BOOM!

  I would like to think at the end of the end of the day, if we all weren't in an intense fire-fight, trying to stay alive, we would have all facepalmed at what had just happened.

  It was something out of an action movie. We are at one end of a long, narrow bridge, Raptures on the other. With our superior positioning, we were able to deal with the swarming numbers as they came across, using the city ruins as cover. Given how Raptures had flying units, I had taken the liberty to deal with them before they became a problem. One slipped through.

  Then Laplace, in what I could only describe as a no-brain cell moment, decided to fire on the thing before I finished reloading. All the while the Rapture was just as much of a special type of stupid because it made no effort to evade the rocket. The projectile hits home, and the Rapture spins out of control.

  No problem, right? One more Rapture destroyed, one less to focus on. The problem was, the thing spun out and crashed.

  Right onto the bridge. A bridge that we were also at least supposed to secure for a possible future operation. It'd been news to me, but I wasn't the one who was a danger to the structural integrity of bridges. The result of a who knows how many-ton flying machine crashing onto a bridge that has not seen major maintenance in decades if I'm being generous?

  The crash and explosion were the straw that broke the camel's back. So everyone watched as our objective crumbled apart, gravity no longer being denied its prize, taking most of the Raptures along with it as it crumbled into the canyon. Concrete and metal screaming was enough to drown out the noise of the gunfight, not that there were many Raptures that remained in range after that.

  Still, I think Laplace could tell all of us were staring at her in both awe and a bit of contempt in equal measure. On one hand, she did just take out several dozen Raptures in what amounted to a single shot. On the other hand, the lack of any kill count bets prevented me from making a that only counts as one reference. And she destroyed our objective. Part of the reason we'd come out all this way for.

  And I don't think any of us liked that very much. Sure, it probably wasn't massively important, but it was still the principle of the thing. We'd just risked life and limb for something she blew up by what amounted to a freak accident. And while it probably wasn't fair to blame her for that.

  I doubted it was going to stop anyone from doing so, even if just to give her shit.

  "Ops," Laplace rubbed the back of her head, looking rather mortified as she did so. "At least none of us were on the other side, right?"

  I stared at her for a brief moment. All of us did. Just stared at her. I really could describe my luck right now as a critical failure. There was simply no gentle way to put it. But if that wasn't a natural one moment, then there would be very few things that were.

  x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

  Well, our first official mission could be considered somewhat of a failure, thanks to a certain someone. The most elite squad, my damn ass. Still, we left a whole lot of wrecked Raptures in our wake, as if nothing else, that would at least do some damage in theory.

  I say in theory because frankly, I imagine these types of missions didn't really end up accomplishing much. It wasn't like Raptures controlled the surface, giving them access to all sorts of resources. Or they could literally recycle their own damn dead. It wasn't like we were fighting living things, but machines. They played by different rules. I wasn't going to deny that while we did kill a lot of them, killing a lot of them wasn't going to win us the war.

  Of course, I was perfectly aware of what I considered a lot was in reality less than a chip off the top of the iceberg. Raptures had to exist on a scale that I simply couldn't fathom. So what victory that we could claim really didn't exist.

  We might have made for another bridge, but by that point, our ammunition supplies had started to run low. At least as far as Wardress was concerned. Matis was probably a bit more fine, due to all the energy weapon bullshit, but we'd been firing our weapons a lot. I was down to just a handful of clips myself, an already concerning prospect given the situation at hand. Thankfully, by that point, the Commander was willing to have us pull back. Sure the objective was destroyed, but it was now denied to our enemies. It sounded like a bit of coping to me, but I didn't have his marching orders. I was willing to take what I could get.

  Thankfully, getting back to the transport was completely uncomplicated. Some Raptures were scouting out our path of carnage, but compared to everything else today, they were a minor annoyance at best. And after all that? I was just, kinda done. Thankful that Chatterbox was a no-show, but otherwise, I just wanted to be done with this whole mess. I'd rather not have to deal with any more Raptures or antics.

  x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

  I don't know which was more impressive. The fact I was so tired I managed to fall asleep in a moving vehicle. The fact I missed the antics of everyone on that flight while doing so.

  Or the fact that someone managed to slip something into my pocket while I was passed out without a single other person in the aircraft noticing. And no, I wasn't exactly joking, either. Somehow, someway, someone managed to slip a letter onto my person.

  The process of elimination made things rather simple. It wasn't Yuni or Mihara. Neither would jump through any number of hoops just to pass me a note, even without taking into account the context of it. Never mind that they were supposed to be keeping an eye on me anyway, so something like this was suspicious if it were from them. While Matis? Between Laplace and Drake, the two couldn't do anything quietly. Maxwell might, and the girl seemed more than willing to be a bit of a prankster.

  But this didn't read like a prank. Then again, I was never the best at telling what was a prank or not. But that left one suspect besides the pilot. The Commander.

  Which only made things more suspicious. These were coordinates. For a meeting. Which was kinda stupid. Like, come on. I literally just found that people of military rank could effectively mind-control me, and I find this crap in my pocket? That's, just no. Utterly stupid. If that was a giant red flag, then I didn't know what was. I'd have to be a complete dumbass to do something like that.

  And I certainly wasn't a dumbass.

  x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

  No, I was a curious dumbass! And desperate!

  Unfortunately for me.

  Nothing had happened, yet. I was honestly a bit surprised. I figured something would have gone wrong by this point. While I was sure I hadn't been followed, in large part due to Yuni and Mihara appearing to be distracted, I was still nervous. For obvious reasons. This was a stupid idea.

  And yet, I couldn't help myself. One way or another, an escape route to this hellscape was being dangled in front of me. Of course, there was a good chance that said escape route simply led to even more hell. With the way my luck was, I couldn't discount such an option. But damnit, I was already grabbing at sand here! If this could get me a way out, even just the start, I was willing to make the gamble!

  At least we seemed to be approaching what could be a nice part of the Ark. The buildings were tall and imposing, but they looked clean, and spotless actually, even in the dark of the fake night sky. That had to be there for mental health reasons. Living underground was probably something humans didn't exactly cope with well.

  I was pushed through the back in a hurry, led to an elevator, and sent up, with nobody saying a single word. By this point, I was too nervous to even ask questions, and my heart, if I still had it, would be beating a mile a minute. The doors opened with a soundless ding, emptying into an office. My eyes scanned the room. There wasn't much in the way of light, a little bit coming from a lamp on the desk towards the back. And behind that desk was a man.

  Despite him sitting down, he felt imposing. The decorated military uniform only enhanced his piercing glare. I swallowed, feeling as if the pressure was only growing more intense with each passing second. He certainly wasn't the same Commander I'd met before. He was probably just south of middle age, but if so, the man aged like wine, a full head of brown hair kept short.

  "Please, sit down," his voice was stern yet smooth. I almost bristled then and there, waiting for the pressure to make itself known in my head.

  But it didn't. It hadn't been a statement. It should have been an order. And yet.

  I slowly made my way over to the chair. Sitting down, it was fairly comfy, despite how minimalist it was.

  "Thank you. I suppose you're wondering why I asked to meet you?" He asked. Sitting down across from him only made him seem all the more imposing.

  "You wanted someone with eyes on the inside of Syuen's more, discrete business, I imagine," I found my words again, fingers digging into the torn-up letter in my pocket. I would have set the thing on fire if I could, but I couldn't find a lighter or a fireplace to throw it in.

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  There was a slight upward twitch in the man's lips.

  "In part, yes," I blinked at his words. In part? Oh, fuck, it was going to be those situations, wasn't it? "For a mass-produced Nikke to be assigned to a squad like Wardress is uncommon. Living to tell the tale about an encounter with Chatterbox? Even rarer. And if what I've heard is even partway true, that's the least interesting thing about you."

  So, he already had spies. In a cutthroat world, that wasn't hard to tell. Everyone was probably spying on everyone else.

  "Would you mind telling me about yourself, Ms," he paused, offering for me to step in.

  With a name. The blow hit my chest like a sledgehammer. He was asking me for a name. Not an identification number, or a model number. But the name of a real, breathing person. It was both awe striking in its significance, as it was in its simplicity.

  "I need to get back with you on that," I swallowed. Then I began to talk.

  x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

  The first thing that became apparent to Anderson was that a lot of what he was hearing was illegal.

  He was well aware that there were ways around it. With enough money, signatures could be easily forged, documents falsified. It wasn't impossible to get caught, but it was difficult. One of his coworkers had converted his daughter into a Nikke as to raise her from the dead.

  It didn't go well.

  Even without bringing a Rapture of Chatterbox's caliber onto the Ark, which was its own can of worms, Syuen was breaking several laws.

  Of course, making such a case in court was impossible with what he had. And it wasn't as if this Nikke's case was an anomaly. Sure, she hadn't agreed to be turned into a Nikke, but it was increasingly clear that she wasn't the owner of the original, either. Who very well may have consented, only for someone else to wake up.

  Even without the ability to fabricate evidence, the act in itself fell into a gray area.

  Everything after that? If not outright illegal, what followed was morally questionable at best. She would clearly be willing to stab Syuen in the face if she had the opportunity to do so. NIMPH was going to stop things before they ever got to that point.

  "Do you have any idea why Syuen wants to capture Chatterbox?" He asked, careful with how he spoke. Tone was important, and if she was as sensitive as reported, then he needed to treat this carefully.

  "Something illegal, or unethical. Even if it isn't, something like Chatterbox? Needs to be kept a long way from here," he raised an eyebrow at her words. Fear was laced everywhere in them. As a Tyrant-class, Chatterbox was imposing. "He's not like the other Raptures. They just charge in guns blazing. But Chatterbox? He's smart enough to think. He's smart enough to plan."

  "He's smart enough to talk and mean."

  Anderson's pen stopped. Chatterbox was a name given to it, and it was not without reason. It had always been clever. It tended to stay one step ahead, and its body was clearly inspired by great apes like gorillas. This was known, though there was precious little else.

  "How so," he did his best not to push. To not use even the slightest scrap of his authority.

  "He can speak with intention. He knows what he says has meaning," the anxiety and almost terror was written on her face as if she expected something to reach out and grab her. "He tried to give me orders."

  It took every ounce of will to make sure his pen didn't snap between his fingers. To remind himself that when she returned to the Ark, she would have been scanned. Twice now.

  "I told it to piss off. Shot it in the face, grabbed Yuni and Mihara then ran like hell," she seemed to be venting now. Anderson wasn't under any illusions. He was more or less the girls' therapist at this point. Not that he blamed her.

  "It followed, obviously, before someone else showed up and shot it, though I don't know with what. Scared him off though," she breathed, as if her brain finally reminded her that she was supposed to need air.

  Still, that was concerning. It was possible that details had become foggy with time.

  "Was the person in white?" He asked, trying to collect his thoughts. Corruption couldn't be on the table. There were instances of Nikke leaving the Ark unexplainably Corrupt and sabotaging operations. It was rare, but it happened. But she'd gone out twice, and had been scanned twice.

  Chatterbox being even more intelligent than it initially appeared was a problem on its own. Anderson was privy to information kept secret from the rest of the Ark's civilians. Raptures were smarter than they appeared overall. How much smarter could be up for debate. So for a Rapture, even a Tyrant-class one, to be operating on a close-to-human level? It could have been a simple circumstance. But that wasn't something he would trust.

  "They were, actually," she said. "They had some type of large canon, too."

  This, couldn't be a coincidence. Chatterbox, and a Pilgrim? How did one girl end up at the nucleus of these different events? Anderson did not consider himself a paranoid man. Not exactly a trusting man, but far from paranoid. But she had survived a run-in with a Tyrant-Class Rapture, among the more infamous ones at that. Survived due to the intervention of what was most likely a Pilgrim, a group he had long held interest in. She was also a tentative member of Misilis's black ops team, and an axe to grind with Syuen, the CEO of Misilis.

  And she just, dropped into his lap. Hell, Chatterbox had tried to give her orders. For all he knew, she could very well tie into the infrequent problem of Nikke's from the Ark being corrupted. It was almost perfect.

  Almost.

  There had to be some type of catch. The story of how she woke up was somewhat suspicious. If there was a truly abnormal part of her story, it was that one. But yet, one didn't survive in an environment such as the Central Government without being a good judge of character. She did not seem like she was lying. The expression on her face when he asked for a name was the most telling. Most Mass-Produced Models would give their serial numbers. Non-Mass-Produced would give their names. But her?

  She acted as if someone had punched her in the chest. That the simple act of even asking for a name was some grand gesture, a common kindness she had not gotten in a while. That was not simply a thing one could easily fake. A reaction a person would only have if they remembered what they had been treated like, and wrongfully been denied even that little.

  All of this? This was an opportunity. His intentions had always been to reach out and see if she was willing to be eyes on the inside of Misilis. One close to Syuen, even if he doubted the CEO would trust the Nikke. He had his own contacts, but it took time to rise through the ranks. But now? She was becoming increasingly more important. She had greater knowledge of Chatterbox than anyone else alive, even if by simple circumstance. And while she likely didn't know much about Pilgrims, she had encountered one as well.

  She had value, even if Syuen didn't know it. Or maybe she did and just didn't care. It would fit the young CEO's attitude.

  "I have an offer you might be interested in."

  x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

  It wasn't a complicated offer. More or less, it could be summed up pretty simply. Make sure Syuen has a bad time. It may not have been today, it may not be tomorrow, but the day would eventually come. Okay, that was more what I was getting out of the deal. Spy on Syuen, so when she finally brought Raptures into the Ark, Anderson would know, and the proper steps could be made. As well as keep an eye on her in general. It wasn't exactly a bad deal.

  It just relied on me being spiteful above all else. Sure, I had zero reason to not leave Syuen to get her just deserts. Getting to play a role just made things all the sweeter. But I wasn't an idiot. Syuen was the devil I knew, and while Anderson seemed nice and willing to extend me kindness that I hadn't gotten in what felt like months, I had no way of knowing if he was being genuine. It really wasn't that hard to ask for a name, after all.

  "I do want some assurances, though," I vocalized.

  "Those should be simple enough to accommodate," Anderson nodded. "I imagine you want security, to not simply be dropped in case of discovery."

  That, was exactly what I wanted, actually.

  "I do believe we can work out the finer details of what exactly that would entail," there was a slight grin on his face again. "Do we have a deal?"

  It was the devil I knew versus the devil I didn't. Fuck it. If I get burned, I'll just take him down in flames too.

  "I think this could be the start of a very fruitful partnership," I grinned. Sure, I wasn't exactly the best when it came to spy work, but it wasn't as if Syuen had an ego a mile long. I could play off that.

  "Excellent. Have you come up with a name, by chance?" He asked. I had, actually. My old name was dead and dusted. Bringing it back was going to cause me nothing but pain. Plus, I wanted to use it regularly. It wasn't the most creative name I'd ever heard, but it was still better than a bunch of numbers and letters.

  "Please call me Elen."