knees.  She turns to the attacker and looks him in his eyes.

 

“Mass-Produced Nikke iDoll Sun. Company Tetra. Squad Replace.”

 

The attacker looks at her with a surprised expression. His eyes go serious and his mouth tightens. He motions to Flower with his neck.

 

“And her?”

 

“Mass-Produced Nikke iDoll Flower. Company Tetra. Squad Replace.”

 

“Hmm….”

 

The attacker takes a contemplative look removing his fingers from her throat. The hostility and caution disappeared from his body instantly as Sun’s words resonated in him. He hangs his head letting out an exhausted long breath.

 

“Barnabas. VEN 81. Nikke batch 2600. Nikke 2681 for short.”

 

His head remains hanged as he lists his origin to Sun. He rubs his face with his hand raising it in the process. He extends a hand to Sun.

 

“I-er apologize…….bheag….”

 

Sun looks at his hand cautiously. She looks behind him to see her comrade still knocked out. Barnabas follows her gaze looking behind him.

 

“So she… She is also-”

 

Sun only glances at the male for him to understand. He lets out a regretful sigh standing up and heading over to Flower. He lifts her back onto the bed and folds her hands like how she was when she was charging. Before he returns to Sun he gently taps his forehead to Flower’s.

 

Sun stands up the wake-up process finally completing. She looks to the male Nikke to see that they are significantly shorter than her. Their soft and feminine face, mixed with their slender body, make Sun unsure of what their Company was going for. He walks up to her standing directly in front of her. The top of his head falls just below her bosom, so he's forced to look up at her past them.

 

“So, Sun,” Barnabas starts, “I see you an’ Flower over there are in quite the faff, eh?,” he folds his arms over his flat chest, “Seems you narrowly avoided death…”

 

Sun picks up her helmet from the floor, putting it on, covering her eyes. She checks for requests for extraction for this sector, but none have been used. She turns off her HUD to see the expecting grin of the male.

 

“That would be correct.”

 

Barnabas' grin grows to show his extra set of canines, “Lucky for you lot then! Ya stumbled upon a lad who knows where a safe house is.”

 

“A safe house?”

 

“Aye.”

 

Sun thinks for a moment. Her thoughts are interrupted by a timer on her HUD. She looks at it remembering the charging that was interrupted. The charging mixed with the dark of the environment makes her reconsider her wants.

 

“Flower and I need to finish recharging. After that we can go.”

 

Sudden regret fills her as she remembers her position as a mass produced Nikke. She starts to prepare herself for the pragmatic answer she is so used to hearing.

 

“Then finish charging. We’ll leave when you both finish.”

 

Sun is taken aback by the words, but can’t respond, as Barnabas quickly leaves the room and enters the hallway. She unconsciously follows after only to turn the corner to see him with a smug smile.

 

“Fallowin’ me are we?”

 

“N-no. I just want-”

 

Sun feels a finger against her lips stopping her words instantly.

 

“Don’t worry piuthar bheag,” he looks towards the stairs, “I’m only going to do some light recon.” He turns to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll make sure you make it back home, wherever that may be..”

 

Sun looks at his gloved hand to see it trembling slightly. She doesn’t pursue further questions, only letting out a breath of agreement before walking back into the room. She looks back at him from the doorway to see the male Nikke looking at her giving a gentle comforting wave.

 

Barnabas watches her walk into the room, closing the door behind her. He waits for the click of the lock before walking down the stairs. He makes it to the first floor leaving a good distance between him and the chasm. He looks around the ruined lobby with squinted eyes.

 

He lets out an annoyed groan as what he seeks evades his vision. He presses a small button on his still attached sheath. A bing goes off in his head causing him to snap his neck towards a pile of rubble near the stairs. He walks over to the pile, and upon kneeling, starts to search through the rock and debris.

 

Underneath the form of a blade can be seen. A big smile grows on Barnabas’s face as he digs to uncover the object completely. The rusted kukri comes from underneath the rubble held high above the Nikke’s head proudly. He sticks the blade back into its sheath and stands up. He starts to head out the opening in the wall, but stops just before the night sky can appear above him. He kneels down and picks up a jagged rock and places it in his pocket. Standing back up he heads into the night.

00:00 Remaining….

 

Wake-up initiated.

 

Sun awakens again, her eyes opening easier than earlier. She looks around to see things relatively the same since the anomalous Nikke’s departure. On the bed Flower starts to stir as her own charging finishes. She looks at her twin tailed sister rubbing her chin.

 

“Wh-.....What happened?”

 

Sun contemplates an answer, but nothing feels correct, “We need to get back to the outpost and report in.”

 

Sun stands up picking up her rifle from its leaning position. Flower takes her actions as preparation for movement and puts on her eyeguard. She rises from the bed and moves over to Sun keeping within arms length.

 

Sun turns the doorknob leading them into the hallway. Flower stays close as Sun leads with the rifle raised. They walk down the stairs, Sun cautiously checking the corners before advancing. As the chasm enters view, Flower taps Sun’s shoulder.

 

“What about the other Nikke?”

 

Sun bites the corner of her lip, “What about them?”, she turns towards the hole in the wall, “Our orders are to get back to the outpost, not wait for…..”

 

She lets out a gruff enough for Flower to cease her questions. They walk silently over the rubble and back into the open air of the city. The duo looks up to see the moon directly above them basking them in its light.

 

The night sky is full of brilliant stars enhanced by the full moon in the cosmos. A gentle autumn breeze blows against the women as they take in their environment. The gentle silence is broken by distant gunfire and explosions from the direction of the nearest elevator. 

 

They look towards the sounds to see a ‘path’ has formed among the ruins. Sun walks towards this new path and notices a splatter of liquid on the rock. Upon further inspection she notices a clear direction painted with the liquid. Looking toward where it points is another splatter with another direction painted.

 

“Do you think it's safe?”

 

Sun hears Flower’s words, but her gaze doesn’t leave the distant splatters leading towards the sounds of battle. She lets out a loud exhale from her nose.

 

“Don’t think we have a choice,” Sun points down the street, “We can’t afford a fight right now.”

 

Flower gulps deeply and nods. They start down the path laid out for them approaching the sounds of battle. They begin to jog down the street, as the corpse of a still steaming machine is sighted. Sun leads with her pink-haired companion keeping up pace behind her.

 

Minutes pass as they jog down the street. Sun starts to slow down as the shadows begin to recede being replaced by growing light. The light grows until the duo come across a plaza within the city. Sun and Flower watch, from what little shadow covers them, as a battle takes place in front of them.

 

The male Nikke stands in the middle of the plaza surrounded by machine lifeforms. Their guns blaze at the nimble male trying to pepper him full of holes. The male nimbly dodges their gunfire jumping and leaping onto, and behind, objects using them as impromptu cover. He jumps onto one of the firing machines causing its fellows to unintentionally riddle their ally. He leaps away before it explodes in a red and orange flower.

 

Sun and Flower watch from cover as the male destroys another of the machines before diving into cover again. Sun uses her HUD to zoom in on the male to see his body is full of holes. He breathes heavily, but a ragged smile remains on his face. Before she can zoom out he sprints from his cover once more to assault the last two machines.

 

He leaps onto the closest one punching its top plate. Each punch bends the metal to the point of snapping causing the machine to screech. The Nikke combines his fist over his head to deliver the killing blow, but the machine's ally appears almost arms length from the male. Before he can react the machine unloads its auto shotgun point blank at the male.

 

The initial slug sends him flying off the machine and onto the ground tumbling. The machine wastes no time and charges, placing its metal clawed foot straight through his stomach. He lets out a scream as the spike pierces him and stakes him to the ground. The machine towers over the Nikke, its auto-shotgun loudly reloading, the spent shells falling onto the pinned male beneath.

 

“We have to do something!”

 

Flower’s voice comes out louder than even she expected as the damaged machine turns to the duo. Sun smacks Flower upside the head before raising her rifle to the machine. The machine starts to approach raggedly steam starting to appear where it was wounded. Sun quickly unloads her rifle into the machine, its frontal plate pierced by her bullets. It falls motionless, the lights disappearing from its form.

 

Sun turns her gun to the second machine just in time to see complete its reloading sequence. The male Nikke covers his face with his arms. The machine fires its full carronade at the pinned Nikke, Barnabas letting out a scream as the pellets pierce his uncovered torso. Sun’s bullets hit the machine just as it begins another reloading cycle.

 

The machine turns its attention to, Sun and Flower, the wounded flickering Nikke below past its notice. The machine lifts its foot up, taking the impaled Barnabas with it, and tosses the Nikke at the duo. The throw is high, the body slamming into a light post. The force of impact is enough to fully snap his spine, sending the lower portion of his body loudly into a nearby cafe while the upper portion crashes onto rubble below.

 

The duo look at his lifeless eyes with a horrified expression. Flower covers her mouth, her eyes locked on the dead male. Sun, quicker on the upkeep, turns to the plaza to see the machine retreating down a street disappearing into the night. She lets out a breath of relief turning back to the frightened Flower.

 

Flower turns to Sun pointing at the male with a trembling finger.

 

“He-He’s-”

 

“RARRAGRHGARGR!?!?!”

 

“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!”

 

Sun and Flower scream as the male bursts alive screaming. His eyes flash purple and his arms grab at the air wildly. Flower, thinking quickly, rushes the screaming male and delivers a kick directly to his face.

 

“GAAAHHHH!!!”

 

Flower prepares to deliver another one, but her foot is grabbed by the male.

 

“DON’T!!”

 

Flower looks down at him to see his eye has stopped flashing, settling on the usual steady purple glow. She lets the drive from her kick ebb away, taking a step back joining Sun as they watch the male sit himself up.

 

“Urgh…,” the male lets out as he adjusts himself against the rubble, “Fackin’ machines….When did they get shotguns?”

 

Flower opens her mouth, but Sun’s sudden grab of her shoulder ceases her words. Sun points towards the ruined cafe giving Flower a look. Flower looks at her with a surprised expression, looking towards the cafe. Sun points her with her neck to which Flower begrudgingly walks towards the building.

 

Sun kneels down in front of the male. She notices the dull look of half-consciousness in his eyes. She looks down to his bisection to see a mixture of red and black seeping out of him. His metal spine sticks out, whipping itself around looking for connection, stabbing into the rubble below making deep cuts in the concrete. The sight of it makes Sun take a breath as it acts more like an animal than a body part.

 

The sound of Flower returning snaps Sun out of her inspection. In Flower’s arms the Nikke’s lower half, cut off at the belt. The pink-haired girl looks at the male then his unattached lowers and shrugs.

 

“What now?”

 

Sun shrugs, “Guess, stick it back?”

 

Flower’s mouth nervously twitches, “Are you sure?”

 

Sun grabs one of the legs dragging the lower half from Flower. She takes his lower body by the hips and shoves them into the searching metal spine.

 

*Click*

 

“See eas-”

 

*SNAP*

 

Flower’s folds her lips over each other crossing her arms.

 

The Nikke sits motionless for a second before standing on his own. He stretches out his legs and twists his upper body until three audible cracks can be heard.

 

“There we go!,” Barnabas says happily.

 

He looks over to see Sun and Flower looking at him with puzzled expressions. He quickly responds with the same expression.

 

“What are you lot doin’ here?”

 

“We finished charging,” Sun says standing up.

 

“Good to hear,” the male says, his eyes traveling towards Flower, “I never introduced myself to you, lass.”

 

“M-Me?”

 

Barnabas chuckles, his hands placed on his hips, “Aye, knocked ya clean out,” he extends an open hand toward Flower, “Nikke 2681; Barnabas, at your service.”

 

Flower takes his hand in a soft handshake. Upon touching him she's immediately overcomed by a feeling of warmth. The feeling is so overpowering she takes an unconscious step back to which Barnabas takes a step forward. Even with a face guard on Flower can feel his locked gaze pierce through as if looking her directly in the eye.

 

“Were you able to find your safe house?,” Sun asks, heaving her rifle onto her shoulder, “We need to link up with Command.”

 

Barnabas lets out a long sigh, “Nay, the safe house was destroyed. Nothing of value unfortunately haha.”

 

His slight laugh reveals a picking sadness, but his tone quickly returns to upbeat.

 

“I’m guessing you guys actually know a real ‘safehouse’, yeah?”

 

Sun looks at Flower, whose grip still remains on his hand. Flower remains holding it even as Barnabas’s head is fully turned towards Sun.

 

“Yes we do,” Sun says, turning her attention from Flower, “It's called The Outpost.”

 

Barnabas rubs his chin, “ The Outpost , eh?,” He takes his hand back gently from Flower, “Sounds slightly foreboding….., but if that's where Command is, that's where we go.”

 

Sun nods. Barnabas thinks for a moment before turning to Sun and giving her a nod of approval. She takes point, her rifle in both hands, followed by the unarmed Flower. Behind them Barnabas brings up the rear, his glowing eye scanning for enemy signatures. The trio continue on their journey as the moon starts to disappear over the horizon replaced by the morning sun.

Chapter 4: The Lion of Central

Summary:

With the ancient Nikke recovered, the trio make their way towards safety. Awaiting them is refuge, and for the obsolete Nikke, a glimpse into the future he's awoken into.

“-yer shitting me, right?”

 

Flower turns her head back to look at Barnabas.

 

“No, I'm being very serious. The Raptures forced humanity from the surface. Now all the humans live in The Ark.”

 

Barnabas spits on the ground, “So what happened to the Nations ?”

 

“Nations?”

 

Flower tilts her head as if she never heard the word before. The lack of preferred response elicits an annoyed exhale from Barnabas.

 

“Y’know the United Kingdom, Russia, China, Japan, and, easily the best, the United States of America?” 

 

“Never heard of them.”

 

Barnabas’s shoulders drop as her voice betrays no falsehoods. He looks to the blue sky above contemplating why it has stayed the same after all these years.

 

“The elevator is coming up.”

 

Sun, who had been quiet up till now, points to a nondescript collapsed factory. She doesn’t wait for their responses eagerly opening the rusted entry doors and entering the building rifle first. Flower follows with Barnabas bringing up the rear.

 

Sun leads the group to a dilapidated room with a metal door. As she approaches a panel alongside the door appears awaiting her entry, with fast fingers she inputs a code, causing the metal doors to silently slide open. Inside a light illuminates the small space allowing the trio to see inside unabated.

 

Flower quickly enters first, eager to return to safety. Sun lets out a gruff as the thought of her report enters her mind for the first time. Both women enter taking places at the back of the elevator. Barnabas stands outside it, his eyes wide with hesitation.

 

Sun grows impatient as the short Nikke stands like a statue so close to safety. She starts to open her mouth, but Flower interrupts her. She grabs hold of Barnabas’s hand and pulls him into the elevator before he can react. He turns to the doors just to see them close his eyes rapidly looking around.

 

The elevator starts to move causing Barnabas to jump like a cat. Sun and Flower watch silently as the male Nikke sits in the corner of the elevator, his knees to his chest. He wraps his arms around his knees making himself as small as possible and starts to rock. His teeth embed themselves in what's left of his shirt, as he watches Flower with a miffed expression.

 

The elevator comes to a stop after an oppressive amount of time, opening its door to a bright sky and illuminated environment. Sun and Flower step out of the elevator immediately letting out a breath of relief in unison. Barnabas remains in the shadow of the elevator, his eyes staring at the new light entering. He watches as Sun and Flower talk for a moment before Sun departs from view. Flower waves and turns to the still crouching Barnabas she squats down in front of him.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

“I-I don’t like moving outside my own accord……,” Barnabas whispers, his voice shaky.

 

Flower tilts her head, “Well we’re here,” she motions with her hand behind her, “This is The Outpost.”

 

Barnabas remains still, his eyes focused on the ground. He uses his finger to draw invisible worms on the metal floor. Flower pouts then smiles softly. She grabs hold of his hand and pulls him to his feet. Before he can so much as groan she pulls him from the darkness of the elevator into the brightness of the artificial sky over The Outpost.

 

He has to cover his eye the bright lights too much for the singular orb to handle. In his blindness he can hear the elevator close, sinking into the floor towards another destination. He lets out an annoyed growl looking at Flower with squinted eyes. She smiles awkwardly scratching her cheek.

 

“..Hey at least you're out…”

 

Barnabas lets out a tired exhale chuckling to himself once. He looks around to be greeted by a completely alien environment. ‘The Outpost’ as it were is completely foreign to him, the architecture completely different from what he was used to. Green grass, a tall futuristic building and the most surprising a ferris wheel. The last one makes Barnabas's eyebrows furrow.

 

“Ah, 2681.”

 

Barnabas turns his head to Flower.

 

“I just received orders to take you to the Command Center,” Flower says, pointing to the tallest building, “Apparently it's urgent.”

 

Barnabas can feel the twinge of uncertainty in his heart.

 

“Understood, lead the way, Flower.”

 

Flower nods happily. She leads Barnabas down the asphalt road towards the Command Center. Barnabas can’t help, but take in the sights around him, being surprised by the amount of females at the base. Not only that, but the outfits they wear make him consider whether any regulations made it this far, and what kind of war humanity invested itself in.

 

The duo make their way into the Command Center. Flower leads him up the stairs of the building and into a small furnished room. The room is extremely bare with only two lounge chairs and a coffee table inside. Flower guides Barnabas into the room.

 

“They’ll send someone momentarily,” Flower says walking towards the exit. 

 

She places a hand against the knob, but stops just before turning it. She turns to Barnabas who wears a curious expression.

 

“Thank you for helping Sun and me,” She says calmly, “We won’t forget it.”

 

Barnabas smiles somberly at her words. She nods awkwardly, bowing slightly, before exiting the room and closing the door behind her. 

 

Barnabas is left in the near silence of the room, only the sound of construction outside prevents the total silence. He looks around the room for anything of interest, but in terms of decoration this room was obviously a second thought. Before he can wonder about the lack of care further a knock at the door interrupts his thoughts.

 

The door opens before Barnabas can say anything. A man, the first man Barnabas has seen since Erasmus, steps in wearing a brown military outfit. Barnabas instantly stands up, putting a salute up as the man enters. The man looks at him with a puzzled expression before looking at the datapad in his hand.

 

“Nikke 2681, Barnabas Wolfgang…..,” the man says calmly, taking a seat, “Sentinel Company, 6th Dog Company…..,” the man glances up from his datapad, “Says here you were twenty when you went under the knife?”

 

“The war had reached a tipping point.”

 

Barnabas blurts the words out as if an excuse. The man only looks at him silently commanding him to sit with his eyes. The Nikke sits down without further words. The man inspects Barnabas from his seat.

 

“Stand up and strip.”

 

Barnabas stands as commanded and starts to remove his tattered gear. What straps remained post-wakeup snap instantly under pressure, falling to the wooden floor unceremoniously. His pants come down even faster, the belt destroyed by the earlier combat with the shotgun rapture. Within seconds he's stark naked in front of the man.

 

The man stands up continuing to look at his datapad. He walks around the naked Nikke examining the slender body in front of him. The Nikke is shorter than the man by quite a bit, easily able to tower over the cybernetic male. Gray shoulder length hair flows from his head leading to bright purple eyes that follow the man attentively. The Nikke’s face is soft and feminine his upturned eyes offering a seductive gaze while his mouth cracks a growing nervous smile.

 

The man lowers his gaze as he walks behind the Nikke. A plump heart-shaped rear offers ample cushion for the male, his thighs and legs are somewhat large to support his hefty rear offering musculature fitting a scout vanguard. The man walks to the Nikke’s front to see a sight familiar to his own body. Nestled between his large thighs is his organ, flaccid and soft. The man sits back down and taps on his datapad.

 

“You can put your clothes back on.”

 

Barnabas nods looking down at what scraps remain of his equipment. Seeing his underwear the only viable piece worth scavenging he slides them on and takes a seat. The man brushes a hand through his hair and looks at Barnabas dead on.

 

“My name is Anderson. I’m the Deputy Chief of the Ark.”

 

Barnabas remains silent. His eye scans the dark-eyed Deputy Chief, his serious expression unfazed by what he’s seen.

 

“You're a listener? Good.”

 

Anderson stands up and walks to the window.

 

“I’ve read up on what files we still have from before the Ark,” Anderson says looking out the window, “The 2600 series created by the…USDON…to supplement the 2500 series created by the USMC. Is that accurate?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Barnabas’s voice is uncharacteristically serious.

 

“You were deployed with Erasmus Leofric, Nikke 2521, to defend the seawall against rapture attack, correct?”

 

“Yes that is correct.”

 

Anderson walks back to the chair and takes a seat.

 

“I read that male Nikke’s were all but destroyed during the early years of the war. How did you survive?”

 

Barnabas sighs, “The seawall’s position was strategic, but not strategic enough for the enemy apparently,” he shrugs, “..but that changed once Southern Command fell…..Would seem they stole the map data when they captured the HQ.”

 

“Psychosis. Reports from the medical teams assigned to Nikke detachments reported that males suffered a quote on quote ‘psychotic break that lead to catastrophic results’. What do you say to that?”

 

“I’ve never heard voices in my entire life…. However reports of psychotic breaks were known, and to an effect we were prepared. Prescribed drugs from labs were distributed, but as supply lines collapsed we turned to more ‘prohibited’ avenues.”

 

Anderson looks at him with a flat expression. Barnabas’s face twitches remembering past events. He quickly stifles the twitching.

 

“How are you still functional after nearly a century,” Anderson asks, “Your clothes may have degraded, but you seem no worse for wear. The Nikke’s produced now are more complex, but can’t last that long.”

 

“My brain and heart are still human,” Barnabas answers, “The eggheads implemented a motion engine that powers my body via heart palpitations. They called it the Cor Engine, or Heart Engine, and no, I don’t know how it works.”

 

“I’m assuming nano-tech takes the job of repairs?”

 

“Yes. The nanobots, or ticks as I call‘em, drink the blood straight from the vein powering themselves and allowing life to return.”

 

“Life?”

 

Barnabas chuckles, “Yes life,” he turns to the Anderson completely, “In order for the ticks to work properly all life signs must be flatlined, the healing process is extremely painful,” he leans forward towards Anderson, “Sometimes killing oneself is the only way to live.”

 

“How many times have you ‘flatlined’?”

 

“367, sir,” Barnabas answers without hesitation, “The most recent skirmish killed my even streak.”

 

Anderson’s facial expression doesn’t change as he takes in this new information. A beeping on his watch breaks the line of questioning causing Anderson to look at the time. He clicks the watch, silencing it and looks straight on. 

 

“What's your opinion of Humanity and Humans?”

 

“My life has purpose as long as a single human draws breath,” Barnabas with deathly seriousness, “As long as humanity struggles I will force breath into my corpse no matter the cost, and continue the fight for Humanity’s victory.”

 

A fanatical smile creeps across Barnabas’s face. Anderson nods, taking his words in.

 

“If that's the case then what I say next will be of no issue to you.”

 

The smile disappears from Nikke's face as Anderson stands up.

 

“You will be temporarily assigned to a Commander while I report to my superiors,” Anderson starts, “However the issue of you still remains…..”

 

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, sir.”

 

“The ARK is not in a position to be reminded of the failures of the past,” Anderson says with a flat unemotional tone, “A male Nikke is exactly that. A relic of a past where humanity lived on the surface. A past littered in mistakes, and for some, memories of the horrors of war. The average citizen might find that disheartening.”

 

Barnabas can’t help but chuckle as the irony of the words hits him like a truck. Anderson’s expression doesn’t change.

 

“To that degree,” he continues, showing Barnabas the datapad, “This will be your new identity. Memorize it.”

 

Barnabas looks down at the datapad. He instantly raises his eyes to Anderson.

 

“Nikke Designation: Ishtar……Manufacturer……,” Barnabas looks back down to the datapad, “Missle-Missul-Missillis Industry?,” Barnabas can barely enunciate the word, “Is that correct?”

 

Anderson stands up this time heading towards the door, “Yes, Missilis Industry,” he adjusts his silver cufflinks, “The CEO is a woman by the name of Syuen. She will be outfitting and equipping you for when your Commander arrives.”

 

“Does she-”

 

“Yes, the Big Three have already been partially briefed on your situation. Publicly you're an experimental Nikke, to be studied to a certain degree, to the Central Government however you are classified a ‘Pilgrim’. Syuen made the highest bid, so for now, she gets you, and as such gets access to study and modify you to a certain degree.”

 

“I was-”

 

“Yes, you were auctioned. She will be the person you answer to save the Central Government and your Commander,” Anderson turns the door knob, “The world you came from died the moment we lost the surface, Ishtar, you’d do well to remember the price of defeat.”

 

Ishtar lets out a heavy sigh, “It’s beginnin’ to sink in sir….”

 

“That will do for now, Ishtar,” he looks down to his watch, “I have another meeting to attend, but from what I can tell you have a purpose here. If you have purpose then you can continue your fight. See this as a blessing.”

 

He turns the door before Ishtar can respond, quickly closing it behind him. The Nikke is once again left in silence, but not for long as another knock comes at the door. From behind the door an emotionless girl enters. Her gear is more militaristic, akin to Ishtar's image of a ‘future soldier’. She turns to him robotically, her face gear hiding where her eyes wander.

 

“Product 23,” her voice is flat, putting her shotgun against her shoulder, “Are you Ishtar?”

 

Ishtar gulps, “Y-yeah..”

 

She takes out a black bag from her pocket, “I was ordered to take you to Syuen. She requested you be blinded and put into hibernation while being transported. Do you consent willingly?”

 

Ishtar’s eyes look up at the mass-produced Nikke not feeling any sort of humor or lie behind her words. He nods in agreement to which 23 approaches, bag in hand. She places it over the consenting Nikke’s face.

 

Once on he feels her gloved hand lift the back of the bag and search the back of his neck. She finds the input port putting a device inside it.

 

Foreign input detected….Activating countermeasures….

 

Ishtar’s head twitches under the bag. He feels a torrent of nanobots flood through his veins all towards the port.

 

Master Key detected……Counter measures disabled……

 

The ticks freeze for a moment before returning to their duties dispersing towards other areas of care.

 

Permission transfer in progress…..

 

Permissions successfully transferred from the USDOD to General Syuen of The Ark…..

 

Engaging hibernation…….in 3…..2……1….

 

Ishtar’s neck hangs limply as the countdown finishes, his body losing all signs of tension. 23 lifts the unconscious Ishtar carrying them easily out of the room.

---

 

Master key input detected………

 

Internal systems suppressed……

 

Waiting for..

 

Command Inputted..

 

Enga-

 

3…..

 

1…

 

“-scrap they found on the surface?”

 

Ishtar wakes up to the words of a young haughty female voice. His sight is blocked by the black bag, but the combination of lights and the female’s bright outfit allow him some semblance of vision. From what he can tell he’s on his knees, his hands bound in his lap. The heavy metal manacles around his wrists weigh his limbs down keeping them low. Through the gaps in the fabric he can see a white floor beneath him and some type of music star in front of him.

 

The bag is ripped from his head bathing his singular eye in bright white light. His eyes adjust quickly with a few cautious blinks. Just as he assumed in front of him stands a young looking girl with a smug expression on her face. Her blue and white accented outfit, black-purple highlighted hair, her exposed midriff flaunting her fair skin. Ishtar’s face becomes more perplexed, his eyes lowering to the tattoo on her thigh all leading to the white boots adorning her feet.

 

“...General Syuen?”

 

The words fall out of Ishtar’s lips, his hesitation apparent. Her smug haughty expression seems to grow with the title.

 

“So the junk metal finally wakes,” The girl pokes Ishtar’s chest, “The amount of strings I had to pull to snatch you from the other Ceo’s…….”

 

Ishtar averts his gaze from her duller purple eyes. He looks around to see another Nikke standing in the corner of the room. They watch silently from the shadows their soft girly face contrasting the black, visibly used, whip in her hands. Ishtar finds his gaze stolen by the anomaly of her bright pink hair.

 

Syuen quickly blocks his vision with her figure seeing the Nikke’s attention stolen, “Look at me scrap,” she says grabbing a fistful of his hair.

 

Ishtar winces as his hair is pulled back by Syuen forcing his neck back. Even with her short height she attempts to tower over the kneeling Nikke. Her attempt succeeds with the help of her heeled boots.

 

“You look at me and only me,” Syuen pulls his gray hair back eliciting another wince, “If you understand nod.”

 

The Nikke's eye bounces between hers before closing, nodding as best he can. She releases her grip letting the hair fall back down. She walks away from Ishtar taking a place where the pink haired Nikke rests against the wall. Ishtar can hear words exchanged, but fails to decipher them with his auditory senses subdued.

 

The pink haired Nikke starts to approach Ishtar while Syuen follows behind a datapad in hand. The duo seem to compete for the ‘shortest girl in the room award’, causing Ishtar to let out a near silent snort. They stop a few feet from the kneeling Nikke, Syuen tapping a panel on the floor.

 

In an instant an operating table rises from the ground coming to the hips of Syuen. The black-haired girl turns to Ishtar.

 

“Get on the table.”

 

Ishtar raises himself using his knees alone. Fully standing he walks over to the operating table cautiously, his eyes remaining on the other Nikke in the room. Her presence causes the sensors in his brain to fire, all of them telling to ‘prepare’.

 

“Yuni!”

 

A massive piercing headache invades Ishtar’s skull, nearly knocking him out. He stumbles instantly losing his footing slamming his head into the table. The pain of hitting the table barely registers all his nerves being allocated to his pulsing head. He barely has a chance to vocalize a hand quickly lifting him onto the table. He looks to see an ecstatic expression on the pink-haired Nikke’s face as she turns him onto his back.

 

“I told you to focus on me, junk metal,” Syeun’s voice is flat more disappointed than anything, “Stop making this hard.”

 

Ishtar breathes heavily the pain in his head making Syeun’s words slide right off. Seeing the pained expression on his face she turns to Yuni giving her a certain look. Within a moment the pain in Ishtar’s head disappears. He lets out a breath of relief.

 

* Click *

 

The soft sound is followed by the release of pressure around Ishtar’s wrists. He looks down as best he can to see the manacles fall from his hands. He looks to Syeun, feeling her soft hand against his wrist, nearly jumping as the surprising warmth of her hand touches his artificial skin.

 

“...Definitely not pure Goddesium…,” She lifts his wrist up, tightening her grip ever so slightly, “...alloyed maybe…?”

 

Ishtar feels her hand explore the surface of his body feeling and prodding certain areas. She walks over to his head peeling back the bandage covering his absent eye. She lifts her coat arm putting her hand into his empty eye socket. She presses her fingers against the skin feeling the input port for the replacement eye. She retracts her hand after a few more exploratory pokes.

 

“I want to see your internals,” Syeun commands, “There might be something to learn inside a dated model like you.”

 

Ishtar glances at Yuni, “Does she need to be present, General,” his face shows slight embarrassment.

 

“Yes, now open up,” Syeun’s impatience can be heard in her voice.

 

Ishtar lets out a tired sigh, “Understood, General.”

 

Ishtar raises his hands to his naked chest. He moves his hands to the middle letting his fingers touch. With a deep press the sound of breaking bone fills the room the Nikke’s fingers piercing the middle of their ribcage.

 

* Crack*

 

Another crack fills the room, Ishtar’s face relatively unchanged. His fingers anchor themselves inside, and with a single pull apart, he rips open his rib cage like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon. The loud squelching is followed by a burst of blood erupting from his chest with a surprising amount of force. The red spray completely covers Yuni in the iron smelling liquid, the Nikke moving to protect Syuen from the sudden eruption.

 

“Messy….,” Syeun’s annoyance is barely hidden, taking the form of a tapping foot, “...typical.”

 

Ishtar lets out a single chuckle, his entire upper body ripped open and exposed to the air. Syuen, and to extent Yuni, peer into the Nikke’s chest cavity. Small mechanical organs fill the cavity within, the fluorescent colors from the organs glow like a deep sea jellyfish. Syuen motions to Yuni.

 

The pink-haired girl can barely hold in her excitement as she’s given free reign to feel Ishtar’s internals. She grips his surprisingly squishy liver in her fingers, Yuni’s eyes lighting up as the organ pulses with life in her fingers. In her excitement she rips it out of Ishtar with a loud pop leaving behind a string of flailing synthetic vessels.

 

Syeun watches the vessel's movement silently. They flail wildly for a moment searching for an input port. They continue searching for a few seconds growing more and more desperate with their struggling. Just as she opens her mouth the vessels freeze before hastily returning to the cavity. They pierce the pulsating lungs, visibly extracting something from the adjacent organ.

 

She turns her attention to the laid out Nikke to see Ishtar rather inexpressive over the whole situation. His bored expression sparks something in Syeun. Seeing Ishtar’s silent boredom offensive she follows Yuni’s lead and grasps his heart. The pitch black mechanical organ pulses in a near dead rhythm. Her brow raises in unison with the heart, her hand gently pulling the organ out of its location. The heart beats slightly faster, but remains near expired even as the sound of the vessels disconnecting is heard.

 

The smell of iron starts to become too much for Syuen, throwing the heart back, so she can cover her nose with her sleeve. Yuni watches with eager eyes Ishtar’s heart just slightly out of her reach. Still holding his liver she uses her other hand to grab the discarded organ holding both in each hand. She weighs them in the air squeezing and squishing them in her fingers with a happy expression.

 

“Yuni put those back,” Syuen places a hand near Ishtar’s bored eyes, “Hey why aren’t you screaming in pain,” She asks, snapping her fingers in front of his face.

 

“The only remnants of my nervous system are in my brain and the upper portion of the spine,” Ishtar says flatly, “Any other pain is simulated.”

 

Syeun’s brow furrows, “Your senses are simulated?”

 

“Yes, ma’am, without the software I wouldn’t feel pain nor EX-haustion,” Ishtar nearly yells, his liver squeezed tightly.

 

“That didn’t sound simulated,” Yuni says smiling, shoving Ishtar’s liver in his face, “This is fun to squeeze!”

 

“Get that thing outta my face, or put it back.”

 

Yuni ignores Ishtar’s annoyance, preferring to juggle the organs in the air. Every toss cleans the blood off the artificial parts making them shine in the light of the lab. Syuen lifts her sleeve protecting herself from the flying blood. Through the rain of blood she sees a red heart nearly hidden by a barrier of mechanical bindings.

 

She attempts to reach the heart only able to touch the bindings. In an instant she feels herself pushed back with great force, falling onto her butt with a pained yelp. She allows herself a moment of genuine confusion before putting on arrogant airs once more. The perplexed girl looks at Ishtar to see his arm still out from pushing her.

 

Syuen is about to open her mouth, but stops herself upon seeing his open chest. The metal bindings unfurled like a whip of barbed wire. Thorns adorn the jet black metal vines that erupt from his chest. The fallen girl’s eyes fill with fear as the wire pulses and moves ever so slightly like snakes readying to strike.

 

Yuni however looks at the thorned whips with eager eyes. She steps closer to the metal wires, their movement slowing down on her slow methodical approach. The pink-haired girl watches the wires retreat back to their original position, her eyes upon a lagging strand. Before it completely returns she pounces, grabbing and ripping the strand from his cavity.

 

Ishtar growls animalistically for a moment before going silent, as Yuni throws the ripped cord to the far wall letting it slam loudly against the white wall. The cord flails wildly on the ground indenting the floor and wall with deep slashes. The two girls watch the cord’s death throes silently watching the crazed whip go limp after a long minute. Yuni walks over to the limp thorned cord picking it up becoming completely enraptured in it.

 

Syeun gets up quickly and rushes towards Ishtar with extreme anger in her eyes. She grabs hold of his artificial lungs squeezing them so tight that the right one bursts. Her hands fill with the red and black mixture of his blood and coolant.

 

“What the f**k was that you junk piece of s**t!”

 

“The protection placed around my original heart, lovingly called ‘Medusa’s cage’, ma’am,” Ishtar’s voice betrays no hint of noticing the ruptured lung, “Without it terminating me would be theoretically possible, as most of my essential functions originate behind there.”

 

His even and calm tone only infuriates the bratty girl further, eliciting an annoyed groan from her. Yuni returns to the operating table snapping her new ‘whip’ against the ground, cutting dents into the floor. Syuen ignores the Nikke’s display trying to calm herself while looking at Ishtar.

 

“...As much as I’d like to rip that ‘cage’ out of you..,” Syuen bites her thumbnail, “..Anderson gave me strict orders not to remove anything important from you…,” she growls, infuriated.

 

She goes silent for a moment taking a rare contemplative expression. It only lasts a minute or so before turning into an unexpected yawn. Her yawning face catches Ishtar off-guard, and begins to remind him of the passing time.

 

“M-may I…um..close meself?”

 

Syuen looks at him confused at first, but returns to her usual annoyed expression. Before it can turn into anything else another yawn forces itself out of the girl. This time Ishtar makes his gaze known, his single eye watching her yawn involuntarily with unblinking awareness.

 

“Yes, that's enough for now,” Syuen says motioning to him, “Make yourself less revolting to look at.”

 

“Affirmative ma’am.”

 

Ishtar looks at Yuni who, besides having a part of Medusa's Cage, still has his artificial heart and liver. The pink-haired Nikke looks back at him before sticking her tongue out at him while pocketing the now spotless organs. He looks to Syeun who has already started to pack herself up for departure. He can sense her uncaring attitude toward his building request, and for his own sanity swallows it with a heavy sigh.

 

He pushes his hands against his cracked rib cage and begins pushing them back together. After a few seconds of gently pushing them together in the middle where he broke them Ishtar feels the nanobots rush toward the detected injury healing the damage within seconds. In half a minute he sits up with no mark of the injury showing on his skin.

 

Ishtar looks at Syuen who taps away at her datapad taking notes barely noticing him recover. He turns to Yuni to see his fellow Nikke already looking at him. The Nikke’s silently look at each other for a moment, Syuen tapping filling the near silent room. He can see Yuni’s eyes start to lower to where the wound was, then slowly descend.

 

“Yuni, leave us.”

 

The pink-haired Nikke looks surprised, but does as commanded, leaving the room to the two. Syuen waits until Yuni leaves before raising her eyes from the datapad glaring at Ishtar. He can feel the figurative daggers entering him. She walks to the middle of the operating table placing the heavy datapad on his groin. She rests against the operating table leaning against it facing Ishtar.

 

“I bid on you for one reason and one reason alone,” Syuen points a finger directly at Ishtar, “I was guaranteed not only your knowledge, but your body as well. You’ll be my immortal test dummy, and save my company the expense of replacement.”

 

Ishtar squints his eye at her, “What of the Commander Anderson mentioned?”

 

Syuen lets out an arrogant laugh covering her mouth slightly, “You mean the newly graduated Commander?,” She barely hides her smug smile, “I doubt that duty will last, but when he eventually dies you’ll be all mine.”

 

“....but until then I’m not a test dummy?”

 

Syuen takes her datapad, tapping it against his nethers, a haughty expression on her face.

 

“I was promised that every week you are to report to me for testing and refitting,” Syuen’s chuckles, “...but until then you can report to your Commander, I’ll send your new equipment to the Outpost,” she says walking behind Ishtar.

 

“Affirmative general…..uh..how will I get th-”

 

Master Key Inputted……

 

Combat Hibernation Ordered…….Countdown waived….

 

---

 

Emergency Wake-up…..

 

Countdown waived…..

 

“S-s-son o-o buh-bitch,” Ishtar slurs drooling, his mouth still numb from the wake-up.

 

His restored vision scans the room slowly and raggedly, his eyes barely casting light. The soft light of a bedroom, and carpeted floor greet his awakening senses. His hands grip the soft floor beneath him, and with a groan he raises himself to his hands and knees. He arches his back, stretching his body out like a cat, the sensation of the relieving stretch overcoming the sound of a door opening.

 

Ishtar feels the presence immediately dodging to the opposite wall to the door only to slam against a metal pillar. He turns behind him to see what looks to be a shower. He looks over the opposite shoulder to see a box playing soft music which only now touches his ears. He looks towards the door to see a military attired man standing in front of the now closed doorway.

 

The man wears a brown military uniform similar to Anderson’s, but missing the medals and livery decorating the Deputy Chief’s. They look at Ishtar with a curious expression, dark tinted aviators covering their eyes. Short brown hair hangs from his head pulled back by an increasing interlocking of fingers. The brown drabbed man finishes running his hand through his hair folding his arms taking a few steps towards Ishtar.

 

“Fhack are ye!?!?”

 

Ishtar bares his teeth at the man causing them to cease their approach. The male Nikke takes a quick battle pose, oblivious to the fact he looks like a surprised cat, his rear raised high while his torso remains low to the ground.

 

“I believe I’m your Commander….Ishtar was it?”

 

The man's voice is calm yet holds a twinge of stifled enthusiasm. Ishtar inspects the man finding a pistol holstered by his hip. The Commander looks down, tracing the Nikke’s sight. Without a word the Commander takes out the pistol and tosses it to the nearby couch. It hits the soft part before falling onto the floor in front of the chair with a loud clack sound.

 

The Commander puts their hands up and approaches with another step. Ishtar watches him with a visibly submissive expression, their stance losing tension, prompting the Commander to approach faster. They kneel in front of the now squatting Ishtar.

 

“Can I help you up?”

 

Ishtar looks up to see the Commander’s bare hand reaching out for him. He looks at the Commander to see a comforting grin on his face. The Nikke can’t argue against the earnest expression of the man, sensing no lie behind his words, and takes his hand allowing them to lift him.

 

Standing on his two feet Ishtar stands in front of the upright Commander. A full two heads shorter than his superior Ishtar averts his eyes from the gaze of his new Commander.

 

“T-t…-,” Ishtar stutters before letting out a heavy sigh, “Thank you….C-Commandah.”

 

The Commander smiles patting the Nikke’s shoulder, “Shifty told me Missilis sent me a complementary SSR tier Nikke, but I didn’t know they’d deliver you to my room,” he chuckles scratching his head.

 

“Yeah doesn’t seem like they told me either,” Ishtar grinds his teeth, a familiar pulsing headache pestering him.

 

The Commander points towards the couches surrounding a metal coffee table, “Did you want to get more comfortable?,” he looks around exaggerating a search before turning to Ishtar, “Just us I’m pretty sure.”

 

Ishtar looks at the Commander with suspicion, but upon looking at the comfortable couch, throws caution away taking a seat facing the door. The Commander smiles softly for a moment before taking a seat across from Ishtar.

 

“I’ve already been briefed about your ‘situation’, and if you haven’t heard it…..,” The Commander starts putting his hand to his forehead in a salute, “I thank you for joining my command!”

 

The sudden enthusiasm makes Ishtar jump, but a slight grin quickly replaces the surprise on his face. He returns the salute.

 

“I’ll serve as best I can Commander, for Humanity’s return to the surface, I’ll give every last drop of my being.”

 

“Hopefully it doesn’t come to that,” The Commander says with slight concern, “Outside of missions you’ll be given rec time here at the Outpost. Though Central’s agreement with Syuen means that you’ll be seeing her once a week.”

 

“I’m guessing she’s the one who gave me this equipment…,” Ishtar says, pulling at the halter leotard that covers his chest. “Is there a….,” Ishtar trails while looking around.

 

“Mirror? In the shower.”

 

“Taing, caraid,” Ishtar waves with a thankful expression standing and heading towards the shower.

 

He steps inside to see a full-body mirror. Ishtar stands in front of it inspecting himself grimacing as his nightmare becomes manifest. His assumption that while Syeun was banned from his internals that would not protect his external body from modifications.

 

Ishtar’s long gray-hair has been tied into a single braid reaching down to his lower back. Two purple eyes glow in the mirror, and upon leaning in, Ishtar realizes the replacement eye bears a logo with the words “Missilis” in the pupil. He leans back to see a halter designed leotard covering his upper body leaving his shoulders and arms exposed, but covering his neck in black Goddesium. Black shoulder length gloves adorn both arms turning to armor at his elbows ending in snug goddesium gauntlets..

 

His eyes wander to his lower-body to see the leotard somehow completely hides his nethers. He looks down to see them completely gone, but upon pressing the area with his palm, a sensation prickles through his body. Ishtar lets out an extremely relieved breath letting his eyes continue downwards towards his pants. The crotch is cut out exposing his thick toned inner thighs and allowing a spectator to see where the leotard covers his privates. He looks behind him to see it also cut out allowing his big rear to stick out when bending.

 

Ishtar bends using the wall to stabilize himself, and lifts his foot. His knee-high boots are armored with Goddesium plates. The long slender boots end in a sharp heel forcing his feet into a new foreign position. The sudden realization causes him to stumble, the flat heel underneath him wobbling with uncertainty. He stabilizes himself, stomping his foot with a loud clack and placing both hands against the mirror.

 

“You alright?”

 

“Yeah!,” Ishtar calls back, “Fhackin heels…,” he whispers under his breath.

 

Looking up he notices the heavy smokey black eyeshadow over his eyelids. His pressed fingers reveal their black-painted nails. Another sigh leaves him as the full picture dawns on him. He slowly places his hands against his face.

 

“Bloody hell I look like a flat chested g-……,” Ishtar whispers near silently into his hands, “So this is what Anderson meant, huh?,” He looks through his fingers into the mirror, “Some cru-el fhackin joke this is!.”

 

He lets the despair wash over him before leaving the shower rejoining the Commander in the main room. The Commander’s face seems no different than when he left, a slight comforting smile, which seems to ease Ishtar only slightly. He takes a seat on the couch he left, face to face with the Commander once again.

 

Ishtar can’t help, but let out a groan, “So…”, he takes a heavy breath the new reality setting in, “What now, Commandah?”

 

The Commander frowns, “I’ve received my first mission from the Central Government….,” his voice betrays his uncertainty, “A squad went missing and I’m to rescue them.”

 

“Search and rescue?,” Ishtar raises a brow, “Pretty tough stuff for a first mission, ser…, is it just us?”

 

The Commander lets out a nervous chuckle, “Luckily not. They’ve assigned me a Nikke by the name of Marian….,” he stands adjusting his uniform as he rises.

 

Ishtar can see the man’s hands slightly tremble feeling the buttons of his jacket. He stands with his Commander, his eyes fixated on the taller man.

 

“She’s waiting for me in the lobby right now,” The Commander says, turning towards the door, “I was going to go meet her after we had a chat. Would you care to join me?”

 

“Of course, Commandah,” Ishtar nods, “Lead the way.”

 

The Commander allows himself a small smile before leading them towards the exit. They walk next to each other down the hallway towards the lobby. On the approach the figure of a woman becomes clearer, her blue outfit and black stockings sticking out like a sore thumb. She stands alone, her attention focused on a screen above. The clacks of Ishtar’s heels and the Commander’s boots call her attention.

 

The fair-skinned woman approaches the men, a submachine gun hanging from her exposed shoulder. Ishtar can feel the warmth of her presence as he approaches. He turns to the Commander to see a relieved expression on his face.

 

“Nikke Marian! Reporting for duty Commander!”

 

The sudden burst of energy from the woman makes Ishtar jump. She holds a military salute, her eyes transfixed on the Commander. She sneaks a glance towards Ishtar, but it's fleeting, quickly returning to The Commander as he reciprocates the salute.

 

“Glad to have you Marian,” The Commander says lowering his hand, “Central already briefed me on the mission. I’ll be in your care.”

 

Ishtar can feel the Commander’s eyes on him. He looks towards Marian, his eyes slowly examining her. Again he can’t hold back his surprise on their choice of equipment. He remains silent as he locks eyes with Marian. She looks down at him, her dark eyes slightly squinted from her homely smile.

 

“I’ve never seen you before,” Marian tilts her head, “You're the new Missilis Nikke I presume?,” she extends a hand to Ishtar, “I’m Marian.”

 

Ishtar looks at her friendly hand cautiously. He looks up at her to see a warm, almost motherly grin, her eyes softly inviting his obedience. He looks down at her hand and takes it gently grasping it with his. Even through his gauntlets the intensity of her warmth is undeniable, almost sending Ishtar into an involuntary nap. His feet stagger slightly forcing his purple eyes to flicker rapidly..

 

“Are you alright?”

 

“I-I’m fine.,” Ishtar says, his head slightly twitching, “...Sorry…”, he smacks his head slightly with his free hand, “I-I’m good…”

 

“Are you sure, Ishtar?,” the familiar voice of the Commander chimes in, “I can ask Central to send another Commander, or something. I don’t want to needlessly risk you.”

 

“Naw, I’m good Commandah,” Ishtar shakes his head, “Musta been something Syuen did ta me… It's already passed.”

 

The Commander looks at Ishtar unconvinced, but remains silent, giving only a nod. Ishtar lets out a breath of relief giving a thankful thumbs up. Marian walks over to Ishtar and places her hand on his head. Ishtar tries to look up at her, but he can feel her will keeping his head down, and concedes almost immediately. 

 

Without a word she scratches his head like a small cat. She gently grazes her nails against his scalp ruffling his tied hair. After a few seconds, which feel like glorious eternity for Ishtar, she lifts her fingers and pats his head. The now hazy eyed Ishtar barely registers her take a step back, his focus primarily on staying upright and standing.

 

“Don’t push yourself too hard, Ishtar,” Marian scolds, “With a spirit like that you’re already a fine Nikke!,” she stamps her foot onto the tiled floor, “However if you die in combat you can’t use that spirit to reclaim the surface!”

 

Ishtar barely registers what she says, still trying to recover from this new experience. The Commander watches the duo with a pleased expression, happy enough to see them getting along. Marian’s expression changes her eyes focused on something else.

 

Marian turns her attention to the Commander, “I’ve just got word that the transport is ready.”

 

The Commander sighs, “And so it is. Let us go then.”

 

Ishtar takes a place next to Marian. The Nikke duo face the Commander and salute him in unison. The Commander reciprocates.

 

“Let's do this squad!,” The Commander shouts, putting his fist up, “I have a feeling with you both by my side nothing can go wrong!”

 

“Aye Commandah!”

 

Marian silently smiles her eyes going between the duo, Ishtar joining the Commander in raising his fist pumping it next to his. She turns towards the door, putting a hand against the handle, but stops just before opening, turning back towards the duo. For a brief moment her smile fades a red glint growing over her dark eyes. It seeks to cover her pupil, but just before total eclipse, it ceases and is instantly pushed back by the darkness. Her smile returns albeit a bit tired, and with a light sigh, she exits into the artificial environment of the Outpost.

Chapter 5: Tuiteam fada

Mission parameters loading……

 

Code: ‘Sleeping Forest’ accepted…

 

Time of Operation: 12:00:45….

 

Dispensing objective via neural link…..

 

Search and Rescue of missing Nikke’s authorized…..

 

General Syuen out of Command Range switching to back up Command….

 

Local Commander granted permissions…..

 

Ending Standby mode…..in 3…

 

2…..

 

1…..

 

Ishtar’s eyes open instantly, his senses activating to the sound of the transport’s engines. It takes a moment for the vibrations of the moving craft to register with him. Instantly his head goes light and his stomach starts to turn.

 

“Are you alright, Ishtar?”

 

The familiar voice of the Commander sounds in his headphone covered ears. Ishtar looks to see the man sitting across from him, a worried expression upon his face. The Nikke gives a dismissive wave.

 

“Fine, Commandah, just some motion sickness,” Ishtar assures, “It’ll pass when I get my damn boots on tha ground..”

 

The Commander nods looking towards Marian, who sits right next to him. She looks out the window of the transport taking in the ruined buildings below. He smiles slightly bringing his attention back to the datapad on his lap. 

 

Ishtar looks at Marian tracking her vision to the environment outside. He tilts his head, a slight grin forming over his face.

 

Encrypted communication request pending…..

 

The words flash over Marian’s HUD. She turns towards Ishtar to see his glowing eyes looking at her intently.

 

Request approved.

 

“Ishtar ?”

 

“Aye . ”

 

Marian notices his eyes flicker talking for his closed mouth shining with words only to dampen with the breath in between, his voice echoing gently in her head.

 

“I’m surprised my link is still compatible ,” Ishtar says, slightly surprised. He leans forward in his seat, “May I ask a question?”

 

“Of course, Ishtar,” Marian responds, her eyes remaining their usual hue.

 

“Why are you dressed like that ?,” Ishtar’s voice is hesitant as if embarrassed to ask, “N-not that there’s anythin’ wrong with it o’ course ... ,” his eyes flicker rapidly with the uncertainty in his voice.

 

She lifts her hand over her mouth covering her smile, “Well outside of my duties to the Commander I serve in the ARK in a more ‘civilian’ duty.”

 

Ishtar tilts his head, “Civilian? Are you telling me that reclaiming the surface isn’t your only duty?”

 

Her giggle echoes in his head, “Of course. There are other ways to serve humanity other than fighting, Ishtar,” her soft chuckle continues.

 

Ishtar looks out the window, his eyes wide in thought. The idea that there was a purpose other than fighting had never crossed his mind.

 

“What can I do outside war?” , the thought makes Ishtar frown unconsciously.

 

“Did you think that you and Erasmus would fight for eternity?,” she says softly, “Even Nikke’s need their time away from war.”

 

“I suppose, haha. ” 

 

Ishtar smiles slightly looking back out the window. Thoughts of what to do after the mission swirl through his head, only ceasing as a name is screamed in his head like a train whistle. He turns to Marian with widened eyes, his mouth slightly agape as her words register completely.

 

“How did you- ,”

 

The words come out of his mouth alerting the Commander to the sudden vocalization. 

 

Intrutrusive Code Detected……

 

Encrypted Communications Terminated…..

 

“AAHHHH!”

 

Ishtar lets out a blood curdling howl grabbing his head in pain. A massive shock is sent to the nanobots protecting his brain turning their defense into an inescapable attack. The electricity burns through his head like a branding iron sizzling the biological computer beneath.

 

The Commander looks up at Ishtar only to slump over as Marian strikes him across the face knocking him out. Ishtar barely has time to react to the red eyed Marian who stands as the transport speeds up. He tries to undo the seatbelt only to have the red eyed female rip him from his seat taking the belt with him.

 

“Fhackin he-woah!”

 

Marian delivers a straight punch directly to his face following with a hammer strike to the head. The blows knock him to the transport floor allowing her the space and time to adjust her footing appropriately. She grabs him by the throat, her strength catching the smaller soldier off-guard, and lifts him high so that his feet dangle in the air. She kicks the transport door out, the wind rushing into the airborne transport, the disconnected door plummeting into the rapidly passing city below.

 

Ishtar looks at Marian to see a smile creep over her face as she carries him towards the open door. He looks down to see the rapidly passing ground below gunmetal bodies scattered every block or so. Fear grips his heart as memories of his awakening and subsequent bisecting enter his thoughts.

 

“ I-I can’t- ”

 

Ishtar can see the red glow being resisted by her usual dark eyes. He immediately puts her condition together grabbing hold of her wrists. His black tipped nails dig into her synthetic flesh desperate for an anchor.

 

“M-Marian..f-fight it!,” he yells glancing down, “Fuckin hell bheag fight it, please!”

 

Ishtar delivers a heavy kick at her knees trying to make her stagger, but she takes the bone pulverizing blow without so much as a flinch. His actions become more desperate attempting to scratch her face, but as the red glow encompasses her eye, she becomes less and less reactive. A devilish smile overcomes her face as the red completely eclipses her left eye, and with it the audible sound of Ishtar’s neck snapping. His entire body goes limp save his face which continues to struggle against her grip, his eyes flickering erratically at the nanobots attempts to reconnect his spinal column.

 

“Over Here.”

 

The last words he hears before the pressure of the wind fills his ears, watching the transport ascend higher into the sky. Within seconds the transport is engulfed in an orange and red flower of fire. The explosion disrupts the air, the shockwave sending Ishtar plummeting even faster. He catches a glimpse of it crashing behind a tall building in the distance, before his sight is covered by a passing building.

 

He crashes at an angle into an old skyscraper smashing through the glass window of the structure. The acceleration thrusts him through two of the drywalls of the structure and out the opposite side ragdolling through another window. The ragdolling humanoid soars through the air before splatting against another weakened wall. The wall stops his momentum just enough to bounce off it and onto the cracked laminate floor below. He lies on his back motionless debris from the crash covering his chest.

 

* Cough* “Sh-Shite, urrghhh….” *Cough*

 

* Creak…..Creak……Crack..! *

 

The rotten floor beneath him lets its weakness known through creaking boards. Soon enough he can hear the panels giving way, falling into the black abyss below. Ishtar attempts to crawl away, the nanobots repairing enough of his spine to grant his arms function.

 

“Shit shit shit!”

 

His paltry attempts to crawl amounts to nothing, the boards under his legs collpasing under the weight of his body. Eager to not fall into a pit once more, he stabs his fingers into the floor, the holes granting him so semblance of support. The rotten floor however has other plans, the new holes destroying any structural support it had.

 

*Creak!*

 

“...Godammit..”

 

With the last cracking death rattle, the floor gives way completely, Ishtar falling into the abyss with the panels. 

 

*Crash*

 

The drop is short as he lands on a rusted truck, long forgotten in the depths, activating its long dormant burglary alarm. He lies motionless as its screams for assistance echo off the walls, happy enough to be in a parking garage rather than a corpse pit.

 

*Wahn Wahn Wahn*  

 

…….. 

 

*Wahn Wahn Wahn*

 

The blaring alarm rings in his ears as it echoes off the concrete walls. He lets out a weary sigh smashing his fist through the dashboard of the vehicle ending its call for assistance. The familiar gnawing of the nanobots working their way through his body causes him to wince. He relaxes his body, content to lie still and let them continue their work fixing his broken bones and shattered body.

 

Baseline Repairs complete…..

 

Local Commander Life Signs detected…..

 

Navigational Data updating…..

 

Waiting for Squad Approval……

 

Ishtar takes a deep breath and sits up, pumping his fist in the air twice.

 

Squad Member Marian Outside Approval Range…..

 

Majority Approval Accepted….

 

Operation Code Modified....

 

Calculating Mission success rate…..

 

Calculations: 100%....

 

Commencing Operation: Fall……

 

Time of Operation: 13:53:22….

 

“Woohoo.”

 

Ishtar’s exaggerated tone falls flat in the empty garage. He shrugs getting up from his crash spot hopping off the truck. He walks towards the exit, illuminated by the peeking sunlight, his footsteps surprisingly silent. He nods his head in distant admiration picking up his pace into a jog, but losing none of the silencing effect. The Nikke jogs up the ramp greeting the bright natural sunlight with a smile.

 

“Can’t beat the real thing…”

 

Energy levels dropping….

 

“Eh?”

 

Ishtar checks his HUD to see a bold 65% drawing his attention. A red arrow points down next to it symbolizing what the AI tells him. He lets out a sigh knowing the dermal solar panels can only come out at death. The sound of loud metal movement draws both his attention and ire forcing him to seek cover away from the exposed road.

 

The gray haired Nikke quietly crouches behind some rubble, their weapons still hanging by their waist. He kneels behind some rocks peeking through rusted rebar as the machines make their way down the road. His left hand touches the axe by its shoulder, his other grabbing the handle of the short rapier resting on the opposite side. His palm moves up the handle of the blade gently rubbing the circular pommel watching the patrol pass.

 

Multiple Servant Class Raptures Detected……

 

“...Rapture…”

 

The name pervades his thoughts as he silently watches the patrol pass. His eyes take a duller glow, scanning the increasingly damaged machines pass. He notices they move together the less damaged leading while the near death ones lag behind.

 

Ishtar lets the minutes pass his eyes on the steadily draining battery his HUD refuses to hide from him. A single crippled rapture stands between him and his mission. It drags itself by its forelegs, the back legs vaporized by some type of heavy rifle. He peeks down the road to see the back of the patrol in the distance, looking back to the crippled machine with growing impatience.

 

His impatience boils over as the machine stops to take a momentary rest. He leaps from the rubble near silently, the only sound being the falling of pebbles from his heels. The machine barely has time to sound for help, Ishtar’s rapier embedding itself in its top plate. He twists the blade causing the hilt to make a hissing sound before making the sound of a racked shotgun slug. Within a second the short blade extends at barrier breaking speeds, piercing the rapture's core utterly and exiting out the bottom. The controlled shockwave splits the Rapture in half horizontally from the inside out the rushing air hissing loudly desperate for an escape.

 

Ishtar allows himself a relieved smile, before retracting the blade, and removing it from the machine's corpse. He looks down the road to see the patrol still blindly following its programming completely unaware of their lost comrade. He turns his attention down the opposite way allowing the navigational systems to adapt to the modified path.

 

ETA to Crash Site…..

 

4 hours…..

 

Route planned and pathed……

 

“Four hours ain’t that bad,” his voice is confident, shaking out his leg. He looks down the road, the cracked asphalt illuminated by his HUD’s 3D directions,  “Don’t worry Commander, I’m on my way.”

 

---

8 Hours Later……..

 

Multiple Servant Class Raptures Inbound…..

 

Charge at 12%......

 

Recommend immediate hibernation……

 

“Easier said than done…,” Ishtar grumbles, brushing the ash off his shoulder. He stands up both weapons wielded, “.....looks like ye bastards got an upgrade haha.”

 

His heavy words fall deaf to the audio sensors of the rapture duo in front of him. The bigger one, circular in design, floats slightly above the ground with a yellow near invisible shield around it. The smaller one walks on four legs like the others he’s fought, but has an electrifying pylon atop its head. Ishtar stands up readying his weapons for another headlong assault.

 

The agile Nikke aims towards the shielded rapture leaping off a rusted vehicle to meet it airborne. His axe finds its destination ripping into the shield, but barely able to reach the metal body behind. Ishtar prepares to pierce with his rapier, but blue lighting interrupts him, electrifying his entire body into stillness. His eyes are able to move even as his body lies stunned still hanging from the leverage afforded by the axe. The pylon rapture wastes no time taking advantage of his condition, hitting him into a half-collapsed wall with its metal leg.

 

His body slams against the wall cracking the concrete behind. He barely seems to react to the launch, easily recovering and already rushing the shielded rapture once more. This attempt fails just like the other, his assault coming to an abrupt end once more as his body is stunned once again. He trips mid dash sliding across the asphalt road face first, his face grinding against the cracked road.

 

“Fhackin cu-!”

 

The rapture slams its foot down on his back, stifling his words. He lets out a loud growl lifting his back, his body adapting and overcoming the stuns' effect faster. The rapture puts an end to his resistance with another stun sending his body once more to paralyzation. Ishtar can feel his spine cracking under the full weight of the machine’s body. Between the crushing force of the foot and the rushing nanobots the Nikke can feel their mind being pushed to the brink. He can feel his heart beat faster as the cage squeezes the organ tighter.

 

“Buaidh no Bàs!”

 

Ishtar barks, punching the ground with a fist, his other snapping unnaturally to grab hold of the raptures leg. The rapture, sensing renewed fight, aims another stun blast towards the downed Nikke. Before it can fire Ishtar’s fist penetrates its leg plate wasting no time on ripping out the delicate wiring. The machine recoils allowing Ishtar the window to escape from his downed position. He stands, eyes searching for where his weapons lie, settling only a few feet away under the shadow of the shielded rapture. Without hesitation he snaps his broken arm into place and takes a sprinter’s stance.

 

“Victory or Death!”

 

Ishtar launches himself, his fists rising to his chin like a boxer, purple eyes glowing brilliantly in the growing twilight above. Another stun hits him directly in the chest, the paralyzation only lasting a second, Ishtar stamping a heeled foot down before bursting forth with even more acceleration, the thorns digging into his heart pushing him into a suicidal attack.

 

The stun rapture seeing its attack fail moves for melee charging towards the oncoming Nikke. It lifts one of its undamaged legs aiming to pin Ishtar to the ground once more. The opening is perfect for the smaller soldier using the moment to slide underneath the machine. The momentum sends him towards his weapons, his open hands grabbing them as he passes.

 

Ishtar uses the axe as an anchor slamming the beard into the road forcing him to an abrupt stop. The Nikke is barely slowed, scrambling to his feet with weapons in both hands already charging at the shielded rapture. He jumps onto a stack of tires using the rubber to launch himself so that he lines perfectly behind the shield rapture.

 

A massive fanatical smile forms on his face, the stun rapture unable to assist its comrade without friendly fire. He lands atop the shield, this time penetrating it with his fist forcing both his hand and the hatchet it holds inside. He can see his hand melting upon entering the shield, but his crazed smile doesn’t falter. His other hand stabs the rapier into the shield, his wrist readying to twist the handle.

 

Anomalous Energy Signal Detected…..

 

EVADE!!!!

EVADE!!!!

 

A screaming pain accompanies the bold red warnings, Ishtar’s eyes bursting in black tears, his teeth grinding with his scream. He falls without cushion onto the road below his twisted body accompanied by the death rattle of the two raptures. He looks to his left arm to see it completely gone at the shoulder. The steam of vaporization causes him to let out another gritted yell grabbing the cauterized stump instinctively. Through teary eyes he can spot the smoking husks of the Raptures, a massive sizzling hole through their cores.

 

3 for 1

 

“FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF-uck,” he allows the word to fall out of his mouth, thousands of warnings appearing on his HUD taking his attention.

 

Catastrophic Damage detected…..

 

Calculating Mission success rate…..

 

Calculations: 99.5%....

 

Dispensing Motivation…..

 

“Wait wait,” Ishtar weakly begs, “Don’t dispense, wait!”

 

Ishtar’s eyes go wide, the realization his liver is still missing returning to his thoughts. His pleas fall on deaf ears, his body already starting to warm intensely. Seeing no way to prevent the current predicament he desperately crawls under a tall rusted truck for cover. He lies underneath it, his face towards its underbelly, and takes deep breaths as the warmth starts to rush over his brain.

 

Motivation Dispensed….

 

Seek resupply at nearest Sector Headquarters ASAP….

 

He instantly becomes dizzy and light-headed, his body's filter removed, making the dispensed combat ‘cocktail’ extremely potent. His breaths become more labored and his thoughts more jumbled. He places his hand against the truck’s underbelly, his eyes having trouble focusing on the exposed parts underneath. His stomach turning is the final straw that forces him from underneath the truck.

 

“Fush!,” Ishtar slurs his mouth feeling half dead, “Yushi ye cant!”

 

His anger is quickly silenced by the sound of something approaching. It's enough to make even the brain foggy Nikke to ready themselves, crawling over to their weapons without hesitation. The oncoming sound becomes clearer as Ishtar settles under the truck once more, axe in his remaining hand, heavy boots coming closer to the battle site.

 

Anomalous Energy Signal Detected…….

 

Ishtar watches with gritted teeth as gunmetal boots pass the truck accompanied by peeks of a white cloak. His eyes lighten slightly, but remain dull, as the figure investigates the site, the energy signal originating from them. The color of the boots is enough for him to know their allegiance. His vaporized limb and weapon, enough of justification for the attack.

 

“..... Rapture…. ”

 

He slides from underneath the truck, his eyes upon the figure kneeled in front of the husks. He stands silently, fingers gripped tightly around the shoulder of the axe. He takes a silent step forward, but stops himself, his mouth twitching with words.

 

“Bashtard!”

 

The figure instantly turns towards him showing their face. Ishtar’s drug-addled state is disrupted for a moment as their features become more discernible.

 

The white cloaked figure bears snow white hair, her pale color scheme only broken by the gunmetal gray so familiar within the Rapture color scheme. Her skin is fair, her amber eyes stare at Ishtar with a rather inexpressive expression. Her assault rifle points directly at him, her finger pressed against the trigger guard. Atop her head a faceguard, and at her hips a half of an incomplete rifle barrel.

 

Ishtar’s eyes start to glow once more, the pain-killers' effects being forced down, but his head still pounds as if hit by a baseball bat. He stands axe resting against his shoulder showing the figure his missing arm, his sharp teeth bared at the smaller girl.

 

“Yu tok ma arm!,” Ishtar spits pointing the axe at the girl, “I’m gettin’ a wee tired of losing shit!”

 

Foreign Probe Detected……

 

Ishtar freezes his heart beats at a near-dead pace, his eyes focused completely on the pure white wolf in front of him, the girl absent from his sight. The wolf’s mouth opens to reveal grinding saws within replacing its teeth. It charges at him, its limbs a blur of electric energy, its howl sending a shiver down his spine. He doesn’t budge from his place as it charges, his purple eyes glowing with renewed vigor. 

 

Foreign Probe Intercepted………..

 

In an instant the wolf stops itself just a few meager feet away from its target. Its amber eyes widen as it takes in the form that stands where Ishtar stood. In his place a large bull stands, its left eye red with rage while the other is pale like the moon. A flag covers its back tied securely around it, and bearing its stars proudly. The bull lets out a loud snort before starting to paw the dirt with its foot.

 

“Babe” Counter-Attack Activated……

 

As if called to action the bull charges the wolf, catching the smaller familiar by surprise. The wolf lets out a yelp of pain, the spiked horns of the bull piercing it directly in its side. The bull gores the wolf mangling it against the ground.

 

….Foreign Probe Removed…..

 

The girl's face contorts letting out a growl of pain, her hand going to hold her head, and with it her familiar disappears. Ishtar’s heart returns to its usual pace, his eyes losing their glow.

 

“Ha! Ge fushed!,” Ishtar yells pridefully sticking up his middle finger, his mouth hanging slack.

 

Ishtar uses the opportunity to start approaching the distracted girl, but a message on his HUD stops him immediately.

 

Anomalous Nikke Scanned…….

 

Deserting UFH Nikke Verified……

 

Nikke Grimm No.4 detected……

 

“..... Deserter .....”

 

Mission parameters updated…….

 

Priority target Nikke G4……

 

Assessing Operational Capacity……

 

Operational Capacity at 100%.......

 

Calculating Mission success rate…..

 

Calculations: 100%....

 

Commencing Task: Huntsman….

 

Time of Operation: 23:02:52….

 

Ishtar’s eyes glow brightly, a toothy smile on his face, as he charges the recovering girl axe aloft. G4 only has a second to dodge the attacker’s axe, the blade loudly embedding itself in the husk she was inspecting. An animalistic growl from Ishtar sounds the coming of his next attack. She’s quick on the upkeep turning to her encroaching attacker sending a hailstorm of bullets towards him.

 

The one-armed Nikke takes most of the bullets directly slowing down from the damage sustained forcing them to wildly dodge behind a caved-in van. The girl blinks readily for a moment before instantly steadying herself. She stands reloading her assault rifle while backing away from the vehicle which sits about a meter away.

 

G4 can’t see the hostile Nikke, but their energy signal pulses betray his continued presence. She scans the sidewalk continuing her slow retreat, the foreign signal getting stronger with every step back. The moon starts to peek over a tall building, bathing the open plaza she enters, in bright moonlight almost like a spotlight. Her cloak glows in the ghostly light of the plaza, the only illumination in a darkened dead city. She stops just in the middle, her heel against the foot of the fountain.

 

“The database says you should have reported back to your outpost a long time ago…”

 

Her amber eyes go wide as the words hit her accompanied by a, albeit soft, boyish voice. There’s a twinge of stifled disgust in it, but the levity of his voice betrays his curiosity. A figure steps from the darkness into the moonlit plaza with an axe in hand. They wear gear obviously made within the ARK, with a Missilis logo within their left eye signifying their ‘owner’. The information coming from their mouth however says otherwise.

 

“How would you know that?”

 

Ishtar lets out a dry chuckle, “So they did forget us did they?”. He lets out a heavy breath, “...but you’re no Series …, are you?”, he tilts his head, eyes twitching erratically.

 

She keeps her rifle raised towards the foreign Nikke as they slowly close the distance leaving a few feet between them. Her finger touching the trigger guard is enough to stop his advance the distance enough for her to see the details of her earlier use of the Seven Dwarves. The shoulder is completely cauterized, a burnt, slightly sizzling, stump showing where the past limb was. The bullet wounds inflicted earlier however are nowhere to be seen.

 

Ishtar points his axe towards her, “You deserted your post Grimm Four ... .I will not let my brother's deaths be in vain by letting a deserter live.”

 

“Brothers? ,” G4 thinks to herself.

 

“Buaidh no Bàs!", Ishtar shouts once more, his voice audibly depleted.

 

G4 only has a moment to press the trigger, her assault rifle sending a hail almost point blank at Ishtar. The sudden burst of gunfire sends the mid-jump Nikke some distance away, but he recovers quickly, coming once more. G4 can only reload so fast, vastly underestimating how quick the foreign Nikke moves, easily clearing the distance between them in seconds. Their bright purple eyes dance in the pale moonlight a fanatical grin across his face, his axe in his good hand held above his head.

 

Ishtar delivers a heavy all or nothing lunging slash towards G4. She dodges the brunt of the damage only suffering the loss of her hip attachment which falls away from her. The moment of reprieve gives her enough time to slap the clip into her rifle. Another flurry of bullets slam into Ishtar from his right. He flexes his arm in defense, curling it as close to his face as possible waiting for the signal for attack.

 

*Click * *Click *

 

He instantly pounces at Grimm 4’s shoulder tackling her just as she inputs a new mag. The desperate attack sends the duo tumbling into the fountain filling the quiet night with frantic splashing. She falls into the water face first quickly lifting her head from the water. Behind her she can hear the male Nikke lifting themselves up and approaching.

 

G4 waits for them to approach her hand on her rifle sitting hidden underneath the murky water. Ishtar dashes at the girl aiming to deliver a blow to her head. Just as he commits to the action the white haired girl turns to face him. She counters his attack by grabbing his forearm, the sudden grab keeping his momentum, only finding a sudden stop against the barrel of her rifle. She presses her assault rifle into his stomach, their teeth audible grinding as they are forced to a stop.

 

“Victory or death, traitor…”

 

“I am no traitor, 2681…..only late.”

 

With the final word she unloads her clip directly into the foreign Nikke’s stomach. At this range the bullets find true cause easily able to tunnel a path through his stomach and out his back. The damage is too much for the Nikke falling over with a groan, hand twitching slightly, as a mixture of red and black seep out both sides of him. Their body goes silent as they collapse the lack of movement, getting a relieved sigh from the girl.

 

G4 stands up, the damage she received making itself known with a less than enthusiastic groan. She looks down at the incapacitated Nikke beneath her, the bullet wounds already showing signs of recovery, the synthetic flesh clipping itself back together in front of her eyes. A beeping on her HUD alerts her of approaching patrols, most likely coming to check on the commotion. She kneels next to the motionless Ishtar shoving her hand into the collar of his leotard, and with a firm grip, drags him as she jogs into the darkness.

 

---

Ishtar wakes to the smell of blood and metal filling his nose. His eyes remain shut, letting his other senses inform him of his situation. The sound of a soldering iron fills his left ear, the sparks from it sending small burning kisses to his cheek. The sudden ‘connection’ of his arm slot forces his eyes open, a pain as if shot, filling his mind. He sits up instantly smashing his head against a low hanging light.

 

“Gawdammit!”

 

Ishtar curses only to feel a hand immediately pull him back down to what he assumes is the operating table. He looks in the direction of the hand to be greeted by blackness, only pierced by a pair of glowing amber eyes glaring directly at him. The thought of resistance enters Ishtar’s mind, his body tensing in preparation for attack, but the memory of defeat kills the train of thought instantly. He lets out a heavy exhale accepting his loss, and turns to the victor, his eyes lowering to her work on his left arm. Her focus remains solely on his replacement arm, which she tinkers with barely acknowledging his gaze.

 

“...What’re you doin Grimm?”

 

“Repairing your damage.”

 

Ishtar looks at the replacement arm to see the tell-tale coloring of gunmetal gray. He looks to the Grimm model to see her right arm is nearly identical to his. The purple orbs lower to his torso to see the damage received already repaired, the exit wounds already patched up. Whether the Grimm had anything to do in terms of those wounds Ishtar doesn’t know, but he’s happy enough to be worked on.

 

The wounded Nikke takes the opportunity to scan his surroundings. From the look of it the duo are in an old military bunker of some sort, the layout is more futuristic than what Ishtar is used to. This ‘new age’ bunker seems less cramped than the coastal one, leaving ample room to move about, as well as multiple storage options. He can’t help the tinge of envy at the accommodations the Grimm was living in.

 

Ishtar looks back at G4, “You got some nice digs here.”

 

Grimm looks up from her work on his arm silently raising her brow. She takes a moment and visibly looks around her surroundings then shrugs. Ishtar looks back to the bunker to see a lack of personalization that comes with extended stay. He turns back to her with a more serious expression.

 

“This isn’t your bunker is it?”

 

“No,” G4 responds, her eyes locked on his replacement arm, “It was the closest place I knew that was relatively safe.”

 

“That makes sense,” Ishtar winces as the last connection is made, “You don’t seem the type to stay in one place.”

 

“What makes you say that,” G4 asks off-hand as she puts away her tools.

 

Ishtar stretches out his new arm before rubbing his chin with the new hand, “You’re wearing a poncho,” he says pointing a finger at G4, “Anyone who’s anyone knows any motherfucker wearin’ a poncho is on a journey of sorts.”

 

G4’s face turns to a subtle surprise as if told a well-known secret. She looks down at her pure white poncho then back to Ishtar. 

 

“I-..Is that true?”

 

Ishtar shrugs, “Well that’s what I’ve been told,” he tilts his head, folding his arms over his chest, “I suppose that’s why you deserted your post, right?”

 

G4 doesn’t answer, her response is only her standing from her seat. She walks over to a cabinet and starts to rummage through it. Ishtar throws his legs off the operating table, only to realize the operating table is just a folding metal table.

 

“I can understand that..,” He says hopping off the surface, “Me an’ Erasmus are technically deserters, but good ol’ Ennik covered our asses by overwriting our orders.”

 

G4 stops for a moment upon hearing the name “Ennik”, but quickly continues her searching. Ishtar takes the moment to check his status, seeing the girl seemingly occupied.

 

Charge at 73%......

 

Task:Huntsman……

 

Status Update Requested…….

 

Ishtar looks at G4, his purple eyes subtly glowing. He spots her taking a can from the storage with the words labeled RATION on it. He shakes his head gently.

 

Status Updated….

 

Deserting Nikke: Grimm 04 Terminated…..

 

Task Complete…..

 

Operational Capacity at 75%......

 

ERROR!

 

Unable to increase Operational Capacity…..

 

Recommend Immediate Repairs at Designated Facilities……

 

Operation: Fall….

 

Resuming….

 

Primary Mission Objectives Reregistered…..

 

Time of Operation: 03:41:24

 

Route Planned and Pathed….

 

Ishtar lets out a sigh as the messages scroll over his HUD. Whatever repairs G4 did to him are not being accepted by his systems, the feeling of the ticks absent from his new arm. He turns to the busy Grimm to find her sitting on a stone step, already digging into the ration can like a hungry dog.

 

“ Good lord she needed to eat ,” Ishtar thinks to himself watching the slightly smaller girl destroy the calorie heavy ration.

 

His gaze is noticed by the Grimm as she turns her amber eyes in his direction. Her cheeks are full of whatever was in the can, and for a moment her face loses the stern authority it usually displays. She swallows what she holds in her mouth with a heavy gulp, and offers the can towards the standing Ishtar.

 

“It's expired.”

 

Ishtar shrugs, joining G4, sitting next to her on the step, “Doesn’t matter to me. Not like I could taste it anyways.”

 

Her face freezes for a moment taking in his words, but she quickly understands them giving the can to the Nikke. He takes it hesitantly, but takes it nonetheless, using the complementary spoon to shovel a bite into his mouth. G4 watches the strange Nikke eat the expired ration with an unblinking stare, her amber eyes feel as though they're piercing his very being. He awkwardly nods before giving the ration back to her.

 

“What’s your designation,” Ishtar asks, adjusting his outfit, “Name’s Ishtar by the by.”

 

“You can call me Snow,” the girl responds, taking another bite from the ration, “What are you doing this far from the ARK?”

 

“I’m on a mission, but I got separated from my Commander,” Ishtar starts, “...seems as though deserters are not the only thing I gotta watch out for.”

 

Snow finishes the ration placing the empty can next to her. She turns to Ishtar with a slightly curious look that begs for further explanation from the gray haired Nikke. He takes a moment weighing the level of secrecy his mission entails, but the moment passes as quickly as it comes.

 

“The Nikke in tow with us betrayed the Commander,” Ishtar places his chin in his hand, “Her eyes went red like a devil, and to be honest, I think she believes she merked my ass.”

 

“She was corrupted,” Snow sighs, “I’m surprised you survived, but I doubt your Commander will.”

 

“Thanks for the confidence lass,” Ishtar’s sarcasm is palpable, but the exhaustion in his voice tells of his growing agreement, “Even so…,” he stands up, “..If he’s dead I need to at least recover his body, and avenge his death. It's the honorable thing to do.”

 

“Do you think you’ll be able to take on the corrupted Nikke,” Snow asks, her tone is apathetic, but holds a certain twinge of concern to it, “From the sounds of it you lost badly.”

 

Ishtar lets out a snort, “Cause she got me by surprise,” he looks towards the door of the bunker, “I’ve died so many times what's a few dozen more if it means rescuing my Commandah?”

 

He walks over to the door, his stride having some driving power behind it. Before he can reach the handle a hand grabs his shoulder from behind firmly. Ishtar turns to see Snow holding his shoulder, the girl standing slightly shorter than him.

 

“How’s the new arm?”

 

Ishtar averts his eyes upon hearing the shorter girls question. Answering her truthly would reveal his body's rejection of the arm, which in turn means it needs actual field repairs if damaged. The nanites refuse to enter that section of his body constantly repairing where the shoulder was cauterized.

 

“The arm’s fine,” Ishtar lets out, Snow’s amber gaze too much for him to bear, “A bit stiff, but you did a good job replacing it. Better than the eggheads at the lab ever could.”

 

“It's made from Rapture parts,” Snow says without hesitation, “You can cannibalize repairs from fallen Raptures,” she explains without prompting, “A corrupted Nikke would annihilate you if you’re not used to it.”

 

“Just a ray of sunshine, huh,” Ishtar mutters, “I’ll be careful piuthar, don’t worry, eh?”

 

Snow squints her eyes at the laid-back response of Ishtar. He can tell from her expression she is far from being convinced of his aptitude. He sighs internally before shrugging.

 

“Would it be better if you came with me?”

 

“Yes, let’s go.” 

 

Snow response is instant, turning the lever of the bunker door, and walking out past the slightly bewildered Ishtar. He lets out a slight chuckle before following behind the girl, only now taking in her snow-white hair. He walks out into the darkness outside the bunker to find himself in a  collapsed underground subway.

 

*Knock knock*

 

A subtle near silent knock alerts Ishtar to his left to see glowing yellow eyes looking at him in the pitch blackness. He can make out her beckoning hand as his eyes glow to adjust to the darkness, following her towards an out of service escalator. Snow stops just before the first step and turns towards Ishtar.

 

Before he can open his mouth she shoots her hand under her poncho. She pulls out his axe from earlier and hands it to him. He takes the weapon with a relieved smile giving Snow a silent nod of thanks. She responds in kind silently pointing up towards the escalator. Ishtar takes point leading the duo up the stairs and into the open air of the city.

 

ETA to Crash Site…..

 

2 Hours…….

Chapter 6: The New World

 

ETA to Crash Site…..

 

30 Minutes…….

 

Time of Operation: 05:15:30…..

 

The glow of Ishtar’s eyes fade upon the disappearing messages displayed on his HUD. He lets out a sigh checking down a ruined four-way intersection, axe in both hands, readied behind his head. His eyes glow subtly before the light fades completely.

 

“Clear.”

 

He looks down the road once more, before turning to his companion behind him. Snow-white hair greets him the face it belongs to turning towards him, the owner’s yellow eyes meeting his dull purple.

 

“No hostile energy signals detected,” Snow turns back towards the empty road they came from, “How much longer to the site?”

 

“Thirty minutes, piuthar,” he whispers softly, stepping onto the faded pedestrian crossing, “Two more blocks that-a-way.”

 

Snow follows his finger, the cracking sunrise aiding her vision somewhat, as he points towards slight plume of black smoke rising in the distance. She follows behind him after he crosses the open street, shouldering her rifle as he steps into the shadows on the other side. She quickly jogs across, eyeing her corners as she does, the faint glow of purple across the street giving her a semblance of confidence in fighting an unexpected ambush.

 

“We’re getting close,” Snow says, passing him, and taking his position at point, “Rapture presence will increase.”

 

He frowns, “That won’t be good for the Commandah’s safety,” letting out a groan joining behind Snow, “What’s the plan when we get there?”

 

Ishtar can see his comment visibly prick Snow’s ear. She glances over her shoulder slightly, not disrupting her pace at all, “The worst case scenario is that your Commander is dead,” Snow’s tone is as flat as her chest, “In that case it will be a simple return to the ARK.”

 

“Let's assume he ain’t dead, luv.”

 

She turns her head back forward, “If he isn’t dead by now then he will most likely be under attack,” she bows her head a moment in thought, “perhaps...that would explain the lack of contacts we’ve encountered…..”

 

“Your optimism is encouraging,” he groans sarcastically, taking a moment to look at the back of her head, “but I suppose it's better than finding a corpse.”

 

Snow gives a silent nod of affirmation, her eyes returning to the road in front of her. Her ambers scan the quiet streets, the only sound being the clack of Ishtar’s heels upon the concrete. She looks down to her half-repaired weapon, the railgun patch-repaired for emergency use.

 

Her ears prick to a sudden low hum behind her, her eyes moving to peek at the noise. She can see Ishtar from the corner of her vision, his mouth tightly closed, the sound emanating from the vibrations in his throat. She turns back around, her companion none the wiser to her inspection, only to hear a soft mumble.

 

“...Buildin’ dem castle’s in the sky…”

 

Snow keeps pace ignoring his vocalization.

 

“..mmm, you and I….”

 

Ishtar moves in time with the song as it plays back in his head, the lyrics and rhythm coming easily to him, thanks to a special request with the ‘white coat’. His footsteps are silent, shuffling behind one another. She glances sideways to see the Nikke holding their axe like a rifle, the beard tucked safely under his arm.

 

“…becomes the morning dew. An’ darlin’ when the morning comes….”

 

“Are you a model meant for close combat?,” her tone is flat, but betrays a small curiosity.

 

“Mhm?”

 

Ishtar blinks his eyes, the purple glowing for a moment with his surprise. His movements become uniform once more as he turns his attention back to the task at hand, and her question. He thinks for a moment, Snow’s brow raising at his sudden need for time to contemplate.

 

“That’s one way to put it,” he scratches the back of his head, “My unit was a mixed squad.”

 

“Explain.”

 

He walks a bit faster until they walk next to one another, an uninterested side-eye trailing him before looking forward again. Its quickly pulled back to the eager Suitor, two fingers raised in the air in front of his face.

 

“Two close combat, One mid-range, and a backline rounded with our field commander,” he explains with as much of a teacherly tone as he can muster. “In cases of intense action the backline moves with the two melee units for support.”

 

“Five in total,” her attention lingers on the road ahead, the formation no different than her own squad, “What happened to your previous commander?”

 

“Killed in a joint operation to take down what the UFH thought to be the queen o’ hearts,” he shakes his head, a dry chuckle following after, “Last time I had a full-blooded Commander since now if my memory hasn’t degraded too badly.”

 

“Anachiro,” She hesitates with her next step, but quickly plants it before her companion can notice. “I understand why you wish to find them,” she glances at Ishtar, “You don’t want to lose any more right?”

 

His eyes go wide for a moment before settling, on a soft half-open gaze, “Yeah. Something like that I suppose.” He lets out a cough adjusting his axe to one hand, twirling it once before gripping it tightly, “I noticed you’re alone out here, where’s the squad at, lass?”

 

“Gone.”

 

“Ah..,” his mouth tightens, “Through combat or..?”

 

“Combat.”

 

“Lost too many to that,” Ishtar’s eyes are drawn to the long rusted carcass of a bus on the opposite side of the street, her curt tone telling all he needs to know, “....well cept’ Era-”

 

“Quiet.”

 

Ishtar looks to her to see her hand signaling ‘down’, his body moving with it near instantly. She lowers her eye gear and slowly raises her head over their shared cover. She returns within the second turning to her grey-haired companion.

 

“I’m detecting a signal…..”

 

“Still says we’re a bit aways?”

 

Snow doesn’t turn to his question, only offering a beckoning hand. He follows her hand until it points towards a human-sized figure a couple meters in front of them.

 

The figure is without a doubt an ARK Nikke, though their state of being is visibly off the norm. Her once beautiful blonde hair is faded, the worn artificial dyes giving it a dirty look. The camo-white outfit she wears is torn in many places, her helmet not faring any better, the blast shield cracked diagonally. Their shotgun has seen better days even from this distance the duo can spot the scratches and rust on it.

 

They patrol the street alone, crossing the berth of the four-way, only to stop abruptly and yell. He can’t make out the words, but from his companion’s face, he can assume something not quite right about them.

 

“A corrupted unit,” she lowers her head again, “Looks like a Mass-produced...shotgun.”

 

Ishtar looks over the cover, eyeing the girl for himself, only to have his display display //INTENSE SHELLSHOCK DETECTED//. He lets out a scoff, “You should get your sensors checked lass, just shellshock. All we gotta do is just move‘em.”

 

Snow barely has a second to process his words before he stands straight up, revealing their position.

 

“HEY! HEY!,” Ishtar waves at the corrupted unit, hopping over the cover. “Oh yoo-hoo~!”

 

The last call grabs the units attention, and any close by, the Suitor’s voice louder and more sultry than even Snow would’ve anticipated. Even worse still he approaches the corrupted unit with his axe sheathed, the beard hanging by his belt.

 

The MP unit doesn’t approach, staying to its circuit, but turns its neck to the approaching Ishtar, “Enemy spotted!,” its yells raising its rifle to him.

 

His advance doesn’t stop, his smile only growing as he gets closer and closer. Its only when he hears the tell-tale click of any empty magazine does the smile reveal the sharp maw beneath. He stops just in front of their automated route, and watches them continue to patrol.

 

“Enemy spotted!”, she shouts as she passes him. Her neck desperately wants to lock onto him, but her body pursues the designated course, comedically walking to the end of the crossing then turning back around, “Enemy spotted!”

 

He tilts his head at her like an owl, “Enemy spotted!,” he echoes, tilting it the other way, “Enemy spotted!”

 

“What’re you doing?”

 

“Shit!,” Ishtar jumps as Snow appears beside him, her approach quieter than he would have anticipated, “Jeez Snow ya scared the jabeebus outta me.”

 

“Your bee’s are of no concern,” she looks towards the corrupted doll, “She seems to be stuck in a loop...”

 

“So what's the plan then?,” he asks placing his hands on his hips, “We can’t really just leave her here.”

 

“We can, and we will,” she walks past the MP as it crosses the street, “That’s the best course of action to get to your Commander.” She can see her words don’t knock the worried expression from her companion’s face, “She’s not hurting anybody so perhaps she might be picked up by the ARK...”

 

She cracks a slight smile, finding the forced grin succeeding in getting a slight glow to his eyes. Snow watches him look at the corrupted until, his eyes half-closed as he stares at them.

 

“Enemy spotted!”

 

“Let’s keep moving,” Snow looks eastward to see the black smoke of their destination, squinting slightly “We‘re close...”

 

“Mhm,” he responds half-hearted, his eyes still on the shell-shocked unit. He looks at her directly, “sorry girlie, they took my fulton's,” he shrugs as she passes by.

 

They both leave the corrupted unit, the red-eyed girl still repeating her message at them even as they turn away from her. She watches them turn the corner, Ishtar hazarding a glance only to find their gaze still upon the duo. The blank empty gaze makes the Suitor shudder even after they can no longer hear her call. He remains silent even as they close the distance on the objective, only a measly two minutes till their arrival.

 

“You shouldn’t engage corruption that close,” Snow says, their rarely quiet companion irking her with his continued silence, “There’s no coming back after infection.”

 

“Maybe for the UFH,” Ishtar responds, but lacks any of his usual humor, “Shell-shock is just a natural part of war. Only problem that we don’t have bodies that know when to quit.”

 

Snow stops and turns on him, “You are to eliminate any corruption to come across. Anything less and you put your allies lives at risk.” Her height forces her to look slightly up at him, but it doesn’t degrade her seriousness, “Don’t let mercy end more lives then it saves.”

 

She can see his eyes widen for a moment, before falling back with a heavy breath. He looks at her with heavy lids, a somewhat weary smile slowly forming.

 

“I gotcha, Snow,” he nods, “I don’t like it one bit..., but I gotcha.”

 

Snow lets out a breath of her own, “Its better for the infected if they are put to rest.”

 

Her hand catches Ishtar by surprise, the soft touch falling upon the connection between his Rapture arm and his shoulder. He finds her face calm, but bearing a twinge of exhaustion, her words having some hesitation to them as well. Her ambers gaze into his amethysts’ though the war in her eyes is gone.

 

“Trust me.”

 

“.....Yeah.”, he nods if only to give her confidence, “I’ll follow your words, lass.”

 

They walk in silence for the last stretch, but the air is lighter than it ever was. The smell of charred metal interrupts the moment, filling both their nostrils as they approach.

 

//Destination Reached//

 

The transport crashed in a relatively open area, the onboard systems doing a fantastic job keeping it from hitting anything on the way down. The trail of uprooted dirt leads to its resting place, the greyish metal craft embedding its nose deeply into the ground, the pilot’s seat completely hidden underneath. The doorway that Marian kicked open remains so, something both notice on their approach.

 

//No Life Signs Detected//

 

“I don’t believe it. What you got Snow?”

 

“Sensors say the same, but I’m with you,” Snow stays behind Ishtar, his axe held like a bat behind his head. Her eyes glow with connection, “Investigate. I’m on your back.”

 

He approaches the craft slowly, tightening his grip around the handle, as he closes the distance between him and the open door. His eyes tell him the same as before even as he touches the side of the charred craft, but even still his spine tingles with anticipation. Only when he places his hand against the doorway does he take a heavy breath, before plunging inward completely.

 

Empty

 

The transport is completely empty save the dirt escaping into the main area from the cockpit. Ishtar lets out a somewhat relieved breath, taking a quick scan of the room to find his Commander’s seat vacant. He walks over to it to find the seatbelt cut, and the lack of serious amounts of blood, all pointing towards an optimistic outcome.

 

“So he might still be alive.”

 

Ishtar jumps as Snow appears next to him, “Hells Snow, jeez.” He takes a moment to catch his breath the smaller girl using the opportunity to investigate further, “Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking. There’s no body, and I noticed some tracks on the approach, so odds are he’s out there.”

 

“Odds are your Marian is also out there.”

 

“Yyeaahh, that’s what I’m worried about,” he rubs his chin, watching Snow take a seat on one of the chairs, “I know I’m not going to like your answer..., but what are his chances of finding friendlies up here?”

 

“Minimal,” Snow places her face in her hand, noticing Ishtar’s silent gasp, “..on most occasions,” she watches it depress. “However if he’s lucky a nearby patrol would have picked up their SOS,” she looks towards where Ishtar sat, “Their tracks lead that direction anyway.”

 

“You noticed too, then?”

 

“Hm,” Snow gets up and leads them out of the transport. She points to the tracks on the ground, “Your corrupted squad mate is still traveling with your, Commander.”

 

“Is that normal behavior?” Ishtar asks with genuine curiosity, “A Corrupted unit traveling?”

 

“Not that I know,” she looks down at the tracks as they walk beside them, “The corruption forces a logical loop, but its usually quite slow. It may have not taken complete control of her yet.”

 

“She was fighting it before she dropped me,” he looks down a hand over his mouth in contemplation. His eyes widen with a realization, “There might be a chance she hasn’t completely fallen..”

 

Snow only shoots a half-glance over her shoulder, her expression enough to kill that line of thought instantly. She can see her companion shrink slightly, diverting their attention to feeling the beard of their axe.

 

“You’re in no condition to subdue her,” she states turning forward, “Do I have to remind you that you almost died fighting me?” The loud nasal exhale from her companion gets a slight smirk from her. The look fades as the weight of the words shift, “If it comes down to it I’ll take the shot.”

 

She can feel his eyes on her as the words linger. A cursory glance reveals his uncertain expression his eyes dancing between spaces in the environment. Her amber’s linger on him longer than usual, widening ever so slightly as she comes to a realization.

 

Snow turns forward to avoid his visual response, “You’re a Suitor aren’t you?”

 

“When did you figure it out?” A tired, but soft, smile forms over Ishtar’s face, “Was it before or after I tried to kill you?”

 

“During,” Snow kneels down to examine the tracks, their indentations getting more difficult to keep track of as the piling rapture corpses increase, “What you said as well as how you fought.”

 

He blushes, “Listen I’m a bit rusty, alright?” He turns away from her folding his arms over his stomach, “I was supposed to be in logistics...ended up a calvary scout.”

 

Snow tilts her head at the job, “Calvary scout?” She looks at his legs, “I can understand the scout part....”

 

He waves a hand at her, “Don’t worry to much ‘bout it. Not important anymore I don’t think.” His eyes fall upon a structure in the distance, “The tracks lead there looks like.”

 

“Doesn’t look like any oncoming signals,” Snow says, her eyes glowing with activated sensors, “....though its strange...”

 

The duo stop a few meters from the “wall” of the makeshift fort, the wall being piled up debris from the surrounding buildings. Its a relatively short height, something that Ishtar immediately notices, the three meter-so height within vaulting parameters.

 

“Its quiet,” Snow whispers to him. “Something might be off..Ish-”

 

Her companion is already running up the wall before she can finish, grabbing the top, before disappearing over. She barely has time to blink with how fast he vaults over, only to have his gleeful face appear over it. He lowers himself as best he can and offers a hand to Snow.

 

“Grab on,” he says with glee extending the open palm, “I’ll lift ya over!”

 

She looks at him cautiously, but takes the hand, only to have the sound of rushing air pass her ears. It only takes a blink for her to realize she’s airborne, a slight turn revealing the giddy smile of her Suitor. He still holds her hand pulling her towards him and gently placing her feetfirst on the ground.

 

“Ugh...,” she groans. Her legs shake slightly the force and speed of the lift pressing the g-force down her stomach, “Don’t do that..”

 

“Ah sorry,” he offers his hand for stabilization, “I forget you’re built different.”

 

“It’s fine,” she lets out a breath, and turns towards the garrison, “Looks like this place got hit...”

 

“Mhmm.”

 

The garrison lies in ruin, or at least more so than a makeshift fort can get. Multiple discharged rounds dot the cover where the garrison made their stand. The duo make their way to the other side to see the corpses of their enemy, the bodies lined in a way to close the near 8-meter height distance between the ground and the wall. A large crater lies below, most likely caused by an enormous shell, or at worst an enormous Rapture.

 

“You’d think the machine’s would have found better ways to kill us,” Ishtar grimly chuckles, “Same shit they pulled at Outpost Lima.”

 

Snow looks into the distance her eyes glow as they scan where the city streets resume, “Was that a Nation sided base?”

 

“We called triage center’s outposts to fool their programing,” he folds his arms taking a place next to her, “Turns out the Queen would prefer civilian targets to military ones to send the real nasties.”

 

“Did you defend your post?”

 

He picks up a rock and tosses it into the crater, “Out of thirty transports only two made it out...,” he looks over the edge, “ an’ that was before Anachiro showed up.”

 

Snow’s eyes go wide, “You fought against Anachiro?” She looks at him to see his eyes remain forward, unblinking, and wide. His pointer finger draws her attention, as it spasms as if at a trigger.

 

“Fought?,” he whispers as if the devil herself was listening. “Me an’ Erasmus had to detonate the nuke....,” his voice shakes slightly with the mention of the bomb, “The entire Outpost was shellshocked....they were...killing each other.” He turns to her, “She ate a thermo....like it was a fuckin’ gust of wind.”

 

She can hear the fear in his voice, a genuine tone of desperation, as if he were right there at this moment. Even as he looks at her his eyes can barely meet, their sight planted somewhere distant past her.

 

“We had to peel what was left our Joint-Operation off what was left of the Outpost.” He lets out a grim chuckle, before looking back to the horizon, “Tell me Snow...did we ever get her?”

 

“Get who?,” She asks even though deep-down she knows what he refers too.

 

“Anachiro...The Queen...,” Ishtar shrugs, “Did we do what we were made to do?”

 

“I believe we failed Ishtar,” she looks outward, “Though we did buy humanity a moment to breath.” She places a hand on his shoulder, “Is that not enough?”

 

“For another day I suppose,” He responds half-hearted, but he fixes it with a slight smile, “For what its worth, you’re alright for a Nikke.” He gives her a firm pat on the back, retracting it before a response can come.

 

She keeps her gaze forward, but offers a half-smile towards her recuperating comrade. “I’m detecting a powerful signal some distance from here,” she turns to him, “Odd’s are it might be a Lord.”

 

“O’ course it is,” he looks downward to see the selfsame tracks continuing towards the other side of the street, ”Think it could be what attacked this place?”

 

“Most likely,” Snow looks down the wall in an attempt to find a way down, “It would explain the lack of bodies.” She unconsciously steps in front of Ishtar, oblivious to the mischievous glint in his eye.

 

“Looks like we gotta move quick then....”

 

Before she can react he lifts her, and carrying her like a princess, takes a massive step off the edge. Her sensors block her eyesight as they display a rather dangerous plummet, but upon turning to the Suitor, finds a cat-like grin upon his face.

 

They plummet downward before she can muster a resistance. The air rushing past her ears teasing her to open her shut lids. They open just in time to see the last few feet before the corpse pile below. She can feel Ishtar’s body contort around hers at the last moment taking the brunt of the landing.

 

Ishtar lets out a coughing laugh, “You alright, Snow?,” he loosens his grip around her. He looks down to find a glare of a thousand swords looking directly at him, the yellows glowing more vibrantly than ever. Though her anger is lost on his smooth brain.

 

“You good? Didn’t bump your head or nothin’ right?”

 

She stands up, “I’m fine.”

 

Her eyes and tone say otherwise, but she marches forward without further discussion. The corpse ladder of Raptures made for a decent landing spot, something she realizes as Ishtar stands none worse for wear. Behind him a small deep indentation lies on the Rapture they landed on, the long dead machine getting its head crushed inward by the Suitor’s arse.

 

“Good to hear,” Ishtar dusts off his butt, the skin completely unblemished by the drop, “Way faster than walking right?” He gives her a big smile.

 

“I would have preferred the walk..to that,” Snow turns and descends the ladder, keen to not look at the annoying face of Ishtar, “Do you think much?”

 

“Can’t do that one to well,” he joins her on the descent down, a light hearted tone to his words, “I don’t got enough brain matter for all that.”

 

“What does that mean?,” the thought keeps Snow quiet as they switch the descent to an ascent climbing up the dirt wall. Its only after they clamber over and return to street level does the thought muster into words, “Where’s your brain?”

 

“In my head.”

 

Snow looks at him with a frown.

 

“I’m not lying,” he folds his arms over his stomach, looking away from her with a pout, “My brain is still in my skull, same as you.”

 

“But you’re not the same as me,” she retorts, “I knew very little Suitors during the war, and even less about the ones aligned with the Nation’s.”

 

“Mhm..,” he tilts his head at her, though no smile is across his face, rather a light frown. He lets out a sigh seeing her returning the look, “I only have a minimal percentage of my original brain remaining. I used to have more, but between bad deaths, and Anachiro’s manhandling, I only got about 5%.”

 

“They can’t replace Nikke brain’s once its destroyed,” she informs, her words visibly getting a slight twitch in his face. “Yet you only have as little as 5%?,” her voice is incredulous, something Ishtar didn’t think she was capable of, “What’s the other 95%?”

 

//Classified Information Requested//

 

“Hopes and dreams of a better future,” he responds with false optimism. The silent message plasters itself over his eyes as much a warning as it is a threat, “I think the honcho’s realized that winning was worth cutting the red tape per-say.” It fades with the excuse, “How much longer?”

 

“Few minutes if we keep the pace,” she notices his sudden change in demeanor, answering sternly.

 

“Good,’ his eyelid's lower giving the pupils within a half-moon appearance, “I’ll take point.”

 

Snow silently nods, but the Suitor barely seems to acknowledge it, moving forward without a glance. She follows behind only to find his pace slowly picking up, a growing distance forming between the two. Her eyes glow as he crosses a street first, her scanners operating in low energy mode.

 

//No Corruption Detected//

 

The words show on her HUD, but even so she doesn't believe them. Instead of trying to match his pace she maintains the distance he sets, holding her rifle a bit closer to her. Her eyes squint at Ishtar’s back slowly scanning the exposed skin of his outfit. Her eyes glow once more as she scans him, this time the parameter’s changed to better suit what she learned from his systems. A new set of words appear.

 

//Mild Shellshock Detected//

 

Ishtar’s neck snaps towards her, his eyes wide enough to see his whites, causing Snow to jump slightly. He points behind him before she can calm her face.

 

“Think we’re here.”

 

Before them sits the corpse of a massive rapture, the words LORD CLASS, appearing on both their HUD’s in bold warning. Neither seems particularly fazed by the rapture their attention on the expired Marian lying against it.

 

Her clothes are ripped and battle damaged, a bandage over her right eye. Her left leg is gone to the knee, the signs of it being ripped off displayed without cover, the same fate going for her right arm as well.

 

No life signs detected….

 

Squad Member Marian…..

 

Status: KIA……

 

Recommend Spinal Extraction for Next of Kin……

 

Operation: Fall……

 

Mission Complete…….

 

Return Approved…..

 

“Looks like she was killed by your Commander.”

 

Ishtar looks to Snow with a blank expression, his thoughts interrupted by her voice. He nods slightly in agreement before returning his attention to the Silver Gun’s corpse. Without a word he moves from the position and goes towards a less concrete covered area. Snow watches him kneel and start to dig with the head of his axe.

 

“There’s no point burying the body,” Snow’s voice is apathetically serious, “The Raptures will just dig her up later.”

 

“I won’t leave her unburied,” Ishtar retorts, “She died a soldier.” He turns his attention to the growing hole, “I won’t let the crows have her without working for it..,” he mutters, throwing a pile of dirt over his shoulder.

 

Snow tilts her head, “She tried to kill you, and most likely your Commander.”

 

He lets out a dry chuckle, “As if I haven’t done the same and succeeded, hah..,” he looks up at Snow from the deepening hole, “You gunna help me?”

 

Snow looks at her compatriot, his desperate need for her optimism, on his face showing unashamed. She nods silently, getting a tired, but grateful grin from her ragged companion, and for the next hour they prepare a decent grave for their fallen sister.

 

They carefully lift her body and deposit the corpse into its new home, folding Marian’s hands over her chest. Once done they stand above the uncovered hole and take a moment. The midday sun is enough of a timer for the duo as they start to cover the grave with loose dirt and rocks.

 

“You should head back to the ARK,” Snow says, lifting her gun to her shoulder, “Your mission is over now, and your Commander is most likely already back.”

 

“I would hope so,” Ishtar joins Snow standing next to the smaller girl. He dusts off his hands, “What about you?”

 

“My mission is here on the surface,” Snow adjusts her poncho, “When my mission is complete only then will I return.”

 

“I figured,” he places both hands against his hips, “You don’t strike me as someone who stays in one place for long, let alone someone who needs company.”

 

“You’d be correct with that assumption,” she already turns away from the grave looking in another direction, “You’ll find an elevator some distance from here.” She glances over her shoulder at him, “I suggest you find it and return to the ARK.”

 

“Yer probably right,” Ishtar looks in the direction she faces, “Would you mind doing me a favor?”

 

She turns to him fully, a deepening frown on her face.

 

“Its not that bad,” he rolls his eyes with a small chuckle, “I had a comrade that served with me in the final days of the war...was just wondering if you’d look out for him if you ever met.”

 

“Him?,” she tilts her head, “Another Nation sided Suitor?” She looks towards the distance a non-too pleased expression on her face, “There’s another like him...yeesh.”

 

“Yeah Unit number 2621,” he recites like a soldier. He turns to Snow to find her looking at him surprised he can muster a professional tone. He smiles anxiously, “H-his name is Erasmus if you don’t remember the number..”

 

Snow can see his fingers dancing on his hipbone, the growing red in his face as he can barely meet her eyes. She gives him a confident nod, the silent answer enough to end his anxious movements.

 

“Dude doesn’t really need to be looked after per-say..., but his body is different than mine,” Ishtar scratches his head, “If anyone would need the ARK it would be him.”

 

“If I see Erasmus I’ll send him the ARK way,” Snow shoulders her rifle, tilting her head so it rests on her shoulder, “Was there anything else?”

 

“Nah,” he shakes his head. “You’ve done good by me, lass,” he gives a casual two-finger salute, “I’m in your debt.”

 

She turns away from him, her cloak coming behind her dramatically as the rising sun bathes her in its glow. For a moment the Suitor slightly recoils an old long forgotten sensation burning a hole in his heart. Before him a triumphant Goddess stands, back to him, her massive rifle shouldered on a single arm. He can a warm sensation in his core growing, a feeling he thought lost in the bunker all those years ago.

 

“Ho-”

 

“Steak.”

 

“Eh?”

 

Snow turns to him, the glow on her back losing a bit of its strength, as the amber eyes within dilate. Her lips are slightly wet, and upon a longer look Ishtar realizes she drools slightly.

 

“Next time we meet I want Steak.”

 

His brow rises, “Like..cow..steak?”

 

“Affirmative.” She turns away, if only to wipe the drool away without eyes on her, “Thats how you’ll repay your debt.”

 

A closed smile starts to form on his face, but it flatten before it becomes an audible chuckle. He nods slowly a slow acceptance of the terms dictated.

 

“Good,” she nods without turning. “I’ll be on my way then.”

 

She walks off the sun reaching its peak in the sky above. He watches her until she turns a corner, disappearing down the one of the many ruined streets. Left to his own devices the Suitor bends down stretching his body of the kinks acquired throughout the mission. Its only as he rises does he let out an exhale.

 

“Time to head home,” he takes a step forward and hums slightly, “hm hm..wanna be the one with you..”

 

Chapter 7: All on Red

“That-...That’s not right...”

Ishtar’s HUD displays DESTINATION REACHED , but what lies before him is an obviously destroyed elevator. He peeks through the crack in the punched in door to find the shaft leading to a dark abyss. He spits a loogie down into the blackness, but doesn’t hear it hit the bottom.

“ A dud? ,” he closes his eyes in contemplation, “ Does Central not have updated data?” He tilts his head from side to side as the frown on his face grows, “Runnin’ a strange ship ‘ere Andy.”

The setback doesn't stop him for long, his eyes opening to a new path already mapped for him. Though the next elevator is two hours away he smiles, the sensation of the fresh breeze enough to make the effort worth it. He follows the painted path without question humming to himself the whole time.

Getting to the next area, as Ishtar starts to learn, is an extremely boring affair. Even damaged and missing parts, the Suitor can’t help the off-feeling of not being attacked in nearly an hour. The lack of action scratches at the back of what is left of his soft brain to the point he can’t hold himself back any longer.

“So what do you think about those outfits?,” he lets out, “They sure have changed the battle-dress, huh?”

...................

“Not gunna lie though Marian was packing some heavy guns.”

....................

“You’d have to be blind not to notice-”

...................

“Whatever. Just seems to be a waste.”

...................

“Yeah I wish they didn’t hog all the cute girls during the war.”

Ishtar lets out a sigh as the silence comforts him, ending his conversation with the ghosts of the old-world. The quiet streets are strange to him, wherever this suburb is, its location no longer seems to be worth storing, simply another place to be used to fight the never-ending war.

. . . - - - . . .

His ears perk as internal codes translate the coded message, the ‘webs’ of his old-war database already attempting to triangulate the origin. “ It couldn’t be ,” he thinks to himself, finding the code eerily similar to a Nation’s distress beacon, “ Though its a weakass signal by far.”

The Suitor comes to a standstill, letting out a sigh as the painful process of making a decision falls to him. He walks into the shadow of a coffee shop, stepping in and taking a seat at the only non-rotted booth within. He slowly taps his fingers against the table, using the other hand to hold his chin upright. Ishtar’s purple eyes lazily go to his side doing a quick horizontal scan of the counter where a waitress might have served food.

“I’ll have a coffee, annnddd...I’ll take the pancakes,” He says to the phantom waitress. “Yeah milk and sugar would be nice,” he responds, folding his hands over the table, “Thank you.”

The gentle breeze and sound of birds keep his ears occupied, while he waits for his ‘order’. However his bouncing heel reveals his growing anxiety, his decision only being delayed by his own will. Something he knows all too well, even as the flaws of his conversion grow with every passing hour.

//No2 Levels at 5%//

There’s no need to contemplate a decision as the warning is displayed in bold black letters. The life-blood of his series, and the actual reason he remains combat effective after all these long years, though he would be loath to admit it. The thick black substance courses through his entire body, nearly replacing his blood 1:1, but unlike his red life essence this liquid is non-replenishable and extremely flammable.

He made no mention of it to either Anderson or Syuen, the latter surprisingly not making mention of it, though she will soon enough. A smirk grows over his face as the idea she was enthralled by the rest of his internals she never had a moment to question the black ‘blood’. Though idle musings will only hasten the inevitable another percentage taken from the already small stores.

Ishtar stands up from the booth, but not without one last look at the table. The red checkered tablecloth is dirty, years of disuse and the broken window cementing the layer of grime on it. He takes the corner and rips off a long piece, taking it and tying it over his left eye covering the Missilis manufactured orb.

---

“Typical,” Ishtar lets out, his arms folded over his stomach, “When in doubt, look for the Gold Arches....”

He shakes his head entering the ramshackle restaurant, the lopsided “Golden Arch” hanging precariously from its board. The inside is overgrown, vines and greenery covering the counters and chairs, nature taking back the loaned property.

The Nikke immediately heads towards a door labeled “Employee only” and pushes the rotted surface inward. His touch crumbles the cheap laminate revealing the gunmetal door behind, an insignia of a twin-headed eagle upon the surface emblazoned proudly.

“2681 returning home,” Ishtar quietly says to the door, “Passphrase...Bowie.”

Pressurized locks screech as dormant gears awaken to long anticipated orders, the door slowly lowering to reveal a descending stairway. Barnabas takes a deep inhale of the stale air coming from below, letting it out before taking a step downward.

It takes a good part of three hours before he encounters any semblance of the ‘end’, the staircase leading deep into the earth. Unlike the technologically advanced UFH the Nations relied on what they knew from past experiences. Where elevators relied on subsystems that could fail, a staircase, while slower, had fewer avenues of catastrophic failure. Barnabas stops his descent where the last step ends; in front of a somewhat taller than average door.

He walks towards the door, jumping back slightly, as it opens upon his approach. His eyes are blasted by bright sterile light, illuminating both himself and the stairway behind him. He enters the room half-blind, the door closing behind him as he enters, and finds himself in a white room.

A singular chair dominates the room, its body completely white save the cushion, which looks to be tan felt. It reminds Ishtar of a doctor’s chair, adjusted so that if a patient were to sit they would be upright. Almost instinctively he takes a seat on it, sinking into the chair.

“Please do not be alarmed. We are about to engage....the Nozzle.”

A pipe emerges from the ceiling, slowly lowering, until stopping just a foot away from Ishtar. Its end bends upward revealing a red sensor of some sort, the ‘eye’ moving closer to his face as if examining. As it starts to move he starts to shift anxiously the flat tone and approaching sensor stirring ill-feeling within him.

“Please do not move while the Nozzle is engaged. Moving will disrupt calibration of ..the Nozzle.”

The sensor stops only a few centimeters from his face, its body casting a shadow in his lap. The red sensor stares with an unblinking eye while the Suitor grows increasingly anxious. Eye-contact becomes difficult then impossible as he breaks away from the examining machine.

“Please do not look away from...the Nozzle.”

He looks back to it, with visible hesitation.

“The Nozzle is now calibrating”

“......”

“The Nozzle is still calibrating”

“......”

“The Nozzle has completed calibration...Beginning scan.”

The Nozzle orbits Ishtar’s head until it reaches the barcode printed on the left-side of his neck. He can feel the slight singe from the scanner as it burn-reads the code. The sensation ends after a second.

“Barnabas Wolfgang Bunts. Age 20. Blood type O. Blood Quality...Tainted.”

Ishtar shifts uncomfortably in his seat, “Hey what happened to HIPAA,” he mutters quietly, side-eyeing the Nozzle.

“Scan one of three complete. Present the next code.”

The groan that escapes him tells of his growing regret, but he does little else in protest. He stands up from the chair and gets back on backwards, letting his knees press into the backrest. He looks over his shoulder at the Nozzle and gives it an expression of quiet defeat.

Ishtar turns forward and without looking, uses a hand to push his leotard aside presenting the barcode tattooed like a tramp stamp on his lower back. It's slightly bigger than the one on his neck, and the burn comes as soon as it's presented, catching the Suitor in a girly yelp as his back tries to bend away from the pain.

“Calvary Scout. E-4 Specialist. Attached to the 2nd Rad Dog Battalion pre-shutdown. Temporarily attached to the Sentinel Company post-National shutdown.”

“Done then?”

“Scan two of three complete. Present next code.”

The Nozzle doesn’t lower as the color drains from Ishtar’s face. It only shifts its red sight downward diagonally making sure there’s little question of where its gaze lies. He can feel its glare burning a hole into his arse, and knows that any further delay would just make things worse. Another defeated sigh escapes the Suitor as he turns and sinks into the chair.

He looks at the red eye, and begs with silent eyes for the next scan to be forgotten. His bottom lip starts to tremble as they work the courage up to speak.

“Present the next code.”

His purples can’t meet the Nozzle’s gaze, his face reddening slightly as his thumbs hook where the leotard ends. He sits in a butterfly pose as the Nozzle inches closer to his groin, a nervous smile forcing its way over his mouth. He lifts the fabric slowly, then pushes it to the side, his excessive sweating really apparent as the outfit tries to stick to his skin.

“Present the next-”

“I’MPRESENTINGITALREA—”

The flash singe cuts him off, scanning the barcode located where his womb would lie. He tries to breath through the pain, but it's a losing battle cause he won’t dare open his teeth, only succeeding in fattening his cheeks with air. It takes a moment for him to calm, the distraction of pain taking his attention from the still Nozzle.

“Awwgaawwd....”

“Sizes 61cm, 53cm, 88cm.....Scan incomplete—Rescanning—.”

“Wai—”

BZZZT

Not a moment of rest as the scanner fires another directly to the already burned code. Ishtar can’t hold this scream back punching his fist into the chair, while the other digs its nails into the felt.

“Height 150cm. Weight 36kg.”

“FaCkMeTaTEArrssssss...”

“Scan Complete.”

The pipe returns back to its space as slowly as it exited, Barnabas watching it while fighting back tears. A door appearing in the wall ends his thoughts towards the Nozzle, bringing them back to his current objective. He can’t even move both hands pressed against his burning groin. The subtle sound of the nozzle waking makes the pain quickly go away Ishtar heading towards the door with a visible limp.

The moment he gets past the doorway, the door to the room closes behind him tightly, nearly catching his heel. The near-loss barely phases him, his attention completely grabbed by what he sees. His HUD displays “ ERROR Headquarters ”, the location corrupted whether from time, or the enemy, he’s unsure, but it doesn’t matter to him.

His eyes are locked upon the flags of the Allied Nations hanging from the ceiling, each hung one behind the other. Though underground and away from nature’s reclamation, decay still seeped its way through, Ishtar noticing some bearing stains of water damage as he walked forward. Even while being in an allied location, he can’t shake the feeling of off-ness, the sensation taking the forefront as his replacement arm starts to tingle.

“ The repair bay should be deeper, ” he thinks to himself, taking hold of the arm, “ Replacement parts and fluid should be located there.”

He heads towards a nearby door, one of many that dot the room, and finds the directory. His eyes scan the many locations mapped out, falling still upon the repair bay, located past the brain storage. Ishtar lets out a sigh, the distance farther than hoped, but distance is only a mild annoyance.

“Maybe if I’m quiet I can avoid them,” the thought goes through his head as he heads towards the direction of the bay, “Don’t need those on me.” Ishtar looks to the ceiling, past the flags, to see automated turrets pointing downwards, the flashing red indicating a lock-on.

The ambiance of the base leaves much to be desired, the silence only broken by a misstep by Ishtar, tripping over his back foot. He rolls his eyes as his misstep echoes through the chamber he finds himself in, the pitch black reverberating the loud clack of his heel. The brain storage lies at the bottom of the base, and with it the more supplied repair bay.

What usually takes ten minutes, takes closer to an hour, before Ishtar finally reaches the storage doors. The ten-meter thick lead doors remain closed to his approach, unsurprising the small Suitor, already placing a hand against it.

“Passcode......Armstrong.”

There’s no sound as the door lowers, the quality of the barrier unaffected by years of disuse. It comes down faster than the entrance, a breeze lifting his hair slightly.

tick-tick-tick-tick-tick

The artificial skin of the Suitor is the only thing keeping him safe from the scalding radiation levels within the storage room. His HUD displays twelve roentgens per second, accompanied by WITHIN OPERATIONAL LEVELS. He steps properly into the storage room, the doors closing behind him with a slam.

“Room” feels too small a word to describe where he finds himself. If he didn’t know better he might have thought the storage was used to store bombers and super-carrier’s, but instead it's dominated by a central tank. It is large enough to fit two humpback whales comfortably, and as Ishtar approaches, he can see its structure runs deeper into the ground than the floor would have one believe.

“ A megastructure underground created for the sole purpose of housing the AI core of the Headquarters. ”

The Suitor remembers the briefing’s when his squad was assigned defense duties, how each district headquarters held an AI personality, and that if they fell the Headquarters was deemed lost.

“ Hope Ennik survived.”

He places a hand against the tank, peering into the crystal clear liquid within. He had seen Ennik’s core at Southern HQ before they were assigned to their front. Though her tank was a lot smaller, more a fish tank, than the building-sized aquarium he touches currently.

He looks into it for a minute more before shrugging, the tank visibly vacant, and starts to walk around it. The repair bay doors lie on the opposite end, the liquid so clear he could see it through the tank. Unsurprisingly the light of the room remains on, the importance of its continued function remembered years after defeat. It’s only as Ishtar passes the structure completely does he feel a chill stab at his upper spine.

He turns around to find two gargantuan red orbs darkening the clear liquid their size, easily able to squash the Suitor if the glass were to ever fail. It takes on a red-brown color, as the orbs emerge from the depths, coloring the walls a deep ominous hue. They stop at the suitor’s eye level, and watch as he approaches, nearly skipping over, stopping just in front of the orbs as they warble up and down in their zero-g environment.

“Hello there,” Ishtar waves casually before lowering his hand, “You wouldn’t happen to know if the repair bay is still active, would you?”

The repair bay door’s opening is his response from the eyes, their attention not leaving the open-mouth smile of the Suitor, even as he turns completely towards the sound. They remain fixated on him, as he looks away, the left sagging below the right giving the appearance of a head tilted in study.

“Thanks madam AI,” he gives the eyes a slight curtsy, before turning from the red orbs.

They glow brighter as he starts to leave, as if calling him back, but he doesn’t notice as he turns on his heels. He starts to hum as he walks away, the eyes almost ‘jumping’ in their tank trying to garner his attention. Ishtar walks into the repair bay more focused on his current maintenance than why the door didn’t close as he entered.

“Alright lets see what we got,” he claps his hands together adjusting his path towards a terminal in front of what looks to be a dispenser of some sort. He taps the terminal, the unused console flickering violently before deciding on a dim display.

“Welcome to the Repair-Bay at-..26...2-6..-quarters.”

Ishtar tilts his head from side to side like a hound, as his designation is displayed with the usual welcome message. He slaps the side of the console hard, making its already dim lights sputter.

“How can I-...don’t...do...that...-tance today?”

“Eh?,” he looks at the console, brow raised. He turns around to see the bay doors open, and two glowing red dots in the distance, the realization slowly creeping over his smooth as butter brain. “Still kickin’, huh,” he turns back to the console, and speaks to it directly “you still operational?”

“Input required-..yes...-continue.”

“I don’t have clearance for repairs,” Ishtar leans on the console, “You think you can patch me up?”

“Input accepted-..you..favor..-ease standby for further instruction,” a bed rises from the floor as the message is written out, “Please get on-..only...then..-table, then await further instruction.”

“Scratch my back I scratch yours,” Ishtar lets out a dry chuckle, “I see no problem with that. What would the madam want of me?”

“Input expired. Message replaying. Please get on-..body...free..-table, then await further instruction.”

“A body, huh,” Ishtar uses a hand to rub his chin, “Would a doll body suffice? There should be a few A-types around here.”

“Input expired. Message replaying. Please get on-..accep-table, then await further instruction.”

“On it,” he gently thumps his chest twice with his fist. He backs away from the console and scans the room slowly, “If I were a doll...where would I-,” he stops himself as his gaze falls upon his new objective.

Discarded in a corner lies a body, or at least an assumed one, the Suitor only able to see their brown boots and long black socks. He moves toward it to find the covered feet lead to warm ivory colored legs, the skin unblemished and bearing no signs of decay, though the torso remains covered in a dirty tarp.

Ishtar pulls away the tarp to reveal the body beneath. Their blonde hair falls to their shoulder, and would be beautiful, save the bald patches common among unfinished dolls. Her red scarlet eyes stare blankly at the ground, its mouth hanging slack as the motors of her mouth were left uncalibrated. Closer inspection reveals that the teeth within haven’t been ‘humanized’ yet, bearing the gunmetal hue of artificial implants, with only the canines colored bone white.

“ It’ll do I suppose , right? ”

He shrugs to himself taking a cursorily glance around the bay, only to find this body to be the only one capable at the moment. He rolls his eyes taking hold of the disabled doll and carrying them in both arms. He takes it to the operating table gently lying them upon it.

Ishtar returns to the console, “Body recovered. Its a bit banged up, but should be a good enough vessel for you.” He looks towards the console with a subdued expression, unsure how the AI will react.

“Doll platform detected. Please stan-..it..suffice...-by for adjustment. Data tr-..remain..close..-er beginning.”

“Eyup,” he responds, looking back to the operating table. He turns back to the console to see the estimated completion time at twenty plus minutes. “Mind if I sync-up?”

There’s no response from the console, so Ishtar proceeds anyway. He places his gloved hand against the back of his neck pressing the near invisible button on it. He takes hold of the data-wire and pulls it out, bringing to the front of his face for examination. The male-type connector shines as lubricant coats it, his eyes drifting towards the console’s dusty port, and without much thought he jams the input into the console’s port, the light of its display jittering almost instantly.

“Input read error.”

Ishtar lets out a rare annoyed breath, “Oh fer the luv of-,” he quietly groans. He removes the connector for a second before jamming it in even harder than before, “Come on....”

“Input read error.”

He squints his eyes at the console, letting out a growl as he removes the connector once more. This time he eyes the port for a moment, his hand on his hips as he examines. After a moment of contemplation he places both hands around the port and places his mouth against it. He blows hard into the entry, the idea coming from his days as a boy, and leans back. Before he puts the connector back in, he drags a finger from the bottom up, wiping any saliva from it, and gently lines it up properly.

“Come on..,” he slowly inputs the connector eyeing the console in anticipation of a message. He can feel the back of the port, as a message pops up on the screen.

//Input read approved//

He gently pats the top of the console, “That’ll do ye,” his voice is somber as he praises it.

He leans against it as he closes his eyes, the data from the beachhead up until now finally being uploaded to the Nation database. He opens his eyes only a few seconds later, his mind feeling lighter than before, and removes the connector as the upload completes. He turns to the operating table, strutting casually over to it, folding his arms and using them to lean on the table.

“What’s goin’ on in this neck of the woods?” Ishtar chuckles looking at the blank stare of the doll. Unlike his system the doll uses something entirely artificial, “ some type of cloud something or another,” he shakes his head trying to fill the gap.

Whatever the case a lazy glance reveals that everything goes to plan, and with it nothing but time to wait. The bored suitor places his face in his hands, and starts to whistle whatever tune comes to mind. He gets through two songs, the third cut-off by the girl stirring on the table.

Her body starts to seize, the data of the entire facility attempting to download into the small body. Thinking on his feet Ishtar heads to the console and cancel’s the transfer at 35%, before sprinting back to the table.

The doll spasms violently as it tries to take the neural load, the Suitor’s only course of action simply to hold her down. The girl, while artificial unlike Ishtar, was only purpose built for maintaining structures, and that was with the assistance of heavy equipment. While being forklift certified was an impressive feat that even the Suitor nodded too, she stands no chance of breaking the military-grade grip that holds her down.

She struggles against him for a good minute, but eventually settles down, and with it the eyes of the tank dim ever so slightly. Ishtar looks at the doll, and finds the slack mouth closed with purpose. He lets out a heavy breath, feeling her lungs push him upward, and rises off her.

“Ugh,” the girl groans, her tone older than the young body it occupies. She sits up, and opens her eyes to reveal the scarlets within, brightened with life. Her lids lower at Ishtar, “2681..of all the units. Why’d it have to be you?”

He points to his Snow-crafted arm with a dumb look on his face, “My arm bad.”

She rolls her eyes, throwing her legs over the side of the table, “What happened to your arm?,” she jumps off the table, “Really..Suitor’s are such a-!”

The girl falls face first onto the ground below, a combination of weak legs, and a shorter stature than expected. She can hear the Suitor snort at her display, but his teasing is the least of her worries. Lines of code stretching into the millions flood what should be her internal thoughts, the interrupted transfer making things even worse. Half and quarter formed code weaves its way into completed lines in such a way that defragmenting would take years.

From Ishtar’s perspective her suffering simply looks like a foal trying to learn to walk. He watches with an open smile as she attempts to stand up, her knees shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, standing a clean four feet at her straightest. Though she can only manage it for a few seconds, enough to glare at the eager Suitor, before falling backward against the table.

“Are you going to help me at some point?” The girl groans, “Or are you going to continue to watch me fumble around?”

“Right. Right,” he approaches her and offers a shoulder, which she takes, wrapping an arm around his neck, “Are the forges still active? We should probably get you some decent clothes.”

She gives him a raised brow before looking down at her body. Her clothes are completely ruined, what was once a beautiful white shirt and brown pleated skirt, have been reduced to tatters upon her body. She can see from the corner of her eye that her Suitor looks towards her, albeit smaller than she’s used to, chest.

“The forge is still active,” she says, adjusting her shirt to cover her exposed bosom, “I’ve already diverted the generators towards it.” She looks at the arm she uses to find it, unlike Ishtar’s other, “We’ll have to replace your battledress.” Her comment causes his eyes to light up, but she ignores it.

---

Getting through the ancient base takes more time than either of them guessed. Collapsed roofs, rouge dolls, automated sentry guns, and EMP fields make every closed door a booby trap set to go off at a moment’s notice. Whatever teasing he gives her is quickly paid in kind as he’s riddled with damage at every turn.

“Hah Hah, holy shit,” Ishtar drops to a knee panting heavily, the small arms fire still steaming off his stomach. He looks towards the door in front of him, “I don’t remember Headquarters being such a pain in the ass to get through.”

“We only have two more wings to get through,” the doll stands over him, but her shaking legs quickly have her take a seat next to him. She can see that no bullets have penetrated, but his clothes are barely hanging on the same as hers, “ Maybe I should tell him they’re only activating because this body doesn’t have proper clearance.”

“Aye, yer right,” he picks himself up using the wall for assistance, “ No sense bitchin’..Just a bit more..”

He stands directly in front of the next door, the auto-sensors opening to his presence. They start to open, only to stop about a quarter of the way. He lets out a sigh placing both hands on either side and attempts to pry it open, only to have the barrel of a 12 gauge sawed off press against his stomach from inside.

“Loony tunes bul-”

The blast sends him backward before he can finish, the explosive slugs giving him a flowery sendoff. The shells hit him directly above his navel destroying the stomach hive in one go. He flips over twice before settling on his back, his stomach catching fire from the dragon’s breath, as it ignites the No2.

//No2 Reserves at 0%...Seek immedi-//

“uur—Agh!”

Ishtar lets out a bloodcurdling scream as all the sensations subdued by the liquid come back full-bore. He writhes on the ground almost like the girl earlier, his eyes flickering frantically, as the automated systems try to put out the internal flames. Long expired fire retardant spray uselessly onto the growing flames, doing nothing as they rise into his ribcage.

The girl surprisingly falls onto the writhing Suitor, and shoves her hand into the wound. She winces immediately as the burning No2 makes contact with her synth skin, singing the already ruined flesh. She has to push her arm up to the elbow into him in order to get past the foam, manually patting the flames from his organs.

“Dammit 8-1,” she grunts against the Suitor, “Why didn’t you tell me your levels were depleted?” The question is rhetorical as she knows well enough he couldn’t answer even if he wanted, “ How could his levels be this depleted?”

Luckily for both of them, his brain can only take so much before shutting down from shock, the Suitor ‘passing out’ as cinders finish what little flammable material lines his body. With a moment of peace the girl starts working immediately, ripping his damaged shirt into long pieces, and wrapping the unsullied strips around his stomach wound. Seeing melted skin risks send him into a depersonalization loop, something ill-afforded at this point. Once the wound is covered and secured she gets off of him, taking a seat on the ground.

“Only one wing left,” she places a hand on her chin, “ Though pushing him further might be more trouble than its worth.”

She lets out a gruff and turns to the now open door, the sawed-off resting mid-air held by a mechanical hand. It's exactly as Ishtar said, the shotgun dropped carelessly as the hand retreats back to the ceiling, its sole purpose fulfilled. Confident that the danger has passed she stands up and walks through the doorway.

“Auxiliary Armory Gamma,” the girl reads the black words on the floor aloud.

She looks up to find the words hold no lie, the unused armaments of the garrison still hanging from racks long forgotten. The entirety of a headquarters arms lie within each of these armories, the most hidden, only accessed by the base AI, holding the allotted thermonuclear arsenal. Though the rampant radiation they’ve encountered makes the mobile AI believe their integrity had been compromised long ago.

Her scarlet eyes scan the room carefully, until finally stopping on a small handgun, still upon its bench where it was left. She approaches it with little delay taking the service weapon in her hands, finding it a bit unwieldy for her small grip. That doesn’t stop her from properly inspecting the clip and testing the slide.

“ Four bullets and a sticky slide ,” she thinks to herself reloading the clip, “ Should be enough for the next room.” She turns her eyes to the next door, remotely controlling the camera within, “ Two dolls.”

The camera within the room scans around a bit more, if only to confirm that they do in fact head to the repair bay. The two hostiles within shamble around like zombies, their eyes blank while their mouths move with words she can’t pick up. She watches them bump into each other before turning towards the only door in the room. They lurch towards it, and start to bang against the metal, loud enough for the girl to hear it on the other side.

“...C-commannddderrr.....”

“...Oooorrrdddeerrrssss....”

“...Ccoommanndeeerrr....”

“....Llleeettt...uuussss....gggoooo...”

“I-I-mm...ssooorrryyy....”

“..I-I-I’lll llliiisssteeennn....ppllleeeaassee..”

The girl remains silent, watching their banging turn to scratching. She can see their synth skin has degraded on their fingers, the digits rubbed down to blunt ends. Their clothes like hers are in tatters, barely covering their half-exposed bodies, gunmetal breaking smooth ivory haphazardly.

Without warning they cease completely, and stand eerily still facing the door. It lasts only a minute, before they break down sobbing, almost in unison. The girl takes this as the time to prepare, removing her vision from the camera and takes a place about a meter from the bay doors.

She plants herself in position and points the gun towards the door, lining it up with where the duo should be. With a subtle glow of her eyes the door begins to open, and the sobbing becomes clear. Only when the doors finish opening does the sound stop, the silence joining both rooms together. The girl takes a breath, and aims down the iron sights, waiting for the inevitable.

The first form shambles forward, “Ccoommannddeerr?”

Bang Bang

Two shots for two kneecaps. The doll falls to the ground with a crash, her servo’s finally giving way, as they crumble to pieces underneath her. They let out a tired groan, but remain still, seemingly taking the defeat.

“...Hhhossstttilleee sppott-”

Dink

The round fails to penetrate the second doll’s kneecap, a bit more structurally sound than the other.

Bang

The last shot finds penetration through the exposed mechanical neck, the hanging synth skin looks as if torn downwards. The doll falls to her knees grabbing her throat, a mechanical click the only semblance of words she can speak. The girl tosses her handgun away, its use fulfilled, and walks past the dying dolls.

The repair bay barely interests the girl, her legs moving with purpose towards the back of the room. She stops before the wall and presses her hand against the seemingly flat surface. As if detecting a pass-code multiple squares form upon the wall, the lines etched into the surface.

She moves to the closest one and taps it gently with her palm. The cabinet opens revealing three lines of vials with the word ‘No2’ printed on the side. Of the three lines only a single vial remains filled. She takes it, and marches back to the fallen Ishtar.

“...Kghsh...”

“...Coo-Com-?”

She ignores the dolls stepping over the pooling synth blood that joins them, and takes a stance over the Suitor. Black smoke escapes the hole in his chest, but luckily its not enough to activate the sprinklers. Though he isn’t dead in the conventional sense, an attack on him now would most likely result in permanent termination.

“ Working as intended,” she thinks squatting down to his level, “ Five cores still operational..”

She fills the injector with the No2 throwing the vial to the ground. Lining up the needle with his heart she jams it through with as much force as she can muster, only pressing the trigger activator as it punctures the Cor engine underneath.

//No2 levels at 10%//

“.....rrraAAAAAHHHHHH,” Ishtar’s eyes shoot open with his screaming mouth.

He instantly shoots to his feet, nearly knocking the girl over, and rushes the wall. He slams his head against it twice, the second making a dent in the metal wall, before hurling on the floor. The contents boil on the metal floor, bubbling violently before settling on a low bubble.

The girl allows herself a surprised look, before settling on a soft smile, “Back in action 8-1?”

He pants heavily letting his body rise as it demands, shooting a lazy thumbs up, and fully leans against the wall.

“Good. I cleared out the repair bay. Lets go,” she turns on her heels heading back the way she came without a second glance at the Suitor.

“Fan-fackin-tastic,” Ishtar groans, spitting out the last of the contents, “You can go ahead...just give me a-...woah shi-.” He turns to the wall before he can finish, hurling a second time.

He lets out a heavy exhale letting his hands slide from his hips to his knee’s as he bends over. He stays in this recovery position for a moment letting the memories of pain fade into nothingness, the names, places and orders going with them. At last he stands straight, his breath even, and his mind a blank sheet of printer paper.

//No2 Levels past minimum warning levels//

With the timer stopped he follows after the girl entering the armory, stopping as he enters having his attention drawn by the incapacitated dolls. He looks at them with heavy lidded eyes, a contradictory feeling of apathy and sympathy.

Technically they were the next upgrade to the 2600’s, a single breakthrough away from completely replacing them, but their decrepit forms say otherwise. They continue to moan and groan as he walks past, eyeing the discarded service weapon as he goes.

“Is there a reason you didn’t go for kill-shots?” Ishtar asks as he passes the discarded weapon. His hand goes to the axe at his belt, the fingers trailing the beard, “Please don’t tell me ya enjoy their sounds of dying,” he says with a half-chuckle.

“Your interruption of the data stream means that this body only has a portion of my personality,” the girl starts explaining without answering his question, “Only around 35% of my mind is in this vessel..., but it's not enough.”

He glances over his shoulder to the fallen dolls, “You’re going to upload the rest to their cloud?” He raises a brow to her, tilting his head, “I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but wouldn’t that separate your mind between three different bodies?”

“Thats the intention, though it's a temporary solution” the girl says moving to the closest station, three of which dot the walls of the room, “I’ve prepped this bay for diagnostics, so step in when your ready.”

Ishtar looks at the ‘bay’ which is nothing more than a doll maintenance station, the hangers still piercing a discarded arm from an unfinished doll. He shoots a non-so pleased look at the girl, but she pays it no mind, more focused on the lit panel that controls its use. She looks towards him as her hand leaves the panel, but says nothing, walking past him back to the armory.

The Suitor shrugs, and steps in the automated bay. The mechanical arms start work soon as they detect his entry, dropping down and scanning the anomalous limb. The scanner makes a click sound as it orbits the shoulder-blade, the smell of seared flesh entering Ishtar’s nose. It finishes with a loud whir before retracting backwards, and briefly scans his entire body.

In the blink of an eye, a laser slices the arm off, the weight immediately falling to the ground with a loud thud. The cut was perfect removing the anomalous piece at the exact point of connection Snow made. A flash of red bathes his front, before another click is sounded. It flashes his stomach once then his upper torso. It lets out a ding, and aerosol jets spraying Ishtar with a fine mist.

“ Decontaminant..,” he thinks to himself before turning to where the girl left. “You’re operating on me...” He mutters fearfully, his mouth tightening as memories of conversion crawl their way forward. His head hangs low, “I don’t think I’m that damaged...”

“You think so?” the girl pops her head into the room, a slight frown on her face. She walks over to the console and reads with a non-too-pleased tone, “Ruptured lung, missing liver and....where’s your heart?”

“Urhh,” Ishtar steps out of the bay, his eyes averted from the questioning doll, “Well ya see...,” his eyes are like cat-slits as he searches the ceiling for answers.

“You’ve lost the nanite hives?,” she looks over the console, her incredulous tone cementing dissatisfaction, “How could you possibly have done that?”

“I-I got recruited by the ‘Central Government’,” he takes down the makeshift bandage over his eye anxiously, “They took my organs but gave me an eye and a bed,” his voice is apprehensive as he points to the Missilus logo in his retina, “A good trade, right?”

“No,” her eyes look at him without humor, letting out a sigh as he whimpers under her scrutiny, “but that would explain your gear.”

She lets out a sigh and rubs her chin, “I want that eye.” She walks over to him and extends an open palm out. “Give it here, 8-1.”

Without question or pause he removes the eyeball with his fingers, dropping the artificial orb in her hand. The empty socket drips with black No2 no longer having a stop-gap to keep it pressed against the walls of his skull. The Suitor doesn’t seem to mind his expression more concerned about her approval.

“One of the big three got their hands on you,” the girl tuts, “Did you disclose anything classified to this would-be faction.”

“Nothing they couldn’t scan off my brain,” he scratches the back of his head, “Who are the other two?”

“Elysium and Tetra,” she responds instantly. Her eyes scan him for a moment, as if trying to reach a conclusion, “Did you know that the AI at each headquarters is created using the brain of a human?”

“Like a UFH Nikke,” Ishtar answers with a slight gasp of awe, “I’ve met a few so far, and they’ve definitely made some upgrades since they severed ties.”

“Exactly so,” she folds her hands behind her back, “Unlike our dolls, each Nikke was once a human, and I am no different.”

His purple eye lights up, “You were human once, hah , coulda fooled me.” He looks down on his shorter companion, “I’m guessing you were pretty smart to be turned into a headquarters AI.”

She shrugs, “If I was smart I would still have my body and the war would be over.” She lets out a heavy exhale, “We were this close before the UFH turned their backs to us.” She goes silent with the last words leaving the duo in an awkward position.

“Nobody could have seen it coming,” Ishtar attempts to comfort. “Though I always had a feeling,” he closes his eye, “They were always too conniving for my liking.”

She squints at him, “Was the ARK ever completed? The Queen of hearts destroyed?”

“Apparently it finished, though I never saw it personally,” he folds his arms as he explains, “I only ever got to what they call The Outpost, a midpoint of some sorts. From what the surface looks like the Queen is most likely still active.”

She places a hand over her mouth, “So then the war continues,” the smile under her hand grows into a creepy grin. “ She might still be around.... “

“Aye, the war continues,” Ishtar repeats with little enthusiasm, his thoughts going to the Commander. He shakes his head, ridding it away, “If you were once human you must have had a name, right?”

He can feel the scarlets on him before her words even leave her mouth. “You can call me Karen,” she places a hand over her chest, bowing her head slightly “Thank you for giving me form once again.”

Ishtar instantly blushes, “D-don’t sweat the small stuff, yeah?” He looks towards the dolls, desperate to rid himself of the feeling her praise gave him, “Do you still have access to the National database?”

She tilts her head this time, though she wears a smug expression, “Searching for something?”

“Yeah,” he states, “The rest of my squad.”

Her eyes widened for a second before falling to their natural half-lidded position, “Erasmus Leofric, 2500 series, 2nd Lieutenant of the Rad Dog Battalion. According to what I’m seeing he hasn’t synced in years.” She folds an arm under her chest as if it were larger than the chopping board it is, “Did you wish to try and bring him back into the fold?”

“No man left behind, is what I want to say, but....” He shifts awkwardly on his feet, “We made a promise to one another that we would find each other if we got separated. I think I’ve been delayed long enough,” he looks at her with an uncertain expression.

“That actually works out in our favor,” Karen turns from Ishtar and beckons him with her folded hand, “While you find the other Suitor, I will resurrect the life of this Headquarters.”

His eyes glow slightly as he follows close behind her, “Are you sure? You don’t want me to maybe sweep for any further enemies?”

She lets out a rather husky chuckle, “Do you care for me that much 8-1? Your concern is acknowledged but ultimately unneeded.” She changes direction and heads towards a rack in the armory, a panel presenting itself at her approach, “I’ve reclaimed the local cloud during your diagnostics, and even as we speak, the dolls above turn to our cause once more.”

She presses a button on the panel, a red scanner already analyzing her body. The machine makes a loud whirring, more akin to a power saw, before letting out a loud ding just like the repair bay. The rack opens outward to reveal clothing, the steam indicating its on-demand creation. Karen takes the clothing, the doors closing as she removes the last piece.

“In regards to your organs,” she starts to talk while ripping her tattered top downward, “There’s an operating room on the second floor. Meet me there before you—” She turns her face to Ishtar to find his eye plastered to the ground, “Really 8-1?, she looks at her chest, “This body is as flat chested as you.”

He doesn’t respond nor look up, seemingly stuck in his current way. She lets out a tut and continues to change, preferring to remove everything then put the new clothes on. The outfit is divided up into three pieces, a white coat, a black Tec leotard, and red armored boots. Only when she’s fully clothed does her purple eyed companion look up, a somewhat relieved expression on his face.

“Now...before I forget,” she coyly says, looking the Suitor up and down. Even he shudders from her sickly sweet tone, like an evil godmother talking to a captive princess. She opens her arms wide towards him, a closed smile on her face, “Hug me 8-1.”

He hesitates for a moment, but acquiesced with a slight frown, stepping toward Karen and embracing her. His hold is loose, something she notices immediately as he fails to bring her in. She takes the lead and buries her face into his exposed cleavage, rubbing her face in the space.

Her attempt to lean into her girlish charm is lost on him, the Suitor still refusing to embrace her to the capacity she expects. Seeing the horse long dead she lifts her face from his chest and looks him directly in the eyes, a slight frown on her mouth.

“I’m trying to sync our systems, 8-1,” Karen’s arms tighten around his back, “It doesn’t work unless you complete the link.”

“A salute works fine enough, ma’am...”

Karen gives a borderline flirtatious smile to his words causing him to turn from her. The attempt only activates the opposite reaction, Ishtar instinctively trying to step away from it.

“But I prefer to hug you,” her red eyes glow slightly with the last word, “I’ve been trapped in that tank for a very long time 8-1.” Her tone weakens, losing the commanding undertone it once had, “Is it bad that I missed the touch of another,” her words try the fence once more.

She barely has a moment to take in a breath before it's squeezed out of her. The Suitor’s arms tighten around her back tightly bringing her as close to him as possible. Karen lets out an involuntary grunt as the air is forced from her lungs, her thoughts already disparaging her attempt at encouragement.

“We’ll sync!,” he holds her even tighter than she thought he could, “We’ll sync okay!”

She attempts to pull away only succeeding in freeing her face. Immediately she’s face to face with 8-1, who looks to be losing the battle against the tears forming at his eye. Though the tears are wasted in more ways than one, the prized black liquid seeping from the empty socket.

“Stop crying 8-1!” Karen scolds, “You’re wasting fluid!”

He sniffles, wiping away the single streak like runny mascara, “Sorry. Its just it must’ve been torture to be in that tank for so long.” He loosens his grip around her, but maintains the hug, easing into a more friendly embrace, “I was in a hole for so many years...”

Karen doesn’t respond to his apology, the sync activating with his tempered emotions. In an instant her mind is everywhere that Ishtar once was, the figures and faces shadows in the whirlwind of locations. The entire Headquarters from basement to entry is revealed to the Suitor, as well as the locations of the aberrant dolls within the halls.

//Patriot Sync Complete//

8-1 lets her go before she can ask, and takes a step back, granting a decent space between them. He looks at her with a soft expression, though the twitch of concern pokes at the corner of his eye. She ignores the sympathetic expression moving to the table where she acquired the service weapon.

“Recovering Erasmus is your top priority,” she says approaching the table, leaning her back against it, “I’m giving you access to the armory by the entry.” She looks directly at Ishtar, “Wait a moment..,” her fingers flex on the table as her scan completes, “...You’re due an operation. A few years late too....”

Ishtar’s eye visibly winces, “O-operation?!?,” he looks around rapidly, “I’m as fit as a fiddle Karen. A few missing organs isn’t that—”

“Barnaby.”

He takes a look at her to find a joyfully sick expression on her face. Her open scarlets almost beg the Suitor to keep squirming under her gaze. The smile that barely opens only adds to the trapped feeling that grows over the Suitor.

“Are you disobeying orders?”

“N-no,” his eyes can’t meet hers at all, like an awkward dog, “I’m not disobeying orders...”

“Good,” she gently takes his hand, “Come along.”

She holds his hand firmly, but it feels more shackled than lead, as she pulls Ishtar with her. He offers no protest letting himself be taken by the smaller girl, without uttering a single word.

Karen leads them up the staircase Ishtar used to descend, her stride barely fazed by the debris piled in her way. Her normally agile companion on the other hand scrambles and clambers over, forced to stumble due to her refusal to let go of his hand. Though he offers no word of complaint, a similar strategy was implemented when he was first converted to a 2-6.

“I could just run...”

“And risk more damage coming to the Mk1?” Karen doesn’t turn to him when she responds, “Your body is on loan, Barnaby, and last I checked you still owe interest.”

“The loans still active?”

“Has your Nation fallen?” She stops just to look over her shoulder and gives the confused Suitor a knowing grin, “The operating room is close-by...”

They make it to the landing with a door labeled 2nd just before them. It opens before they can settle, allowing them entry to the floor proper. The door closes behind them, the lights flickering on as it does. It's more a wing than a floor, as seen by a partition wall that makes the floor seem smaller than expected.

Ishtar looks down at the floor to find //MEDICAL WING// , taking an unconscious step back. He’s pulled forward before his heel can come down, a soft smile waiting for him.

“Come, come,” she leads him towards one of the many closed rooms, “I’ll let you pick which room.”

His purple eyes scan the rooms lazily, taking a royal hue upon falling upon the room numbered 203. He nods his head towards it, only to feel Karen’s hand pat his bicep, the smile ceaseless. She takes the lead once more, pulling him into the room proper.

The room is no different than one found in a human hospital, the only indication its for Suitors, the array of tools laid on a table more meant for heavy machinery than flesh. A patient bed lies in the center, the floor underneath it constructed at slight slope for drainage. The table next to it still bears the stains of No2 from some poor Suitor long ago, but looks inert otherwise.

“Get on the table Barnaby,” Karen pats his back, her calm words contrasting the sadistic grin she wears, “I’ll be back momentarily."

She exits the room on the word, leaving Ishtar by himself, his worried expression speaking where his words won’t. He lies on the table awkwardly and looks towards the door, hands folded in his lap.

Karen returns before he can do anything else, opening the door as Ishtar finishes settling. She wears a face-shield which hides her entire visage behind black ballistic glass. She doesn’t say a word as she passes the operating table and heads towards the tools on the tray.

“The Fortune mk1 has served you well,” Karen picks up the sawblade tool, a handheld chainsaw in the simplest of terms, “but it was meant as a prototype for a new Nikke platform. Not meant for extended warfare,” She approaches her patient, “Why didn’t you return for upgrades?”

“I got wasted by Anachiro,” he doesn’t sound enthusiastic about the statement, “Never got a chance to return to the Nation’s after being press-ganged by the UFH. Apparently Sentinel Company was their dumping place for Suitors and Nikke’s deemed combat ineffective...”

“Erasmus let that happen?”

“ Let is one word for it, ma’am.”

“I’m assuming it has something to do with that TMP code I detected,” she places the tool next to his head, “The UFH must have thought you Suitors were better off defending backwaters. A slow death for shell-shocked men.”

“Will this hurt like the first time?”

“No,” Karen answers absently, her thoughts elsewhere, “in fact it should restore some of the flaws of the mk1.”

He turns fully to her, “Can you restore my taste?” She can almost feel the heart cage thumping against his chest, “Is that possible?”

She let out a half-chuckle, her brows furrowed in surprise, “Is there something in particular you wanted to taste, Barnaby?” She adjusts the operating table so that it falls to her hips, “Nothing off your file spoke to any culinary interest. Do you have a favorite food?”

“Favorite food?!,” his eyes sparkle with excitement, “I’d love to tas—”

Ishtar’s pupils expand massively, completely overcoming the purple, only to shift to near nothingness leaving the entire orb a dim color. His words stop the moment the connector of the table found his neck-cable, instantly hibernating all conscious functions. His body goes motionless, and limp, Karen picking up his wrist only to let it fall without resistance.

“Without Abe around I won’t have to worry about pesky complaints,” Karen smiles, “You have my gratitude, Barnabas.” She grabs hold of the hand-chainsaw, “Your series was my gift to the Nations, a Trojan horse of sorts, but I never would have imagined one living this long.”

She revs the chainsaw only to have it sputter. She pulls it again, but no dice. Karen places it on the ground and stomps her red shoe into the machine, and pulls the chord with all her body can give. It roars to life with that one loud grinding, a good sign of its apathy towards its patient.

“Perhaps using her data wasn’t the best of choices,” Karen shrugs, taking hold of the saw in both hands, the size comical to her body, “If the Queen’s still alive it might mean she perished in the conflict.”

She brings the saw teeth to Ishtar’s neck, the dull metal blades finding sparks against the hide of the Suitor. The wielder cares not pressing the tool down with just the slightest pressure, the blades finding cause through a weakened section of his throat. It's all that was needed to break the camel’s back, the blades severing the connection between his head and body.

There’s no splash like within the ARK, the No2 clotting the now exposed neck and head. She takes a step back, dropping the saw tool by her feet, and takes hold of Ishtar’s motionless hand. With a quick forceful tug she pulls it off the operating table letting it crumple onto the ground without cushion. Her attention is better focused on the decapitated head of the Suitor.

Karen takes his head by the hair, and disconnects it from the table. She holds it with both hands by her stomach, and walks out of the operating room, the tool going silent as its fuel reaches its end. She walks across the hallway entering a room labeled 202, the lights turning on automatically as she enters.

The room is pretty much identical to the other, missing only the table of tools and the discarded body of Ishtar. On the table lies a body with no head, slender like the one in the last room, but bearing none of the damage. She places his head by the neck port of the body, purposely leaving it detached from the bed connector.

“Peace will only be achieved through working together,” Karen brushes the hair of her decapitated patient, “A shame Cinderella didn’t share that belief,” she pats his head absently. “But the Nations believed.”

She smiles softly, planting a small kiss onto Ishtar’s forehead, connecting the cable as she comes up. The transfer of data between head and body will prevent any rejections down the line, the lynchpin of this frame being its modularity. The process is pretty quick, the still headless body twitching as more data is accepted by it.

Fingers start to tap against the patient bed, little metal bumps to indicate the growing life within. Karen watches with a hanging smile, hands behind her back to completely spectate the awakening. It's only when the barbed wire strands of the heart cage rising from the neck does her expression change. She watches patiently as they search his decapitated head for connection, tightening as the knot is confirmed.

“Yes that's it...,” Karen leans forward as the strands drag the body up to the head, “You want to live don’t you?”

The connection seals without a sound, the only indication of completion the subtle movement of the retreating strands bulging his neck skin. She knows that they’re meant to keep his extremities connected to his torso, this new body a design of her own making. The survivability of a Goddess with the ceaseless evolution of the Rapture.

The grey metal skin of the body darkens as dermal solar panels are calibrated to personal settings, matching the caramel-tone of the head. This final change is the last that requires Karen’s attention, the room for error closing as his body lets out its first exhale.

//Fortune Mk2 Integration Complete//

“—klava,” Barnabas finishes, eyes opened. It takes him a moment to read his surroundings, sitting up slowly, “My body feels different.”

“The Fortune Mk2,” Karen states placing her hands on the bed, “A direct upgrade brainstormed by Red Shoes. An agent of the VTC.”

“Ugh...,” he looks at her with narrowed eyes, a look of disappointment on his face, “You telling me a priest had a hand in this body?” His face tells of his displeasure, “I already feel violated.”

“Not a fan of the VTC?”

He throws his legs over the bed, “Who would be? Buncha hypocritical cow—!”

Barnabas jumps off the bed, only to immediately collapse onto the ground. Like Karen his legs aren’t fully calibrated yet, but unlike her fall, she didn’t throw herself with as much care as one tosses a grenade. He smashes his face against the ground and lies there in awkward silence.

“Not so funny, hmm?”

“No ma’am,” it comes muffled from his refusal to turn his head towards her. He looks up at her, after a long minute, “I can’t feel my legs past the knee...”

“They’ve been replaced,” she approaches until her feet are by his hair, “You’ll also notice that your forearms are gone as well. The biological parts are subpar when compared to powered ones.”

Feeling better in the arms than legs, Barnabas was able to lift himself into a cobra yoga pose with his new arms. New indeed as they are completely artificial from the elbow down, black rapture colored metal forming the skin that used to be his forearm. Where a soft dainty hand was, now sits a black gauntlet, the fingers crafted into segmented digits leading to clawed nails. The nails glow with a dull orange, an aura of elemental power felt even by the Suitor.

“Do you like them?” Karen tilts her head in genuine curiosity, “the file on you says you have a penchant for losing assigned assets. You won’t be able to lose these.”

Barnabas spreads his fingers out, scratching the ground as the claws drag outwards. It takes a mental self-hype to stagger his legs towards his stomach, pushing his body into a cow-pose, getting an instinctive snicker from Karen. A heavy exhale escapes him as he commits backward cartwheel, setting him standing straight.

He comes up red faced flush with embarrassment, “ITSNOTMYFAULT,” his mouth trembles with the unconvincing blurt. He looks at her directly, eyes glowing madly, “I kept telling them I’m not good with keeping track of things...”

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore,” Karen takes a step forward taking his hands in hers, “These are your new hands. They don’t come off.”

“Wouldn’t want too....,” his voice trails as he lifts his arms into the air, a sparkle of admiration in his eyes. The claws attract his attention the most, “These can put down Rapture’s right?”

“Absolutely,” Karen smiles confidently, placing a gentle hand on his waist, “The Mk2 is powered by an Iron element...” She looks up at him as his eyes widen in realization, “Which means that you’ll be able to burst, though it's just the opener.”

“ Must be what Snow did ...,” Barnabas thinks to himself. He examines himself briefly, only to look up at Karen with narrowed eyes, “Did you make my arse big—gyah!”

She squeezes his waist tightly before he can finish, “With the No2 eating your brain matter down to barely 5%, I had to look for other options to store data.” She looks at him scarlet wide, “Did you prefer to have the auxiliary data banks grafted onto your chest?”

“N-no,” he grabs his flat chest as if she were about to take a bite out of them. He looks back to his larger rear, “I already got enough shit for it before....”

“A fat ass should be the least of your worries,” Karen releases her hold on the Suitor, and takes a step back. “Give me a status report, Barnaby.”

He nods, closing his eyes.

//No2 levels: Equilibrium achieved//

//7 of 7 cores active//

//Babe Defense.....Status: Removed//

//Nanomachines fully stocked//

//Burst Charge: 0%//

//2nd Rad Dog Battalion...Status: Reinstated//

//Specialist Barnabas Wolfgang Bunts...Ready for Deployment//

//Cor Engine Heat: 0%//

//Audio Sensors awaiting Installation//

“All status is green,” he opens them, “Well ‘cept the audio sensors.” His tone bears a curiosity, orbs descending onto Karen.

“Ah yes...,” Karen trails in a low voice, “Your ears took significant damage sometime in the last fifty years.” Her brow is raised in genuine concern, “I have to replace them before I allow your redeployment.”

“I can hear you just fine, though?”

“Its because your systems are translating my lip movements,” Karen states mechanically. She moves towards Barnabas and puts a finger directly in front of his eyes, “If I gouged these out you would be deaf and blind.”

“I-I get it..,” he looks away, sufficiently put in his place. He hazards a glance towards her, “What kind of ears are we talkin?”

“I already have a pair picked out,” Karen smiles softly. She visibly examines his body before returning to his eyes. “I’m surprised you‘re not losing your mind over your current nudity.”

“My curre-,” he looks down, immediately catching his tongue as he makes eye-contact with his ‘joystick’. He covers it fast, accidently slapping the orbs below the stick, full force. Karen doesn't need to imagine his thoughts as his face contorts horribly, the pain sensors making their unfinished calibration known.

“Don’t worry Barnaby,” she pats his shoulder, “I’ve seen yours way too many times to be surprised by its presence.” His eyes go wide like dish plates, her smile not doing anything to comfort the uncomfortable words she just spoke, “If it makes you feel any better...I’ve kept to the measurements of when you were first converted.”

“ It doesn’t,” he wants to shout. “Thank you for the consideration, m-ma’am.”

Karen nods, “Good.” She steps towards the door, taking his hand as she passes, “Follow me, and we can finish your upgrades.”

Karen drags him back to room 203, leading him back to the patient bed before he can mutter a word. She lets go of him, a subtle grin enough to get him onto the platform. The connector cable connects without fuss, but he remains conscious, evidence found in his eyes tracking Karen.

She moves without care for his unbroken gaze, shuffling her way towards the cabinets that dot the right-side of the room. She opens one and takes out two large metal triangles with a spike on the base of each. She bends down and opens a lower cabinet taking a long cable from it, the end of it topped with a blunt bulb. She walks back to the table with a massive smile on her face, showing all her teeth to the lying Suitor.

“Audio sensors,” she lifts the triangles for Barnabas to see. “Gyroscope attachment,” she lifted the cable. She lingers over him casting her shadow over his torso.

“W-GAH!”

Karen jams the pointed spikes directly into Barnaba’s head, the blackened tips easily piercing the reinforced skull beneath. His eyes rolled and spasm as cables within secure the attachment forming a sturdy binding between the attachment and skull. The final act is to drill, the spikes turning slowly at the internal cable’s pace creating a perfectly fitted anchor for the new sensors.

She turns Barnabas on his stomach, and takes the cable high into the air, as his lower back is exposed. A mischievous smile flashes onto her face as she jams the spike connector directly into his tailbone. The pain seers for a second before disappearing, though the Suitor’s face tells of a thousand tortures.

“Should take a day or two for the nanomachines to repair the damage,” Karen flips 8-1 back onto his back, getting a groan from him. “You can calibrate the attachments on your own time,” she pats his stomach. “I’m going to get you some clothes to wear.”

“T-t-thank y-you...,” the words fell out of his mouth with his drool.

The audio sensors are extremely sensitive, and just her soft voice was like getting into a verbal spat with a cruise ship. He doesn’t hear her leave solely because he covers the implanted sensors with both hands.

For a metal looking attachment, the sensors are surprisingly soft and flexible. He bends them forward and backward, feeling the little synthetic muscle within, giving the impression that they could in theory stand “up” if demanded. He attempts to rub them between his fingers, but a yelp comes out of him the moment he rolls them once.

“ S-sensitive!”

8-1 removes his hands as if touching a lit stove. He sits up the sudden prick from his ears activating his body before his mind could catch up. He can feel the ‘tail’ behind him sway from his sudden burst of activity, only calming as he does. It sways slowly behind him, the bulb hanging off the table.

“Here’s your equipment, 8-1,” Karen re-enters with a bundle of clothes in her arms, “Should be what you’re used to.” She moves over to him placing the clothes where his back was.

“Are leotard’s in ..these days?”

“Yes,” Karen side-eyes him, a look of intimidation, but her lips tremble with the sliver of hesitation. “All Nikke’s want to be beautiful. Don’t you want to be beautiful 8-1?”

“The most beautiful flower is born in the barrens,” he puts a finger up as if reciting a quote or passage from heart. He looks down to Karen, “I joined all this to defend my country...does beauty help with that?”

“It does,” Karen puts hand on his bare thigh, finding no flinching in his body, “The Old World died because of hideous decisions and ugly corporations.” She places her other hand against his chest, looking deep into his eyes, “We must not let that ugliness destroy what little we have left.”

Barnabas surprisingly looks at her directly, “That’s all I needed to hear,” he turns to the clothing bundle. “I’m glad you’ve lengthened the skirt, my scans say it's my new heat dispersion system?”

“More cores mean you need less No2 to function, which means less opportunity to catch fire, but also means your storage is lowered.” Karen removes her hands, her persuasion successful, and leans against the bed. “What little you have should only be used for serious repairs and bursts, the dispersion system should ease the heat burden on the engine.”

“The Cor engine feels different,” Barnabas places a hand over his chest, “I’m guessing I’ll be relying on it more?”

“Without our Golden Goose, we can’t manufacture any more No2, which means we’ll run dry if we don’t adapt,” Karen folds her arms, “What we have must be used sparingly until we find another solution.”

“How’s my radiation shielding?” Barnabas throws his legs over the table, and hops off, landing on his feet this time. He looks down at his feet, only now taking in the mechanical limbs past his lower thigh. He examines them further then shoots up at Karen, “Why does everyone keep giving me HEELS!”

Karen turns her head, putting a hand between her face and shouting Suitor, “Calm yourself Barnaby...your legs and arms are modular now.” She points down to his calves, “I’ll make you a human set when you get Erasmus back. You’ll be able to wear whatever footwear you want then. Your radiation shielding is fine, enough to deal with our leakage issue.”

“O-oh...,” he hangs his head, his ears lowering as well, “Th-thank you, Karen.”

A permanent heeled foot is the least of his worries, though luckily it's not even at the four inch height. Though he can’t complain too much as it gives him an additional inch to his height. What is more worrisome is that his toes have been replaced by claws like a lion might have. They’re tips are colored the same as his fingers, though the dullness brings the assumption they can be activated at will.

“I was able to get one of the dummies online,” Karen talks as she walks towards the door, leaning against the wall next to it. “I’ve had it locate Erasmus’s last known location. It would seem someone or something has reactivated his systems.”

Barnabas looks at her fully finished making adjustments to his outfit, a rather simple thing cobbled together by the A-dolls. A black leotard protects his groin up to his neck, a HALFJAK over it adds further torso protection. The plate carrier protects his ribs, its front pockets holding three large flare-like shells, a blue ring around the base of each. A Kevlar kilt protects his legs up to his thighs, though it's heavier than it looks.

“Not bad,” Karen tilts her head, in small admiration, “Looks like the A-dolls aren’t completely useless after all.” She scratches her chin, “ Perhaps they deserve a little material investment? ”

“When can I head out?,” Barnabas asks, rolling his shoulders. “I want to find Erasmus.”

“So eager,” Karen smiles softly, “Very well...I’ll send you the coordinates when you hit the surface.” She leans off the wall, “A good test of our communications team. You can head up whenever Barnaby, I’ll know when you’ve left.”

“Understood.”, He shudders remembering that the girl before her is just an avatar for the base itself. She makes way for him to pass letting him leave first, “Make sure to stay safe ma’am...the A-dolls are nothing compared to the Raptures nowadays.”

“Oh I’ll be fine 8-1,” she pats the Suitor’s back, “Find your friend, and once you’ve reunited bring him back here.” She takes hold of his hand, subtly turning him towards her. She looks into his eyes deeply, but says nothing.

“Ma’am?”

“We’ll have some tea once you get back.”

“Sure!,” he gives her a big smile and a thumbs up. It fades after a second, his head falling downward as it hangs, “Ah but I have no sense of taste...”

“Thats not entirely true,” Karen murmurs getting the Suitor’s attention. He looks up just as she fishes out a rectangular bar, her hand going outward as she offers it to him, “Try this.”

Barnabas takes it cautiously, the company logo on the rectangle scratched from time’s march. Expiration is obvious, but it matters little to him, gently ripping the wrapper downward. Inside are two golden slabs, one of which he takes out desperately trying not to destroy its shape with his claws. He has to grab it like a pincer, lifting over his open mouth and dropping it without wasting a moment.

Karen watches with an expectant grin, happy to see his jaw muscles calibrating chewing the slab in a strange obtuse way. He still hasn’t adjusted to his new elongated canines, the tips of each bearing elemental coating. She watches him chew slowly, her brows rising as a smile forms on his face.

“Holy shit...,” he covers his mouth, the words falling out. “I-I-I can taste this...it's sweet.” He immediately grabs the other slab, stuffing it into his mouth, letting out a satisfied purr. “I almost forgot how good Twinkie’s are.”

“You’re welcome Barnaby,” Karen fishes another pack from her pocket, tossing it to the Suitor. For some reason he tries to catch it with his mouth, his attempt only earning him the pack to the face. “Keep your energy levels up...I’ll have more on your return.”

Barnabas gives her a salute, though its properness is lost with his cheeks full of twinkie. Karen responds with a two-fingered acknowledgment, letting it drop lazily as she leaves the room. The door closes behind her as the Suitor bends down to grab the tossed pack, putting it into his plate-carrier.

“Don’t worry buddy,” Ishtar thinks to himself, “I’ll be keeping our promise don’t you worry.”

---

Epilogue

clack clack clack

The girl’s heels announce her presence long before she appears in the doorwa y, quickly walking past the auto-door and towards her desk. The computer screen is already on, multiple tabs opened in a way that would be ineligible to the average viewer. For the CEO of Missilis, the leading manufacturer of the cutting edge innovations that continue to breathe life into the ARK, it's as organized as it gets.

Syuen takes a seat behind the desk, the monitor easily hiding her from anyone glancing into the office. It's that very fact why she hazards a peek from around the edges to see if any view her without her official consent. Thankfully for the staff’s ears not a soul stands there, a heavy exhale leaving her small body.

“ Why?,” she looks at the screen, an image of one of Ishtar’s organs displayed. Her face contorts trying to fathom the creation of the hive, “ The nanites died as soon as I started examining them..but why..? Unless...”

“ M-ma’am,” a small voice calls, but their pitch makes it seem as if they don’t wish to be acknowledged, “I-I have tha-”

“Who’s there!” The short CEO shouts rising from her chair with enough force to send it into the wall behind her punching a hole in it, “S**t!”

The girl who stands in the doorway looks about a breath away from dying. Black short hair frame the pale face below, their mouth opened in despair. She wears white shorts and a white orange accented jacket, a small hair pin rests in her mess of hair, the loose strands giving the girl an image of a hard, but messy, worker.

“Trony...,” Syuen closes her eyes slowly, “Knock.”

knock

Her brow furrows, “Not right..,” her shoulders slump. “Why are you here?” She retakes her seat seeing the pale Nikke looking at her with a sweaty brow.

“I have that report you wanted,” Trony approaches the CEO cautiously, her bare feet echoing off the bare walls. “Elegg and I were able to track down the manufacturer of those pieces you gave us.”

She places a folder on the desk, something the CEO takes instantly, opening it and examining the contents intensely. The sudden enthusiasm sends another attack to the poor Nikke’s heart, jumping at the instantaneous grab.

“DARPA?,” Syuen’s brow rises, flipping another page, “Must have been some mega-corp to own an entire island.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Trony adds, “We checked the ARK database, but there are no mentions of the island or the company...it's strange..”

“What is,” the CEO instantly grabs the rabbit.

“W-well..,” Trony eyes go to the empty space above Syuen’s head, “I did some research, outside the parameters you set, and found out they had their hands in a lot of things pre-War.”

“Such as..,” the CEO loses her hunter’s tone, as she flips through more pages, mostly logistical info on them. Whether she likes to admit or not DARPA had their hands in almost every market from missiles to convenience store candy. She stops on a picture taken from the sky, “What is-”

“Series: MG R.3X.”

Syuen looks up, “MG?”

Trony shrugs, “We couldn’t find anything related...” She looks downward at the paper, “..The Nations really tried everything to win.”

Syuen takes in the image, even from the camera’s distance the war machine easily outsizes most of what the ARK owns. A shudder goes down her spine as the picture’s date at the bottom was only a week ago.

“We need to send a salvage team before the other companies catch wind,” Syuen closes the folder, “You may go, Trony.”

The Nikke leaves post-haste, more eager to leave than the CEO would hope. Though the actions of a nervous Nikke were a far cry to the fire building in Syuen. She has to turn from the doorway in order to hide the eager smile forming over her face.

“So that’s why you were so eager to leave Ishtar,” she whispers to herself, her excitement mixing with anger, “You don’t want me to have all of you, huh?—Well too f**king bad scrap!”

She turns on her heels and marches to her desk, pressing a button near the monitor, “Sortie an MP squad for deployment. I have a mission.” She pauses for a moment.

“.... and make sure they’re from The Incubator,” she lets go of the button. “ We can’t afford another financial f**k-up after Chatterbox..”

END

Chapter 8: A Knight Out

0-1: A Crimson Sky

//WARNING: Catastrophic Damage Detected//

“Shut up.”

//WARNING: Thermal Shielding at 5% and dropping//

“Shut up.”

//Return to the combat, 2521//

“Fuck off,” the blue-eyed Suitor curses under his breath, his exhaustion audible, “Fucking HUD...”

He turns around to see a fading mushroom cloud in the distance, the HUD displaying //Within Fallout Range// underneath the warning of desertion. He groans with each step forward turning back towards the burned forest he trudges through. The smell of ash fills his nose, only made worse by the stench of burning oil and flesh.

“When did you think they were going to tell us the package was a thermo?,” he growls loudly letting out a gruff as what he drags grows heavier, “What am I saying? They were never going to warn us. All for humanity my ass...”

The bright blue eyes stop only to turn to meet the faded purples of the corpse he pulls forward by its dainty wrist. It's the only limb the body has left after the liquidation of the Outpost, the rest have been blown away the torn pants and arms of his BDU a testament to that. The flesh of their face barely holds on, the left side completely melted away to reveal the grayish metal marring with the bone white skull beneath.

“So much for that thermal shielding, eh Barny,” Erasmus adjusts his grip on his comrades wrist. He looks back around and continues forward without waiting for a response, “Don’t worry buddy. There’s a UFH outpost only two clicks from here. They’ll get you patched right up..”

He looks up at the blood red sky, the clouds slowly returning after being pushed back by the initial blast wave. His face is covered by a full-face helmet, his eyes the only light within the darkened covering, enough to take in the sight that caused such a vibrant sky.

Anachiro

//Allied Grimm Detected//

He hits the dirt instantly using the cover of a fallen tree to stay hidden. The black bark offers decent camo considering his normally flecktarn garb is blackened by nuclear fire. The 2600’s for all their upgrades, still suffered from inadequate heat shielding, something the corpse next to seems to have forgotten.

Though the girl hovering some meters above would never have known. Her scarlet eyes contrast her white outfit giving her the appearance of a possessed angel. He silently watches her slowly scan the area, her signature weapon poised to eliminate any semblance of movement. He had seen them in action at the base earlier, easily cutting down a Suitor led tank-group in a blink of the eye.

Minutes pass, but she makes no motion of leaving, something that Erasmus can’t afford to do. His body, while sturdy, required significant resources to remain combat effective, and being at ground-zero of a nuclear blast wasn’t aiding his situation. He looks around to see for the path out, but comes up empty, full-well knowing he’s a sprinter, not a marathon runner like Barny. It didn’t help that he still has to recover his comrades body, something she would definitely catch him on.

“ Slim pickings... ”

“Ugly things don’t deserve to exist...”

Erasmus barely reacts to her words, his eyes still searching for an escape route.

“Uurgh...”

His eyes go wide as Barnabas groans, his restart sequence forcing him conscious. The slender arm of his comrade starts to reach upwards, an instinctive need to adjust, taking over their rational mind.

“SHIT!” Erasmus pulls him as close as he can to his chest with one hand, while the other closes his mouth tightly. “Keep quiet,” he whispered into the specialist’s ear, “She’s here.”

“Ah..,” she starts to slowly hover to their position, “...that is where the ugly things lie...”

“ Fuck! ”

“T-toss....m-mee.”

Erasmus looks at his comrade to see their mouth moving slowly, only to repeat the words again. He takes a deep breath and gripping Barny’s shirt, tosses him into the open a bit away from his location. The severely injured soldier rolls in the dirt until finally landing on their back fully exposed. The 2nd lieutenant presses themselves against the dirt peeking through the cracks at what happens before him.

“How unsightly,” her voice trails as she hovers towards Barny, leaving Erasmus undiscovered, “You’re the one detonator...”

“P-piss o-o-ff.”

“Crass as well?” Anachiro mocks, lowering herself until she just nearly touches the ground, just hovering over the surface, “Your attempt to deny the Queen her material may have succeeded, but only in delaying the inevitable. Did you think ugly things such as you could match me?”

She lifts Barny by his collar with one hand while the other chokes his neck stifling any response he might have had. Her grip rips the already weakened skin, red and black spilling onto her white glove from auxiliary arteries.

“You are nothing. A blot on a spotless painting that the Queen paints,” she hovers upward getting closer to one of the still standing tree’s, “You betray the Goddess’s with your very existence,” the corner of her lips rises in anger, “Such a disgusting thing is proof of humanities fall from grace.”

“I know the next Outpost is close,” Anachiro stops her ascension at a sturdy branch, the thick limb is burnt, but remains strongly attached to the trunk. She holds Barnabas in front of her and slowly moves towards it, “Let your last sight be the beauty I display there.”

“T-trai-ughk!!”

The branch pierces his back before he can finish, an indifferent expression on Anachiro’s face as his face contorts. The burst of blood that erupts when it fully impales him gets her mouth to curl in a slight grin. The Suitor has no energy to scream, and without limbs to kick, he can only muster a stifled growl. Erasmus tries to shift so he can see better, only to hear 8-1’s noises cease.

splat

He looks to the sound, to find a bloody jawbone discarded next to him. Erasmus closes his eyes tight and digs his head into the dirt. He desperately kills his imagination trying to fill the gaps his eyes refuse to acknowledge. It doesn’t help much as without a jaw his battle-buddy can only manage a whimper to defy the sadistic traitor.

“ Fuck. fuck. Fuck !”

“No more words of resistance?” She mocks folding her arms under her large chest, her eyes examining the mangled face before her. His tongue flaps wildly trying to turn screams into sound. She grabs it between two fingers, squeezing it till it near bursts, “Silence suits you better.”

Erasmus dares to open his eyes, only to see the air she occupied empty, the corpse of 8-1 left impaled upon its branch. The blue-eyed Suitor peers from his cover checking the air for any semblance of disruption. Minutes pass slowly, but the large man refuses to leave his location, the sweat starting to drip down the side of his face.

Twenty minutes pass before 2521 rises from his cover, only standing enough to crouch walk forward. He approaches his impaled comrade stopping just underneath the branch, avoiding the dripping black liquid, and picks up multiple hand-sized rocks from the ground. He looks upward, his vision pinpointing the weak point in the wood, and singles out a rock between his fingers.

The first rock cracks the bark from the branch, exposing the weaker lighter sapwood underneath. The second pierces the branch completely through like a bullet, severing its connection to the greater trunk. The free-falling branch comes down with the corpse impaled on it, both landing with a crash on the ashy dirt next to Erasmus.

He looks down at it, the limp body showing no signs of life let alone movement. He doesn’t hesitate to lift the body upright, though his movements slow as he extends 8-1’s arm out. He grasps it with his own, his larger hand easily encapsulating the smaller hand of 8-1, gripping it somewhat tightly. The small responsive squeeze is enough to get a relieved exhale from Erasmus.

“Oh thank god,” he let his head drop, “That’s number two fifty.”

A flash of purple serves as both a response and a comforting spark. The larger Suitor immediately takes his comrade once more giving the near limbless boy a ride on their back. Their long gray hair melds nicely with their now bloodied face, covering the missing sockets beneath.

“Only a bit farther now...,” Erasmus says with a small confidence, “..don’t worry buddy..we’ll make it to the end of this thing. I promise.”

---

1-1: Keep them Safe

“ Sorry buddy” , Erasmus thinks to himself while taking a drag of a cigarette. His charge rises with the inhalation flashing for a moment before going still. He exhales the charge, losing a percentage, but keeping the five gained, “ I’m a liar...”

He looks down to his wrists to reveal manacles, the thick iron constraints forcing his wrists together. His eyes go to the distant horizon, the night hides the sea, but the waves crashing against the rocks reveal all he needs to know. He looks over the edge to see a significant drop, which ends in jagged rocks cutting off that route of escape. He lowers his cig from his face, the small figure next to him no longer hidden by his large arm.

“How long are you going to keep smoking,” the voice is light and childish, but bears a certain arrogance that makes Erasmus’s brow twitch, “It smells horrible, and I will not allow its scent to offend the king.”

“I don’t care what your damn king wants,” he growls at the figure, “I bow to no man nor king, and no graverobbing gremlin is going to change that.”

“Gremlin!,” the girl takes a step towards the significantly taller Suitor, the height difference almost laugh-inducing. Her green eyes glare up at his ice-blues, “I am a Knight of the Kingdom, and will be addressed as such!”

“Is that a joke?,” he takes another drag raising his brow with it, “Didn’t know they made Knights bite-sized.” He leans against the stone parapet exhaling a large cloud of electrified smoke at her face, “Where’s the rest of ya?”, he feigns looking around, “In a garage somewhere?”

“That’s rich coming from someone found in a dump,” the girl chimes with a patronizing tone. She has to wave the cloud to stop the cough boiling at her throat, “Do you know how much charge you drained from our generator’s just to get you to open your eyes?”

He lets out a small gruff, “You want me to thank you for waking me from a good dream,” he whispers, taking another drag. He exhales towards the sea this time, taking a breath, “You and your king ready to answer my questions?”

“Are you ready to become a citizen?”

“My answer still remains the same,” Erasmus turns fully to his small captor, “I won’t join until I find my squadmate.”

“And we won’t answer the questions of a non-citizen,” she states flatly, the words bearing the boredom of consistent repetition. “You’ve been here for two weeks and you still haven’t learned that?”

“Can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” he looks at her with a similar expression, cementing his place as an unmovable object. He takes one last glance towards the sea, before raising his shackled wrists to her, “You can take me back to my cell now.”

The girl turns away from the larger soldier, “I don’t know why she bothers with you, she mutters under her breath, but somewhat loud enough for Erasmus to hear. He rolls his eyes, a veteran at ignoring attempts to elucidate a reaction.

She leads him down the stairs to the ground level, crossing the courtyard of the faux-castle. The Suitor scans around the cold glow of his eyes like beacons in the deep black of the night, taking in the so-called Crown Kingdom .

Thick stone walls box in the duo as they reach the ground level, tall towers at each corner of construction. A second smaller wall lies within its gatehouse leading to what Erasmus assumes to be the main keep, the structure towering even over the defensive towers on the outer. He spotted the guns on top of one meaning there’s some defense, but even so, their size seems more meant for lower-tier AA defense.

“ Less a kingdom more a refugee post,” he thinks to himself scanning the defenses. He looks towards the gate to find it made of wood , “ fucking wood...,” he looks skyward, “ The White Queen would have a field day.. ”

“Impressed?”

She doesn’t turn around, but her tone is smug enough for Erasmus to assume what expression she wears.

“Impressed?,” he repeats incredulously. “Whats impressive is that you’ve survived this long in such a shit location,” he instantly feels a twinge with the curse, but it fades as he sees its results.

His rather weak attempt to rile her up worked marvelously, the girl turning on her heels with such anger that she nearly made Erasmus trip up. She looks up at him with an arrogant rage that can only be repaid in a singular way, which he knows full well after his time as a prisoner. He takes another drag from his cig before blowing the electrified smoke into her face letting the butt slip from his grip.

“Whoo-gah!”

She kicks him in the shin before he can attempt a fake apology, making the giant Suitor let out a gruff yelp. His pained expression satisfies the small Nikke, turning around as he bends at the hips. As soon as she turns his expression flattens and he stands straight, a soft smile directed at his warden.

“I can’t fathom what my king sees in you,” she walks ahead of him, but his extended gait easily closes what distance she attempts to make, “I doubt someone like you could benefit the kingdom in any way.”

He turns his attention to the inner keep, his vision rising until they meet the shadowy silhouette in the window of the inner manor. The shadow moves as they pass completely, his sight brought to the approaching doorway. The absence of other Nikke’s is clearly apparent as their boots are the only sound, save the ambiance of the night.

“Your king needs bodies,” his eyes are cold staring into the space above the girl’s head, “Any pioneer knows better than to claim a stake without the guns to defend it.”

“Pfft-as if we would need the likes of some...,” she glances over her shoulder, feigning inspection, “Old man”

The Suitor’s eye flinches slightly at the word, “Who’re you callin old man pip-squeak?”

She turns on her heel, and presses an elongated finger against his chest, “You-!You're so old that your MP designation is four numbers.”

“For the last time I’m not Mass-produced,” he responds with a growing annoyance. He points a finger to his chest, his expression visibly frustrated “I enlisted. I trained and met the requirements. I wasn’t just produced from the wishes of someone’s dying daughter. I’m a godamn Suitor.”

“Suitor?,” her voice takes on a different candance with the question. “What rank did you hold?”

The sudden pinpoint question catches Erasmus off-beat, “I was a 2nd lieutenant attached to the Rad Dog Battalion,” he answers with little hesitation.

She looks away from the Suitor. “Would that rank be enough,” she mutters to herself, but ends up speaking loud enough for her companion to hear.

He looks down at her directly, “Are you trying to open the Nation cache’s?,” his eyes squint at her with suspicion.

“It would explain why my king is treating you so well,” the girl talks aloud, but more directed to herself. She looks up at him, “Can you?”

The girl slightly recoils at his expression upon looking up. His mouth is flat, almost tightly sealed, but his eyes are vibrant and wide. The look fades after a moment, the glow of his eyes dimming slightly with it.

“Possibly,” he answers, turning his gaze to the manor window, “but that's akin to walking into a tomb.” He turns back to her, his expression visibly hesitant, “Some of these locations are better left forgotten.”

“Anything to keep the kingdom alive.”

“ Anything for Humanity”

His eyes close, knowing damn well a similar phrase spoken by his companion all those years ago. The only difference is that this companion is not nearly as annoyingly sturdy as his. She’s small, too damn small , to be fighting a war such as this. Even worse she bears no airs of a soldier, maybe closer to an army secretary than someone whose seen their brothers in arms ripped in two by Raptures.

“ The propaganda really got your ass to re-enlist,” he thinks to himself with a subtle eye-roll. He inhales deeply, “I suppose the supplies could shore up the patches here and there...”

“Then the risk is worth it.”

“My king!”

Erasmus turns slower than the girl can bend the knee, finding the acclaimed royalty standing an arm’s length away. She’s much taller than her royal advisor, but still leaves a head’s worth of distance before meeting the Suitor at even height. Nevertheless the airs around her are completely different compared to her shorter companion.

“I trust you’re treating our guest well, Chime,” her voice has a regal elegance to it, like a queen of a country long since dead. She turns her eyes to his, her ocean blues contrasting the frozen ice of his, ‘Have you considered our offer?’

“Sorry ma’am,” his words hold no hesitation, “but I swore an oath to the Nation’s, and that one doesn’t end till either discharge or death.”

‘There is nothing to apologize for,” the King states, a soft welcoming smile on her face, “I admire your loyalty.” She looks down to his manacles, “Chime. I do believe our guest is due to be released.”

“M-my King!” Chime stands with an ambitious expression on her face, “He has clearance to enter the locked zones.”

“Is this true?”

Erasmus side-eyes Chime, “...Yeah it's true,” he returns to the king, “Your advisor knows my opinion is that of stay away.”

“Is it truly that dangerous?” The King tilts her head at him, the ubiquitous blonde hair falling with it, her hand comes to cover her mouth slightly, “Does what lies within scare you?”

Chime can see the twitch at the corner of Erasmus’s mouth, a smug grin dominating her face. The look he gives her tells of a future get-back, but it goes as he brings himself back to the king.

“I ain’t scared of nothing,” his arms visibly flex at the sudden accusation, “but I know what waits in those forgotten stores.”

“Tell us then.”

His eyes go wide for a split-second, the King steps towards him almost making him flinch. She’s too close to the smells of a well-maintained appearance filling the disheveled Suitor’s nose. At this distance he can’t avoid the expectant gaze that begs a response from him. He lifts his neck slightly and lets out a sigh.

“A-dolls...,” he lets his shoulders relax with the word, “and at worst..shell-shocked Suitors.”

“I see why you're hesitant," the king’s voice comforts the Suitor, though he can’t explain why. She raises her hand back to her mouth, ‘Very well...-Chime we will have to find another avenue to meet our needs.”

“B-but my King!” The royal advisor can no longer hold her tongue, ‘The supplies within could solve the defense issues.’

“Chime...”

“Defense issues?” The Suitor’s neck snaps to Chime, “What do you mean defense issues?”

The King gives her advisor a look.

“It's true,” the King says once more, though her voice has a noticeable hesitation, “The Rapture’s have been sending probes recently.”

“Scouts,” Erasmus lets out, “That must mean they seek to overwhelm this location at some point..” His eyes lowered as if thinking to himself, "There's only the two of you here, and it doesn’t take a genius to realize most of these guns are meant for human warfare.”

‘You can see now why we requested your assistance," The King says, “If we can fortify this location well enough, then there can be at least one place on the surface reclaimed for humanity.”

‘ Fuck.’

Erasmus thinks to himself knowing damnwell that falls within joint-operation parameters. The bold words already start to form on his HUD, so agonizingly slow that its more torture than order. He can feel the route downloaded into his very being, his neck naturally turning in the direction of the closest safehouse. Biological fear and apprehension is forcibly eliminated and replaced by a growing instinctual, almost genetic, need to liberate.

‘Will you help us?’

He turns back to the expectant face of the King, that soft comly smile already on her face. She doesn’t know it, but just like his brother in arms, he couldn’t say no to a cute girl even if he wanted to.

“I’ll help,” he lets out after a moment to negotiate with himself, ‘But I want my freedom in return.”

‘You are barely in the-”

‘Done.’

‘What!? B-b-but my King!’

"Chime will have to accompany you,” she barely reacts to her advisor’s outburst, ‘Is that satisfactory?’

Erasmus looks down at Chime, who pays him no mind. Her current expression of worry and concern is reserved for her ruler, who feigns ignorance. The Suitor lets out a sigh of begrudging acceptance.

‘I’ll take the little one,’ he responds, ‘but I’m going to need my equipment back...and these cuffs removed if possible.’

‘Done and done,’ her eyelids lower, her lips curling into a satisfied grin, ‘anything else you require?’

He doesn’t hide the suspicious looks he gives her, but shrugs it away after a moment. The fact that she accepted his demands without much fight is better than being forced by his own systems.

“I can work within those parameters,” he looks over to Chime, “You got any misgivings, squirt?”

Her lip quivers with annoyance, “What the King commands is what is decreed.”

He looks back at the King, “That easy with this one, huh?”

She lets out a small chuckle, one that makes Erasmus’s heart skip a moment. The way she covers her mouth when she laughs, stirs something within the taller man. He shakes his head as she finishes, bringing the images of Anachiro back to the forefront.

“Please let me know when you depart, but I’m sure Chime will inform me once its been decided.”

“You are correct, your highness,” the attendant chimes, “You will be well informed off all that transpires on our return as well.”

“I look forward to it,” she turns those beautiful blues back to the contemplating Suitor, his mouth tightened in thought, “I want you both to return safely.”

“ Goddamn,” he wants to wince to keep himself from getting lost in the ocean, “If I’m going to work for you-,” he has to let out a cough to get his head together, “I should at least know your name.”

She swivels downward to Chime, the attendant already looking away, “Did Chime never inform you?,” there’s a slight tick of displeasure to her tone, “I apologize for our rudeness.”

“Your highn-”

“No Chime,” the King is firm in her tone, “We must conduct ourselves with decorum if we are to keep this Kingdom safe. Decorum must be shown to even strangers.”

“A-,” Chime’s response ends as it begins. Her face tightens in momentary anger, but releases with a contentment found only in the most disciplined of monks, “As you say your highness.”

The King turns to Erasmus fully, “I am Crown, the King over this Kingdom, and yes I am a Nikke.”

“As if the massive weapon by the stairs wasn’t a hint”, he internally rolls his eyes, with a small chuckle.

“Chime.”

“Yes, your highness,” Chime turns to Erasmus as well, “I am Chime, the Royal Aide to King Crown.”

Erasmus closes his legs and stands at attention, though his right arm is slower to rise, “2nd Lieutenant Erasmus Leofric of the Rad Dog Battalion, interim Commander for the Joint-Operation in the absence of human command,” he sighs as his hand hits his forehead, “TMP Nikke code 2521; Suitor number 25-21.”

//Sync Rejected//

“I know” , he lowers the salute before it warns him a second time, “A mouthful, but that's the price for never returning to base.”

“Certainly,” Chime eyes him as if he were a statue, “Your highness, I shall take Erasmus to his equipment. I’ll keep you informed of our plans.”

“Very good, Chime,” Crown glances towards Erasmus, “If you need me I shall be within.”

The Suitor nods to her eyes, a silent agreement between sovereigns , and turns his thoughts to the job at hand. With the King leaving he’s left alone with the rather fiery advisor, the girl nary hazarding a glance at the man rather keeping her full attention on Crown.

He lets out a cough grabbing her attention, “You heard the boss pip-sqeak- unbind me.”

With her boss gone Chime’s able to give Erasmus a proper look of disgust, but the taller man seems to enjoy it giving a toothy smile in return. She taps the center of the metal binder, and in an instant the heavy manacles fall freely from his wrists.

“Not so bad,” he rubs the indentations the manacles left on his wrist, “You really didn’t have to bind them so tightly.”

She gives a sly smile, “If they were any looser the King might have been in danger.” Chime turns away from him, “If you’re done with the small talk, we have a task to complete.”

“As you say herr commandant ,” he jokes, “Lead the way.”

She doesn’t entertain his sarcasm leading them towards the storage where they threw his gear upon recovering him. When they found him he was near termination, the rapture that was entwined with him had nearly pierced his brain. Luckily for the scavengers that battle had taken place years ago, and had only resumed due to Erasmus recovering a sliver of charge. It was enough to fight off the rusted half-destroyed lord, but not enough to keep him conscious for questioning.

“Thanks for recovering me.”

The suddenness makes Chime jump slightly, the girl deeply enraptured in her own thoughts. She stops for a moment in place before continuing on with a bit more pep to her step.

“Don’t worry about such minor things,” she says with little enthusiasm, though her nose is turned upward, “It's what the king decreed.”

Erasmus’s hand falls onto her head before her lack of tone stabs at him, “Well I appreciate it pips. Not many would waste their time on a rust bucket, let alone a Suitor.”

She takes longer to smack his hand away than anticipated, “Like I said it was the King's decree,” she lowers her sallet, “If you want to repay your debt to the Kingdom, then serve her highness well.”

He smiles, “I’ll strive to repay the debt pips,” he looks forward towards the storage, “I’m assuming you didn’t recover my weapon.”

“No,” she states with folded arms, “It was past the point of repair let alone recovery. A melted barrel and rusted internals are too expensive to replace for the Kingdom.”

“Not surprised,” Erasmus leans on the wall as Chime uses the entry console, “A single magazine is the price of a two-bedroom.” He can see her pause for a moment on the last subject, “A house with two-bedrooms and usually two bathrooms...perfect for a small family, or roommates.”

“Were those valuable?”

He shrugs, “If you have a small family yeah, but if its just a solorider...better luck—”

The door opens before he can finish the inside of the small storage unit revealed to the duo. The inside barely qualifies as a room, more a display case than anything, Erasmus struggling to enter with the smaller Nikke. He gives up the ghost after a moment and instead leans against the doorway.

“There wasn’t much to recover,” she places her hands on either side of her hips, “Most of the contents in your pockets were expired or beyond use.” She lets out a sigh folding her arms over her stomach, her gaze falling on the branded boxes on a table within, “Why so many of....those?”

Erasmus reaches over the girl and grabs a box, “Its my favorite brand, and standard-issued to all 2500s,” he flips it and taps the top against his palm, “Good for dealing with battlefield stress.”

She watches him intently as he opens the pack and takes out a familiar white cylinder, the butt colored a deep blue. He sticks the but in his mouth letting it hang loosely from his lips. He’s so distracted by the motions he doesn’t notice her attention until after he puts it in his mouth.

He offers the open top to her, “Want one?”

She shakes her head, putting a hand out, “No thanks. I prefer to not smell like burning trash.”

“Suit yourself,” he lifts the top higher to show it lined with single matches bound together, the striker underneath.

She watches him remove a single match and strike it against the top, inadvertently igniting the rest of them. The top of the box immediately ignites in bright orange, only to be ripped off in a single motion by the Suitor. He tosses the burning top onto the ground and stomps it out with his boot.

“Is that supposed to happen?” She asks dumbfounded.

“Nation manufacturing at its best,” he lets out a grim chuckle, taking a long drag of the lit cig, “Least it works eh?” He tosses the spent match next to the burnt boxtop, turning his attention to the storage, “Seems these were about all you were able to recover.” He tucks the lid-less pack into his shirt pocket.

“Then I’m sure this cache will benefit you as well,” Chime turns to the console and taps away at it, the shutters of the storage lowering as she moves away, “You’ll be able to get your equipment, and we’ll get the supplies needed to strengthen our Kingdom.”

“Everybody wins..,” Erasmus lets out a gruff, “Very optimistic.” He takes another drag letting it out slowly, “You got directions?”

Her eyes glow slightly, not nearly as bright as either 21 or 81, but glow nonetheless. He watches her consult her own databases with lazy eyes, the half-mooned ice within still in their gaze.

She turns to him after a moment, “I have our destination—follow me.”

Chime turns before he can respond, already heading towards the gatehouse. Her confident step tells that she neither wants to hear opposition nor complaint, something the Suitor admires. He shakes his head and takes the final drag from his cig, kissing the white against the blue, and tosses it onto the ground. He follows after her, oblivious to the King in the window watching her Knights sally to their decree.

---

1-2: High Toss

“Damn I’m out.”

Chime turns to her companion, and looks at the tall Suitor staring down at an empty box. The body displays a green creature of sorts, while the top of the container bears the damage of a purposeful rip. She lets out a sigh as what looked to be a good amount of cigs, destroyed in less than three hours.

She pinches her nose as the smell wafts towards her with the breeze, “How can you stand the smell?”

He shrugs, “Got used to it I guess,” he pulls out another pack from his vest, “Want one?”

She shakes her head, “Of course not,” she sounds almost insulted by the idea, “What if her highness were to smell me? I don’t want to smell like a dumpster.”

“Suit yourself,” he sticks another in his mouth, tucking the rest away, while taking out a match, “How much longer?”

He strikes the match against a ruined wall, lighting it without the destruction of the box. The early birds sing as he lights up, letting his head go back to see the geese above hunting for a nice lake. The girl doesn’t seem to engage in his moment of peace, the stones shifting under her feet indicating her movement.

“Should be little less than an hour,” she climbs down the mound of debris she used as a vantage, “I’m surprised an old model like you can keep up.”

“There’s no age limit on magical girls,” he responds with dead seriousness, letting out a puff before tossing the match, “I can still put down a Rapture as good as any of you Nikke’s.”

“Pfft—I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“You might just get your chance—I’m detecting a hostile patrol heading our direction.”

Chime stops and scans the road in front of them. A highway as Erasmus called it, some word from before the war, but for her it just looks like a killbox. If not for the ruined cars on either side there would be no cover save a singular barrier separating the lanes evenly on both sides. A patrol would easily spot them, especially one coming from ahead, which lacks any cover whatsoever. Though the aforementioned group is still out of sight.

“I’m guessing you're not designed for combat, pips,” Erasmus says with little enthusiasm, "What's the play?”

“Hide and hope they don’t discover us,” she returns with the same tone, “The car’s here should suffice.”

She talks as she enters a ruined four-door, taking a position in the backseat in the foot area. She fits extremely well into the small space, that makes even Erasmus wonder if he would spot her if he was part of the patrol. Though she’s completely hidden, the larger wider Suitor sticks out like an ink blot on a sheet of printer paper.

He looks around for a moment, only to stop directly on an empty can on the driver’s seat approaching it as he sees it. Chime looks on curiously from her place, the Suitor’s silent actions drawing more of her attention as he examines the container. He glances slightly at Chime before turning his back to her and lowering the held can just a bit below his hips.

“ What is he—”

zzziiiipppp

The sound that comes after is akin to a pressure hose at full blast. She almost fears for the can as the power hose slams loudly into the bottom of it. The pressure keeps up for an agonizing few seconds, Chime frozen in place by the sheer noise coming from him.

ziiiippp

Erasmus lets out a sigh after the second zip, turning towards Chime, visibly dripping can in hand. She looks at him in fearful awe, contrasting the rather satisfied if not content face of the Suitor.

“I’m only detecting two,” Erasmus places the can on the top of the car, “Should be a quick fight if we keep our heads together.”

“You want to fight them,” she ventures out of her hiding place and joins him outside the vehicle, “I doubt that can will function as a weapon.”

“Don’t worry about weapons,” Erasmus looks for another container, “Just worry about that throwing arm.”

“Throwing arm?” She tilts her head in confusion, only coming to the realization as her eyes drift to the filled can, “You don’t mean—”

“Suitor waste breaks down metal plates fine enough. A 2500’s is especially deadly,” he interrupts her revelation, “Only problem is that I only got enough juice for another, so make it count.”

“Whoever recruited you is insane.”

“Hah,” the laugh is involuntary, “If you think that’s crazy you haven’t met my squadmate.“ He grabs a bent can from the dashboard of the car, “That guy really takes the cake..,” his voice trails with his attention.

Chime looks at him in horror as he turns his back to her a second time and fills the bent container in a matter of seconds. Her widened eyes can’t decide whether to look at his back, or the steam emanating from the can on the top. Her eyes wander to her assigned weapon, the contents intimidating her.

“You look like you got a mean arm,” Erasmus’s zipper breaks her thoughts, “The containers are shit, so make sure not to get any on you.”

“W-we just throw it at them?”

“Hasn’t backfired once,” He turns to her fully, a deadpan expression on his face, “The manuel they gave us also said the same if that helps any.”

He hands her the can he holds, the liquid inside still steaming like a freshly cooked meal. The liquid inside is a light yellow, bearing the slightest hue of red, and sloshes off the sides slowly. The smell is as off-putting as the colour, the Nikke instantly pinching her nose as its thrust in front of her.

“UGH!—The smell!”

“I know you fed me sea-water,” His eyes narrowed, “If it was at least somewhat filtered it wouldn’t smell like that.” He wiggles the can slightly beckoning her to take it, “The patrol is getting closer.”

She lets out a growl, but takes the can, “This is completely shameful..”

“Dogs can’t afford no shame,” He pats her shoulder roughly, “Now go hide again..I’ll give you the signal to throw.”

“What about-”

He chops his arm through the road barrier, splitting it in half as if it were a slice of butter before she can finish. He clears away the damaged rocks making enough space so that he can sit, and covers behind it. Though most of his body is exposed, his center is at least somewhat hidden from sight.

Chime looks at his poor attempt at camouflage, letting out a snort, at the large man trying to hide behind the equivalent of a table leg. He shoots her a disgruntled look, only snapping his neck forward as a disturbance is heard up ahead.

His sensors didn’t lie, two medium sized Rapture’s entered view as they approach the no-man’s land. They both stand easily two meters tall bearing guns on either side of their flat bodies. Half-covered red dots serve as their eyes, scanning the combat environment for any signs of disturbance.

“Two Servant-class.”

Erasmus turns to Chime to find her words accompanying the glow of her eyes, though her transmission’s quality is lost on his outdated systems. He internally groans as her voice data is translated then responded through a flat text-to-speech voice.

He looks at the Rapture’s himself, their size within assault parameters, his HUD flashing theorized weak points in their hull. The projectile simulator scratches at his eye as it attempts to calculate the required distance for throwing, settling on blasting Out of Range directly into his left eardrum.

He instinctively closes the affected side with a hand, “We’re going on the offense,” his words are audible rather than in-network, “Stay behind me and we’ll make it through.”

“What does that mean?” Chime asks, peeking out of her hiding spot only to see the enemy duo crossing into the pile-up a bit ahead of them, “We’re going to attack them head-on?”

“C’mon, Chime!”

Erasmus stands straight up, Chime’s gasp of surprise drowned out by the alerted Raptures. They instantly turn to the ink blot, their guns already heating up for combat, her eyes picking up the rotary barrels starting to turn. For a moment she thinks herself safe from their ire, their attention completely on her companion.

“Ranger’s lead the way!”

A hand takes hold of her lifting her from her safe place, and places her next to her loud Suitor, his bravado stunning her in place. Thankfully she holds the can firmly, the contents kept within their bent space. The Rapture’s approach holds her attention grabbed by their sprint into firing range causing her to step back slightly. The hand behind her stops her foot before it comes down completely.

“On me Knight. ”

Erasmus holds one arm over his face while the can holding one goes behind his back, an attempt to protect it from what comes next. Chime barely understands the strategy, but as the Rapture enters range, it becomes the lesser issue. The tell-tale sound of the barrels reaching max spin has her lunge for the ground, only to be caught mid-air by the Suitor.

The contents spill onto the asphalt, as his can hits the ground, its effectiveness wasted on the asphalt, “Godammit!” He lets out tossing Chime backwards, “I said stay her—”

The salvo of machine-gun fire cuts him off, the flurry of bullets smashing into him like floodwaters. With both arms free he uses them to protect his face and chest, leaving the rest of his body exposed. The twin miniguns of the Rapture’s pelt his body slamming dents into it his fleshy epidermis.

“Erasmus!” She yells out as the intensity drops him to his knees.

“Thro-gah,” his attempt to speak is thwarted by a round piercing the hide underneath his skin. It finds purchase in an ill-maintained carapace, piercing his left lung and exiting out his back. He grabs the wounded area instinctively stopping the black slurry from escaping.

Chime watches him stumble slightly from the wound, inadvertently granting line of sight to the hostiles in front. Too paralyzed by the rapidly occurring events, she is slow to react to the target-lock, the Rapture making the most minimal of movements to change its attention.

“Throw it!” The suitor yells bursting to his feet, “Hull down to 85%!”

An order like that is hard to ignore, Chime gritting her teeth as the shame of being ordered by an outsider burrows into her core. She lets out a shameless adrenaline-filled growl and tosses the can like a baseball, hitting the Rapture on the left of the barrier directly in the visor.

The yellow contents splash onto its victim with little pizzazz, the foul-smelling liquid coating the grey hull in an ugly coat. The aesthetic insult doesn’t last greater than a minute, the metal melting as it starts to steam. The Rapture groans and moans in what can assumed to be pain, as its face melts off like cooling lava. The effect continues the molten metal cooling as it hits the concrete pinning the Rapture in place to die a slow stationary molten death.

“Good throw,” Erasmus grunts through the salvo of the last Rapture, “Now find some cover!”

Chime doesn’t question the order, diving onto the side of the barrier the Rapture died on. Its ally attempts to transfer the suppressive fire to her, but Erasmus’s advance is too dangerous to ignore. It continues to pelt the Suitor with machine-gun fire, but finds it does nothing to slow the man’s forward march.

He closes the distance slowly letting them use all their ammo to try to take him down. It's only when the sound of an empty chamber does Erasmus finally bend his knees in offense.

The Suitor moves faster than Chime would have thought, getting in arm’s reach before the Rapture can reload. It attempts to kick him away with a single leg, only to have it grabbed by Erasmus. Using nothing but the strength granted by the Nation’s he breaks the leg upward using his shoulder.

Her eyes widen as he goes underneath the Rapture completely, only to forward tackle the broken leg’s twin. The tackle is strong enough to unbalance the robot further, the goal only becoming clear to the watching girl as her mouth unconsciously opens in surprise.

“RRAAAAAHHHHH!!!!”

Muscles built from the forge of war, enhanced by the artificial tendons of the Nation’s grant the Suitor the strength to lift the Rapture off the ground. Chime’s eyes are like saucers as he lifts the two-meter tall robot into the air, only to slam it face first into the ground. The Rapture screams as it's forced onto his head, its two good legs dancing in the air like an overturned bug.

ziiipppp

“Wait—”

psshshhhh

A hot stream of liquid sprays onto the struggling Rapture, making it scream louder as its hull is melted. Only when the core is touched does it finally fall silent, melting into a rainbow hued puddle.

“Is that really necessary?”

ziippp

“You know Rapture’s aren’t eliminated until their cores are destroyed.” He lets out his tone telling of the diminishing adrenaline. He turns sideways to her, the glow of his eyes fading, “If I had a weapon it would've been cleaner.” He dusts his hands off and approaches her.

Chime stands from her cover and meets him half-way, only to have her eyes immediately go to his leaking wound, “You’re hit.”

Erasmus places a hand over the ripped hole, only to retract the black glove to finger it stained a dark red, “So I am..,” he glances at her, “Worried about me?”

“Hmph!” She walks past him, making sure to bump him as she passes, “We don’t have any medical supplies so don’t slow us down.”

“As you say ma’am,” there’s a slight sarcasm to his response, but it's as minimal as the wound.

While not the best sensation, the ticks started their work as soon as combat ceased. Even now they work overtime clipping the ripped flesh of his lungs back together, while bolstering the efficiany of the remaining healthy one. The pain of feeling every clip is better than losing your sense of taste, a sensation deemed non-essential for his old squad-mate.

“You coming?” Chime turns around, clearing some feet without her companion.

Erasmus blinks himself out of his thoughts, and turns to the small girl, “Yeah on the way.”

---

1-3: Intruder

The rest of the journey is quite uneventful thanks to Chime’s leadership, something Erasmus grows to admire. Her avoidance of patrols and rather intuitive sense of sneaking lends rather well to the unarmed companions. Though it's tempered with a growing sense of apprehension as they approach their destination.

Her thoughts linger on the safehouse, and what lies within. The safehouses were plentiful if you know where to look, and what frequency to use, the beacons running on what she assumes to be a massive powersource. A powersource that large could in theory power the Kingdom for a long time, if not at least power the outer defenses.

Her eyes barely take in where they go, so deep in contemplation that she doesn’t watch her footing. A slippery rock ends her thoughts abruptly, taking all the grip of her shoes and sending it to another universe. She falls forward fast, closing her eyes before the rocks can meet them. A rough yank reopens them, and before she knows it her feet are off the ground.

“Watch your step,” the Suitor says as she turns to meet his face directly. He picked her up completely by the scruff of her vest, and held her face level, “The rocks are slippery.”

“P-put me down!,” her eyes are like angry cat-slits.

He lowers her as requested resting her on a stable portion of rock. Her mouth opens, ready to stab with the dagger it holds, but stops upon seeing Erasmus’s face.

He looks at her softly, a warm smile upon his face, and only now, in the dark subway of the old-world, does his age really show. Dark-bags line his ice-cold eyes softening the eagle-like glare he most likely had in his youth. Black stubble grows from his chin, peppered with white growths every so often, a trait shared by his hair.

“Something the matter?”

“No..,” she lets the word linger for a moment. She turns forward, and continues again, “It's nothing.”

The door to the safehouse comes into view within a few minutes, its grey-metal blast-door closed to their advance. If Erasmus is to be believed this subway was occupied by invasion forces, and operated as a supply point for any operations.

“It was a stupid idea,” Erasmus lets out standing in front of the door, “One way in no way out, a good place as any to be buried and forgotten.”

“Do you have clearance?”

He lets out a delaying sigh, “Yeah let me check, but don’t hold your breath.”

He approaches the door and places his palm against it, taking a deep breath before bowing his head.

“Bowie.”

Rusted mechanical locks screech open, Chime covering her ears as the sound bounces off the walls. Erasmus moves to the side matching the door his eyes haven’t left the slowly revealing hallway. The locks fasten into place with another groan signaling their allowed entry. The hallway lights up directing them to a directory at the end.

“There’s a staircase on either side,” he says, eyes glowing, “We’ll have to take them to get to the lower levels.”

“Lead the way.”

Erasmus turns his neck to her, a somewhat surprised look on his face. She looks away from him, her eyes like cat-slits, and her mouth in embarrassment. He gives her a strong thumbs up.

“Stay close,” he extends his arm out forming a fist for her to see, and faces forward, “lets move out.” He points forward with two fingers out.

Chime looks at his motions with a curious expression, but shrugs it away, figuring it another strange Suitor thing. She does as asked, stepping close behind the taller man, and staying within arms reach. Though his tight movements make it difficult, as he reacts to every sound, her feet almost catching his heel a few times.

The doors closing behind them make him due a full 180, turning onto the girl beneath him. He nearly knocks her over with how fast he spins, almost catching her chin with his balled fist. Though not much in combat her agility is good enough to dodge from the blow and get a good distance between the two.

“Hey what's the big...!”

Chime freezes in place as blue and red eyes look glare directly at her. Like watching two dyes mix together the sides fight in his retina for dominance. If not enough his lips tremble open the sound of grinding coming from his mouth.

“T-There’s....a-hrgh-Sui-Suito-h-hee-hh”, he can barely get out the words his teeth refusing to part for his tongue, “h-h-hac—k”

“Eh!”, Chime yelps, “Hacked! What am I supposed to do about that!”

“c—g...c,” the Suitor’s arm spasms trying to raise itself to his chest pocket, “c-c-ig-gu-g-g”

“Cig?,” she looks at Erasmus dumbfounded, “You need a cig to stop the hack?”

He whips the pack from his pocket inadvertently nailing her directly in the face with it. She recoils from the hit dramatically, the chance to brace never coming, and is forced to cover her forehead from the pain. Both groan as the pain of the encounter affects them both.

Luckily the royal attendant has earned her name for situations exactly like this, and recovers quickly. She rushes the fallen pack committing to a combat roll grabbing it, getting both the cig and match as she rolls upright. With both requite items in hand she only has one thing left to do.

Chime runs back to the closed entrance, then sprints forward towards Erasmus. As she gets closer she uses the wall as a jump pad, and delivers a punch straight across the Suitor’s jaw. With the speed and momentum she built even a Nikke as small as her could break the jaw of the ancient soldier. Whether of surprise or success his mouth opens though bloodier than hoped.

“Gahda-OOOOFFF”

Chime stomps on his stomach before he can finish, the man letting out a sound akin to a deflated squeaky toy. She doesn’t stop there much to his chagrin, delivering a knee directly to his ribs as she bends over and sticks the cig in his mouth. She strikes the match against the wall next to them, getting Erasmus in the nose with her elbow as she does.

“Better?”

Erasmus looks down at her, his eyes no longer showing signs of red, the electrified smoke putting an end to the intrusion. His nose runs red, but all things considered it's a small wound to what a full hack could have done, something he knows full well. He looks at the girl still resting her knees in his ribs with a lazy expression taking a hands-free drag of his freshly lit cig. He lets it out slowly, directing it with his lips so that it doesn’t get in her face.

“Better....Now get off me.”

The frazzled girl takes a moment to process his words, her own combat mode still taking time to wane down. Her breathing is heavy as the encounter’s energies finally dissipate, but her somewhat fearful expression weighs on the Suitor.

“You said there’s another Suitor here,” she looks directly at him, “What are our chances of fighting them.”

“It's almost guaranteed,” he lifts his neck slightly, “Not to mention from the looks of it the A-dolls are awake as well.”

“A-dolls?”

Erasmus sits up completely, knocking Chime onto her back, “The Nation’s answer to our dwindling numbers,” he lets out a half-hearted snicker, “discount Nikke’s more like.”

He stands up completely and dusts himself off. Chime does the same, taking the moment to scan his body. Her eyes glow slightly, pricking the attention of the Suitor. He doesn’t say a word, only turning his head as silent consent.

“Looks like you haven’t suffered any serious injuries.”

“Built tougher than that,” he tosses the spent cig against the wall, the embers sputtering as they hit the ground, “Lets get moving; sooner we’re gone the better.”

He moves before she can respond prompting her to follow without further conversation. They enter the left staircase, the metal door easily ripped off by the Suitor and tossed to the side. A stone landing greets them before leading to a railing that serves to protect a passerby from falling into the abyss. Chime pops her head over to see below, only to find stairs that lead deeper than even her artificial eyes can see.

“How deep does this go?”

“Depends on its purpose,” he responds matter of factly, already taking the first steps down, “If this was a supply base it could be a few different things.”

“Like?”

Erasmus stays silent to the question, to the point she believes it was a deeper question than thought. He turns slightly towards her if only to continue following the stairs.

“Alcohol, sometimes..,” he says with a subtle longing, “I doubt we’ll be so lucky here.”

A disappointed groan escapes her, “Alcohol? Seriously?” She shakes her head back and forth, “I can see why the Nations lost.”

He doesn’t respond to her words, the conversation dying right then and there. A good portion of an hour passes in silence as they continue into the depths of the ancient safehouse. There’s an awkward air that grows over the duo that even the Nikke can’t ignore.

However it's the least of her worries compared to their surroundings. The Suitors said nothing, but it's obvious there was a serious battle here. She’s already felt multiple casings underneath her feet, having to take extra caution not to slide on them. The darkness doesn’t help the scene either, her vision only granting some brightness, though three feet is better than stumbling in the black.

The darkness seems to cling to them as they go deeper, as if the very base were luring them in. It's a thickness that as they pass an hour, starts to grow too dense for Chime to see through. She starts to close the distance between her and Erasmus, the safety of vision becoming as useless as the Suitor’s check-ups.

“You good?”

“I’m fine.”

“Good.”

Silence once more, but thankfully it doesn’t keep, the end of the journey finally present in the form of a blast door easily doubles Erasmus’s height. He approaches it without hesitation and presses a palm against its face.

“Armstrong.”

The doors open silently, the locks still in relatively pristine condition even after the end of the war. However even with the locks in workable condition the weight of the door means it still takes time to open. The Suitor lets out a sigh as he watches the doors slowly slide open.

Erasmus turns fully to Chime, who stands directly behind him, “Welcome to Alpha base,” he says with little enthusiasm, “We’re going to keep comms minimal from here on out.”

Chime nods in quiet affirmation. The Suitor looks at her with slightly narrowed eyes unsure of the genuineness of her acceptance. The girl barely notices her eyes widening as red beads past the door meet her gaze. Even in the darkness she can see the form of a long object coming from the eyes.

“Ennemi repéré!”

“Shit!”

Erasmus turns on his heels catching two rounds of a kinetic rifle, the bullets pounding against his body. They rip through his gear, but bounce off the skin beneath, not nearly enough to penetrate his hide. Though it's still a blunt object coming at a relatively human body at over two thousand miles an hour, pushing the Suitor backward slightly.

“Intrus dans la base!” The red eyes shout, as if calling for reinforcements, “Contact ennemi, préparez-vous à vous engager.”

Without a weapon Chime hits the deck, sliding into the small cover afforded by the doorway. Erasmus on the other hand rushes towards the red eyes five more shots hitting him in the center of his chest. She watches the Suitor tackle the shooter wrestling them on the ground for their weapon.

Seeing the attacker occupied, Chime runs towards the entwined fighters, rushing past Erasmus so she might deliver a stomp to the assailants head. Her eyes go wide as the figure’s scarlet eyes turn to her, their mouth gritted in combat.

A blonde haired woman struggles against Erasmus, her weapon caught between the two of them. The bigger man presses the weight of it down her chest, while she pushes up trying not to be crushed underneath. From Chime’s view it's a battle that Erasmus is sure to win, but even so the odds are better rigged than not.

Chime delivers a heavy stomp to the blonde woman's face feeling the broken nose through her shoe. Her foot rises only to come back down with even more force, cracking the metal skull underneath. The blow weakens the doll for a second, enough for Erasmus to rip the rifle from between them, tossing it against the nearby wall. The dolls attention instantly goes to their discarded rifle reaching an arm out towards it.

“Non!”

The blonde punches Erasmus across his already damaged jaw, knocking him off her. She flips onto her stomach and attempts to crawl towards the gun, only to be dragged back by the Suitor. Her white boot meets his hand smashing it with her heel before getting him in the face with the other foot.

“Fucking baguette!”

Chime watches Erasmus recoil from the kick, freeing the held doll to rush her weapon. Thinking on her feet the Nikke dives for the rifle grabbing hold of it by the stock, and pulls it close, just now finding the knife attached to its underbarrel. The blonde doesn’t care for her discovery, already turning her murderous eyes towards still recovering Nikke.

//ID LOCK ENABLED//

“AAahh!,” Chime collapses to her knees. The message plasters itself against her sight, but the real pain comes from the feeling of a thousand glass shards entering her eyes, “My eyes!” She tries to throw the rifle away, but finds her hand glued to the grip.

“Guh!” The blonde lets out as she’s tackled into the wall.

Erasmus gets to his feet as her attention is diverted by the yelping Chime charging into her headlong. He presses one arm against the back of her neck pinning her to the wall.

“Je peux encore me battre—uung!”

He delivers a quick punch to her side, the force behind the strike ripping open a hole in her red overcoat, coming out with blue fabric from the dress underneath. His knuckles are wetter than they went in, fluid escaping the newly created hole.

“Go down!”

His fist goes even deeper now that her hull gave in, easily reaching into her chest cavity. It's a simple grab and twist to rip out her core through her side, the beating mechanical organ dripping in his hand. He keeps her pressed against the wall until her legs give out, letting her slide down the wall, a coolant streak painting the wall where she was pressed.

Erasmus’s neck snaps to Chime, his knees already bending to her level, “Put the gun down. The ID lock is still active.”

She throws the rifle to the ground with all her might, barely hearing it hit the floor, the pain in her vision making tears form. Surprisingly as the weapon leaves her grip the pain starts to fade, ceasing as the rifle clatters its last before settling silently.

“Hey,” he waves a hand in front of her face, “Sights back?”

“W-what was that?”

He looks at her with a concerned expression, “ID lock,” he brushes her bangs back to better look into her eyes, “Looks like there isn’t any lingering damage...”

She has to blink a few times for the message to completely disappear and the closeness of Erasmus to register. Though not leaning forward by much his face is inches from hers, his glowing glaciers checking her for any semblance of abnormality.

“H-hey..”

“Try not to pick up any guns we find here, especially off A-dolls,” he gets up taking the rifle in a hand as he stands, “Unlike you, I’m meant to use these.”

“You could’ve mentioned that before,” she grumbles at him rubbing her head. Her eyes fall to the corpse, an uneasy expression growing on her face.

Erasmus points down at the corpse, as if reading her thoughts “They weren’t people.” There’s no malice in his words, more duty than naught, “Built for a war we couldn’t finish. Don’t waste time thinking of what could’ve been.” His eyes don’t stray from hers, “I’ve done enough of that for either of us.”

Her eyes still don’t leave the body, getting an annoyed gruff out of the Suitor, but he says nothing further. He checks the rifle briefly ejecting the mag to check its count, then holds it in both arms. Though his companions dour mood irks him something fierce.

“Best pack it in now,” he sighs, taking out a pack of Gator’s from his pocket, “I’d suggest taking one.”

Chime looks at offered cigs and makes a bleh face, getting a slight chuckle from the Suitor. He places them back into his pocket, and looks at the girl to find her spirits somewhat lifted. She can feel the weight of thought somewhat lifted as well, though the sudden knife thrusted into her face makes her reconsider.

“Take this, and keep it sheathed,” Erasmus wiggles the gun’s detached bayonet in front of her, “Its better to have protection than none at all.”

She takes the knife, “How many more of them will we face,” her voice is low.

“Depending on the size could be ten to a hundred,” he lets out a heavy sigh, “but seeing as there’s no level markers, we might get lucky with six to eight.”

Her eyes drift to the corpse for a moment, taking in the empty eyes of the blonde. The Suitor’s words burrow deeply into her systems cementing the truth of it within herself. It's not a good feeling, and as her stare lingers it only weighs her down further. The heavy hand of Erasmus knocks her from her trance, finding a place on her shoulder.

“Lets sync while we have the time,” he says without looking at her, “Better to be a squad than not.”

Chime looks at him with a tilted head, “Sync?” She watches as he steps in front of her, before turning on his heel and facing her completely, “What are you doing?”

“Syncing,” he says matter of factly, placing the rifle on its butt by his feet.

His body straightens out, his arms and legs coming in tightly, and with right hand raised he performs a military salute. For a moment Chime looks at him like a madman, but the next her sight is obstructed by a slew of data. It runs down faster than she can understand it, a simple prompt appearing as it finishes its translation.

//Incomplete Sync//

“You have to do something,” Erasmus says through the error message as it appears on his HUD as well, “Do you have a pose you like doing or something?”

“A pose?”

He lets out a heavy sigh, “Just do what I’m doing.”

She looks at him for a moment, but upon seeing his exasperated face acquiesces. In a moment thousands of images fly past her vision like a rapid fire slideshow. She can barely fathom the lines of data entering her systems, taking a step back from the sheer neural load. Her head starts to hurt as the data keeps streaming into her without cease.

Like a drunk driver hitting the breaks for the first time in his booze cruise, the images stop abruptly and immediately. The darkness of the hallway disappears for a moment as a wave of sensors scan the entirety as if they walked through such halls before. The four supply stores within the compound are immediately revealed to Chime, as well as the A-dolls within.

Their sudden jolt of activation causes the sensors to retreat back to the Nikke’s body, and with it the dark of the unknown returns. For a second fear grips her as the sensors are forced to recharge, leaving her unable to feel the presence of the silent suitor, who has yet to make a single motion.

“Eras-”

“Still here,” he lowers his salute finally, “You saw the A-dolls right?”

“Y-yeah.”

There were at least four per storage if the red eyes were to be believed, making sixteen at worst. That’s not even to speak of the Suitor that Erasmus detected, their location evading the sensor pulse. She looks to her man to find his expression telling.

“Hopefully he’s half-dead if not already,” Erasmus starts, “The A-dolls shouldn’t be much trouble as long as he doesn’t show up.”

“Thats still at least sixteen guns.”

He shrugs, “Don’t worry too much about the numbers. A-dolls are notorious for cutting and running when not being ordered around by a human commander.”

Chime’s face doesn’t give much confidence to his answer, “Is that another bit of Suitor advice?”

“Yup” he says after a long pause.

A small grin forms over Chime’s face, getting a reciprocal one from the taller Suitor. They turn towards the door that bars their path deeper into the compound, the steel-based blast-doors a small distance from where they stand. Though they take their time approaching it, what lies on the other side makes both contemplate their decisions.

Erasmus stops in front of the door, rifle held in one arm, while the other hangs at his side. He glances over at Chime who stands right next to him on his gun side. His eyes scan her face for any semblance of hesitation, but like a knight of yore she wears a face of pure determination. He lets out an internal chuckle seeing the smallest knight putting on the bravest of faces.

“And the wheel turns...,” his eyes glow as his combat mode is engaged, “Password: Armstrong.”

---

1-4: Trash Cans

The lobby of the storage room is a large circular room, easily the size of a large auditorium, illuminated by dim bunker lights. From the entrance one can spot five doors, two on each side parallel to each other while the fifth lies on the direct opposite side of the entrance. Heavy blast doors separate each room from the main lobby, but as the duo eyes widen they can see that the farthest two on either side are already open.

Erasmus barely has time to grab Chime’s scruff, the uniformed A-dolls already rushing from their hiding place within. He counts eight in total before his sight is covered by debris from the roof knocked down during the end of the war. Much to either’s surprise the A-dolls make no fuss even after they tumble.

“They didn’-”

Chime’s words are cut off by Erasmus’s hand, his glare taking the rest from her throat. A small exhale gets his hands away from her lips, allowing his attention to go back to the searching A-dolls. While not detecting them outright, they wander in a very obvious search pattern.

“They know,” Erasmus shifts so his back is against the cover, holding the rifle in both hands, “Keep your head down.”

She attempts to protest, but the Suitor already uses the cover as a mount for his gun. Her eyes follow the barrel to find it aimed towards an A-doll holding a handgun of sorts. Her hair is a grey-white done in twintails that poof from her head. She wears a blackish leotard, and a half-on-half-off legging, covering very little of her body. Though the near-clones next to them make it difficult to ascertain which the Suitor aims at.

“Fucking dummy’s...”

His blue eyes don’t seem so stark when against the backdrop of a muzzle flash, the glow melding with the bright orange of burst-fire. Of the four identical dolls two find the ground comforting, falling without indication of rising again. The two survivors hit the deck shouting, another group of four entering the fray from their storage room.

Unlike the first this new group each bears a machine-gun in hand, though its size is almost comical compared to the user. The A-doll is easily the same height as Chime, though their hair has a distinctive green tint to it, and is done in a high ponytail that easily reaches past her knees. Her outfit consists of a frilly top, a short skirt and knee high boots. If not built for war she might have easily been a Maid at a Cafe or perhaps an Idol.

Erasmus sends a burst towards the green-haired squad, but his shots go wide, barely even getting close to any of them. However it at least forces one to clumsily dive into rubble smashing her face directly into jagged concrete. A temporary loss for the firing line, but none seem to move to assist, mounting their large weapons where they can.

“Shit!”

The Suitor curses as they open fire, replacing the sound of controlled gunfire with constant suppressive fire. Chime has to cover her ears as even the dampeners have a hard time suppressing the constant gunfire. She can barely hear Erasmus let out a grunt, let alone chase after him as he adjusts his firing position.

Though big compared to the average Nikke, he still moves quickly, showing his speed by sliding to another bit of cover without a single injury. He moves quick enough to avoid being target locked again, and pokes the barrel of his gun through a small crevice in the rubble. A single shot knocks out one of four guns, the suppression losing just a modicum of pressure.

Inconsistent pops indicate the reentry of the handgun squad, their morale returning in the absence of Erasmus’s shots. They take positions near the machinegun squad, but remain behind them, almost acting like a second line of defense. Though Chime notices that at least one of the two is silent, her heart skipping a beat as a shadow attempts to flank Erasmus from the right.

Her eyes focus on them until she can spot the handgun in their grip. Without so much as a thought, she rushes the hidden attacker knife in a reverse grip. The A-doll notices the rushing girl, diverting her aim from the Suitor’s head to Chime’s, a toothy smile on their face.

bang

The doll staggers as a small rock rips through her stomach, her shot going wide, but cutting Chime’s face slightly. Though not a kill shot it's enough to break the stance of the doll giving the Nikke the window to complete her mission. She flips the grip of her blade and holds the handle with both hands keeping it tightly held.

Using her own momentum she slams into the A-doll crashing them into the circular wall. The taller A-doll groans as Chime’s knife enters her side, sinking deep into artificial organs. She attempts to shove the small Nikke away, but finds the knife twisted in response. Like a true knight she seeks to end her opponent completely dragging the blade on a path towards where the rock penetrated, disemboweling the A-doll. Organs and lifeblood spill out onto the ground and onto Chime covering the smaller Nikke in gore.

In almost instinctive fashion Chime rips her knife from the A-doll and kicks their fallen gun towards Erasmus, before diving back behind cover. The enemy A-dolls barely have time to focus on her, Erasmus keeping them under constant suppression as one pops their head up. He picks up the handgun without even turning his attention away, tucking it in his once empty hip-holster.

“Well done shrimp!”

Chime doesn’t respond to his attempt at praise, her focus completely on keeping her head down. Even with another taken down the A-dolls continue their onslaught without a moment to breathe. A FMJ bursts near her foot, the Nikke pulling in the extended limb quickly.

The firefight continues on without pause for the fallen, the MG A-dolls firmly entrenched in their location, their guns perfectly in sync with each other. When one reloads another fills the absence without letting Erasmus so much as aim his rifle. The stagnation irks the Suitor fiercely, only growing more intensely as the remaining handgun takes potshots at Chime. The rope snaps when one gets her knocking her backward.

“Chime!”

She rises instantly making the big Suitor jump, a dazed expression on her face. His fast beating heart calms upon seeing her face uninjured a scratch on her helmet where the bullet grazed off of. He lets out a relieved breath.

“Ugh,” she groans, rubbing her head, “Is there any way to end this?”

Erasmus’s eyes glow brightly, sharing the pulse-scan to his squad member. She can see the handgunner tactical retreat back to the door behind them, the fifth and only closed door in the room. The other three A-dolls take various cover behind a large chunk of ceiling rubble. One lies prone on her stomach while the other two crouch behind jagged concrete, their large guns mounted on the stones.

“The tank's empty so no tossables,” he says with little glee, “I have a plan, but I doubt you’d like it.”

“Anything is better than this.”

A shiver runs up her spine as a wolf-like grin forms over Erasmus’s face, a flash of scarlet peeking from behind the ice. The air of professionalism is all but evaporated, replaced by an animalistic chaotic energy that makes Chime retreat slightly on her butt. The grin thankfully fades the energy behind it going, but not completely dissipating.

He points to their original cover, “I need you to run over there, and if possible wave your hands around when you do it.”

“Eh?”, her pupils are like dishplates, “You want me to run out there?!”

He reloads his rifle, taking the pistol in one hand when he’s finished. His silence speaks volumes as he reads himself to pop up when she completes her task. Chime can only shake her head, the prospect of running into open-gunfire keeping all her weight in her feet. Though the weight starts to lighten as she spots a glint in Erasmus’s eyes that screams of ‘either do it or I’ll do it my way.’

A breath and the recollection of her King’s face is enough to put the fire in her heart. Though crouched she hits the legs fast, running from behind the stonework and towards apparent safety. Like the Suitor said the A-dolls turn their attention to the sprinting Nikke, throwing whatever they have at the short girl.

The sound of bullets hitting the ground behind her makes her sprint even faster, diving into the safety of cover when she had planned to slide. She lands roughly hurting her shoulder, but it matters little to her as she slams her back against the rocks. Surprisingly silence falls over the room as she finally calms her breathing, letting a minute pass before popping her head over.

In the chaos Erasmus had landed his shots perfectly. The MG crew lies silent splatters of their lifeblood over the concrete that once offered them protection. The handgunner lies against the door they tried to reach, a red star where their head hit before collapsing. A sputtering MG-doll is the only survivor, the bullet finding their neck, rather than skull.

“You alright?”

Chime turns sideways to see Erasmus resting his still steaming rifle against the rocks on his side. She catches the fading blue in his eyes, the orbs settling on their natural non-combat hue. Clouds of condensation escape his tightly gritted teeth, the smile on his face less friendly and more one a dog might wear before pouncing. She can see him almost clear as day, a fact she attributes to the sync.

“You nearly got me killed you f**ker!”

The smirk on his face is faster than the Nikke’s thoughts. She immediately puts both hands against her mouth, as if the words that came out of her mouth weren’t hers. She looks down at the ground trying to understand why she said that.

A singular chuckle brings her attention back to Erasmus, the Suitor standing fully as his chuckle grows. He walks over to her, prompting her to get up herself, and stands near her rifle in arm. His irk-inducing smirk hasn’t faded, on the contrary, nearly dominates his entire mouth.

“That's some pepper there shorty,” he lets out a snort of approval, “Got the bones to be a Suitor.”

His eyes glow with the word, adding to his budding enthusiasm, though upon looking at Chime, the praise seems to be wasted. A blank expression still rests on her face, only made worse by her searching eyes. Erasmus’s smirk fades, and he takes a knee in front of her.

“Its the sync,” he holsters his pistol, “When Suitor’s sync we form a bond between each other.” He takes the rifle in one hand and offers it to Chime, “Our instincts are entwined. Don’t worry too much about it-,” he pauses as if weighing his words, “stuff like that only happens as the sync is maintained.”

“I-I see.”

He gives her a nod of understanding, wiggling the rifle in front of her. Up until now she had looked at it as it was, a crude weapon from before the war. A snubbed barrel with a bullup build, but the most confusing was the fact the magazine was loaded behind the trigger.

“We’ve been synced for some time, so you should be able to use this.”

“Whats it called?”

He looks at her incredulously, “Does it matter?,” he shrugs, “Its a gun ain’t it?”

“The King’s weapon is called Your Highness,” Chime states, putting a finger to her chin, “Didn’t your weapon have a name.”

“No it did-”

Erasmus stops himself immediately recollecting a memory from his service. One that involved his favorite Specialist who could not cease his constant pestering on what the white coat named his rifle. They were sufficiently amazed when the name “Auralee” was uttered. He lets out a sigh as the memory fades fully defeated by its content.

“It's called a Famas,” he let out begrudgingly, “The A-doll who used it most likely followed the same.”

“Their name was... Famas ”

He scratches his chin if only to buy time to fabricate a better explanation. Its an explanation given by the Commander, and it barely answered anything back then. He lets out another sigh as he can’t think of a better explanation than that.

“E-yup.”

Chime lowers her head in thought, “A strange name indeed...,” her eyes venture to the A-doll she killed, their body still resting where they fell, “What is her name?”

A disapproving growl emanates from Erasmus, but he doesn’t meet the challenge he offers. He simply stands and moves over to the terminated doll, and takes out the pistol at his hip. His HUD shines PA-15 in bold followed by a warning of half-compatibility with his systems.

“Her name was PA-15, a handgun type,” Erasmus states with little emotion, “The MG’s were known as AAT-52.” He taps the motionless doll with his foot, “French fries I’m assuming.”

“French Fries?”

“Forget it,” he waves her off, turning his attention towards the closed door, “That’s where the Suitor resides.”

“How can you tell?”

Erasmus turns to her, his face as grim as the words he speaks. He points towards the door.

“Cause the doors are locked from the outside.”

Chime takes the gun as he finishes. Almost like clockwork she examines it like Erasmus did earlier testing the slide and checking her mag. She loads it back in and slides back the charging handle.

“Careful with the fingers.”

Chime looks up at him, her lips tightened, “You ready?”

Erasmus can see her hands tremble against the grip, her eyes blinking faster than usual. A small chuckle escapes him before he takes point, leading them towards the locked door. As they pass the corpses of the fallen dolls he takes one of their machine guns reloading it as he walks.

“Don’t listen to what they say,” Erasmus lowers his gun, stopping in front of the door panel, “The past is the past.”

Chime looks at him quizzically, but he presses a button on the panel before she can muster a response. The doors open quietly, a gust of stale air hitting the duo as it lowers. Erasmus is the first in, taking a step into the dark hallway, followed by the hesitant Chime. The door closes behind them as they enter, taking the light with it. It's only at the last moment Chime can see words written on the wall.

//No2 Stockpile ALPHA//

---

1-5: Old Dog

Another metal door appears as they walk down the hallway, barring the last room of the outpost. Behind it lies the specialized storage facility which based on national logistical data means it's the only one of its kind in the sector. Normally that would mean the protection levied would be stronger than in the previous section.

However after decades of disuse and sporadic bouts of combat above, the door has been left slightly ajar. The mechanical locks screech as Erasmus pushes the opening wider allowing him and Chime to enter the room inside. They both stand at the entry the shorter of the duo already taking in the arena.

The octagonal shape gives evidence to the arena claim, the center of the room dominated by a large tank of clear liquid. The spotless tank contrasts the messy room which has boxes strewn all over the place. Some look to have been opened gently while others have their wood caved in by a singular blow. She takes a cautious step forward only to have her shoe land in a sticky substance.

“What-,” she turns her shoe only to cover her nose. The smell is sour and strong, the smell of aged grapes burning her nostrils, “Ugh what a smell.”

“Wine?,” Erasmus whispers, poking a finger onto her shoe, sticking it into his mouth, “Wine.” He shakes his head, “It's a morale base.”

“That’s absolutely correct invaders!”

Chime can only hear the voice, her vision immediately blocked by her visor. Her Suitor slammed it down as soon as the words left the void. A complaint boils in her throat but the sound of a bottle shattering above her keeps her mouth shut.

“Fucking bastard!” Erasmus curses, the glass of the bottle shattering into his eyes, “Reveal yourself frog!”

“Who’re you calling Frog?”

Chime raises her sallet to see a figure standing directly in front of the large tank. It would be difficult not to see them as they are nearly the size of Erasmus, their bulk only slightly less than her allied Suitor. They wear a mixture of camouflaged cloth with metal plate protection, granting the defense required to contend against Rapture guns.

Unlike Erasmus this Suitor wears a smile that spans from ear to ear, yet their scarlet eyes seem stuck in an expression of suspicion. Their eyes go to Chime, the smile unchanging as their eyes widen and take in the small Nikke. It's only as their gaze turns to Chime does she see that their arm is bent backwards at the elbow.

“A Suitor and Nikke...”

“How long have you been down here 2692?” Erasmus asks softly, moving slightly in front of Chime, “You look like you’ve seen better days friend.”

9-2 looks to the ground, “Yeah better days....,” their head starts to vibrate as they assumedly contemplate. They can both see the steam growing from cracks in his hull as he thinks. Their neck jerks upwards and towards Erasmus with a predatory lock, “Hey didn’t your squad have a 2-6-0?”

“Yeah, Barnabas. 8-1”

The Suitor’s eye burns bright, “No kidding?”, the light fades slowly as their eyes return to the floor, “We had the same White Coat.”

“Guess that makes you batch mates.”

The Suitor looks up at Erasmus, “I guess that’s right.” He can see their eyes return to Chime, “Whatever happened to the UFH?”

“What's the last you heard?”

Chime can see Erasmus’s hand thumb the hammer of his pistol.

“Anachiro was unleashed,” the Suitor’s voice is hushed as if to not call the devil upon them, his eyes going towards the ceiling, “She gored our forces and destroyed at least five battalions before disappearing from the Nation front.” He returns to Chime, “The UFH were able to finally take her down after suffering tremendous loss.”

“I doubt that,” Erasmus responds, a sliver of venom in it, “The UFH were sheep in command of lions. They could never bring down that devil.”

“That’s the truth of it,” 9-2 retorts, “I know you Rad-Dog’s would never accept something like that.” Their smile still has yet to diminish, “I’m sure that Nikke behind you doesn’t know the lengths you’d go to save your own skins.”

Erasmus doesn’t respond to that one, getting a slight shiver of worry from Chime. Normally he’d been rather light-hearted about the whole ordeal up until now, but right now something was different. The Suitor ahead of them was pressing buttons that shouldn’t be touched, and the erratic thumb of Erasmus only lends credence to that claim.

“I did what I did to save my squad,” Erasmus says after a cold silent minute, “Something I can see you’ve failed to do. Where’s the squad 9-2?”

“Same with the rest of the squads,” The Suitor’s smile strains their cheeks, the artificial muscles just underneath the epidermis bulging, their tendons moving freely and without connection, “Shell shock.”

“I didn’t see any bodies or any signals of any Suitor’s other than you,” Erasmus unbuckles the holster drawing his sidearm, “Drained their No2 didn’t you?”

The Suitor’s eyes glow with a scarlet hue, “Anything to win the war—Right?”

Chime blinks hard as the muzzle flash illuminates the room, only opening them as the light fades. The bullet found purchase above 9-2’s right breast, but they look at the wound as if it were a simple tap. They turn their attention to the duo, a soft look upon their eyes.

“Don’t overextend,” Erasmus says without turning to Chime, “When combat starts the sync might screw with your systems,” he pulls his knife out, “And for the love of god stay out of melee range.”

The information comes fast, but not as nearly as the growing murderous intent hidden in front of Erasmus. She takes a deep inhale letting it out as she clicks the burst action of her rifle, something learned from the shared database. Her eyes glow slightly.

“COMBAT ENGAGED”

All three say it in unison without any prior acknowledgement, the time for questioning it passing swiftly as 9-2 charges forward. Their broken arm swings wildly behind them as they close the distance on the duo. Erasmus already seeks to end that attack with a burst from his handgun.

Three shots hit them square in the chest, but it might as well be a cool wind with all the stopping power it produces. As 9-2 closes the distance his hand goes to his belt, a trench knife lifted high.

click click

9-2 brings the knife down, Erasmus catching the point with his left arm. It burrows deep past the reinforced skin severing tightly bound fibro-muscles underneath. The titanium fibers uncoil from the pressure of their binding being released, cutting the metal point from the body of the knife. The Suitor rips his knife out before further damage can come to it.

Erasmus grabs the escaping Suitor by his collar, catching him as he attempts to get out of range. The difference in build really becomes apparent as he takes hold of 9-2 and throws him over his shoulder into the wall. Without missing a beat he charges towards the splatted enemy shoulder first.

9-2 dodges the shoulder charge deftly using the charging bull’s back to springboard off of. He lands gracefully only to take a burst of fire directly to their right side. Unlike the pistol these come from a heavier caliber and are sufficient at least to stagger him. The bullets stop just in time for him to glare at the sputtering Nikke as she attempts to reload the bullpup.

“Naughty mademoiselle!”

9-2 smashes a fist into one of the unopened crates and pulls out a singular undestroyed bottle. He takes a large swig of it before tossing the bottle at Chime, nailing the distracted Nikke directly in the head. The blow knocks her to her ass.

“Hon Hon H-kk”

Erasmus’s tackle knocks the arrogant laughter from 9-2, tumbling the Suitor to the ground. A quick elbow to his aggressor's neck is enough to break the hold, Erasmus staggering at the blow. A side-kick spaces the duo sending 2-1 rolling to the other side of the room. He gets up as soon as the momentum lets him, standing with fists raised.

“I’m impressed 2-1,” the Suitor taunts, “Did 8-1 train with you? Normally a 2500 of your class would be dead by now.”

“Can you tell,” Erasmus dusts his hands, “He was the one who wanted to do it. I never asked to spar with him ever.”

“Really?” 9-2 tilts his head, “Now that's a strange one,” he wags a finger at Erasmus, “From what I heard most 2600’s don’t have the capacity to refuse a sparring session. Most squads with them took their sessions when they wanted. I know mine did.”

Chime had never seen Erasmus look so disgusted at another’s words, but the expression he wears tells that he wants his ears washed of what was just spoken. Though what the Suitor means by sessions Chime can’t particularly figure out.

“Rad dogs don’t work like that,” Erasmus says after a long silence, “To even think that is disgusting.”

“What’s the saying again...,” 9-2 feigns thinking, kicking his heels against the floor, “Oh yes!,” he shoots Erasmus a sultry look only made worse by their smile, “Don’t knock it till you try it—was it?”

Burst fire hits 9-2 in the face, breaking the moment between the two Suitors. Once again the Suitor glares at Chime, the interruption visibly unappreciated by the war torn veteran. His look of annoyance is greeted by another burst of bullets, this time an ascending burst from groin to neck.

“Nuis-!”

His words are cut-off the Suitor behind him putting him into a headlock, the burst-fire meant as a push rather than damage. Erasmus pulls their neck backward, and with one hand grabbing firmly onto their crotch, lifts him into the air before slamming him backward face first.

Erasmus doesn’t give the dazed Suitor a break, already flipping onto his stomach and grappling 9-2. Chime can only watch in horror as Erasmus stands and puts 9-2 head between his legs. Before she can gasp he drops to his knees cracking the top of 9-2’s skull against the concrete floor.

“You just had to talk shit....”

The apathy in his tone contrasts the fact that he puts 9-2 into position for what Chime could only describe as a ‘suplex from hell’. He commits to it with little emotion on his face slamming the smaller Suitor into the floor once more. The punishment however is far from over as the horrified Chime finds out.

Erasmus takes him to each and every crate in the arena, broken or not, easily numbering into the twenties, and suplexes 9-2 into each and every one. Chime doesn’t think she ever saw 9-2 move once in the whole ordeal, but if he did he was good at hiding it. It wouldn’t matter anyway as Erasmus seemed quite driven in breaking every single crate in wood bursting glory. Only at the last crate does he get up without 9-2.

“I know you don’t die that easy,” Erasmus hisses at the seeming corpse, “Where the fuck’s your core!”

“Hon hon hon”, the corpse laughs slowly without opening its mouth, “Come now where’s the fun in that traitor.”

Erasmus takes a step back, 9-2 rising to his feet on just his heels alone. They hunch over for a moment before tossing their head back vigorously with almost no care for their spine. Their fingers clawed at the tip, ascend their stomach stopping just above their heart.

“Do you think mademoiselle is as fast as us?”, 9-2 asks with a hiss, his fingers entering past his skin and into his chest, “Think you can protect her from my whip?”

“Let’s find out”

Eager not to find out what whip 9-2 talks about Chime aims down the iron-sights, only to have Erasmus push her gun down. He’s too slow to hide 9-2 ripping cords from his heart cage, the black-soaked strands coming out in fury. The Suitor barely seems to acknowledge their now exposed heart bringing their arms down towards the duo.

Erasmus as Chime had realized earlier was quick, and quite nimble for his size. He proved it just now grabbing the left whip wrapping it around his arm without suffering any damage. But even the Suitor’s have their limits for all that they are worth, same as Nikke’s possibly even worse. She gasps in horror as a horrific sound hits her ears.

The second whip proved not so easy to catch thanks to 9-2’s clever change of angle. What was assumed to be a vertical slash was changed to horizontal, and with it the misdirection came a lack of guard. The whip slashes across Erasmus’s belly, the damage quickly announcing itself as his intestines hit the floor with a meaty splash.

“E-Erasm-”

“A good attempt monamie, but there’s a reason we are different gens.”

“This is nothing,” Erasmus spits at the Suitor, though the waning strength can be heard in it, “I don’t need a cog-body to kick your ass.”

“I’m eager to see you prove that,” the 9-2 mocks. He tests the grip of his left whip only to find it still held tightly by Erasmus, “I’d like my whip back.”

With the last syllable Erasmus pulls the caught whip with all his might dragging the surprised Suitor towards him. Before they can maneuver a dodge away 2-1 pulls them into a bear hug, crushing their back with his arms.

“Chime get the knife!”

No questions are needed for Chime to spring into action, running towards the knife discarded by Erasmus. She turns towards the entwined duo and rushes towards them. 9-2 sensing the impending spear delivers a hard knee to the exposed guts of his grappler. While not enough to break the hold it gives 9-2 the ability to at least maneuver.

“GRAH!”

“Erasmus! Sorry!”

“Hon hon hon hon”

While not the largest maneuver, 9-2 is able to at least dodge Chime’s running knife completely. Instead of burrowing deeply into his back it instead finds a nice bloody home in Erasmus’s stomach hive. He grimaces as the nano-bots squirm in a resurrection loop as they try to both break down the knife and repair the damage sustained. Its a losing battle that only ends in the older Suitor cursing tightly as to not poison the girl’s ears.

She tries to pull the knife out only to come out with 2-1’s intestines around the hilt, the black and red blood staining her gloves. She starts to gasp wildly 9-2’s laughter only growing as the effects of their teamwork are laid bare. The laughter unintentionally focuses Chime reminding her of her King, but now desecrated by an enemy's voice.

“Gruh!”

It’s 9-2’s time to groan as Chime puts her knife into his spine, twisting it severing the connecting vertebrae. She pulls it out only to reverse the grip, her gritted expression telling of the extent of this attack. Her free hand grabs hold of 9-2’s hair for grip and uses it to climb high enough to stab the knife into his neck like a piton in a mountain.

“Not smiling anymore, huh..,” Erasmus whispers at the fading 9-2, “Your war ends today brother.”

Chime only catches the last bit before Erasmus lets go of his hold, letting the still body of 9-2 crumple to the ground. She looks to Erasmus with an expression of anticipation, and a little sliver of fear. He knows the look well turning towards the recovering corpse of 2691 well knowing it won’t be long till their combat effective.

“The 2600’s were created with the knowledge of a turncoat,” Erasmus’s voice bears no emotion to it, just the cold found in truth, “Each was built uniquely to the personal specifications of the owner..for a price.”

Chime looks at the corpse, “That wouldn’t mean that destroying them would be any more difficult than a Nikke?” Her eyes widened suddenly at the realization, “They’re not based on Nikke’s are they?”

“He luckily only has four core’s,” Erasmus points to the body, ignoring her second question, “Two at the heart, one in the left foot, one in the right ring finger. Pierce all and its game over.”

“Multi-core....Like a Rapture.”

“Almost.”

He bends down squatting on his toes, and beckons Chime to join him with a hand. She hesitates at first, but lowers herself after a moment, knife held in both hands and pointed towards the Suitor. Her attention is completely on the body to the point she doesn’t notice Erasmus staring at her.

“You’re going to pierce each core for me,” Erasmus looks down at 9-2, “I can point them out, but it’ll be you who does the finishing blow.”

Chime looks at him, “Why me?”

“What other Nikke can say they have slain a Suitor?,” Erasmus says with little humor, “Far as I’m concerned any knight would jump at the chance at slaying this dragon .”

She looks down at the corpse and thinks about the face her King would make upon learning of such heroics. She had committed to this fight as much as the Suitor, though the damage she sustained was nothing compared to Erasmus. Nevertheless this act would end in the completion of their mission and the success of this expedition. A silent nod is her answer to the Suitor.

“Good girl,” he pats her helmet, “You’re doing my Nation a favor by doing this.”

9-2’s termination goes without hitch, if only delayed by a minute by Chime’s need to prepare herself. With the Suitor’s guidance she finds each core and gently pierces them. Even Erasmus is surprised by how gently she goes about her duty, increasingly impressed by how calmly she pierces his heart. After she finishes she places the knife next to her and sits on her knees. The long exhale she releases tells of the day's toil finally taking its toll.

“Long day, huh?”

“Wh-?,” Chime looks towards Erasmus, a somewhat lost expression on her face. She tries to blink it away, “Yes...quite,” but a sliver still remains within.

“That should be the last of the misery for today,” he pats her back slightly standing with it, “I’m going to give the permissions of this base to you, seeing as our friend here no longer needs them.”

“What do you mean permissions?” She stands up, a growing concern to her voice, “The doors are certainly all there is?”

“Unfortunately no,” Erasmus groans, “Our bases have to function with a Commander of some sort. It's how we were able to be so flexible about deployments, but with the lack of well personnel...,” he rolls his eyes as he starts to ramble, “Listen if the A-dolls have no one to report to, they start acting... quirky .”

“Quirky?”

“Just take my word for it,” Erasmus walks over to the AI tank, carefully trying not to trip over his own guts, “We’re still synced so now’s the best time to make you the Commander.”

“Wait, me? The Commander?”, She blushes at the prospect scratching her cheek nervously, “I never thought about ever being a Commander. ”

“Really?,” Erasmus says from the AI console, “figured your King would have made you one,” he mutters. He takes the plug from the back of his neck and enters it into the console port, “Permissions granted.” He turns to her, “Feel any different?”

“No, not really.”

“Good,” Erasmus lets out a breath, “If you did your brain might’ve exploded.”

“What?!?!”

“Joking...,” he smiles like a fox, hands up to her sudden fire, “Joking.”

“Ah well,” her face softens, “We should return to the Kingdom and report our success.” She glances at Erasmus, “When you’re ready to...move of course.”

The Suitor looks down at his sprawled guts as if it were a minor inconvenience. He shrugs slightly, but offers no resistance to her verdict, and instead grabs an unshattered bottle from the floor. He pops the cap and chugs the bottle, and much to the Nikke’s disdain, the purple liquid literally goes straight through him and paints the floor a deep purple. He looks down at the mess only when the bottle’s empty.

“Yeah I should probably get some repairs.”

“You think!,” Chime shakes her head vigorously, “Your guts are literally stuck to my shoe!”

“Then clean your shoe,” he shrugs, already searching for another bottle, “Listen repairs for 2500’s is slower than you new fangled models alright?” He finds his prize and picks it up pointing the unopened neck towards Chime, “Want some?”

“I would love some!”

Chime fumbles with her hands as she attempts to reach for the knife by 9-2’s body, but a chuckle from her Suitor stops her. It wouldn't have mattered anyway the owner of the voice carrying a fully-loaded gun of somewhat similar design to her Famas but visibly different. Seeing that Erasmus hasn’t made a single move towards this newcomer Chime can’t help but lower her guard if only slightly.

The figure themselves stand shorter than Erasmus by quite a bit, their long blonde hair comes down to her thighs, the ends dyed a gradient of pink and blue. They wear a white overcoat that goes down to her lower calves, the front opening at the hips to reveal the black bodysuit that clothes her underbody. The gun she wields contrasts the white with its gunmetal black, held in hands covered by green fingerless sleeves.

“I knew there was an A-doll missing from the roster,” Erasmus pops the cork of his bottle, “Guessing you’re the base adjutant.” He takes a heavy swig, icy glare not leaving the A-doll.

“Da, comrade,” she gives a casual salute, resting her gun next to the door, “You must be the new Commander?”

He immediately points towards Chime, “That's the tree not me.”

Chime gets up as the spotlight is turned towards her, “I wouldn’t call myself the Commander...”

The doll waves a hand, “Don’t worry about the title Commander,” she removes a flask from the interior of her overcoat, “I never did even when the new one came around.”

“You’re talking about the Suitor?”

The doll tilts her head at Chime’s question, then looks over to the corpse of 9-2, “Is that what he was? Seems like he’s finally found his peace.”

“She killed him,” Erasmus informs from where he leans. He points to Chime again so that there’s no confusion, “Stone-cold killer that one is. No remorse when she did it.”

The doll looks towards Chime with a new fearful expression, “I’ll try not to get on your bad side Commander!” She gives a proper military salute this time, a slice of sobriety returning for the moment.

Chime wants to curse Erasmus for his actions, but the feeling of being called Commander is greater. She can’t help the prideful smile that comes over her mouth as the taller doll gives her a proper salute. Her pride is only dampened by the fact that the doll’s waistbelt is filled with flasks most likely containing the same substance in Erasmus’s bottle.

“Dolls can get drunk?”

“Da very much so!,” the doll already tries to pull one of her reloads from her belt, “Try some Commander!”

“No I don’t-”

A hand grabs her shoulder from behind, her attention immediately going towards the ice-eyed Suitor and his foxlike grin. He’s quicker than most definitely getting her pinned in place with one hand while the other pulls the flask towards her mouth. Her attempt to resist is immediately stifled as his hand squeezes her cheeks together so that her lips open to the flask’s spout. Only a single burning droplet gets on her tongue before he withdraws it to his own mouth.

“The Commander’s a light weight, but she’ll come around,” he says taking his own swig, “Ah I knew it. Straight vodka.”

“Only the best for the Commander!”

The doll gives a loud drunk laugh, clinking her flask with his before they both take a shot. Chime can only struggle in the Suitor’s headlock, but after feeling their grip tighten with every gulp, she decides to just give up. The drunken laughter only picks up as Erasmus joins, confusing Chime as nothing else has yet to be said.

“Commander Chime’s going to need an escort back to HQ,” Erasmus calms his humor, “Assemble a squad and meet us outside.”

The A-doll salutes towards Chime, “понял командир”, she turns to Erasmus and bows her head. She leaves post-haste orders taking prominence over all.

“That easy?”

“That easy,” Erasmus folds his arms, “I suggest you make your way back to your King. She’s due a report.”

“What about you?”

“Here I thought you would have taken the carrot,” Erasmus smirks slightly, “I won’t be returning with you.”

Chime’s eyes narrow, “And what should I tell the King?”

“You can tell her I found my own way,” he shrugs, taking a pack from his shirt pocket. He glances towards the royal aide to find a pout on her face, “Did you want me to return with you?”

“N-nothing like that!” her response is immediate. He gives her a moment to realize how loud that response was, “I-...I-I’m just not sure that answer will suffice...”

“I’m sending you back with an entire squad, and the permissions to an entire base,” Erasmus chuckles dismissively, “I can’t name a single human commander that would ask for more, or deserve it” his humor dies with the last word, “Not anymore at least...”

“Your strength would benefit the Kingdom.”

Erasmus looks down at Chime, an expression of suspended belief on his face.

“Don’t look at me like that!,” she kicks him in the shin, calming as she starts again, “It's true regardless of my personal feelings.”

“Small compliment from a small girl,” he pauses to let her get another hit in. “I’m an old model Chime...,” he smiles softly, sticking a cig in his mouth, “I got no business hanging around the bright-eyed new-gens.” He offers the pack to her, “Want one?”

To the surprise of both she takes the final cig from the pack, and holds it awkwardly between her thumb and pointer. Its stiff hold, made awkward when she sticks it in her mouth and chomps down on the butt. He looks at her with a worried expression that borders regret.

“I-I know how to use it!”

“I didn’t say anything,” he turns from her, “Lets head to the surface. Probably evening by now.”

The journey back to the surface is a quiet affair, mostly from having to step over the gathered corpses of the garrison. With the permissions fully transferred the base stirs with life. The dummies belonging to the allied doll move with purpose, collecting bodies and weapons all the same. A light conversation can be heard between them as they work, though the language escapes Chime.

The evening sun starts to dip behind the horizon as they rise from the tunnel, Erasmus yawning as the light hits his face. The A-dolls greet Chime as she comes from behind the tall Suitor, giving a mix of salutes and acknowledgements. Though they don’t stop until they put a distance between them and the dolls.

“Four A-dolls should be enough,” Erasmus lights a match, slowly putting it to the cig between his teeth, “Once you get home make sure to add Crown to the base permissions.”

Chime copies the way he holds it in his mouth, “I planned too,” she looks towards the distance, “You mentioned someone to that Suitor...8-1?”

“My squadmate,” Erasmus glances at her, “And my friend.” He leans down to her level and lights her cig, dropping the match by his feet, “In-an-out.”

Chime looks at him as he lights her up. The tiredness she feels doesn’t feel as terrible when compared to the look in Erasmus’s eyes. The glow is the only thing that keeps him from looking constantly weary, the wrinkles as he smiles only adding to the look. He lets out a puff of smoke, his eyelids sinking lower as the electrified smoke exits his mouth.

cough cough

“In-an-out,” Erasmus stands straight and faces the fading sun, “Be easy with it, or you’ll end up burning out the charge. The longer the pull the more charge, but if you cough it out it's all wasted.”

“T-that's more complicated than I thought...”

“You’ll get the hang out it kid,” He pats her shoulder, “Good way to calm yourself after a day like today.”

Chime looks up at him, letting her puff go with only a slight burn, “Did you have many days like this?”

Erasmus goes quiet for a moment, a subtle twitch by his eyes telling of the thoughts that swirl. For a moment Chime regrets asking, turning back towards the sunset, a small way to show her dismissal of the subject.

“Yeah,” he lets out his breath, “There were a lot of days like this, most I would say were a bit worse than this.” He chuckles glancing down at Chime, “But when you have a squad at your side its—easier.”

Chime lets her cig burn out in her hand, satisfied with the puff she took, and perhaps a little dizzy from it. Erasmus can see her little sway, but he knows she’ll be in good hands with the A-dolls. Their loyalty and courage when working with their Commander was different than by themselves. They wouldn’t let anything happen to her on the journey back.

“I hope you find your friend, Erasmus.”

Erasmus tilts his head to her, “Thanks kid.” He offers her a pack of Gater’s, “I hope what you salvage here helps your Kingdom.” She takes it, stuffing it into her pockets, the taller Suitor using the opportunity to pat her helmet, “You and your King are doing good work as far as I’m concerned.”

“I appreciate the words, Suitor,” she bows her head to Erasmus as if a knight showing respect to a peer, “Once you find your friend, be sure to come visit us.”

“You have my word,” He mimics the bow knowing his friend would curse him if he didn’t, oh the jealous rage he’ll feel when told of today’s exploits. “Give a good word to the King.”

“I shall,” Chime waves a hand to Erasmus, “Till we meet again.”

Erasmus gives a two-finger wave, the sync between them disconnecting as they pose to one another. The moment hits Chime like a truck, suddenly drained of all the information shared with her, but she staggers her feet before she falls. She looks up to find the Suitor already heading the opposite direction, no haste in his step.

“That man and warnings!,” Chime mutters to herself. She spots the A-dolls approaching her, their hazy faces telling her that they’ve already started drinking. “Come on you louts! Back to the Kingdom!”

“да, принцесса!”

Chime leads the drunks in a lockstep march back towards the Crown Kingdom. The confident commander wears a smug face the entire march, meanwhile the Suitor walks south towards a distant familiar signal. One that he knows well, and confirmed as a system message plays against his eyes.

//2nd Rad Dog Regiment Status: Reinstated//

THE END