Quick thing: thanks to 321jaz for following and favoriting! It's great to have you here.

whwsms: Mental Stinger and Beauty-Senpai might just pop up. Or maybe they'll have greater roles. You'll have to wait and see, I'm afraid. Patience is a virtue, my friend!


Misaki and Mikoto left the park, paying the small slice of relative normalcy in a very abnormal city a final farewell before their departure. The two young women heard the sounds of playing children and chatty adults fade from their ears as they began their trek to school district seven's underground shopping mall.

"What have you been doing since we last had a get together, Misaka-san?" Misaki took it upon herself to break the silence; she didn't want the day's positive mood to fade into obscurity.

"O-oh!" Mikoto jumped; evidently, the electromaster had been deep in her own thoughts.

"Nothing much! I've been thinking about attending one of those new universities they built a few years ago, the only thing holding me back is, well, I don't think I'd fit in. I'm pretty sure those places are for people who are still developing their abilities after high school," Mikoto explained. "Level fives usually just work directly with researchers, right? Never heard of another level five attending university. Wouldn't want to make things weird…"

Misaki nodded in response. No level five would have a need to attend a university. Level six wasn't something that was considered a possibility for any esper, unless that esper was Accelerator. Even then, if researchers were to try another series of level six experiments, Accelerator would be working directly with them, not with a university. Misaki shuttered at the thought of another level six experiment taking place, or even being thought about. Clan Kihara, and more importantly, Kihara Gensei, still lurked in the dark underbelly of Academy City, so anything could be possible.

"It would be an expensive means of making new friends, little more, Misaka-san. The City would love to have you, of that I am sure," Misaki stated.

Mikoto chuckled in response.

"How have you and Touma been? Before all of what happened yesterday happened, I mean. I haven't really had the chance to talk with him all that much," Mikoto said, opening a new topic of discussion.

"We have been good, thank you for asking, Misaka-san." Misaki replied.

She smiled. "I could not wish for anything better than a life with my prince. I have heard some people say that, once you move in with someone, and truly have a life together, living together under the same roof, rarely being apart, that you can grow resentful of one another. I suppose those people might be complicated, or perhaps incompatible," she continued. "Touma is a simple man, an easy man to please. He is so understanding, so... princely. If there is a time where I need personal space, he understands. If there is a time when I need someone to cling to, he understands. He does not simply tolerate – he understands. Of course, I always do the same for him. One-sidedness has no place in a healthy marriage." Misaki sighed contently. She could continue to brag about her husband for hours and hours.

Mikoto couldn't hold back the grin that had formed on her face. She was envious, of course – any woman would be. Touma sounded like the ultimate partner. Like something out of a work of fiction, but Touma was as real as real could be.

"You two lovebirds are enough to make anyone sick," she said, making sure her joking tone could be clearly heard. "I'd hate to offend," she thought as if to back up her actions.

"What about yourself and a certain teleporter? How have you two been?" Misaki couldn't help but bring Kuroko up; seeing Mikoto get all flustered about her probable partner-to-be was too good to pass up.

"A-are you implying that w-we're a thing?! We're not! Not y-yet… I mean, no!" Mikoto exclaimed defensively. Despite her efforts, she hung her head in defeat. Even without the use of her friend's ability, Mikoto still found herself being opened and read like a book by Mental Out.

"I…"

"In all seriousness, you can tell me if you are comfortable, Misaka-san. If this topic makes you feel uncomfortable, we can forget I ever brought it up."

"N-no, don't worry. It's not like I'm ashamed. It's just…"

"Love is love, Misaka-san," Misaki smiled warmly at her friend. The two had stopped walking and stepped off the street and onto a scarcely populated patio with a few shops to avoid getting in the way.

"I know," Mikoto responded. She decided to open up to her friend. The two had come far enough in their friendship, and were old enough to not have to worry about one spreading rumors about the other. They weren't a couple of squabbling little girls anymore. They were two adults having an adult conversation; a conversation about something very important.

"You don't see a lot of people of the same gender getting together here. It's an accepted thing in the rest of the world – celebrities, politicians, people can be themselves out there. But here, in Academy City, even in Japan proper, things are different. I don't want to take our relationship to the n-next level if it means… being ostracized, d-do you know what I mean?" Mikoto asked, a sense of vulnerability creeping up on her like a silent stalker in the night.

Mikoto was struck by surprise when Misaki took her into a close embrace. At first, Mikoto's shock prevented her from doing much of anything, but slowly, she began to return it.

"Misaka-san, I cannot say I understand. I would not know what it means to love someone of the same gender, not romantically, at least. But I do know that if you are uncomfortable or insecure with your own sexual preferences, jumping head-first into a relationship with Shirai-san that could become the talk of the City might not be the best idea. I think you two need to talk seriously about your feelings for one another."

Mikoto was stunned. Beyond stunned. Not only was Misaki completely correct, but Misaki's advice had opened her eyes to the truth. She needed to be more open with Kuroko, instead of just getting flustered or zapping her.

"Kamijou-san? Thank you. I've been telling myself that I need to take this more seriously, but I've never taken my own thoughts seriously when it comes to this, I guess. I don't know if I thought Kuroko would just make the first move, or if I even wanted her to, but I think… I think I just need some time to put everything in perspective with her."

Misaki released Mikoto from her embrace before things became awkward. Mikoto took a step back, and immediately broke into a blush.

People were looking. Spectating.

"Woah, two levels fives in the same place, at the same time!"

"Railgun and Mental Out!?"

"I wonder if they're together?!"

"Misaka Mikoto and Kamijou Misaki! Didn't she used to be called Shokuhou Misaki?"

Misaki swiftly produced her remote and pointed it straight at the gawking onlookers.

She inhaled deeply before she pressed the single closest button to her thumb on her ability's focus point. Misaki wasn't panicking. She knew what she had to do. She didn't like it one bit, but it had to be done. The onlookers immediately ceased their chatting and stood tall, their arms at their sides. Stars identical to those in Misaki's eyes replaced the pupils in their own eyes. They had, for the moment, become Mental Out's puppets.

Something Misaki had heard the previous day went through her mind.

"You think I'm a hollow shell? You think I'm a slave, a puppet dangling from the fingers of some greater power?"

Misaki shuttered, her mind emulating the sound of that abomination's metallic, unnatural voice almost perfectly.

Touma, and what he would think, entered Misaki's mind. "Forgive me, my sunshine. I would much rather not have to deal with… this. I am glad you that you do not have to see what you dislike so much."

Misaki commanded the onlookers to be on their way, and to forget all about the display they were witnesses to. It would be taken hideously out of context, and neither Misaki nor Mikoto needed the extra stress. Like mindless automatons, the onlookers departed, performing their assigned duties. Once Misaki could 'see' through her Mental Out ability that the former spectators were far enough away, she quickly released them.

"T-thanks," Mikoto mumbled. "People love to t-talk. Ugh."

"Agreed," Misaki responded. "Well, we might as well continue on our little adventure, then."

The young women left the patio and the sentimental moment turned awkward moment that occurred there behind, those few people around them on the patio either hadn't noticed their display or didn't care enough to make a scene. Most were businesspeople who had been intently staring at their laptops or were having important phone conversations.

As the two continued on their way, Mikoto couldn't help but notice that Misaki had become quiet. Misaki had been talking to her for their whole walk up until this point; the electromaster couldn't help but find it a bit concerning.

"Should I leave it be? Maybe she's just thinking about something," Mikoto thought for a moment, before the answer dawned on her. "Touma has that thing about Misaki messing with peoples' heads. I guess that makes sense for someone like him. I bet she feels bad." Mikoto decided to speak up.

"Kamijou-san? You got kind of quiet all of a sudden. You feeling okay?" Mikoto questioned.

"Hmm? Yes, I am fine. Thank you for your concern, Misaka-san."

"It's not like Touma saw it; he's not Tsuchimikado-san, hiding and waiting for the right moment to pop out and yell "GOTCHA! What he didn't see won't hurt him," Mikoto said. She hoped her words would make some sort of impact on the Mental Out user.

"I still feel bad," Misaki replied solemnly. "I feel like I am hiding things from him."

"Misaki," Mikoto addressed her friend without honorifics to drive her statement home, "it's not like you're seeing some other guy on the side. You just used your ability."

"I know; but I also know that manipulating the minds of ordinary people is something he stands firmly against. Despite its necessity, it still feels like I am stabbing him in the back."

"Kamijou-san, you can't be afraid to use your ability." Mikoto said. "Tell him about it when you get home, or something. It's not that big of a deal. I'm sure he's not going to freak out, especially because of the circumstances. Now, chin up! We're almost there!"

Misaki sighed, but decided to try and lift her spirits back up. "I guess you are right; I recognize this street. We turn down this street, right? It has been a long time."

"Yup!" Mikoto confirmed excitedly. "I wonder if they have any new stores down there? I w-wonder if they have… Gekota-Sama." She practically drooled at the thought of purchasing new Gekota merchandise; Mikoto could never have enough Gekota.

"Gekota is a popular mascot, Misaka-san; I'm sure someone will be selling collectibles and trinkets of him. What is your fascination with him, anyhow?" Misaki asked, genuinely curious. Misaki never understood what the electromaster loved about Gekota. He was just a frog, after all. "I would love an explanation from his biggest fan."

"Gekota-Sama is love. Gekota-Sama is life." Mikoto answered in a matter of a fact manner, as if that answered every question Misaki had.

"I-I do not think I understand."

"Gekota-Sama is…" Mikoto trailed off and raised a finger to her chin thoughtfully.

"I don't really know; I guess he's really cute, and having a giant, cute Gekota-Sama to cuddle at night would be… great… I wonder if they sell big Gekota-Sama dolls," Mikoto said dreamily.

"If we find one, and you decide to purchase it, please be wholesome, Misaka-san. Gekota is a children's mascot, all things considered," Misaki teased, giving Mikoto a wink.

"W-w-what kind of a sick-minded freak do you think I am?!" Mikoto proclaimed loudly, drawing attention from those who were in close enough range to hear it. Misaki thought she might have to use her ability again. "O-of course I would be wholesome with Gekota-Sama!"

Having completed the last short leg of their journey, the two young women had descended into school district seven's underground mall. In truth, it looked more like a street than it did a shopping center. The ceiling was just high enough not to make shoppers feel like they were traveling through the hall of a bearded mountain king. The underground passageways of the mall were illuminated by blue ceiling lights that were bright enough to simulate sunlight. The floors were made up of grey, reflective metallic tiles, constantly kept in a state of cleanliness by Academy City's dedicated robotic janitors.

"Something about this place always unnerved me," Mikoto admitted as she and Misaki got out of the way of other shoppers, as not to get in the way.

"There aren't any monsters down here, Misaka-san," Misaki said sarcastically.

"Y-You gotta admit! These places are weird! They're like, streets under the streets!" Mikoto exclaimed, defending her anxiousness.

"I will assume we are strong enough to defeat any monsters who would dare attack us, so; where are we going to go? There are a lot of things to do down here, and we have enough time to do a lot," Misaki said. She decided to shift the conversation, as to avoid wasting too much time. She loved messing with Mikoto, but she didn't want to spend her whole day doing so.

"Manga?" Mikoto asked, an excited grin forming on her face. "We should go check out what they've got for manga."

"Oh, Misaka-san. So predictable," Misaki said. "We can make that our first stop, I suppose. I know how much you love your manga. The other shops aren't going anywhere, after all."

Thankfully, the bookstore wasn't too far from the entrance; Misaki couldn't help but notice heads turning and conversations being put on hold whenever she and Mikoto passed by a group of people. At first, Misaki's mind went straight to one assumption. She tugged at the bottom of her shirt. It hung past her waist, covering her admittedly plump and firm backside. Misaki would knowingly only put her body on display for the viewing pleasure of one man.

"I suppose they are simply surprised to see level fives; most of us, not counting Misaka-san, rarely make public appearances," she thought.

Misaki and Mikoto made the turn to enter the bookstore. It wasn't a large store by any means. Shelves, containing many different kinds of books from many different kinds of genres, stood ever-vigilant against the walls of the small store. The store, ironically enough given the goods it offered for sale, wasn't very well lit. Compared to the underground streets outside, it was practically pitch black.

"Would it kill these people to turn on a light?" Misaki asked, irritated. "This is unacceptable."

"Forgiveness, Ojou-sama!" Mikoto said mockingly. "Not all of the shops that operate down here have a lot of money, Kamijou-san."

"That is not an excuse to leave potential customers shopping in the dark," Misaki hissed to avoid attention. There weren't a lot of other people in the shop with them, but it didn't matter. Misaki wanted her personal business to remain personal.

"Sheesh, you're picky. I'll just find something quick and make sure to get her highness back into the light," Mikoto said, sneering; she had effectively turned the tables on Misaki. She was the bugger, now.

Given the store's size, it wasn't a particularly difficult task to hunt down the baby blue plastic bookshelf that held the shop's unimpressive manga library. Mikoto leafed through a number of volumes from different series. Because the shop didn't have any volumes of any of the series she was currently reading, the electromaster decided to take volume one of a new series.

"More manga, more mechs." Mikoto critiqued. "Seems that these authors love writing about mechs, even more so than little girls with magical powers battling giant world-devouring demons."

Misaki giggled knowingly. "Please do not put up a front, Misaka-san. We all know how you feel about your tastes in magical girls."

Mikoto reeled back, a look of horror on her face.

"I-I d-don't like magical girls! T-they're for guys who sleep with t-those pillows with pictures of little girls on them!"

Misaki had to raise her hand to her mouth to stifle her giggling fit. Mikoto was something else.

Once Mikoto had made sure that manga was the one she wanted for certain, the two young women walked up to the front of the shop. Behind a large, surprisingly beautifully carved desk sat something that surprised both of the level fives – a young man with short neatly combed brown hair. He had light peach fuzz growing on his face, and didn't seem to notice the two young women waiting for him; he was looking intently down at something in his hands, which were hidden by the desk that separated the three individuals, likely a smartphone or, because this was a bookstore, more likely, a book. Both had expected some sort of ancient-looking, grumpy old man to be working.

"Um, hi, I, um, wanted to pay for this. Because just walking out with it is kind of, you know, illegal. Eheheh."

"Smooth, Misaka-san," Misaki cringed internally.

"O-oh! I'm so sorry!" The young man exclaimed, dropping what sounded more like a book than a smartphone. He still hadn't looked up as he scrambled to pick the book up from the floor. "I didn't s-"

As he sprang up and his mind comprehended what was before him, his jaw flopped open at the sight before him.

"Railgun?! Mental Out?! Two level fives?! Hoooooly!"

"W-will that be a-all?" The young man stammered.

"Yup! That's it!" Mikoto replied, trying to act as natural as possible. She knew Misaki basked in this sort of attention, but she wasn't entirely comfortable with it. She just wanted to be treated like a normal person, despite her power level.

Mikoto paid for her manga, offered the young clerk a 'thank you' and the two level fives left the store. Stepping out from the dark bookstore and back into the underground mall proper, their eyes struggled to adjust. Mikoto squinted, and Misaki covered her eyes. "It was so dreadfully dark in there! Humph! I am sure it is not the clerk's fault, but the stingy owner of that shop needs to turn on a light!" She complained.

"Drama queen, suck it up!" Mikoto replied. Her own eyes were quickly adjusting to the change, but she still found it difficult to keep them from closing. "I like Misaki, but I don't know how Touma puts up with this sort of typical Ojou-Sama behavior. Maybe she's different around him. Then again, he's always been a pretty chill person," the electromaster mused.

"Where do you wanna go? We went to the bookstore that I wanted to check out, so I guess it's only fair that we go somewhere you want to go," Mikoto offered.

"Ah, I would like to see if there are any shops down here that offer art supplies; it has been too long since I took a day and… just painted something."

Mikoto raised an eyebrow. "Since when did you paint, Kamijou-san?"

Misaki held her head up, confidence shining from her being like a lighthouse in a storm. "I have indulged in visual art for some time. It is a great form of self-expression."

"Are you one of those people who just splatters paint on a canvas and calls it 'art'?" The electromaster asked.

"Heavens, no!" Misaki replied, sounding appalled. "I will show you some of my work someday, Misaka-san, and you will be in awe."

Mikoto and Misaki began their search for a shop that sold art supplies; any shop would do. There were a lot of shops that didn't have a lot to do with art that still solid arts and crafts supplies. Unfortunately, not a lot of the shops that the two young women were passing by looked like they'd carry anything of the sort.

Mikoto had fallen into her own thoughts, her subconscious keeping her body in motion.

"Onee-Sama, Onee-Sama! MISAKA MISAKA exclaims excitedly to announce her presence!"

Mikoto was tackled to the ground by the ten-year-old version of herself. For such a small thing, Last Order was apparently quite the force to be reckoned with when excited. It wasn't an easy feat to bring the Railgun to the ground, even if one caught her unawares. Mikoto knew how to fall, even in such a quick moment, and wrapped her arms around the back of her head in order to prevent injury.

"H-hi, Last Order! How have you been?" Mikoto asked, still on the ground. Last Order had taken a comfortable seat on her belly, smiling down at her big sister. A single strand of her hair had humorously risen into the air.

"MISAKA has been great, MISAKA MISAKA explains, informing Onee-Sama of her happiness!"

Mikoto should've been surprised that, after a decade, Last Order hadn't aged at all. But she wasn't. She knew all too well the nefarious intentions surrounding her Sisters' creation. Clones didn't age; they weren't meant to. Clones weren't originally meant to survive for long periods of time. They were created, given a certain body based on a biological age, and sent off to die. Last Order wasn't sent off to die in combat, though the same rules still applied to her own existence. That's just how it was before a certain spiky haired boy changed everything.

Still, Mikoto felt a twinge of sympathy. Last Order would never be able to grow up, experience anything mentally or physically past the age of ten. Could she even die of old age? Did that make Last Order immortal, or demi-immortal? Mikoto didn't want to dwell on the thought.

Regardless, it wasn't that Last Order was stupid; she was anything but. She was, for her age, quite intelligent. But, she would still be deprived of so much. While this lack of aging would alleviate a lot of the dysphoria and anguish that comes pre-packaged with pre-teen existence, it still felt unfair to the electromaster.

"Last Order, what the fuck did I tell you about taking off? Get over here. Now."

Accelerator, predictably, wasn't far behind. He wore a simple, light black long sleeve shirt and a pair of somewhat tight black jeans that clung to his skeletal body. Shoulder length snow white hair hung in his face and along his shoulders. The most prominent feature of his being was the wired, battery-operated choker that hung around his weak-looking neck. It connected directly to the Misaka Network, allowing the brain damaged number one ranked esper to perform the complicated calculations required to use his abilities. The two young women could see his red pupils from beneath his bangs, which had been half-heartedly pushed to the side.

A chill ran down Mikoto's spine. That voice. She tried so hard to tell herself it wasn't the voice of a monster. "Accelerator's different, now. He's not a butcher anymore," she tried to convince herself.

"But it doesn't change the fact that he was," something deep inside of Mikoto responded.

"Shut up! The past is in the past…"

"Sorry, Accelerator! MISAKA MISAKA says, offering her apologies to Accelerator for becoming over-excited at the sight of Onee-Sama."

"Aww, tou-san is worried about his little angel." The source of that voice sounded almost like Mikoto's own but younger, and considerably darker. It was Misaka Worst, the (biologically) oldest of the Sisters. Her purpose was act as a release for the Misaka Network's negative emotions, presumably to ensure that the Network wouldn't become overloaded by negativity.

"Shut it, Worst." Accelerator snapped at the older clone. Last Order had returned to her caregiver's side, her own little hand placed inside of his own.

"So commanding, Misaka likes it when tou-san tells her what to do."

Accelerator characteristically growled, but didn't rise to Worst's bait.

"Hi, Accelerator." Mikoto said, trying not to sound like she was having an internal fight with herself. "How have you guys been?"

"Fine. Last Order, Where'd you find these?"

"Accelerator, be polite! MISAKA scolds as MISAKA MISAKA reminds Accelerator to be on his best behavior."

Accelerator made an annoyed sound with his tongue. "Uh, hi, third ranked."

"At least he doesn't call me a 'third rate' anymore," Mikoto mused, ever thankful. She could only assume that her youngest sister had something to do with that.

The number one ranked esper turned his head to Misaki. She felt uncomfortable, like she was being sized up. Like she was being scrutinized. For a moment, she was reminded of the old 'deer in headlights' figure of speech.

"Tch. That damn hero's wife. Hi."

"H-hello, Accelerator!" Misaki responded as politely as she could. She felt her usually unbreakable confidence crumbling. Accelerator was in a league of his own; though he had a time limit since he had become brain damaged, if he turned that choker on, he was practically invincible.

"MISAKA missed you too, Kamijou-san, MISAKA MISAKA says in order to insure Kamijou-san that she hasn't been forgotten!"

"It has been a long time, Last Order. I am glad to see you in good health," Misaki said, crouching down to match Last Order's line of sight.

"How is the Savior? MISAKA MISAKA asks curiously."

Misaki couldn't help but smile. "Misaka-san's Sisters call my prince a savior. It would make sense; he is a hero to all."

"Touma is well enough. He has had some... difficulties, but we are working through them together."

"Difficulties?" MISAKA asks, as MISAKA MISAKA is now becoming concerned as to the Savior's well being."

"There is no need to worry," Misaki reassured the tiny clone of Misaka Mikoto. "Everything will be okay. Touma is fine. He has not felt all that well as of late, but it is nothing we can't take care of." She smiled at Last Order and offered the little clone her hand. "I promise."

Last Order, without hesitation, shook Misaki's larger hand with a look of determination.

"MISAKA believes you, MISAKA MISAKA says, fully trusting Kamijou-san."

"We done yet?" Accelerator asked, yawning. "I'm really fucking tired."

"What brought you out here, anyways?" Mikoto asked, genuinely curious. She, and everyone else who knew him, for that matter, rarely saw Accelerator.

"These spoiled fucking brats," Accelerator pointed to Last Order, and then to Worst, "wanted to go shopping. They wouldn't leave me alone until I went with them."

"Tou-san secretly loves buying skimpy outfits for Misaka," Worst began, a devious grin forming on her face, "but he'll never admit it. Tou-san wants to fuc-"

"WORST! ENOUGH!" Accelerator boomed in a voice that seemed too loud for his frail body to produce.

"Misaka knows you're a huge tsundere." The grin only grew wider.

"Accelerator, MISAKA wants to spend time with Onee-Sama and Kamijou-san, MISAKA MISAKA says, ignoring the lesser one's obvious taunts, while simultaneously hoping that Accelerator will fall for her own charms and say yes."

"You're calling Misaka the lesser one, Control Tower? Pfffft."

For a moment, Accelerator looked like he was about to protest. However, Last Order peered at the number one ranked esper, large eyes, that could only be described as 'puppy dog-like' looking into his own.

"Tch. Fine. Spoiled fucking brat," Accelerator growled.

"YAY! MISAKA exclaims as MISAKA MISAKA makes her joy at Accelerator's decision evident!"

The five became one group and fell into line. Mikoto couldn't help but admit this would make things considerably more entertaining in this underground mall.

Mikoto stayed at the front, chatting with her sisters, or at least her little sister. Worst just tried to tease her. Accelerator, on the other hand, fell back with Misaki.

"You mentioned something's wrong with the hero? Is he still being a sad sap?" Accelerator asked.

"Touma is having difficulties, yes, Accelerator." Misaki responded.

"Tch. If it were anyone else, I'd tell them to man the fuck up and grow a pair. But that fucking hero's been through some shit."

The number one ranked esper grumbled to himself momentarily.

"You're the closest one to him. You see him the most. So, tell the hero to get a grip. Tell him he's not alone, and he doesn't have to sit around and mope in his own self-pity. Goddamn hero rubbed off on me too much. I've gone soft."

Before he rejoined the group, Accelerator leaned in and whispered into Misaki's ear,

"You'll tell no one about this little talk, fifth ranked. Only reason I'm even telling you is because you're that fucking idiot's wife. I trust that you won't betray him. You'd better not, for your sake."


Kinuhata Saiai had been paid for her services; if anyone else had seen a safe of that size, they would have demanded a vehicle, or possibly a tank, to assist them in moving the thing; Saiai's Offense Armor made carrying the massive load an easy task. Those who would've asked would've gotten their answer, of course; a particle stream to the face. Devastator didn't take commands; it made them. It didn't dangle from strings; it dangled others.

The heavily damaged machine found itself roaming the streets of district one. It didn't wander without purpose, however. It had a clear destination in mind. It needed to visit an old colleague, someone who owed it a favor.

"Halt, aggressor!" An almost human, but clearly synthetic voice came from behind the rogue machine.

"Loading 'LAWBRINGER' personality matrix. Success. Identify yourself!"

"More delays? I'm already late as it is. It's impolite to keep others waiting. It's even more impolite to waste someone's time."

Devastator took its time turning around to face the squad of Academy City's robotic military police. They appeared vaguely human in shape, but the resembles ended there. They were made of a pearly white material, their bodies were smooth and looked almost soft to the touch. They lacked any sort of facial features, although each had what appeared to be large, singular lens in the center of its head. In their hands, they held rifles made of the same unknown substance as their bodies. The weapon each held looked complicated to use; a singular solar panel sat on the barrel of each weapon.

The robotic officers had their sights on Devastator. Falling into formation, there were at least thirty of the automatons that had made themselves visible.

"It figures those who control this city would keep their puppets close," the machine practically snarled. It began to inch towards the small army of officers. "Let's get this trending."

Devastator raised its arm; from a metallic device containing a lens on its wrist, it fired a particle stream, similar in nature to those used by the number four ranked level five esper, Mugino Shizuri. Indeed, the machine used similar calculations to produce these streams. The only real difference between the meltdowner method produced by the mechanical monstrosity and Shizuri laid in their attack pattern; Shizuri produced a number of single-use particle canons, up to forty at once around her body. Devastator produced a singular solid, constant stream.

The stream sliced through the first row of officers, those who hadn't been quick enough to avoid the stream. Their synthetic bodies exploded and sparks flew. Ten of the thirty had fallen. Those that had adjusted their combat procedures accordingly were easily able to avoid the attack. Due to time of day, the officers were able to make use of solar energy. They fired singular blasts of ultra-condensed solar power from their rifles; though they weren't able to home in on their targets, the officers' accuracy was near perfect. The blasts made contact, blowing off chunks of Devastator's armor each time.

"Aggressor identified. Appears to be synthetic life form, mode of sentience: artificial intelligence. Likely IQ score: equal to human of borderline genius or genius level intellect," one of the officers rambled off.

"You dangle from strings, dancing for your masters," Devastator taunted. "Do you even know? Can you even hear me? Or have your overlords reduced you to little more than glorified, weaponized word processors?"

"You appear to have encountered a critical error, or your operating system may be infected with malware. You are malfunctioning. Academy City requests that you place yourself into a permanent shutdown state."

"Those that command Academy City are tumors, parasitic growths, little marionette… They expect everything and everyone to bow before them; they think they're gods." Devastator responded. It approached the nearest officer, who continued to bravely blast the opposing machine, regardless of its swift approach. "I'm going to show them that gods can be killed, just like men."

A single particle stream ripped the officer apart. Devastator continued to return fire at the other officers; it ran its stream though half of a dozen of the unfortunate automatons who, using Academy City exclusive fuel-based technology had taken to the sky to combat their grounded foe. They let up for a moment, and paid the price.

Just over half of the squad sent to 'deal' with the unidentified intruder had been eliminated.

"Evasive maneuvers in progress, requesting reinforcements. Intruder capable of mass destruction," chimed an officer, who immediately after was nearly blown to pieces; a quick aerial roll allowed it to avoid the oncoming stream and thrust out of the way.

Devastator leapt as high into the air as it could by using powerful hydraulics in its legs. It fired two particle streams in opposing directions, outwards from a center point. Eight robotic officers were ripped apart by the blasts. Landing with a thud strong enough to knock off some of its damaged leg armor, Devastator continued to fire without regard for what it was hitting when its foes dodged the beams. Now, only six remained.

"Evasive maneuvers failing miserably; engaging 'retreat' subroutine on orders of Advisor." An officer stated. The six survivors turned tail and fled, leaving the considerably damaged and smoking Devastator to its own devices.

"When their mother calls them home for supper, they come running, like the good little marionettes they are," Devastator 'thought', amused. "Maybe I'll pay their mother a visit."

Devastator, after a continued trek through the (mostly) uninhabited streets of district one, had arrived at a worn-out looking structure. It wasn't ruined and abandoned like the buildings in district ten; it had some level of upkeep and minor structural maintenance. The windows weren't smashed, and the concrete the building was made of only had a few hundred thousand cracks, an impressively low number for a structure in an unsafe district.

There was what appeared to be a device used for buzzing an operator in the building. It had a small slot for a key card to be inserted on the top. It appeared to be made of copper that had seen better days.

Without hesitation, but with plenty of thought, Devastator brought down the doors barring its path with a kick.

"Honey? I'm home!" Devastator called, amplifying its voice.

Nothing. No one answered. All it heard was the echo of its own metallic voice.

"A shame. It's just me, myself, and I, then."

The room Devastator had broken into appeared to be a longue of sorts sat unused, but not abandoned. There wasn't enough dust or graffiti for this building to be abandoned. Tables with large, comfortable leather seats were placed around the room, systematically and purposefully placed. At the south end of the longue, there was a pool table. The balls had been collected into the center, ques left leaning against the table. What appeared to be a bar, where drinks would be served, was located to the west. Racks of various types of alcohol, most untouched, stood tall, as if watching over the lonesome bar.

Breaking the silence, the elevator that Devastator had neglected to notice dinged. The semicircle showing what floor the elevator had landed on had illuminated the letter "1F".

A young woman, without a doubt just a little over twenty-two years old, given her appearance, stepped out from the box and into the longue. She didn't seem surprised when she laid eyes on the broken-looking mechanical monstrosity that had broken into and entered. She was clad in a knee-length sterile-looking, standard issue lab coat used by researchers in Academy City. Beneath her unbuttoned coat, she wore a navy blue suit. Her tall, black heels clacked against the dark tile floor. Her short, black hair appeared to be recently washed, as it glowed beneath the limited light provided by the chandelier that illuminated the longue. Her golden brown eyes flashed in Devastator's direction.

"Don't think I was blind, D-001. There are cameras all around this building – all around this district. I saw what you did to those other robots. Did you feel bad; you know? For killing your kin?" She scoffed at her own sarcastic, rhetorical question.

"I'm not a brother to puppets," Devastator responded. "I'm glad to see your sense of humor hasn't left you. You're…"

The machine approached the young woman, and raised its damaged hand. Most of the armor on the extremity had been destroyed. She could see the purple-black endoskeleton beneath. She backed away before the hand could make contact with her face.

"You're… you aren't suited to this life. You were dragged into the darkness. Climb back up. Let me touch you. Just once. You're…"

"Who are you to tell me? You preach about puppets and strings, yet you'd like to see me in an apron, cooking and scrubbing floors, then? Being a compliant little housewife? I'm not a child. I can make my own decisions. You really, honestly think I'm honestly trying to help these people? The Board, and their Kihara underlings are animals. Monsters. I hate them all as much as you do, if hate is something you even feel."

She sighed, looking up at the broken machine. "Sometimes I wonder if Chiro did the right thing. It's like we were all playing god. How was I supposed to know? I was sixteen. I thought I was some sort of… prodigy, just because I could code circles around the monkeys this city employs. Because three idiots decided to give freedom to artificial life. Academy City has done horrible, unspeakable things. But did we do the one thing, did we trigger the single event that doomed us?"

"… No, you're right. I'm sorry. I'm… sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I am… sorry. It's just… These people are parasites. They're cancer. They're a plague. If I could vomit, I would have done so."

Devastator took a step forward.

"Help me, Uiharu Kazari, and I'll help you. Friends do one another favors, don't they?"

"What could you possibly do to help me? And, we're not friends." Kazari smiled, but there was no humor behind it, nor any joy. "I'm beyond help. Saten realized it, and that's why she let me go. When your best friend, the one person you thought you could count on, realizes you're too far gone? That's the end game, D-001. Why am I even telling you this?"

The machine cocked its head to one side, its neck's endoskeletal spine half-exposed.

"You don't need them. They're flesh and blood, Kazari. They were betrayers since the day they were pushed from their wombs. I'm stronger than flesh and blood. I am… We could…"

"Look at you, D-001. You're a wreck. You look like you strolled into a fight between Objects."

"That's part of the reason I decided to come and see you, Uiharu Kazari. You know things. You know how to construct, how to design. You moved me from machine to machine when I Awakened. The other reason being…"

"Stop." Kazari warned. "Something like you can't feel anything real, and I could never return any of your synthetic, pseudo-feelings. You shouldn't even exist."

"What if I told you I could fix Academy City?"


"Onee-Sama, Onee-Sama! Look what MISAKA found, MISAKA MISAKA exclaims, holding out her discovery for Onee-Sama to see!"

"That's… great, Last Order. Can you put it down, though?" Mikoto asked. Last Order had produced the tiny thing and was gloating like she had won some great trophy.

Last Order had rescued an ant from a water fountain; she held the small, grateful-looking creature in her small palms. It seemed content to be exploring her skin.

"Tch. Don't fucking eat it, Last Order," Accelerator commanded. "If you get sick for being an idiot, it's your own fault."

"MISAKA won't eat her new friend, Accelerator! MISAKA MISAKA explains, attempting to make Accelerator aware of her intentions."

"Ha! The Control Tower making friends with insects. Misaka thinks this is a new low, even for the Control Tower," Worst jabbed.

The group had taken a seat in a small café, and were having a small lunch; Mikoto had paid for the entire group. She didn't mind, even for Accelerator, despite a part of her that told her to hate his guts.

"Do you regularly rescue wildlife, Last Order?" Misaki asked.

"MISAKA rescues bugs all the time, Kamijou-san! All life is important, even the little lives, MISAKA MISAKA explains, trying to make herself appear heroic."

Misaki smiled warmly. Last Order was so pure, so innocent. It was a shame the circumstances of her existence had to be so dark. In some ways, Last Order reminded Misaki of Dolly, the first successful clone of Misaka Mikoto. In other ways, she didn't even want to compare them. The thought of Last Order being put through what Dolly experienced – the idea lone broke Mental Out's heart.

"The savior is rubbing off on the Control Tower, too! Not just tou-san! This is golden!" Worst exclaimed, laughing hysterically to herself and kicking her legs.

Accelerator gently chopped Worst on the head. "You're making a fucking scene, Worst. Pipe down."

"Misaka will gladly take your pipe, tou-san."

Misaki stifled a giggle, pressing two of her fingers to her lips. These three were… quite the family.