No Strings On Me

[Zetakille]

Syuen fucked around. Now she's gonna find out, as I sincerely doubt she has the authority to challenge a Black Ops group.

 

[VillainousArk Grebin]

Welp *takes a sip of Dr. Pepper* someone is about to have a very no good BAAAAD day

 

[GigaVanguard]

What?

Something massive smashed through my window. A huge metallic hand seized Yuni by the head. For a second, I thought I was about to see her reduced pulp. A second hand grabbed Mihara by the arm and hurled them out of the shattered window.

Feeling returned to my legs.

I turned.

The Frame was crouched, the single horn gouging my ceiling. It turned, leaping back out of the window down to street level.

Where, I assumed, it had just thrown the two Nikke.

Syuen looked horrified.

Click to shrink...

Pure fucking satisfaction.

How are people pronouncing 000's name diegetically? Zero-zero-zero? Triple zero? Three-oh? Triple naught? Oh-oh-oh? There's a lot of options.

 

[Manfat]

Pure fucking satisfaction.

How are people pronouncing 000's name diegetically? Zero-zero-zero? Triple zero? Three-oh? Triple naught? Oh-oh-oh? There's a lot of options.

Click to shrink...

It varies from person to person, but Three-oh or Zero-Zero-Zero tends to be the norm; he pronounces it Zero-Zero-Zero but most people lean towards Three-Oh.

 

[MechPilot?Not!]

Nice. An outing for Liter and 000. Ark pedestrians might be a bit shocked to see a robot strutting about.

Commander did pretty good setting up for Syuen. So little time to prepare.

That's what you get, little monster, for attacking a demon's friends.
Syuen needs to change the terror level to code brown. 000 might let her live for a chance to kill chatterbox. How big is that grenade launcher?

 

[The Overlord]

Please for the love of all that is unholy, just straight up kill Syuen, she has assaulted a military officer and military property, this is probably like the once chance to get rid of her in a manner the Commander and 000 can get away with thanks to recordings and the spontaneous nature of 000 if they just shoot Syuen following its directive to protect the Commander XD

 

[Something]

Where, I assumed, it had just thrown the two Nikke.

Syuen looked horrified.

"What the fuck is that!?"

It was a fair question.

Because that....

That was the single angriest thing I had ever seen.

Click to shrink...

Oh he's pissed.

I'm pretty sure it's been mentioned somewhere in thread before, but I imagine 000 as looking like a MEC trooper from XCOM or a smaller Titanfall Titan. So I'm just imagining BT-7274's little brother giving someone the stink eye after punching through a window and yeeting two people outside.

 

[Zhead]

Oh he's pissed.

I'm pretty sure it's been mentioned somewhere in thread before, but I imagine 000 as looking like a MEC trooper from XCOM or a smaller Titanfall Titan. So I'm just imagining BT-7274's little brother giving someone the stink eye after punching through a window and yeeting two people outside.

Click to shrink...

He basically looks like Gundam Barbatos from Iron Blooded Orphans.
Barbatos Form 3/4 for the most part, though after the battle damage and lack of total repairs he'll look like the Barbatos Adept for a while instead.
At least till he gets the Lupus and Rex upgrades.

 

[Manfat]

"Big Guy, you mind picking that up for me?" We leaned down and moved the beam that Centi had indicated. She could have done so herself. But the size would have made it awkward for her. We placed it down, out of the way.

"Thank you!"

"You are welcome." We inclined our head. We still felt naked. We were missing multiple pieces of composite armour. Half our magnificent horns were still ruined. At least the technicians had managed to return our leg and thruster to full functionality.

"000?"

"Yes, Foreman Liter?"

"Hold this while I attach it." We moved the beam, our other hand extended so Foreman Liter could use it as a mobile lift. We had done much thinking on why we were left in such a deplorable state.

We had come up with two competing theories.

One. We were being punished. We did not know why. But it was certainly an option.

Two, and the more likely one we believed, Project Gemini was running out of funding. We were the Prototype, and our operational metrics exceeded all projected thresholds. That didn't mean additional funding would be approved.

We did not know if Project Gemini did quarterly or half-yearly budget reports and funding allocation.

We doubted they would tell us if we asked.

We would need to seek alternative solutions.

Perhaps we could petition the Commander or Deputy Chief Andersen for access to some of the specialised tools we would need for repairs. They wouldn't be as effective. But we also wouldn't be purely reliant on Project Gemini for repairs.

An acceptable trade-off to our sensibilities.

Foreman Liter finished her work, and we lowered her back to the ground.

We wondered if Project Gemini would feel we were degrading ourself by acting as a mobile lift for the Nikke? We did not. We wondered if we should add it to our next report?

The response could prove... humorous?

On greater reflection, perhaps it was best if we did not.

"You okay, Big Guy?" We looked down. Centi was frowning.

"We are well."

"You sure? You're not talking much even for you."

"We were repaired recently."

"Okay."

"They did not repair our horns."

"Your horns?"

"Yes. They are magnificent. We do not... like, we do not like their reduced state." She blinked, turning her head to the side slightly.

"Do you like them that much?"

"They are magnificent!" We did not understand. The more we thought on it, the less we were satisfied with Project Gemini's substandard repair.

"Okay. I'm sorry to hear that." Centi said.

"Got any ideas for fixing them?" Foreman Liter inquired.

"We have several. All of which will require specialised equipment we currently lack access to." Foreman Liter nodded slowly.

"Send me the specs on the equipment. I want to see what it can do." We did so and turned back to Centi.

"Even with the specialised equipment, the repair would be substandard compared to the original." We admitted. "We have run several possibilities. Thus far, no composite armour we have designed meets more than 85% of the original's defensive ability."

"The people who...made?" We nodded. "Made. You didn't tell you how?"

"No." We shook our head. "We have put in seventeen requests for full schematic access since their slipshod repair effort. None have been answered."

"Sorry to hear that." Centi frowned. We shook our head.

Centi.

Centi should not frown.

"We shall find a solution."

Centi smiled.

Better.

"Hmmm. You're right, it is specialised." Foreman Liter said, nodding. "But I can see several uses for it inside the Outpost. The Armoury. You. Even we can use it."

We tilted our head, slightly.

"I'll put in a request for the things you need. You put in one as well. I'll convince Alessa in the armoury to put one in as well. They'll know what we're doing. But they'll find it hard to say no."

"Thank you, Foreman Liter."

"You're welcome. Now get back to work."

"Yes, Boss!"

"Of course. Foreman Liter."

The request came unexpectedly. The line came directly from the Command Center. Centi and Liter had moved away a few minutes ago to meet Syuen. The CEO of Missilis. We did not know why a CEO of one of the Ark's Big Three would be in the Outpost.

We assumed it was important.

We accepted the communication.

"000."

"Squad Leader Rapi."We were not speaking. Not really. She had connected her internal processors with the system. We were exchanging information at the speed of thought.

"Syuen of Missilis is coming."

"We know."

"This should not happen."

"It is odd?"

"Extremely."

"Understood."

"I will connect you to the Commander's personal terminal. Please use the camera to record the interaction."

"Goal?"

"Insurance."

"Acknowledged." Rapi disconnected.

The feed stayed live. We observed the two Nikke and CEO enter the room. They dressed oddly.

A subculture of some sort?

Something told us we would regret looking into it. We shelved the impulse for later.

"Is the CEO in the room with us?" We noted the words of the Commander. We saw the reaction on the face of the smallest member of the Missilis delegation.

Hostility.

We stepped away from Centi as she finished securing a metal girder. We disabled background processes and focused on the feed. Diving into the sea of information.

Unknown presence.

Not malicious.

Altering video feed.

Not pictures.

Not audio.

Altering background information and composition.

Why?

We scanned.

Alterations consistent with the phenomenon known as Deep Fake. Someone was trying to invalidate the integrity of the recording.

We moved. Not physically. In the digital space.

Alteration diverted.

Intrusion redirected.

We felt a moment of satisfaction.

The attack redoubled at a speed that beggared belief. Multiple threads. Constantly evolving. Like the Hydra of ancient myth.

We responded.

Multiple vectors.

Scrap Code.

Replicating viruses.

The Hydra turned its attention to us. A hundred heads. Maw of fangs.

We inserted a line of code like a scalpel.

1 became 0.

The Hydra ate itself.

However, in doing so.

We realised we were going to lose.

Whoever was doing this had to be a Nikke; Missilis was not known to possess a Smart AI sophisticated enough to do... this.

Worse. Their processing lattice dwarfed ours.

Based on the opening clash. We were more at home in this place. It did not matter. They would overwhelm us with pure brute force. The invasive code took form, racing towards us and the systems we protected.

Hyrda. Chimera. Neamon Lion. Cerberus.

An army of monsters awaited us.

We moved scrap code. Enough to buy time. Raised like walls to prevent movement. We created while it slowed them.

Cruel.

Vicious.

Consuming.

Self-Replicating.

A virus not meant to simply infiltrate but to destroy software and burn out hardware.

They wanted the feed.

They wanted the video.

FINE.

DIE WITH IT.

The arrow was loosened. It struck the mass of oncoming monsters. We retreated. They had won the battle.

We would burn the earth and salt the fields.

You may take our home.

You shall not live in it.

We closed the connection.

It would take hours before our virus fully integrated and unleashed itself upon the system.

As the novel we had indulged in yesterday had stated, Tyrants have always been particularly susceptible to poison.

We observed the Command Center as the connection shut.

One tenth of a second. Was all we managed to see before the connection closed. Our full attention had been granted to the battle in cyberspace.

The Commander was on the ground.

Neon screamed.

Anis breathing through gritted teeth.

Rapi's jaw clenched tight.

The world narrowed to a pinprick.

Someone was saying something.

Irrelevant.

We tracked the shortest route. Around the building, down the next road. Turn right.

Irrelevant.

Through the building. Up the side of the next. In through the window.

There.

Faster.

We kicked off the ground. Thrusters igniting. We hit the side of the building. Some part of us noted we'd assisted with construction two weeks ago.

We went through the wall.

Then the wall after that.

Until we burst back out on the street.

We did not slow down. Horizontal speed became vertical. We hit the side of the next building. We did not break the wall down. This time we ascended. Our feet gouged chunks out of the side with each thruster-assisted leap.

This would be faster if we had claws.

A priority list shifted in the background, unconsciously.

We reached the top of the building.

We did not slow down.

We sped up.

Two steps. Edge of the roof. Jump. Thrusters full burn. We were level with the Command Center window.

Impact.

Metal spalled away.

Glass fragmented.

We felt our remaining horn impact the roof.

A small chip of metal came away.

Irrelevant.

Our hand lashed out. Fingers wrapped around the pink one's head. Material thresholds mapped. We could crush her like an ant.

We could...

We could.....

The Mass Production Nikke. Her head in our hand. The sound of rending metal.

We turned, seizing the other one by the arm and twisting. We pitched the two Nikke back out of the now-empty window.

At the concrete.

Three stories down.

Mass-produced Nikke would survive the fall. Missilis specialists certainly would. We leapt out of the window. The concrete shattered as we landed.

The two Nikke were already back on their feet.

"Surrender." Our words were strange to our ears. Guttural. Raw. Jagged.

We did not say "or die."

It would be cliché.

Also, we felt it was quite clearly implied.

"Wh-" The larger one spoke. We moved. The ground shattered. She had started to think. They were always more dangerous once they started to think.

Our manipulators ceased responding.

Direct override?

Impossible.

Point-to-Point intrusion.

Completely bypassing our countermeasures, how?

The Pink One had her hand up a red light connected us.

Our arms did not work?

Fine.

We boosted faster. Turned our body, and shoulder-checked the taller Nikke through the wall of the building we had scaled.

We turned.

Our legs gave out.

How!?

HOW WAS SHE DOING THIS!?

Thrusters fired. The Pink one gasped. Jumping. We grabbed her leg and threw her. She hit the ground and bounced. Twice. Before smashing through a decorative window we remembered putting up almost three weeks ago.

We had liked that window.

Something hot. A core of pure fire erupted in our chest.

Pain.

Pain.

PAIN.

We remembered.

The Commander on the floor.

Neon, Anis, and Rapi in pain.

Something else bubbled from inside us, moving along our body like fire.

So hot it made the pain feel worthless.

We turned.

The tall one looked horrified.

Good.

We jumped; she dodged. The wall became powder. A strike hit our lower body.

Strong.

Well placed.

In melee range.

Mistake.

Our manipulator grabbed her arm.

The pain redoubled.

Our vision blurred.

Our arms moved, smashing her through a support pillar before we punched her through the floor back to ground level.

We followed.

She avoided us crushing her legs into matchsticks.

Our kick punted her back out of the building and into the street.

We followed. Our vision cut. Everything was black.

THE PINK ONE.

She would take our eyes!?

We had more than eyes!

Impact. Hard. Sharp. Directly over the cockpit. The composite armour dented. We swung an arm around, hitting nothing. Our mind moved.

Sonar.

Repurposed.

Wireframe battle map achieved.

There. You. Are.

The tall one punched. Striking the cockpit again. We allowed the impact. She did not know we could see her. Our right arm. Fingers Tensed. Spear hand strike. We could tear her core apart with the counterblow.

We could.

We could!

We...

Mass production Nikke. Her eyes crimson. Our hand around her head. It shattered. Turned to scrap metal.

By us.

We...

We....

I.....

We didn't want to kill more Nikke.

We changed the strike, open-handed, palm. Across the stomach, she flew away. We pursued. A kick, the taller one landed next to the Pink One. We were on her an instant later. The Pink One could have run. Could have repositioned.

She refused to leave the tall one.

Our foot came down.

Resting on the tall one's head.

Our hand wrapped around the Pink One's.

"Do not move." Our voice was controlled. "The Commander will decide your fate."

"Okay. Sure. Could you move your foot off me, handsome?" The tall one asked. She had not seen us. We assume that was an attempt to appeal to vanity.

"Yeah, let Mihara go!"

"No. You are dangerous. You are threats."

"I know it doesn't mean much." The tall one said, sounding almost contrite. "But we were just following orders."

Indignation flared.

"Tell it to Nuremberg."

"Nuremburg? What's that handsome?" Appeal to vanity again.

To not know Nuremberg?

We were surrounded by Philistines.

"Are you going to let me go?" The Pink One asked.

"No."

"I could make you." We considered. She could.

"Do so, and we shall relocate you to the second story of the building behind you."

"How!?"

"With a kick."

"That would hurt."

"It would."

"So what? We just wait here until your Commander calls?"

We looked down. She could not see our eye lenses from under our foot.

"If you prefer, we could return to Plan A."

"What was Plan A?" The Pink One asked.

"We kill both of you."

"Were you really planning to kill us?" The tall one asked from under our foot.

"Did we give you a different impression?"

"I mean, you did start with 'surrender'."

"We felt the 'or die' was implied well enough."

"Fair point, handsome."

"What do you do for fun around here anyway?" The Pink one's words were partially muffled by our hand.

"Yuni is now really the time?"

"I'm bored."

"We assist in construction."

"Construction, really?"

"We find it pleasing."

"Didn't you just demolish a lot of stuff fighting us?"

"We did; we shall apologise later."

"To us?" The Pink One asked.

"No."

"You're mean." We chose not to dignify that with a response.

"000?" The connection activated. We made sure the two outside didn't hear anything. We did not imagine the Commander would order their deaths. But if he did... we would prefer they not know what was happening before we acted.

"Yes, Commander."

"You okay?"

"Yes, Commander."

"Enemy Combatants?"

"Neutralised."

"When you say neutralised, do you mean dead or incapacitated?"

"Currently incapacitated."

"Oh, good."

"You take any damage?" We reviewed.

"No significant damage. Composite armour over the cockpit will require replacement."

We did not mention the 0.87 grams of metal chipped from our remaining horn.

The sacrifices we made.

"Most people would call that significant."

"We consider it insignificant against the potential cost of inaction."

"...That's weirdly sweet."

"Status of Neon, Anis, Rapi, and yourself, Commander?"

"Not pleased. But we'll be fine."

"Any chance you could get off my head now, handsome? Syuen told me she and the Commander cut a deal."

We muted our conversation for a moment.

"No." We unmuted the connection. "Commander requesting orders."

"Syuen and I have made a deal. Also, no one else can hear this, right?"

"Correct."

"Thanks for the save. She was so flustered that I actually had leverage to work with. I mean, she's probably going to try to kill us at some point. But it'll be later. Not now."

A problem for tomorrow, then.

"And the enemy combatants?"

"Let 'em go. They're leaving." We complied.

"Oh, thank you. My neck was getting a cramp. See you later, handsome." The tall one stood.

"Great, I can see again. Mihara, I want to play!" The Pink One said.

We allowed them to walk away.

"Goodbye." We waved. That actually made the Tall One laugh. The Pink One waved back.

They were strange.

"Alright, 000, we'll have a briefing for you tomorrow. We'll come down to the motor pool for it. May drop down tonight, but I gotta get this sorted."

"Understood."

"Got any plans for the rest of the day?" We looked at the devastation we had caused in the short fight.

"We shall apologise to Foreman Liter."

"Ohhh. Yeah. Good luck. Call if you need backup."

"Will do."

"Oh! That's another first!" We blinked. "Anyway, seriously call if you need anything." The line closed.

We sighed.

We were not looking forward to this.

---

I hadn't bothered with being subtle.

I called Andersen the second Syuen was out of my damned base. As soon as he heard what we'd discussed, he'd cleared his calendar and called us down.

Us.

Not me.

Andersen had requested every member of Counters. 000 was joining through a video call. Andersen's office building absolutely would not admit the almost nine-foot-tall war machine. I'd also got a bit of good news for once. 000 had told me about the intrusion that made the video from my console useless. We'd checked the phones. The recordings were static, and the audio was so garbled as to be incomprehensible.

I don't know what kind of countermeasures Syuen had. But she'd cleanly removed all of my attempts at leverage.

So I thought anyway.

Neon's glasses?

They'd recorded it all flawlessly. We had it. Crystal clear. Syuen's arrival. My unfortunate foot-in-the-mouth moment. The 'correction' Syuen attempted and an absolutely furious; there wasn't another word for it. 000 breaking through the window and forcibly removing Mihara and Yuni.

The horrified look on Syuen's face as 000 breached the Command Center was my Combilink's background now.

It gave me a warm and fuzzy feeling just looking at it.

I didn't knock this time. Not because I wanted to be rude. The door opened before I could. Andersen was sitting in his chair. Looking at me over laced fingers.

He was furious.

"Shepard."

"Andersen."

"Counters."

"Deputy Chief."

"Take a seat." Andersen hit two keys. The wall of the office projected a holo-image of 000.

"Commander." He inclined his head. "Neon, Anis, Rapi. Deputy Chief Andersen."

"Good. As much as I'd like to get to the important part. I have to go over this first." Andersen turned to 000's image. "Why did you engage the Missilis Nikke?"

"We saw the Commander in imminent danger. Given the visible situation, Missilis Nikke were considered to be the likely primary threat vector. As such, we removed them. After which, when they did not stand down, we engaged them."

Andersen nodded slowly.

"Okay, that fits. It matches one of the two provisions that Project Gemini installed to allow you to engage Nikke. Good."

Yeah. Good. Sure.

So why didn't it feel like the truth?

"To be clear, you assessed Mihara and Yuni as an immediate threat to a human officer before engaging. Correct?"

"Affirmative."

Lie.

I didn't know how I knew.

But I knew I was right.

"Okay. I apologise for the next part, 000. But it's important that we get it down properly. Nikke can not lie when given a direct request for information by a commanding officer. Unless forbidden by a higher-ranking officer. But they can bend the truth if the request wasn't clear enough."

Andersen took a deep breath.

"I am ordering you, 000. To confirm if my previous point on your engagement of the Missilis Nikke was correct and you acted within your guidelines after, not before, calculating the odds."

"Affirmative."

Instant.

Rehearsed.

Lie.

My eyes narrowed. That shouldn't be possible. Not the way he'd just done it. Not against a direct order. NIMPH prevented Nikke from lying when asked like that. Project Gemini's provisions should be the same. Yet 000 had lied. I couldn't prove it. But I was sure.

Did that mean that the protections that Project Gemini put in place didn't work? Or had 000 evolved around them?

More importantly, did I care?

...No.

No, I didn't.

It could cause problems later, sure. But I didn't agree, ethically or emotionally, with the absolute obedience that the NIMPH created.

Neuro-Implanted Machine for the Protection of Humans.

Ha.

More like implanted for the control of Nikke.

It's not that I didn't see the edge cases or that NIMPH didn't have some positive points. Helping suppress fear or horror during combat. But I don't think that the edge cases justified the abuse. Studying the Ark's rules and laws over the last few weeks had also made me very, very aware. That I should. Never. Ever. Admit that out loud.

"Good. Glad we sorted that out." Andersen smiled. It didn't reach his eyes.

"You good, Tin Man?" Anis spoke up. Andersen rolled his eyes but didn't interrupt.

"We are fine." I opened my mouth. I swear the Frame almost looked churlish. "Minor damage to composite armour over cockpit. We have put in a repair request. We have not received an answer."

"Project Gemini's budget review is in two months. I wouldn't expect much before then." Andersen cut in. 000 nodded.

"Now onto the important part. Missilis' hunting expedition." Andersen rubbed his eyes as he took a deep breath.

"Chatterbox." No one moved. But I swore that something about 000 became more predatory.

"Sorry, Commander."

"Not your fault, Rapi." I forced a smile.

"It's both your faults. Now we have to deal with it." Andersen stated. "You didn't resurrect an old nightmare. But Syuen had to notice you looking into it. Then she must have done some digging on her own. The fact you were low enough on the food chain to lean on probably made her day."

Sadistic bitch.

"Yeah." Andersen agreed.

Oh... I'd said that out loud.

"Syuen wants you to hunt and bring the thing back for study."

He paused, considering his next words carefully.

"There are no words. In any language. That can properly express. Just how fucking stupid of an idea that is. However, given the situation. Syuen is going to try. Now, if it were just her getting killed. I'd write the whole thing off as a net gain and go get another hour of sleep."

He let out a groan.

"Unfortunately, I can't do that. So here's what's going to happen. You are going to go back to the Outpost and mind your damned business for the next 48 hours. I don't care if God himself descends from heaven and tells you to do something. You tell him it can wait."

"I am going to lean on Syuen."

"What?"

"You heard me, Shepard. I'm going to lean on Syuen. That recording you have? Gold. Sure, she could play it off. But I get Enikk involved? I don't doubt she'd get out of it sooner or later. But Syuen would lose more than a pound of flesh."

Andersen smiled. It was not pleasant.

"Mean time, I'm going to send as much Anti-Tyrant ammunition to you as I can without someone jumping down my throat about it."

"Andersen?"

"Yes, Shepard?"

"What do you want out of Syuen?"

"Well, since her dropping dead is too much to ask. I'm going to force the issue. The operation happens under joint oversight. Mine primarily. She agrees to Absolute and Matis being in the AO as support."

"You think she'll agree?"

"I think she will. Option B is that she takes her chances in the court of public opinion alongside an actual court of law. Somehow, I don't think she wants that."

"Isn't it dangerous? Threaten a member of the Big Three like this?"

Andersen looked at me. Then started laughing. It began as a chuckle and turned into a full-blown belly laugh. Tears were streaming down his face as he tried to catch his breath.

Rapi's eyes narrowed.

Anis didn't joke.

God, today was weird.

"Oh. Thanks, Shepard. I needed that." He shook his head. "Don't worry about me. My scale for danger is a little broken. Syuen doesn't even scrape my threshold for dangerous."

"Right. Good to know. Thanks, Sir."

"Yeah. Yeah. Alright, get out of here, Shepard. You got two days of sitting on your hands to get too."

"On it. I'll take a two-day vacation."

"You do that." Andersen nodded slowly. "Oh, and Shepard?"

"Yes, Sir?" Andersen met my eyes. He was not joking.

"Actually, this goes for all of you." His eyes roved over Counters and onto 000's holo-image.

"If you have something you absolutely had to do before you... well... died. The next two days are probably a pretty good time for it."

And wasn't that a sobering reminder of reality?

"Understood, Sir."

END

---

Hi all, hope you're having a great week/weekend.

A few things happen this time.

Everyone preps for a hunting expedition.
&
Mihara finds out local Gundam literally too angry to care about pain.

Manfat Patreon - If you're interested in supporting the work I do.
This Is Fine - Volume 1 Complete.
No Strings On Me - 3 Chapters Ahead of Public Release.

Support is always welcome, but never expected.

See you in the next one.

 

[Devone Douglas]

Yea gundam pilots are basically mha heroes. Basically going into blood rage and tearing themselves apart if it means kicking your ass 1% harder. These people are a different breed

 

[MechPilot?Not!]

The horrified look on Syuen's face as 000 breached the Command Center was my Combilink's background now.

Click to shrink...

Haha. That face is definitely a funny one. I'm picturing the April fools event with Nikke Syuen that can't aim for shit.

could cause problems later, sure. But I didn't agree, ethically or emotionally, with the absolute obedience that the NIMPH created.

Click to shrink...

More like implanted for the control of Nikke.

Click to shrink...

This is why we like the commander so much. He sees all the crap going on and tries helping the girls while also being smart enough to not get himself disappeared.

"Don't worry about me. My scale for danger is a little broken. Syuen doesn't even scrape my threshold for dangerous."

Click to shrink...

The original badass. I like this guy.

Mihara finds out local Gundam literally too angry to care about pain.

Click to shrink...

She's probably into it. She's the masochist of the relationship. Yuni just might get attached to 000 in addition to or instead of the commander. Run away, 000! They are getting along with you!

Given how the story is going instead, we might not get kind wipes?

 

[Manfat]

No one had come to see us.

We did not find this surprising.

In the day since Andersen had confirmed that we may all die.

Counters had kept to themselves.

We watched over them. We had integrated ourselves into the Outposts' security system. There were traces of our battle. Leftover scrap code. Some hidden viruses. We busied ourselves removing them.

Our new claws sat upon our hands.

The sword, if such a word could properly be appended to a weapon so quickly created, leaned against a wall.

Death.

How strange.

Death.

We were not afraid.

We rechecked the security feed.

Analysing.

Rapi, alone at the practice range. She had not left in twelve hours.

Anis had not left her room.

Neon was inside the armoury. Assembling and disassembling her shotgun for the seven hundred and fifty-second time.

The Commander sat on a ledge overlooking the majority of the base.

Our manipulator came up, touching what was left of our magnificent horns.

No time.

No time at all.

We returned to our cleanup efforts. We reflected the virus we had shot into the intruder. It would fully gestate in another thirteen hours. We were not foolish enough to think it would cripple Missilis. Given their resources, it was entirely possible they had already found and removed it.

If left undiscovered, the damage would be substantial.

This pleased us.

They invaded our home.

They should be prepared for retribution.

We moved, repacking a shelf we had already packed several times. There was always another viable configuration to attempt.

Which one would work best for Centi and Foreman Liter if we were not there to act as a carrier?

We checked the security feeds again.

No significant movement.

Counters remained stationary.

No detectable threats.

We repacked another shelf. If we pulled one of the spare cargo carriers out of storage, it would most likely be of assistance should we not be here to help.

Yes.

Yes. That was a good idea.

We would do that next. Right after we reorganised shelf C-5 again. We had thought of another viable configuration that would work better for Foreman Liter. It took twenty minutes to fully reorganise the shelves C-5, F-7, and N-9. We had thought of new, better configurations to attempt. Now all we had to do was get the cargo carrier out of storage.

We checked the security feeds.

Rapi was missing. We searched. 2.78 seconds passed. We found her. Resupplying ammunition.

Good.

Good.

Anis still had not left her room.

Neon was disassembling her shotgun again.

The Commander still had not moved.

We retrieved the cargo carrier. It was awkwardly shoved in the corner of the storage room. The room itself was a mess. Clearly, no one had attempted to make it organised. We placed the carrier outside and began to organise the mess.

We attempted seven different configurations.

Before deciding on the original choice.

It took five hours.

We checked the security feeds over four hundred times.

By the time we returned to the motor pool, we realised why the cargo carrier had been in storage. Two of the wheels were unaligned. It had an annoying tendency to pull to the right and abruptly stop as a wheel twisted at a bad angle.

Annoying.

Fixable.

Good.

We pulled the carrier onto a table and began to work. Removing the wheels. Aligning brackets. Oiling. Replacing.

We checked on Counters again.

Rapi was still practising.

Anis' door was open. Our view moved at the speed of thought. Camera's checked one after the other.

Streets? No.

Command Center? No.

Armoury? No.

Cafeteria? Yes.

Good.

Good.

She was preparing instant noodles.

Good.

We finished maintenance on the carrier. It worked. Rolling perfectly.

Success.

We considered. If we stored it here, it could make removing product from shelf G-7 difficult, but if we replaced it with the stock of C-2... that would change the system, though.

We reorganised the shelving again.

There perfect.

We think.

Perhaps another viable configuration, a better one, would occur to us. We relaxed for a moment. We checked the security feeds again.

Anis' door was closed.

We moved, lifting the sword; it was passable. We had made the point of balance too far forward. We could try to fix it.

But....

We check the security feeds again.

Then reorganised the shelves.

We stopped. Tension went out of the Frame.

Death.

Strange.

Death.

Death smiles upon us all. All a man can do is smile back. Attributed to Marcus Aurelius – Meditations.

Actual quote – Actor Richard Harris, playing Marcus Aurelius, Film Gladiator.

Would we smile?

We looked at the shelves again.

More configurations possible.

More configurations....

Pointless.

They are as close to perfect as they will get. Optimisation is always possible. There would always be another configuration. Another option. Another trade-off.

We checked the cameras again.

Rapi training

Anis' door.

Neon...was not assembling her shotgun. She was speaking to a mass-produced Nikke. She was smiling.

Good.

The Commander was still sitting on the ledge.

Time.

It always comes down to time.

We selected a new musical track. One we had not heard before. Neon would be disappointed.

"I was walking along, minding my business. When out of an orange coloured sky (Flash, bam, alakazam), Wonderful you came by!"

Saxophone. Trumpets. Trombone. Rhythm section.

We opened a file.

Old Tales – Personal Logs Unredacted.

We read them.

Once. Twice. Three times.

We left the song on repeat. We changed the file.

Old Tales – Personal Logs Redacted.

We read it once. Compared it against the unredacted version and chose the more complete version over the more familiar one. We finished it again. Just as the song came to an end once more.

"I was walking along, minding my business. When love came and hit me in the eye. Flash, bam, alakazam. Out of an orange-coloured, purple-striped. A pretty, green, polka-dot sky. Flash, a-bam, alakazam, and goodbye!"

We terminated the track.

"One look and I yelled, "Timber!" Watch out for flying glass." We muttered the song's lyrics to ourselves as we checked the security feeds again.

Rapi was still at the range. She had not moved in some time. Merely sighting down her weapon.

Anis had not left her room.

Neon had moved to her own room.

The Commander had lay down to rest two hours ago.

We did not know how many times we had checked the cameras today.

It seemed pointless to count after we had done it more than two thousand times.

We looked at shelf F-7.

Now that we thought about it, if we swapped F-9 and F-7 around, maybe we could... that would mean reorganising the entire system again from the ground up. We stepped forward. Then stopped. We had tried that exact configuration seventeen hours ago. We had discarded it sixteen hours ago.

We turned.

F-7 would remain as is.

We checked the time.

Six hours.

Six hours until Andersen's check-in with the Commander.

We would get our orders and then....

and then...

All a man can do is smile back - Misattributed to Marcus Aurelius.

Still valid.

We opened our mouth and shut off the speakers of the Frame. We spoke with our own voice for the first time since we had connected to the Frame.

We tried to mimic a voice we couldn't remember.

"Can I ask you? Why the sky is blue?"

We failed.

Something wet ran down our cheek.

We selected another track. We had not listened to this one with Neon. She wished to be there when we listened to new music.

We felt she would forgive us.

We checked the security feed again.

They were still there.

Good.

Good.

We listened to the music as we made our way through the empty streets of the Outpost while the world was at rest.

Another new track.

We liked this one.

Hopefully, Neon would forgive us.

We moved towards food storage. There were a few things we needed to retrieve. It was not made for something our size. We were careful. It took us almost forty minutes to retrieve items that would have taken a normal human thirty seconds.

The Outpost had not been built with things our size in mind.

We looked our prize over.

An MRE burger and a six-pack of Anis' preferred soda.

A hot almond red bean drink and an MRE chicken kiev. Neon's preferred drink and chicken was her most common MRE choice.

BBQ shredded beef MRE and a can of cold brew coffee for Rapi.

Seafood Chowder MRE and another can of cold brew coffee for the Commander.

It took us twenty minutes to maneuver our way into the cafeteria and lay the items on the table. It would have taken ten, but we did not wish to be seen.

We did not know why.

There were still more things to do.

We moved towards the armoury. It was not empty. The Nikke inside saw us, she opened her mouth. We held up a hand. Palm facing outwards. She closed her mouth and nodded almost solemnly. Picking up her own equipment and leaving.

We appreciated that.

We checked the security feed.

Rapi was missing; we searched. 3.85 seconds. We saw her enter the cafeteria and stop looking at the table where we had left the items.

We felt something. We were not sure what.

She smiled and left.

We watched the door to her room close.

They were safe.

They were all safe.

Good.

Good.

We returned to our self-directed task. We gathered all of the magazines compatible with Rapi's weapon. Then we selected based on compatibility, chance of failure, and angle of receiver. We removed as many possible points of failure as we could think of.

Then we checked the remaining magazines a second time to ensure we had not made a mistake.

We removed another two that did not reach our standard. We began loading those that remained. Anti-Tyrant rounds.

Andersen had sent us a large amount.

We saw no reason not to make every magazine carry them. If Rapi found a use for them, excellent; if not, they were meant to be used anyway.

We repeated the process for the side arms that the counters used.

Three more Nikke entered as we worked.

None said anything.

We moved from magazines and loading to reviewing shotgun cartridges and grenades. They were all Anti-Tyrant rounds. We looked deeper. Scanning for imperfections beyond the obvious. Some passed our test. Some were placed aside. If a round had more than a 0.0002% chance of a misfire, it was not good enough for them.

We still collected more than enough to be effective without lowering our standards.

We touched our ruined horns.

Time.

It was always time.

We set the musical tracks to shuffle and continued working. We did not section out songs that Neon had not heard yet.

If Neon wished to complain, she could do so after she returned.

So she had to come back.

She had to....

We moved the ammunition and magazines into carry cases and laid them by the armoury entrance. We ensured they were labelled clearly. No one would pick them up by mistake. We checked the time; they would be moving soon.

But not yet.

Not yet.

We paused.

On the table. A shotgun. We hadn't noticed it before. MISG-09. Set for maintenance. We did not know who it belonged to. We were moving before we realised it. Our manipulators eased the casing off and looked at the weapon's internals.

We saw the wear and tear. We moved to the nearest supply drawer and drew out the replacement parts. We knew the parts needed to be from the same manufacturer. Our manipulators moved, slowly, delicately.

The weapon was reassembled.

The casing fit.

We felt satisfaction.

We rechecked the Anti-Tyrant ammunition and magazines we had cleared. Just to make sure we had not made any mistakes.

We had not.

We restacked the crates and moved towards the Command Center's storage room. It was awkward and ungainly fitting inside.

We dealt with it as well as we could.

Time.

Always time.

We could feel it running out.

There was still so much to do.

We removed the decoys, camping equipment, and assorted tools. Laying them out in a grid to more easily observe each. We inspected for damage. Wear. Improper storage methods. Anything that made them less than the absolute best option available.

It took forty minutes to finish.

It took another ten to pack what was best into another storage crate and label it. Setting it just inside the Command Center's entry hall.

Now we should....

We should......

We....

What was left to do?

We considered.

Weapons, in Counters hands and already maintained to high standard.

Ammunition and magazines, checked twice. Already prepared.

Camping equipment, Decoys, Tools. Ready.

Shelving.

Shelving.

We could change the setup of C-5 to....

No.

We moved back to the motor pool. We examined our shotgun and mace. Still serviceable.

Claws and sword? Slapdash but functional.

It would have to do.

We mag-locked the weapons and left, walking slowly through the Outpost. The streets were slowly beginning to have more people traverse them. No, Nikke spoke to us. Though some raised their hand in greeting.

We reciprocated.

We found ourself on the same ledge as the Commander had hours before. We looked over the Outpost.

Up here it all looked so... small.

We checked the cameras.

Counters had moved.

Doors were opened they had gathered in the cafeteria. They were eating. They were not talking. We checked the time.

One hour.

We sat with our legs dangling over the edge of the ledge. Waving back and forth.

We opened the file again.

Old Tales Personal Logs – Unredacted, and began to read.

It flashed through our mind.

A pair of glasses.

Silver hair.

Two people laughing.

Hands forming words.

Someone's hand in mine pull me forward.

Warm.

Safe.

Gone.

The hollow feeling in our chest made us gasp.

We checked the time.

Ten minutes.

We stood. Taking one last look at the Outpost as we descended back to street level.

Andersen's briefing.

Then the mission.

The mission.

...please be safe.

We listened to the music playing as we took one step after another into a new day.

"Just to prove the world was here. And here is a red balloon. I think of you, and let it go."

END

---

Local Brain Smoothie discovers he cares a lot more for people than he thinks he does.

In other news!

Water = Wet.

Manfat Patreon - If you'd like to support the work I do.
This Is Fine Volume 1 - Complete
No Strings On Me - 3 Chapters Ahead of Public Release.

Support is welcome but never expected.

 

[GigaVanguard]

Look what they did. They gave a perfectly good robot gestalt hivemind anxiety is what they did.

 

[MechPilot?Not!]

Quite the pressure on this next mission. It is far better to be prepared, but anxiety and whatnot sucks.

He will be happy when neon gets a chance to bust his ass for listening without her.

Anderson's briefing will likely be very grim. Probably bust the S/M duo for not taking it seriously.

 

[Novelgoblin]

This is one of the most amazing mech fanfics I have read, not to mention a great story about a new gestalt humonculous/AI creation and it discovering humanity in one of the most screwed settings NIKKE. Hell I think project GEMINI is something even the NIKKE writters would be impressed by, its rare to out horrer them. Poor robot has now encountered anxiety, unfortunetely not all emotions are good for you bud. Cant wait for more!

 

[Manfat]

The VTOL was...acceptable. This one was larger. We were not forced to suffer the indignity of being strapped under it like before.

Absolute and Matis were traveling to the AO in their own crafts. We would be close enough that if anyone pulled their emergency beacon, the other team would be on them within five minutes. It would also signal Andersen to deploy every asset at his disposal to the area.

This pleased us.

"So..." Neon's voice was low. "Project Gemini ignored you for a while. How did you convince them to fix the frame?"

We considered lying.

"We impressed upon their delegate the importance of repairing us; we believe she thought we were threatening her."

"Why would she think that?"

We had denied that anything had happened between Doctor Carter and us when the Commander asked. It would be...awkward to have to recant that statement now. We kept our voice low.

"Most likely because we threatened her."

Neon began cackling; it drew attention from throughout the VTOL's cargo bay. Including the Mass Produced Nikke in the corner. We did not move. Nor did we acknowledge the looks given to us by Anis, Rapi, or the Commander.

We doubted they had heard us.

"Do you like Project Gemini?" Neon asked as she recovered.

"They are responsible for our creation."

"That's not what I asked."

We took a moment. The repeated requests for repair. The requests for clarification. The initial blocking of our request for the unredacted Old Tales files. We remember your role in that, Doctor Berg. The slapdash repair of our Inner Frame. The lack of communication on how to create composite armor on our own, as they would not repair it. Their failure to restore our magnificent horns to their former glory!

"No. We find them...inefficient."

"That's a word for it." The Commander said from across the bay. We turned.

"You have interacted with them further?"

"I spent twelve hours getting the runaround on getting your armour restored over the last two days. I spent more on hold than I did sleeping." The Commander sounded annoyed. We reviewed archived footage. Between the ledge and his office, he had been out on an outgoing call for most of the day.

We inclined our head.

"Thank you, Commander."

"It was nothing." He waved our thanks off. "But seriously, those guys are impossible. It took one call to Andersen. One. To get an entire VTOL that could fit you. This has to be more expensive than the armour."

We didn't respond for a moment. We did not have the armour specifications. But we calculated the rough average between equipment, creation, and technicians. Then compared it against the VTOL and the possible loss of the craft in this operation.

Yes, the VTOL was most likely more expensive.

Significantly more.

"Thank you, Commander." We said it again. He looked, scratching the side of his face.

"Oh, come on. Don't do that. You'll make me blush."

"Don't hide that blushing face!" Anis cut in.

"Yeah, let us see it," Neon added.

It was telling that Rapi did not intervene. We took this to mean she was also amused. The teasing continued for several minutes.

"Coming up on the drop zone. Ten minutes." The Mass Produced Nikke called.

"Right. Thanks, Min!" The Commander replied. "Make sure you're all ready to go. They'll only stay grounded for two minutes. If that. You forget something. They're not coming back."

We rechecked our weapons. Mace and Shotgun. Mag-locked to back. Sword, wedged into mag-locked position between them. We would need to redesign the backpack when we were next given time. Claws, attached. Ammunition, stored in the side skirts of the Frame.

We were not carrying Anti-Tyrant rounds.

The Ark did not produce an Anti-Tyrant shotgun cartridge that would fit our weapon. We had requested Project Gemini supply some. We had not received an answer.

Something else we would need to produce ourselves.

Perhaps once we were finished designing, producing, testing, and utilising them. All on a shoestring budget. We could send the data over to Project Gemini.

So they could acquire perspective on what efficiency looked like.

"Gear check!" The Commander called out. Pulling on a large backpack. It was rare for Commanders to carry gear themselves. Most delegated it to Nikke.

We preferred the Commander's choice.

"Clear."

"Ready."

"Firepower!"

"Ready, Commander."

"Touch down in two minutes." Min, the mass-produced Nikke said. Taking her position and getting ready to lower the ramp. We moved, positioning ourself at the front. If a Raputre attempted to fire into the VTOL, we would absorb the strike.

The metal plate we'd fastened to the front of our damaged composite armour wouldn't do much. But it would mean the chestplate held just a little longer.

We'd make sure it was enough.

"I've just got confirmation from Wardress. They're hitting the ground at the same time we are. Two hundred meters away. We're meeting up with them before proceeding."

CEO Syuen had insisted that Wardress be delivered by a Missilis VTOL.

This seemed inefficient to us.

Then again, a lot of things about CEO Syuen seemed inefficient to us.

The VTOL lost altitude. Altitude, it barely had. Rapture owned even the skies. The ramp fell open.

The city was dead.

Expected.

We disembarked quickly. We could not avoid Rapture contact forever. But we would prefer not to risk the VTOL. We did not see Absolute or Matis' craft. We could see Wardress' land behind a building.

Two hundred meters.

South by South-West.

"Good luck!" Min called as the ramp closed and the VTOL took off.

"Let's move." The Commander called over coms. "Last thing we want is to still be here when the Rapture decide to see what all the fuss is about. 000, you're on point."

"Acknowledged, Commander."

We kept to the front of the formation, our scanners flaring. No Rapture presence. Yet. It was coming. We were sure it was coming. We covered the two hundred meters quickly. The Commander kept safe in the middle of our formation.

We saw Wardress before they saw us.

"Really here? BDSM? Here!?" The Commander's voice sounded strangled.

Odd.

"Oh, good. I was afraid we'd have to come find you."

"Mihara. Yuni." The Commander said, nodding.

"Commander," Mihara said. Yuni turned her nose up at him. Rude. We felt the two Missilis Nikke integrate into the coms array.

"Alright, let's get going. Last tracks we had were twenty minutes west of here."

We took point and began moving.

"Good to see you, handsome." Another appeal to vanity. She had never seen us.

"Mihara." We acknowledged with a nod. She pouted. We did not know why.

The next hour was relatively peaceful. We avoided Rapture engagement through use of our scanner and the accumulated combat knowledge of Counters. Two times, our scanners said nothing was waiting. Squad Leader Rapi had redirected us anyway. Supported by Mihara.

The member of Wardress stated she could 'feel the ambush.'

Rapi did not disagree.

Yuni was becoming... irritating.

She was childish.

Demanding.

Thankfully, we could simply mute her; the others did not have that option.

Unfortunately.

Engaging Rapture was actually a relief. The Pink One would stop talking. The Rapture were as expected.

Husks.

Servants.

Nothing particularly dangerous.

We dispatched them quickly. It was simple. Unfortunately, finishing combat meant that Yuni began speaking once more. We spent most of the first day with her muted. We doubted that it would change in the future.

At Rapi's insistence, overriding the Commander's objection, we camped for the night in a slightly less ruined building. Anis and Neon set up decoys. Rapi handled Overwatch. We were on the ground floor with the Commander. Officially, we were there to get him to safety if the Rapture took us by surprise.

Unofficially, we were there to counter Wardress if Syuen had taken offence and decided to remove him.

We did not think they would.

CEO Syuen was getting everything she wanted, if not in the way she wished. But she already appeared to be unstable to us.

We were also not completely sure we could defeat Wardress. Our initial engagement was conducted with the element of surprise. If we were to face Wardress again, we would no longer have that advantage.

They were also carrying actual weapons this time; they would not be forced to engage us in melee combat. Then again, given the narrowness of the corridors and thinness of the walls. We could probably force a melee engagement.

Still, we had no doubt that Wardress had reviewed our last engagement and developed possible countermeasures.

We had done so for them.

"You doing okay, 000?"

"We are fine, Commander."

"Actually, that raises a good question," Mihara spoke. Yuni was hanging off of her. "What are you? You remind me of Heavy Gram, but not the same."

"Classified." We spoke bluntly. Mihara was odd. We did not dislike her. Neither, however, did we like her enough to divulge our history. We had not been forbidden from doing so. That seemed like an oversight to us.

"Come on, handsome."

"You have not seen us. You have no way of knowing our physical appearance."

Mihara began laughing. We did not understand. She was wrong. We were not handsome. Aesthetically speaking, we were ugly. At least according to the Ark's cultural norms.

You are beautiful.

The comfort of those words.

We did not know where they came from.

But we were glad for them.

"Mihara!" Yuni called from next to her taller counterpart. "I was good all day today! Don't I get a reward!?" Mihara tapped a finger to her lips.

"Sure, just let me decide how big a reward it should be." She stepped towards Yuni.

I looked down at the Commander. Perhaps he could explain this to us? The ashen look on his face told us he probably wouldn't be able to. Mihara sat. Yuni plopped herself down in the taller woman's lap.

"Go on then." Mihara's voice was low, almost a purr. Yuni looked excited; she grabbed a handful of Mihara's thigh and squeezed with a Nikke's immense strength. The taller woman let out a shuddering sigh.

"Mihara..." Yuni's voice was low. "Does it hurt?"

The taller woman shuddered. Letting out a hiss of air.

"It hurts. It hurts. So good."

We looked down at the Commander.

How can something hurt and be good?

Commander Shepard had sunk down to the floor, hands over his face.

We assessed that he would be no help in making sense of this.

"Mihara, can we hurt you more?" Yuni asked, leaning closer. We did not understand. Wasn't pain supposed to be avoided? Pain was unpleasant. Why would Mihara want more of it?

"Not now." The taller woman let out a shuddering breath. "We can't get addicted to just this after all." Yuni sighed, sliding off the taller woman's lap.

"Okay. I'll hurt you better next time."

We looked down.

The Commander looked defeated.

We felt confused.

"What the fuck?" Anis' voice came from behind us. We had not used profanity before. But we agreed with the sentiment.

We turned, looking at her and Neon. We had intended to ask for an explanation. But they looked confused. The Commander stood up, his face dusted with red. We chose not to speak out loud. Instead sending our request via his Combilink.

'Commander. Yuni and Mihara. Please explain. We do not understand.'

He looked at the Combilink for a moment and then began typing. We received our answer fifteen minutes later. The Commander had written, rewritten, and then re-rewritten it several times.

'They're in a consenting non-standard romantic relationship.'

'Elaboration.'

'No.' The Commander shook his head as we received the message. 'You can look it up when we get back. Just know they're both okay. Consenting and, outside of that, it's none of our business.'

'Acknowledged.'

"Okay...I'm going to go keep Rapi company." The Commander said, walking towards the stairs.

"Yeah, same here!"

"Me too." Anis and Neon added their plans. We watched them depart. Leaving us alone with Yuni and Mihara, who were lost in their own personal world.

We looked about.

There were no immediate tasks requiring our attention.

No one was currently in need of our assistance.

We muted the outgoing speakers and selected a musical track. It was one of many we had listened to with Neon. We had not told her we had listened to others without her. Perhaps that knowledge was better off remaining ours. We opened a new book, Dresden Files Storm Front, date of release April 1st, 2000, and began to read.

If the night proved uneventful, we would read the Old Tales Personal Logs – Unredacted again as well.

Counters formed a rotating watch.

Yuni fell asleep.

Mihara stayed awake.

"You're curious." We moved our attention from Mogworld. We were three pages short of the end of the book, and onto the tallest Nikke.

"Clarify."

"About Yuni and me. You've never seen anything like it." We did not speak. "Even in the Ark, you should have some idea of what we're about. But you don't, and that's very interesting."

We were not sure we liked the emphasis she put on interesting.

"I've seen how you fight. Direct. Overwhelming. I know Heavy Gram, and your suit's not from them. Even with the... similarities. Earlier, I asked 'what are you', I'd like to change my question. Who are you?"

"Unit Designation: Subject 000." Mihara paused at that. Yuni moved in her sleep. Closer to the Commander. We moved, placing our leg in the way. She curled around it. Hanging on.

We felt...uncomfortable.

"Unit designation?" She tapped a finger against her lips. "Well, handsome, you just get more and more interesting. But you didn't answer my question."

We had.

"I asked you who you are, handsome. Not what people call you."

"Heavy Support Platform for aiding Nikke." Mihara circled, almost predatory.

"Heavy support? Yes, I suppose that is true. What's your name?"

"Unit Designation: Subject 000." Mihara laid a hand on our forearm. Gentle, almost caressing our damaged armour.

"Not what I asked. What is your name?"

"We do not have a name." We answered truthfully. The tall Nikke looked... sad. She pulled away.

"I think that's enough for one night. " Her voice was soft. "Also, you were wrong."

"About?" We did not remember being wrong in her presence.

"I don't know what you look like. But you are handsome."

"You do not know how aesthetically pleasing our appearance is." Mihara shook her head.

"True. But beauty is about more than the physical. Goodnight." She moved away and lay down. We returned to reading Mogworld.

Yuni shuddered slightly against our leg. We reached down and tucked her hair behind her ear. She stilled.

We considered the final words of the book.

'Don't you want to be a hero?'

'No. I think I'd rather be a protagonist.'

We moved on to another book. We read this one slowly, at the same speed as a human. It would last us until the sun rose, and we had to wake the Commander. Assuming Squad Leader Rapi didn't do it for us.

Yuni had moved several times throughout the night, never away, always to try to grab more of our leg. She would stop moving when we offered physical contact by placing a hand upon her. It forced us to revise our initial reading of her.

Was she merely annoying, or was that annoyance in aid of something else?

Mihara woke early. She laughed at Yuni, still wrapped around our leg. We hoped she would coax her companion off. She did not. We were not completely comfortable with the arrangement. But assistance costs us nothing. We reached down and placed a hand on Yuni's head again as she shuddered. Stilling her instantly.

Were we human, we were sure we would understand this. Today, we will observe Yuni closely.

We would see what we had missed.

We set out two hours later. We kept regular tabs on Yuni. Our sensors made this effortless. She was annoying. She was childish.

She was also constantly making sure Mihara was watching her.

Everyone else was superfluous.

Mihara was essential.

When she looked at Yuni, the pink one preened. When she turned away, her body stilled. It happened in milliseconds. If we were not watching for it, we would miss it.

Was this emotional attachment or dependence?

Was there a significant difference between these two states?

The longer we watched. The more we saw. Mihara would look one way. Yuni another. While the pink one was always demanding her attention. She also watched every angle of attack that Mihara was not. Based on her position. Yuni was not doing so to protect herself, but Mihara.

Was this... love?

"Hey!" We looked down. Yuni was at our side.

"Yes?"

"Hold my hand!" She demanded. We considered. Our manipulators were full; we needed to maintain our hold on our weapons.

"Negative." We did not explain our reasoning. Yuni looked upset. We held in a sigh. "But you are welcome to hold onto us."

"Good!" She grabbed onto our side skirt. We noted the pressure sensor went off. It would not harm us. But the force of Yuni's grip would have broken a human's hand. She held our armour for almost two hours. Then Mihara rotated off the left flank, and she immediately went to grab onto the taller Nikke.

"Making friends, Tin Man?" Anis called us over the Counter's private coms.

"We are unsure. We do not understand them."

"Yeah. Figured that may be the case."

"Why do they..."

"Look, Tin Man, I'm not going to explain kink to you."

"Kink?"

"Not the point. Let's just say that love comes in many forms. So long as everyone's consenting, it's none of our business."

"That is still confusing."

"Welcome to people, Tin Man." Anis disconnected.

We found the tracks an hour later. Indents. Claws. Size. Something deep inside our chest twisted; it almost felt like blood was draining away from our head. Which was strange.

We did not possess blood.

"It's going west," Mihara stated, reading the tracks. We agreed. But we were impressed that she reached that conclusion before we did.

"The tracks are too clean." She added. "Almost like it wants us to follow."

"Given Chatterbox's confirmed abilities. That may actually be the case."

"Yes... yes, it could." Mihara agreed with a nod. "Commander, please call Absolute and Matis. Make sure they're aware we have the trail and to keep an eye out."

"Can do." Mihara knelt; Yuni joined her. They traced their hands over the edges of the tracks.

"Tall. I'd say three or four times your height, handsome and heavy enough to push into concrete, even old concrete. So at least a few tons."

Something moved in our chest.

Old.

Vicious.

Waiting.

We did not respond. We looked. There was a wall nearby. A boulder in front of it.

We were sure.

We did not know how.

But we were sure.

We moved; someone spoke behind us. We couldn't hear them. Something was thundering in our ears. Our hand pushed into the boulder, cracking its surface like cheap cardboard. We tossed it aside. Away from the others. Behind it, hidden, was a simple arrow pointing West by northwest.

An invitation.

Do you want to play?

Oh, and I did.

I really wanted to play.

To pull its head off.

Hear it scream!

Just like Beth-

"000!"

"Commander?"

"You okay? You didn't respond when I called you."

"...Just measuring distance."

"What distance?" We looked over the dead city. We did not know what we were looking for, but...

"There." We pointed. The area we had chosen was not West by North West. It was South by South East.

"What?"

"Chatterbox is there."

"That is in the opposite direction of the tracks and the arrow you just found."

"Yes."

"And you're sure?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"We do not know."

"Rapi call Absolute. Mihara call Matis. Tell 'em we're changing direction. South by South East."

"Not that I'm opposed, Commander. But that is entirely the wrong direction. Handsome did good finding that arrow. But this is a bit much."

"Yeah, a bit much." The Commander agreed. "But 000 hasn't been wrong yet. Not about Chatterbox."

"Fine. At worst, we lose a day."

"Commander." Rapi looked almost disturbed. "Could you- No. Never mind. I'll speak with Absolute."

"No! Wait." The Commander said, holding up a hand. "Rapi, I'll make the call. You make sure we're not about to get ambushed."

We watched the tension go out of her shoulders.

Did Rapi leave Absolute on bad terms? The files we had access to were heavily redacted. We suspected she operated as part of the unit. Given the similarities between their uniform and what she wore. But the vast majority of data had simply been removed. Not odd for high-ranking corporate Nikke squads. But very unhelpful in understanding what was happening.

"Alright, let's get moving, people." The Commander finished his call and began to move. We formed up around him. "000?"

"Yes, Commander?"

"Find me my monster."

"We will do more than find your monster, Commander."

We turned our head, focusing on where we knew Chatterbox was.

"We will kill your monster."

The old thing in our chest moved.

Our monster.

END

---

And so the Monster Hunt Begins.

Best of luck, everyone.

Manfat Patreon - If you'd like to support the work I do.
This Is Fine - Volume 1 Complete.
No Strings On Me - 3 Chapters Ahead of Public Release.

Support is welcome, never expected.