I was still bristling. I knew I shouldn't have been in a manner. Even the slightest risk of my anger boiling over was proving itself to be impossibly risky. As in, it could get my head blown off, risky.

  But at the same time, why should I give a rat's ass? These absolute lunatics threw me into a robotic body with breasts and made me into a soldier without any consent on my part, and as if that wasn't bad enough, some people could just, give me an order, just about any order, no matter how demented or foul, and I'd have to listen to it.

  Had to obey it. I was steaming. Beyond that, really. There was simply no way to put how I felt into words. How could I? There was an entire group of people who could just defile my autonomy with just a few words! Just because they damn well felt like it! I wanted to lash out. To rage against yet another way the world seemed fit to deny my very humanity. But at the same time?

  I was starting to get tired. Rage was only good when you had a lot of it to give. And I did. From the moron Syuen who did this to me, to, well, everything else. But there was a point where you could only give so much. And I was well past that point. Rage wasn't bottomless, and neither was my temper. I was angry, beyond that. But exhaustion was already worming its way in, and it was only the freshness of this new injustice that was the only thing keeping my rage going.

  Of course, I wasn't going to mouth off to my 'commanding officer'. No matter how much even thinking that made me wish I retained the ability to vomit. Syuen, I would poke well enough, because I was on technical grounds too important for her to just simply kill. This man? Could put a bullet through my head at wouldn't even get so much as a slap on the wrist. If that.

  The best target for my temper were nothing but the Raptures themselves. Which was a good thing. Genocidal Alien robots always made of good punching bags and victim free stress relief.

  And these ones seemed, dumber, than the ones before. Yeah, they were still a problem, there was no way they wouldn't be. But they didn't seem like, Chatterbox, really. Which in my book, was a damn good thing. I'd rather not pick a fight with that bastard anytime soon. He could stay the hell away from me for all I cared, and I could live my life without seeing his stupid mechanical face ever again!

  Sure, that very thought process was nothing more than me waving a red flag in front of Murfphy's face before egging his house, but again.

  I didn't give a rat's shit about anything like that. Not at this point. There were only a handful of ways Murphy could make my life worse right now, and frankly?

  He was going to make me suffer more before he resorted to things like that.

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  Mihara resisted the urge to massage her forehead. She should have seen this coming. Of course, 313N was going to have issues. Again, and again, just leaving her out like this without proper preparation was going to bite them in the ass.

  At least at the moment, 313N was keeping her mouth shut. But it was clear to pretty much everyone that she was stewing. Perhaps not the Commander. In that case, he could either have noticed, but not cared, or simply not noticed. It was always a toss-up in situations such as this. The important part was, what had pissed 313N was enough to keep her from running her mouth. She'd been willing to poke and proud at Syuen at the drop of a hat. So 313N not resorting to antagonism straight away was a bit of a surprise.

  Though what set 313N off in hindsight was obvious. Stupidly so. Who thought that no exposure was going to be a good idea? Every Nikke was used to a Commander. It was drilled and inserted into their minds before they saw combat.

  Experience that their special unit with a messed up NIMPH didn't have. Not that they wanted 313N to have much, either, as she was meant to be a special model, put on the front lines only because Syuen ordered it so and was kept there because of a freak accident that gave her use to Misillis as a whole. An ability they wanted to keep under wraps, understandably so. Sure, it wasn't pure benevolence on the part of the board, but the alternatives could be considerably worse.

  Even if limited to Chatterbox, it was exceptional. If it could be broadened to Tyrant classes overall? Even better. Such a power had important recon and intel applications. One that the military itself would love to get their hands on if they knew about it. They would be considerably less gentle about things. Yes, the board was concerned first and foremost with its profits. But the military had its brand of politics, one more focused on personal status than simple wealth.

  One that would easily have considerably less issue rendering 313N down into nothing more than a pile of scraps if doing so even had a slight chance of working out in their favor. So on one hand, trying to keep that under wraps, and keeping 313N away from any Commanders that could have higher obligations, or even worse, ambitions, was understandable. Money could only go so far in paying someone off, after all. And all it took was one person getting a bad idea to cause issues.

  So understandable, but still liable to bite them in the ass.

  "Is she going to do alright?" Maxwell whispered to her, even as everyone was keeping their guard up. 313N was scanning the sky, looking for airborne targets. Despite her angry state, she was still picking up good habits.

  "It's hard to tell with her, really," Mihara frowned, trying to put it in a way that wouldn't draw as much attention. Or invite further poking from their allies. 313N did not have the temper to deal with any more unpleasant surprises at the moment. "It's best to give her time to cool off."

  That was probably the best option they had at the moment. The best way to deal with 313N was to either let her cool down or say screw it and set off that land mine. And while detonating a land mine had its appeal, this was the wrong place to even try such a thing. Maxwell's expression told her that the blonde wasn't entirely sure on the matter. Letting someone at least release their frustrations was the best option.

  But the problem was, who was causing the issues was in earshot constantly. Something 313N had to be aware of. So for now, their best option was to just, wait it out, and hope the mission was done by the time 313N was ready to release her frustrations.

  Speaking of 313N, she had raised her rifle, focusing on a distant point off on the horizon.

  "Please don't tell me Raptures have cruise missiles," 313N's voice made it very clear that she was past the point of being done, even if it had a twinge of fear running underneath.

  "Nah, that just looks like a miniature Storm Bringer. Not the biggest deal," Maxwell said, looking through her scope. Even though Mihara could only see the back of 313N's head, she could almost hear the muscles twitch in her face. She could almost imagine the expression of pure disgust that 313N had to be wearing.

  "I can already tell by the name alone that God will be shitting in my dinner once again," 313N said with all the enthusiasm that she was capable of mustering. Though, it was hard to deny why 313N felt the way that she did. Especially with that again remark. Because that seemed to be the story of just about everyone's lives at this point.

  "Which one?" Yuni teased, as 313N scowled at her.

  "Does it matter?" 313N ground out, still keeping her weapon trained at the rapidly approaching target. Maxwell was right. This one was considerably smaller than the usual Tyrant class. It had to be a lesser model. Not that such a thing was going to make the ensuing fight any less dangerous. Just more survivable.

  "Get to the most secure cover that you can. If we have to fight this, it needs to be on as many of our terms as possible," their Commander said. "If we can get it to pass us by without giving us a second thought, that's great, but if it chooses to engage us, I want us to be ready for it."

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  Mihara nodded. So they managed to tap a smart one. Good. They could take it now, but it would cost them. Not enough to jeopardize the mission, unless something went wrong. But conserving their strength would be the smarter move. Even if it may just be a futile effort in the long run.

  They quickly began to move into positions among the ruined buildings before them, as the air slowly began to fill with the charge of electricity.

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  "She's capable, if nothing else," though that wasn't saying much. Many Nikke's were just that. Capable. "Though based on her behavior, I'm unwilling to say if she'd be willing to consider your offer."

  "What makes you say that?" The man raised an eyebrow, curious as to why.

  "A few different reasons. While there is no doubt in my mind they wouldn't at least consider such an offer, I don't think they'd be willing to accept such a thing from us specifically," the expression on the younger's face was almost unreadable. "Merely making a suggestion aimed her way caused an unnatural amount of obedience. Enough that made her grate under such orders."

  The older of the two paused. Needing to give a Nikke orders was nothing out of the ordinary. That was, unfortunately, the way things were. A Nikke being too responsive to orders? That wasn't entirely unheard of, but it was not a problem that tended to pop up all that often.

  "I believe it unnerved her, considerably so," the younger man continued, though the older could already see the picture that was being painted. Unwilling might not be the proper word then. Rather, untrusting. Unwilling to let someone else have that much power over them, no more than was necessary.

  That was a considerably harder bridge to cross, though not without his sympathies. Yes, trust was something that could be earned, but coming from such a perspective, it would be hard-earned at best. Impossible at worst.

  An ultimately concerning prospect. Not an insurmountable one by any means. Having eyes on the inside, especially those of a Nikke into what Misillis was doing would be an asset. But it was better to have someone willing to work for you on such matters, rather than one that was working for you because they felt like they were forced to. Especially when it came to one who would likely be second-guessing their memories or if this was something that they'd been ordered to do.

  Never mind that they would likely have the thought at the back of their head about whether they'd be ordered to take the fall. For many, this would be ideal. He wasn't foolish enough to deny that a fair share of high-ranking commanders would order Nikke's to fall on their swords, as the saying went. Even those of his rank tended to look at Nikke's like disposable weapons. Fit to serve their orders and for nothing else.

  Which was a tragedy, and something that served him little. There was a reason he preferred those who were willing to work with him without such means. Nikke's were human. And despite the feelings of his contemporaries, treating them accordingly, always produced the best results. If she was willing to work with them despite what was now becoming an increasingly clear mess, then all the power to her. If she was unwilling? Then at the end of the day, that would be her choice.

  Even if he believed he would be able to help with such matters. To react to what was being described to him was a sign. And it was not a good one. Not being exposed to a commander was far from the most abnormal thing, there was more to this Nikke than what was apparent.

  Did he know what Misillis did? No, he certainly did not. But he could make a few stabs in the dark, as it were. She was a prototype unit, something that Misillis would want to keep under wraps. And was by and large doing so. Attaching her to their black ops unit was a bit out of left field, pointing to some unique skill that went beyond what was intended for the improved design.

  That alone was possibly a sign that they considered converting her into a personal model, like the rest of Wardress. Considering the keyword, as such things took a considerable amount of effort to perform.

  But beyond that? Anything more fell into the territory of pure speculation. Sending a prototype model to the frontline for active testing was not unheard of, but it was still rare and oftentimes was considered a waste of resources. Survival on the surface was far from a certainty, even for short periods. Combat situations tended to make things all the worse, even without mitigating factors.

  Hopefully, he would be able to meet them in person, even if by this point such an event seemed unlikely. That was a shame, but it was her choice whether or not she chose to meet with him.

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  This is what these lunatics consider to be a non-issue! Raputres apping off a mythical creature straight out of Native American folklore! I swear, at this rate, I wasn't sure if my sanity was going to be intact. I wasn't even sure if my rounds were having a notable impact on the thing. Sure, Nikke guns weren't exactly normal firearms by any sane measurement, but that didn't mean whatever I was shooting into the thing was going to have much purchase simply due to the damn thing's size.

  Things of such sizes tended to be utter bullet sponges. And that was if it wasn't pulling off Chatterbox's healing trick. Honestly, the odds were more likely the thing was simply large enough to tank the hits we were throwing its way. Well, that was for those of us with more mundane weapons.

  Safe to say, Matis earned their paycheck. All that fancy equipment wasn't going to waste. They were having considerably more impact on the monster than just our normal weapons.

  Maybe. Or maybe I was missing every damn shot by a country mile! Okay, that likely wasn't the case. For something that flew, it was fairly stationary.

  Though when you threw around lightning like some cheap knockoff Greek god, I suppose one didn't need to dodge bullets when you could just smite something down with wind and electricity.

  Speaking of which!

  The bolt of lightning whizzed past my head as I ducked behind cover at the last second. I could almost feel the heat from the strike as it bit into the rubble, leaving scorch marks in its wake. I took the time to reload, though it wasn't like I had almost emptied the clip anyway. Peeking my head around cover to make sure it was focused on somebody else, and to make sure I wasn't jumping my way into a bullet before I returned fire.

  Somehow, despite all the lightning, and the literal shock and awe, Chatterbox seemed like a far more imposing foe. Maybe because, despite the fact this thing was a literal force of nature, we were holding our own and hurting it back. Unlike Chatterbox, who didn't care about any of the injuries we inflicted on him.

  Another laser beam erupted from Laplace's cannon, this time punching a hole through where the head should be. It's frame shuttered and sparked, twitching almost the same way a living creature would before its frame went still, crashing down somewhere in the distance.

  I kept my rifle trained on the horizon for a few moments longer, half expecting it to spring back to life and continue its rampage.

  But it didn't. Nothing came up above the line of ruined buildings. No sign of movement. Just the silence I was beginning to associate with the world above. I took a deep breath, finally pulling myself out of the rubble. Our cover, which had once looked imposing, now looked as if it had been bombed into an even greater mess. Part of the place was crumbling. Slowly, granted, but still. What could have easily stood for years more probably wouldn't last a month now.

  "It's down! As expected for heroes!" Laplace shouted, shaking me from my thoughts. Matis seemed more than happy, each one wearing a grin on their face.

  No, they didn't seem happy. They were happy.

  How? How were they able to be happy in a place as messed up as this?