Goddesses Save The Queen

by Good Old Hoxton

After being sent by the government to explore a new land, a group of humans must attempt to stay alive in a land of monsters and goddesses. Amongst these people is a small band of plucky Brits, armed with guns, seemingly endless ammo, knowledge of nearly every obscenity in the English language, and silly accents. How will the CPUs cope? Set during the Anime timeline.

49. Prince of the PERSIANs

"...you're, uh…?"

"...yeah."

Silence. There's really not much else you'd be able to throw out in a situation like that, and it was the order of the day when London and Cave stood before a walking, talking skeleton cowboy.

Despite the fact he was very clearly in no position to be - you know - alive, Nick was upright, held together, and staring back at the two as if he hadn't recently taken a burst of literal hellfire from a demented mutation of an Ancient Dragon. Nick scratched his skull for a moment, briefly removing his hat, and punctuated the awkward silence with the sound of bone-on-bone. Finally, as the wind rolled through the field, he 'cleared his throat'...which was very odd, considering his lack of a throat (and organs) on the whole.

"See, uh…"

"Yep, I'm seein' it." London's response was blunt, confused, and immediate. More like an interruption, as he and Cave were both looking utterly bewildered by the sight before them. "Listen, Nick, I don't wanna alarm you, but you're...dead."

"Ah know," Nick sighed, replacing his hat which now sat loose on the skull. "From what them fellers with the Project told me, and what ah remember? Ah'd say 's been...huh, maybe a hundred-forty years? Hundred-thirty, hundred-twenty? Some' like that." Cave squinted slightly, rubbing her chin, and gently shook her head in disbelief.

"...London, what year was it when you left your world?" she asked, as she looked at him after a moment, folding her arms. "Canonically, I mean, not when this all started being written?" London blinked, returning the gaze with a raised brow.

"When all this...wait, when all this fuckin' wha-?"

"OK, better question," Cave sighed, looking back to Nick, "What year was it when you, um, passed away?"

"Eighty-nine," the cowboy replied confidently, resting his hands on his hip...bone. London raised a hand slightly towards him.

"And that's gonna be 1889, right?"

"Yessir, eighteen-eighty-nine."

"I'd guess that means you left your homeworld in, what, 2014? 2015, going by the date he gave, London?" Cave briefly adjusted her hair, grimacing as she noticed more missing strands after the fireball. "That, and he actually says numbers and dates as words instead of numbers, and this story was published nearly 6 years ago, and still not fini-"

"Cave, please stop tryin' to confuse me," he sighed, watching as Cave rolls her eyes, tutting and folding her arms. "But yeah, about then. Which means Nick, here, is an actual gunslinger from the American Old West."

There came a short pause, as Nick looked at the ground for a moment, dusting ash with his boot, and Cave looked between the two. London stared at Nick, hands on his hips.

"...is…" Cave shifted uncomfortably. "Is that...a good thi-?"

"Mate, it's fuckin' AWESOME," London interjected, jabbing a finger at Cave and smiling. He looked back at Nick. "Do you know how cool you are, to me? A skeleton, who's an actual fuckin' cowboy, from the time period that's genuinely my favourite part of history? I used to read so many books about cowboys and shit, and - fuck, man - I've seen all the old spaghetti westerns! Like, John Wayne, Clint Eastwood, Ronald Reagan, all that shit? There was this one thing where Ronald Reagan said 'You wanted law and order in this town, you got it', and -!"

As London rattled off excitedly to the utterly confused skeleton in front of him, the first vestiges of people coming to investigate could be heard over the hill. Cave listened with some intent to London's ramblings, observing his almost exaggerated hand gestures of excitement and his strange impressions of (presumably long-dead) actors from his world with her own quiet intent, hands gently clasped before her.

'I have no idea what he's talking about, but at the very least, he's happy.'

By the time London was halfway through telling Nick a bunch of incorrect facts about the O.K Corral, however, there came a shout from the hill above.

"Skeleton!"

Cave went wide-eyed, turning, and looking up at the hill just in time to catch the racking of a rifle bolt, and one of the PERSIAN soldiers from before raising their gun. "Hold fire!" she yelled, but it came a little too late; The belch of unsuppressed gunfire rang out through the area, and the ground before them started popping up as bullets slammed into the glassy, burned soil, advancing on them at a high rate.

"Aw, Hell…!" Nick grunted, pinching the brim of his hat between his index finger and thumb. As he moved to dodge, however, a force came in front of him; A wall of olive green. London yelled out in pain as the bullets came forwards, a few striking the plates on the back of his jacket, and one cleanly grazing across his cheek, but he remained firm, standing between Nick and the gunfire. It halted quite promptly.

Partly because the PERSIAN realized London was defending the skeleton with his body.

Also partly because Cave was already up the goddamn hill, hand on their rifle, and her leg out, somehow flipping the much heavier, much bigger woman onto the ground with a surprising grace and ease. The PERSIAN grunted, slamming onto the floor, but her arm was pinned, Cave's knee on the back of her helmet, and fury on her usually serene face.

"Who the Hell gave you the order to open fire, Bousquet?!" she barked, as other PERSIANs finally caught up to their comrade. Some bristled slightly with their weapons...but generally speaking, shooting a Commander's not a good idea. 'Bousquet', meanwhile, groaned slightly, but remained still.

"A-Ah…! We...we were moving into hostile territory, Commander, it was logical…!"

Even as London was clicking his back and neck after the bullet impacts, rolling his limbs to be sure he was alright, he couldn't really help but notice it: Her accent. As he adjusted himself, tugging his lapels and giving his neck a good few cracks and clicks, he kept an eye on where Cave was, and moved up to meet her, Nick following him along.

'Is she French? That's...surprising.'

"Logical, Corporal?" Cave snapped, leaning in slightly. "Soldier, you nearly shot the man I'm looking after. Your mistake nearly cost me my ass, you understand?" She removed her knee, and stood up straight, looking down at the armoured woman beneath her. "Get up; On your feet. Consider yourself warned, Bucky; Shoot a VIP and so help me, I'll replace all your cybernetics with goddess-damned kitchen appliances. I won't mention this little incident to the Captain, but you had better brush up on your green-fire zone protocols back at the barracks, are we clear?"

Corporal 'Bucky' Bousquet got to her feet, flexing her shoulder, and picked up her rifle. "Urgh. Crystal, Commander," she grumbled. The response, however, never came; Cave had turned and begun to walk away, straight towards London, and her attitude almost immediately softened.

"Are you alright, London?" she asked, approaching him with some haste and looking him over. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed the graze on his cheek, now bleeding. "Was that there a moment ago? You're bleeding. She didn't hit you, did she?"

London blinked a bit, putting a hand to his cheek and looking at the tips of his fingers. Blood. Damn. His gaze briefly darted between Cave, and the Corporal, who already seemed to be backing away slightly, then back to Cave.

"Uh...no, no, this one was there a minute ago," he said finally, clearing his throat a bit and wiping the blood on his trousers. "Must've opened up, with the, uh, sharp movements, and stuff." London offered Cave a mildly reassuring smile. "Nothin' to worry about, though. I've had worse."

Cave's expression seemed to radiate suspicion, but she finally nodded, before licking her thumb and wiping it on the graze on London's cheek. "We'll get checked over before we head away," she murmured, ignoring the stunned look on London's face at the breach of personal space. "I need to give a debrief to Captain Ballandes. Are you alright to wait over with the other Guild members?"

He blinked. "Um...yep. Yeah, I can, um, do that. Cheers, Cave."

Cave nodded, and turned - once again - to the PERSIANs, walking through them. They all gave her an obvious look through their visors, but as they dispersed, the only one to approach London and Nick was the Corporal from before.

"I…" she began, "...have no idea how to introduce myself to someone after I shoot them. Why did you cover for me?" London looked straight into her visor, the woman standing at about his height, and put his hands onto his hips, shrugging a bit.

"Well, it was an accident, wasn't it?" he mused, scratching his chin. "These things happen. You saw a Skeleton, and you figured you'd shoot it." He waved a dismissive hand, wiping a thumb on his bleeding cheek. "I'd've done the same, to be honest. No big issue. Besides, you only clipped plates, and this is just another cool scar." The Corporal nodded a bit, slinging her rifle onto her back, wherein it stuck into place via surprisingly similar methods to the armoured man in the Tower.

"A...surprisingly lenient set of logic," she noted. Her accent was definitely French, London noted. "Not quite what I was expecting. My apologies for preemptive judging."

"No worries...uh, Corporal...Busket."

"Bousquet. It's Loweean."

"Loweean? You guys have different languages?"

Even behind the helmet, London could tell she looked confused. "Well...yes? There's four nations who've been at war for nearly 15,000 years. Of course there's langua-"

"Hold on, hold on," Nick interjected, raising a skeletal hand and getting a very stunned look from the PERSIAN. "Y'all're tellin' me this whole world has been here fer fifteen thousand goddamn years?"

London just raised a brow at him, smirking. "Nick, I would hate to break it to you, but Earth isn't 2015 years old."

"That ain't what the bible says, neither, sir."

"...OK, you know what? Let's...let's give you a world history lesson later, Nick. You'll love the bit about the World Wars."

"Hold on, world whats?"

"Back to you, Bousquet," London continued, looking back to her, and starting to slowly walk up the hill, back in the direction of where the Guild people were, "So 15,000 years, huh? That's how long Gamindustri's existed?"

"Thereabouts." The woman moved to walk alongside him, looking down only slightly. "Were you never given history lessons?"

"Only moved here recently, I'm afraid."

"...right. Well, did Lady Sigrun tell you nothing when you went to collect her?"

"Not much. She's a nice lady, though."

Nick nodded quietly at that declaration. "Mm. Real kind."

"Out of the four Elder Goddesses, I believe she's the second-youngest. Only eleven-thousand."

London just snorted a bit as they crested the hill. "Tch. Only. Hope I look that nice when I hit my thousands."

Bucky chuckled. "With such a glowing personality, I'm sure you won't struggle. Thank you for covering my ass. It's rare that I fuck up on that level." The PERSIAN sighed a bit, rolling her shoulders. "Knowing the Commander, I don't think her threat came as empty words."

"She's in charge of you guys, then?"

"Captain Ballandes is in charge of us, mon amie," Bucky corrected, raising a finger towards another PERSIAN who was currently standing in front of Cave, helmet under her arm. London was very briefly confused by the presence of a 6'0+ Jennifer Aniston, but realized that it must be the Captain Ballandes that Bucky was speaking about.

A serious-looking woman with long hair and a few minor facial scars, her armour featured a number of extra markings and elements not present on Bucky's equipment. Even from the distance they were at, walking amongst crowds of PERSIANs, Earth men, and a few Guildies picking over the burned monster corpses for loot, London could still distinctly make out that Ballandes was absolutely built. Like, almost on his own level of being built. Most of these PERSIAN girls were; Rippling guns and muscles underneath their black armour undersuits.

'Well, at least I know who wears the fucking combat trousers around here.'

As they moved along, London asking a couple more questions to 'Bucky' about the PERSIANs, Gamindustri, and history, and gleaming some pretty valuable but brief insights, it came to his attention that a lot of the PERSIANs (when they thought he wasn't looking) were stopping and staring at him when he passed. Not the nice kind of staring, either, as demonstrated when Cave looked away and Ballandes simply locked eyes with him directly, and gave the threatening 'I'm watching you' gesture, with a hardened expression.

Had he done something to them? Probably not. Bucky seemed nice enough; So nice, in fact, that she mentioned her favourite bar hangout in Leanbox City, one that Chika had also raved about previously. Maybe they hung out together, or something? As depressing as an alcoholic, slightly drug-addicted, sex-addicted woman in her late 20s with an incredibly important job was, London had extreme doubts that Chika had nobody to drink with.

Either way, London was content. He was burned, a bit bruised, smelled of incinerated monsters and cooked Ancient Dragon meat, had some fresh bruises on his back and ass, and a large cut on his cheek. He was getting paid, nobody from Earth had died (except Will, which...basically didn't count), and he got to fight a big monster, even if it nearly kicked the shit out of him.

All in all?

A pretty nice day.

The next day…

The network of facilities beneath the Basilicom was genuinely quite impressive, ranging from extended staff quarters, to storage areas, and the underground military bunker. This was the home of a number of different units, including the place where Vert (or Sigrun, in a more appropriate time period) would have ordered the firing of thermo-sharicite warheads towards various targets across Gamindustri.

It's also home to the PERSIAN Barracks.

To give a tad more perspective on PERSIANs, one of Leanbox's ultimate 'solutions' for almost any serious situation, it can be traced back many thousands of years ago. With the Share Wars becoming more intense and each nation revealing their true strengths (Lowee's brilliant mage battalions, Lastation's exceptional spy networks, and Planeptune's amazing scientific advancements), Leanbox was falling short.

As such, Sigrun (who was the CPU at the time) requested that several morally questionable Leanboxian scientists and Generals create a solution: "A balancing force", as she worded it. Setting to work, many things were tried, but the seemingly most obvious(?) solution was when famed scientist, Dr. Kath B. Ballsy, managed to 'procure' a number of young girls, and instructed shadier military elements to begin rigorously training them.

At the ages of 15, these girls were spliced with some of Leanbox's most advanced cybernetics, and given advanced therapy to turn them into soldiers without equal: PERSIAN Super Soldiers.

Over time, as the Share Wars had ups and downs for each nation, the PERSIANs simply continued to be worked on; Cybernetics became better, recruitment became easier, they became public, they ended up becoming celebrities, they got TV shows, and so on. However, one thing that never changed was how goddess-damned screwed their brains were, most of the time.

Clearly, having synthetic growth hormones pumped into your body and being raised in the beauty-focused world of Leanbox doesn't really stop you from being emotionally stunted.

It was this lesson that London would learn on that day, as he approached their barracks, his hand still marked with the pen writing that Chika had put on there to tell him how to reach Cave's office. The area leading up to the barracks was a large tunnel carved into the rock, very clearly much older than London could even imagine, yet the technology inside was cutting edge: The soldiers and their weapons were much more 'fight-y' than the ceremonial uniforms of the Basilicom guards, wearing tactical vests, carrying rifles with countless modifications, and most of them being women.

He didn't really question that part, anymore. Maybe that's just how things were, in Gamindustri. Truth be told, the Guild seemed to be equal employment for both genders, but...y'know, their call, really.

Either way, London was reminded of the people who trained him: They, too, had a big secret base carved into rocks underground. Theirs was also bigger, and featured more questionable stuff, and far more questionable treatment of their own trainees, but that was probably something to whine about at a later time.

For now, London approached the large set of doors labelled 'PERSIAN BARRACKS - NO ADMITTANCE WITHOUT PRIOR DOCUMENTATION OR PERMISSION'. There were a large set of windows off to one side, which appeared to have some kind of fitness equipment inside in use, but he didn't quite get a close enough look.

Raising his hand to knock, he rescinded it immediately as the doors opened before he'd made contact. Standing in front of him, a few inches taller even without armour, was that woman from before: Captain Ballandes.

The woman was wearing a set of gym clothes - an olive green sports bra that held a very impressive bust in place, and a set of shorts that accentuated an absolutely insane physique. She had her hands on her hips, balled into fists, and a concrete glare as she looked down at him.

"What?" she said bluntly. London looked a bit confused, lowering his hand that was going to knock, then stepped back slightly.

"Uh...hi. I'm lookin' for, um, Cave."

Ballandes squinted at him, face stern as anything. "What, you lose your babysitter?"

"...no, Cave's office is, um, through here, apparently." To demonstrate, he showed the flat of his hand to the PERSIAN, where the text written in black ink had only lightly smudged. As Ballandes read it, London noted that her eyes seemed to...flicker? Bright blue.

'Cyborg eyes? That's fucking cool.'

"...no, that's wrong. Her office isn't in here."

London furrowed his brow, looking at his hand.

"No, that looks like what it says. 'Reach PERSIAN Barracks, head through gym, main corridor, third door on right, Commander Cave Galaga'."

"Don't care what it says, it's wrong," Ballandes snapped. "You're not coming in here."

Again, London's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Oh. OK. Why?"

"Don't 'why' me."

"...I really don't get what your problem is, with me."

"Oh, I've got plenty of bones to pick with you, Gloryhunter," she snarled, jabbing a finger at him. "You just be thankful you've got her watching over you. The girls and I would be all over you, otherwise." London's brow remained furrowed, as he scratched his head a bit.

"So...you're mad at me...for…?"

Ballandes' nostrils seemed to flare; London was surprised that raging steam didn't hiss out of them. "Figure it out, old man."

He was about to answer by pointing out that he's not even that old, before she turned her back on him...and shut the metal doors behind her, leaving him standing there, looking confused. London kept scratching his head, looking around the tunnel as people passed by, some offering excited waves at him, which were returned.

"OK...so apparently this wasn't the way in."

He pursed his lips a bit, then pulled the omnipresent N-Gear from his pocket, tapping through the menus before finally calling Chika. The response took a moment.

"Yo, 'sup."

"Uh, hi, Chika."

"Yeah, hi. 'Sup."

"So, I hit up the barracks, and -"

"They didn't let you in?"

"...yeah."

"Ha! Knew it!"

"...then why'd you send me here?"

The response was a noise that sounded like a lazy "iunno".

"Thought it'd be funny."

"So where's Cave's office?"

"In their barracks. Just, y'know, different door."

London groaned, looking around, before he saw it: A camera.

"Oh, for -"

"Yup! Yep! There you are! Gimme a wave!~"

With the most unenthusiastic expression imaginable, London waved at the camera, sighing.

"Ha! Now, c'mon, shirt off, sexy pose!"

"Don't test me, Oracle."

"Right, right...Six's sake, you've got a stick up your ass, today."

"After I just met Jennifer Aniston on her period and steroids, I've every right to be annoyed. Now c'mon, tell me how to find Cave's office."

The sigh of boredom down the phone was very much audible.

"Fiiiiine. Just look through the gym window and call Cave to tell her you're here. She'll let you through."

London looked over to his right, from where the door was: The gym window was pretty obvious, so moving in front of it wasn't gonna be hard either. Taking only a few steps and hanging up on Chika, he began dialling Cave, peering through the glass at…

...wow, he was gonna get beaten up, some day.

Looking into the gym was like looking into Amazonia: The only people inside were PERSIANs, all working extreme-looking exercise equipment like it was nothing. True to Leanboxian form, they were all drop-dead gorgeous, utterly stacked, and true to PERSIAN form, they were all shredded. Not like Cave was, where it was all practical muscle and very lean, but more like his own body shape: Very obvious muscle and scars on the majority of them, and some even had very expensive-looking cybernetics.

He stared for a moment, assessing them all. Could they take him in a fight? Probably, they were all built like killing machines, and -

"What a pervert."

Someone spoke audibly to their squadmate behind him as they passed by the man staring into the gym full of buxom bodybuilders.

He immediately turned a bit red, and grumbled, waiting for Cave to pick up.

"You're running a bit late. Where are you?"

"U-Uh, outside. The, um, the gym window. I couldn't get in. It's the PERSIAN barracks, right?"

"Yes, it is. I'll be at the door in a moment."

There came a brief pause as dead ahead, London caught a glimpse of a door opening, and Cave stepping out in her dress uniform. As she noticed where he was standing, she rolled her eyes and groaned.

"Oh, don't tell me you've been following Chika's directions."

"How did you know?"

"Did you really think that staring in the gym window at the bodybuilding cyborg supermodels was part of finding where my office is?"

"...I mean…"

"Don't answer that. Just...I'll be there in a moment."

"...I mean, I'm not complai-"

-clik-

Inside Cave's office, five minutes later…

London felt awkward here. He looked really out of place.

Cave had a rather pristine office, with dark green wallpaper, mahogany furniture, and rather fancy paintings on the walls (one being a large picture of Lady Vert in an 'artistic' pose). Her desk was quite big, featuring a number of usual desk accoutrements, but...they all just looked really expensive. Pens, pencils, the sharpener, the lamp, the writing surface, a computer…

"And they supply you with all this stuff?" London asked finally, as he sat in front of her desk like a misbehaving schoolboy at the headteacher's office. Cave cast a brief glance over to him as she stood to the side of the room, pouring two cups of tea, then looked back down at the tray, making sure not to spill any.

"Not all of it," Cave replied calmly, gently placing the teapot down and moving the two cups and saucers over to the desk, offering one to London. As she sat down herself, she adjusted herself a bit, gesturing to a few of the things on the desk. "I find that I misplace most of my cheap office supplies. So, I usually spend my paycheck on furnishing my office, to ensure that I remember not to lose anything."

London nodded along as she spoke, idly picking up a pen after sipping some tea and looking at it, clicking the fancy biro a few times.

"That pen is worth 150,000 Credits."

London immediately put it down. Carefully.

"Thank you."

"D-Don't worry about it."

The response was a smile from Cave, who undid a few buttons on her uniform and loosened her tie a bit, before flicking her hair loose from the braid it was in so that she could brush through it. "I must say, this was a pre-planned visit, but you rather caught me by surprise," she mused, tidying herself up. "I expected at least some tardiness, London."

London shrugged, sighing lightly and taking his jacket off to put it on the floor. "Ah, well, you know me. I don't like to keep people waitin'."

Cave offered him a slightly deadpan look, and so did everyone in Gamindustri.

As the gazes subsided and the chill went from his spine, he looked mildly confused, but opted to ignore the anger at his slow progress through this winding tale.

"I see," Cave said finally, beginning the process of braiding her hair. "I shan't press on it. Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, it was alright, actually," London nodded, placing the cup and saucer on the desk, before reclining back in the fancy chair to put his hands behind his head. "I used normal big blanket strats." Cave blinked a bit.

"Big...blanket, strats?"

"Yeah. Big blanket strats." London gestured slightly as if wrapping arms around something. "You, uh, you roll up the rest of the blanket. And, uh, you use it...for, uh…"

"Go on."

"...so, it's like havin' someone else there, right? And…"

"You find that comforting."

"U-Uh...well, I, uh…"

Cave's smirk turned mildly predatory.

"I see. That's rather precious, of you."

"Y-You of all people should know that it helps me sleep..."

"Oh, of course I do, London. Of course I do."

London just looked away slightly, going quite red. Cave chuckled to herself, finishing the braid, then worked on her tie. "You're so very easy to embarrass, you know," she said calmly. "Frankly, I was originally nervous about all of these personal conversations, but knowing you have such a soft center has made it quite entertaining."

This did nothing to stop London from blistering crimson, looking up at her and scratching at the back of his head. "Uh...g-glad I could, um, be of...amusement, I guess?" he muttered.

"Oh, relax a bit, London. This is my office, nobody's listening." With her tie now set in place, she straightened in her chair, making eye contact with him. "So, what exactly did you wish to discuss?" London cleared his throat slightly, sitting up.

"Right. Uh, so...I spoke with, um, Corporal Bucky, yesterday?"

Cave raised an almost unamused brow. "The one who shot at you and Mr. Bones."

"Yeah. She's quite nice when you talk to her."

"You have an odd way of choosing your friends."

"Cave, I shot Green Boob Jesus with a shotgun and I'm now a national celebrity in her country. I don't think this is all by choice."

"...point taken. Continue."

"Right. So, when I spoke to her, she told me...some stuff, about this country? Uh, world, even? Gamindustri, on the whole. She said it was only 15,000 years old."

Cave nodded quietly, pulling her keyboard towards her slightly. "I see where this is going. A history lesson, then?" London nodded in return.

"It'd...be appreciated, Cave. I wanted to ask Sigrun, but she just wanted me to talk about myself, and...uh, I felt like a narcissist."

The redhead simply shrugged a bit, rolling her shoulders and neck briefly, then began typing something out. "I understand that feeling," she replied calmly. "I really don't like psych evals for that reason. I'd...rather not take up more of someone's time than necessary, especially when I just have to tell them about me."

"Right? It feels really awkward. I still feel sorry for Miss Histoire, havin' to listen to my shit for about a half hour…"

The sound of mechanical keys tapping away was the only real sound in the room, besides the very muffled grunting of PERSIANs down the hall, engaged in their exercises. Eventually, Cave let out a quiet 'Mmhmm.', looking up at London again.

"OK. So, you need to know history. Where would you like to begin?" London thought for a moment, then glanced around the room.

"Uh...well, brief is better, so I don't take your time up -"

"No, no, please, don't worry about my time. You're my key assignment, at the moment," Cave replied, raising a hand, and offering a mildly reassuring smile. "I'll make the time. I have Histipedia on the monitor. Ask away, London."

London nodded, still feeling a bit guilty about taking her away from work, then scratched the back of his neck. "So, uh...let's go from the top. How'd it all start?"

Cave typed a few words into Histipedia's search bar: 'GAMINDUSTRIAN HISTORY', scanned a bit...then finally cleared her throat, looking back to London.

"Do...you mind if I just use these as notes, and paraphrase it?" she asked. "I've been meaning to improve on reading from cues." London sat back a bit, raising a thumb, and smiled, nodding.

"Cave, if you wanted to read it in Japanese, I would understand none of it, but I'd absolutely accept it, from you. You're doin' me a favour, here."

The woman smiled a bit in return, then looked at the screen. "So...we'll start from the beginning, then. Gamindustri, as a world, was brought into existence by Lady Sixtia, Elder Goddess of Lowee."

"So she's like God, I guess, then?"

"You only have one God, where you're from?"

"I mean...that was a big debate. Was there, wasn't there, which interpretation's right…"

Cave gave an understanding nod. "Ah, religious struggles?"

"It's basically Earth's whole history. But, uh, Lady Sixtia really made the whole place?"

The redhead looked at the screen. "From the ancient Karutan Scriptures, here: 'With Her Holiest's naginata, Lady Sixtia, Light Above All, cleaved the mountains into being; Her most tender hands kneaded life from the raw data in the void; Seas of knowledge formed seas of water; And thus it was by Her Most Noble's hands that our world of Gamindustri was formed'." Cave looked back to London. "I'm...sure you'll have comments on how that's written."

London raises a finger, arms folded. "Not really. Here's one for you: 'The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness." He shifts a bit, continuing.

"For he is truly his brother's keeper, and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord, when I lay my vengeance upon thee.'"

As he spoke, Cave listened with surprise, nodding and mock clapping as he finished.

"That's...profound, London," she murmured, looking at him in mild awe, "A beautiful piece of writing, and you know it by heart. Is it from a holy scripture on Earth?"

"Could say that."

"The Bible?"

"Pulp Fiction."

"...oh."

"Mm. Good film."

"...right. Well, I, ah...let's...let's continue, then."

"Right-o. So, Lady Sixtia made Gamindustri." London leaned forward in the chair a bit. "But if that's the case, then why -?"

"- did other nations form, and go to war against their Goddess and creator?" Cave interjected, finishing for him. He simply nodded in return.

"Yeah."

"That came about a thousand or so years later," she replied, looking back to the screen. "From what this says, the first signs of segmentation came upon discovery of CPU Cores. They're incredibly rare items that can turn people into CPUs."

"Really? You can just become a God?"

"Indeed. Well, Goddess. They don't work on men."

"Oh, come on, now that's bullshit."

Cave just shrugged slightly, gesturing at him as he reclined back in the seat, crossing his legs and rubbing his chin. "CPU Cores turn 'unworthy' people into powerful monsters," she explained. "And 'unworthy' has always turned out to mean the imbiber is a man, a terrible person, or a politician."

"You already said 'terrible person'."

"Mm. Specifics matter, I'm afraid."

"True, that. But then, what, did Lady Sixtia make these Core things, as well?" he asked. "Seems a bit counter-productive to bein' a Goddess if you make a thing that lets people have a chance to come up and whoop your arse." Cave tilted her head a little bit, turning to the keyboard, and rummaged through a few pages to try and find an answer. London, meanwhile, once again sipped his tea.

"Umm...core, core, core...ah, here." Cave leaned in closer to the screen, squinting a bit. "'Lady Sixtia has gone on record multiple times stating that she had no intentional hand in the creation of CPU Cores. This correlates with the multiple times that Lady Sixtia was involved in attacks on fledgling nations, taking personal role in the defeat of new CPUs. The 'One Goddess Theory' points to this as a sign that Lady Sixtia never intended for others to develop into CPUs'."

The man before her desk nodded calmly, the teacup clacking gently against the saucer as he finished the tea. "So she accidentally gave people a chance to stand up to her?"

"I believe that's what this says, yes," Cave said, looking at him again. "Thinking on that, I wouldn't exactly be wrong in stating that Lady Sixtia is just as responsible for founding all the other nations as their respective Elder Goddesses were; Without her accidental creation of CPU Cores, there would be no Leanbox, Lastation, or Planeptune, because there would be no Sigrun, Sonya, or Umbriel."

London scratched his head almost appreciatively as Cave explained, setting the saucer down, before returning to his calm position. "Right...I mean, that's kind of fair. Which nation formed first?"

"That would be Lastation. I know that one for a fact." Cave's hands moved to click more things on the screen, opening various tabs on her browser. "Lady Sonya formed Lastation after an extremely long pilgrimage to the north-eastern lands, wherein she proved herself a worthy figurehead for the tribals living there and began to educate them."

"Huh. Why'd she do that?"

"Um…"

Cave raised a brow, looking at the monitor, then slowly shook her head.

"...it...doesn't say why. It simply says she grew 'displeased' with Loweean affairs."

London shrugged a bit, raising hands. "Good a reason as any, though, innit? I'd bugger off from somewhere if I hated the place and had the means to get out."

"I suppose so. Regardless, Lady Sonya made use of the resources and various tribes up there to form Lastation, veering less towards religion and tradition, and more to utilitarianism and mechanization."

Listening, London nodded slowly, stretching. "Is that why the whole place looks like a disused gas works?"

Cave snorted a bit, smirking. "Eloquent."

"And correct. Everywhere outside of the financial center in Lastation City looks like Slough and Birmingham's shitty baby." He hesitated, then continued, raising a finger. "Though I'll say there's less kebab shops than I expected. A lot of Chinese stuff, though."

Now it was Cave's turn to be slightly confused. "Chinese? I don't quite understand."

London just raised a hand, as if gesturing to something up above. "Y'know, like, shop signs, and stuff. Some shop owners speak in Mandarin. There's a lot of the signage written in Chinese. Or, uh, the 'Han Character' things that the Chinese write in." At the mention of the word 'characters', Cave understood quite quickly what he meant.

"Oh? Now that is interesting. That's native Lastationese."

"...it is?"

"Mm. I speak it fluently."

"Huh."

Cave speaks quite calmly, immediately swapping to a different tongue. "[It is required that international staff know the languages of all four countries.]".

London recognized it immediately: Surprisingly, despite not being good at speaking them, he was generally pretty good at understanding them. That was definitely Mandarin.

"[I would like to order one chicken nugget and exactly nine beans, you stinky bitch]."

The response was - expectedly - Cave looking extremely confused, but concealing a smirk. "I-I see, um...your grasp on our world's languages is...quite impressive. Ahem."

"Cheers," London smirked, raising a thumb confidently.

"R-Right. Let's keep going. So, would you like to guess which nation came after Lastation?" Cave asked, before pointing to the world map at the side of her office.

The whole of Gamindustri was an upside-down 'U' shape; More surprising was that all four nations shared a single landmass. Here and there, a few smaller lands existed, and off to the bottom left of the map was a large continent, split into four: The PC Continent, apparently.

'Kind of looks like the Windows logo.'

To the north west and north east, respectively, Leanbox and Lastation were split down the middle by a very rough looking mountain range that easily spanned potentially a thousand miles. Leanbox was situated in a much more warm area (which London had definitely noticed), whilst Lastation seemed to be in more of a boggy area, which probably explained the poor weather conditions and dampness of the whole place.

To the south, however - or at least, south of Leanbox, Lowee was simply a mountain-range crossing away. Incredible, really; Crossing between the two was like running into a snowblind, sometimes, because the weather would change that suddenly. A Leanboxian businessman would need a winter coat to commute into Lowee.

However, far across the huge ocean in the middle of the world map, and past an area labelled 'GRAVEYARD' in huge letters, was Planeptune, to the south of Lastation. Oddly enough, the climate was even more radically different than Lowee's; It was temperate, had a chance of warm days, rain, and more.

Given that Lastation had a lot of rain? London had absolutely no idea how weather was supposed to work in Gamindustri. But, of course, he was only there to learn history, not force Cave to be a meteorologist.

London turned in the chair to look at the map, and stroked his chin in thought. Cave folded her arms, smiling gently, and watching him think on it. Finally, he spoke, raising a finger towards Leanbox.

"I'm...gonna say it was Leanbox."

"Mm. Interesting. Why do you think that?"

He looked to her, then gestured to Lowee, and then to Lastation. "I mean, they're a connected landmass. Even if they weren't at war, they'd have land crossin' all the time. So, given that there'd be people goin' a long way between nations, probably with the ol' horse and cart and stuff, then it makes sense that people would end up formin' 'stops' and communities and stuff on the route."

He stood up a bit, and tapped the fairly large coastal city of Eksell, and the multitude of highways passing through it, then pointed at the other roads. "I figure this place was the first city, then it all spread around the land, until they found where they wanted to make their best city."

Cave nodded, smiling. "Greenmond."

"Yeah."

"Well, I must say, you only continue to surprise me. I won't even need to explain where Leanbox came from, London," she replied, "Especially given that even after getting that right, you can simply walk into another room and ask the woman who created the place any questions you may have."

"That's true," he noted, smirking, "Though I've one for you. English, right?"

"Your homeland?"

"Yes. Um...yeah, well, also no, it's the language I've been speakin' this whole time. Is it -?"

Cave nodded flatly. "Leanboxian, yes."

"I...right, that's...pretty cool, I guess. And I'm gonna guess that when I spoke French and you called it Loweean…?"

"Then that would mean Loweean is 'French', yes."

"Right, right. And the final piece of the puzzle. Does Planeptune have a language?"

"[Yes. It sounds like this. Does it seem familiar?]"

London practically banged a hand on the arm of his chair, grinning, and pointed at Cave, who chuckled softly at his enthusiasm. "Japanese. That's fuckin' Japanese. That's cool. Both of our worlds made the exact same languages."

"I see!" she smiled, opening a tab of Notepad to get that fact written down somewhere. "Certainly a cosmic coincidence."

"Speakin' of Leanbox, anyway," London began again, "Does Sigrun have one of those HD things?"

"HDD, you mean?" Cave asked.

"Yeah, like how Lady Vert can turn from a 9 to a 10 instantly."

"...yes. Well, um...truthfully, I…"

Cave furrowed her brow a little bit, thinking.

"...you know, I'm...not actually sure? I don't think Lady Sigrun has a HDD transformation. Perhaps becoming 8'0 tall was her equivalent of developing a second form." She looked back to London. "I'm aware that she was Lady Emerald Heart during her reign, but I don't believe I've ever heard of her transforming."

London mulled on this a bit.

'I mean, Lady Sonya kind of just walked up to me in her normal form when I went to meet her. Perhaps she can't transform, either?'

Cave continued murmuring a few things as she scoured a few websites for details, but found nothing; No images of Sigrun in HDD of any kind. Apparently, she was just really tall, and that was that. "Fair enough…" Cave mumbled, scratching at her forehead a little bit. "Um...OK, so we'll discuss Leanbox a little bit. Our culture has spread further than any other nation. Do you know why?"

"Trade?"

"Look, did you even need this talk?" she smirked, rolling her eyes.

"No, I just came here for the free cup of tea, Cave."

"I see. Regardless, you're correct. Even during the height of the Share Wars, Leanbox never stopped trade with other nations, even including things like firearms and weapons that could be used against us. It started with livestock, and then eventually became our equipment, our tools, our workers, and so on."

London nodded with some appreciation, stroking his stubble. "Well...I'd say you guys won the culture war? Everyone I've spoken to speaks Eng...uh, Leanboxian. Or, they speak Leanboxian, with their nations' accent."

Cave chuckled again. "Say that to Lady Vert: You'll be her favourite alien."

"Cave, I already am. The Goddesses love me." He spread his arms out. "I know exactly what to say, all the time. Never fucked up once."

"Didn't you once have a yelling match with Lady Noire, suggesting you'd satisfy her in bed?"

"...no. That didn't happen."

"Yes, I believe it did. I was given the run-down by Lady Vert, because she found it amusing. Chapter 23, I believe."

"Would you cut that shit out?"

"Hm?"

"This...chapters, thing, and sayin' we ain't 'updated' or summat. I don't know what you're on about, or what anyone's on about, and it's freakin' me out."

"Don't worry about it."

"But -"

"Don't worry about it, London," Cave repeated, reaching for her tea again. "Regardless, Leanboxian is one of Gamindustri's most widely-spoken languages. It's not the most spoken, but it's the most widely spoken. The most spoken language is -"

"Lastationese?"

Cave paused, looking up from her cup and saucer, and squinted at him a bit almost suspiciously. "...how do you know that?"

He simply offered a shrug to her. "Well, it's the same back home. Most widely-spoken language was English; I'm pretty sure the most spoken was Chinese, because of how many Chinese people were alive in China." London gestures a bit, keeping his hands busy. "Pumps the number up; Not widely spoken, but it's all very much spoken in one single place."

His bodyguard listens intently, slowly nodding, before her face morphed to one of appreciation, raising her brows a bit. "Well, then. That's the same as it is here in Gamindustri," Cave noted. "Lastation has one of the higher population densities, which means it technically has more people speaking the language. The marked similarities between our worlds are quite impressive."

London smiled, shifting in the seat a bit, and folding his arms. "You're tellin' me. Been here a few months and I learn summat cool about this place, every day."

"Then it's ideal that there's a great many similarities to where you're from," she replied calmly, putting her fingers to the keyboard once again, with her tea cup in her left hand. "I find it easier to learn about new things when I can cross-reference between things I already understand. Would you agree, London?"

He squinted a bit, thinking, then shrugged his shoulders again, eyeing Cave over with mild suspicion. "I...would, I guess. You ain't psycho-analyzin' me, are you?" Cave simply shook her head at the question, remaining with a calm expression on her face.

"No, not at all. I'm not psych-trained. I'm mostly just trying to get a better grasp on how you think."

"Oh, now you wonder what goes on with the big plastic Tonka truck gears in my head?" London chuckled. "A lot of things go in, sometimes they get saved, other times I...well, I forget them." He scratched his head for a moment in consideration. "I mean, come to think of it, the Project trainin' was, like...a lot of hard knocks, and a lot of learnin', but the hard knocks kind of made it hard to learn?"

Cave listened, gently tilting forward to rest her chin on the back of her hand, tapping a finger on the desk softly as he spoke. Then, she pursed her lips a bit, letting loose a long exhale from her nose. "Mmm...I see. So you think you might have developed some kind of neurological problems."

"I…! Well...yeah, maybe. My memory's never been that good, really, but it's impressive that I've managed to forget most of the stuff I learned for those degrees I got durin' trainin'..."

At this, Cave seemed interested, raising both brows and sitting up a bit. "Degrees? An educated man, then?"

"Yeah, they cram it into you durin' the trainin', between beatin' your shit in and tyin' you to exercise equipment," London sighed. "Got degrees in Biology, Medicine, Energy Weapons Manufacture, Energy Theory, Ballistic Theory, Tactical Sciences, Chemical Weapon Manufacture…"

The way he listed things from that point - at least 15 degrees, three on PhD level, and a Doctorate - was almost as if he were recounting a shopping list. It took effort on Cave's part to keep her jaw from dropping as words like 'Theoretical', 'Nuclear', and 'Plasma' came from London's mouth, nonchalant as anything, before he finished up with a final shrug.

"...and I can't remember most of it."

"You...you can't?" Cave murmured, astonished. "That's...that's insane, you've got an even finer education record than Planeptune's scientific advisor, and you just can't remember it?"

"Really? Shit. How many PhDs has that lady got?"

"Two. And it's a he. We like to think he cheated on one of those PhDs, as well." She furrowed her brow. "We investigated his given address and it seemed to be a broom closet on the bottom floor of the Basilicom…"

"...why does he live in a closet?"

"Well, evidently, he's not as smart as he advertises."

"Huh. I'll roll with it."

"You can roll with anything, apparently. I'm sorry, but fifteen?"

"What's it matter if I'm meant to be smart?" London tapped at his head. "I can't even remember most of it through the bullets and shrapnel and bein' smacked around a lot."

"I...I'm just very surprised. No offense, of course."

"None taken, let's be real, I'm not known for my genius."

"No, not really."

"Eeeeexactly my point."

"...very self-deprecative, but I shan't press on that," Cave sighed, adjusting her plait. "Now, um...oh, Goddess, I've lost track. What were we discussing?"

London also seemed mildly confused for a moment, thinking, but then raised a finger. "Ah, languages, and stuff." Cave gave a firm nod of agreement.

"Right. Languages developed over time. There's countless dead ones, but the vast majority of Gamindustri speaks Leanboxian. I hear that there's alternate universes where everyone speaks Planeptunian, but I doubt that very much."

"So Planeptunian's basically Japanese, right?"

"[Yes.]" Cave's nod in retaliation is confident, and the shift in language, too. "[From what you've said in 'Japanese', it's the same as Planeptunian. Perhaps a little skewed in dialect, but that may be a regional thing.]"

"Right."

There came a brief pause, as Cave looked him in the eyes, before glancing to the side for a moment and clearing her throat.

"You, um…" she began, awkwardly, "...you did understand that, right?"

"Yeah," London smirked, "I just thought it was funny watchin' you feel awkward." The woman on the other side of the desk just tutted, rolling her eyes, but it was only a way for her to try and conceal a moderate smirk that crossed her usually quite stoic features.

"Tch. Truly unmatched humor. They'd love you in Stockton; Big comedy town."

"I'm sure they would," he replied casually, checking his nails, "But I have a question."

"Oh?"

"So, when I went to Lowee, I saw a lot of, like, Asian-style architecture. I guess you'd call it, like, 'ancient' architecture?" He made a gesture upwards, as if pointing to some kind of doorway. "Like those big red archways. I saw one on the entrance to a path into the countryside."

Cave scratched her chin for a moment, thinking on what he might have been referring to. However, she did type after a few seconds of thought, turning the monitor to face him. Sure enough - very much similar to the ones London had seen in pictures of Japan back home - there was a red archway, propped up by two pillars, with a wide 'roof' across the top that curved up on the ends. In response, London nodded vigorously, pointing at it.

"Yeah, one of those things."

"That's called a Torii."

"A Tory? What the fuck?"

"No, To - rii."

"Oh, phew. OK."

"What's a -?"

"Cunts. Don't ask."

"...is it a political thing?"

"I don't know."

Cave raised a brow at him. "But you seem to dislike whoever they are."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"...I 'unno."

"...um…"

London offers her a blank stare in return for her efforts at trying to understand what was actually going through his head at that point.

"...I, um...I see. You choose your opponents wisely."

He pursed his lips, shifting in his chair in consideration...then simply shook his head.

"We both know that's a big lie."

"...true."

Once more, there came a brief pause.

"...ahem…" Cave cleared her throat awkwardly. "...so you had a, um, question, about toriis?"

"Oh? OH. Yeah." He sat up slightly in the seat. "So, for a country that speaks French and has, like, pretty European architecture, why's there random Japanese stuff around the place?" Cave thought on it, replacing the words as necessary to make them match her understanding of the world and languages and cultures, before she spoke again.

"I would...have to guess that came about in the cultural shift between Planeptune and Lowee, probably around 8 or 9 thousand years ago," she replied, "I believe it was Lowee's concern that Planeptune's spies knew their language and culture too well, and it made it easier for them to steal intelligence. As such, drastic changes were implemented in their society to phase out their own language and change cultural norms, making it easier to identify spies who were 'out of date', so to speak."

London looked utterly bewildered by that aspect.

"So...so, wait, they literally changed their whole country just to piss off foreign intelligence agencies?" he asked, squinting in sheer confusion. Cave only gave a light nod.

"As we understand it, yes. Planeptune ended up adopting many of Lowee's cultural norms, in turn. Ironically, a nation founded by outcasts from other nations has become a unique culture all on its own."

"And they speak Japanese."

"Yes."

"Which was Loweean, originally."

"Yes."

"And then Lowee made a new language."

"Yes."

"And then Planeptune took Lowee's old culture and old language for themselves."

"Yes."

"Which means old Loweean stuff still exists in Lowee."

"Yes, as expected of it being old Loweean stuff."

"Funny. And Planeptune just kept making it?"

"Yes."

"Are you just answering 'yes' to every question?"

"Yes."

"Cool. Did you do summat different with your makeup, this mornin'? You look really nice."

"Y-Yes."

"Ha, you stuttered."

"No, I -"

"Done you there, you didn't say 'yes'."

Cave opened her mouth to retort, almost huffily, but was interrupted.

"Wasn't jokin', I noticed it. It looks nice."

"I…! Um. Uh, thank...you? Thank you."

Her irritation grew into an expression more matching a slightly embarrassed, yet pouty suspicion. London only offered her a smirk in return as her face grew a light shade of scarlet.

"And who's the one bein' 'easy to embarrass', Cave?"

"O-Oh, come off it, you oaf. Did you not come here to learn about Gamindustri?"

"I did, yeah, and to hang out with my best friend."

"T-Tch, oh, we're best friends, now?" she chuckled awkwardly, adjusting her hair and posture. "I'm sure."

"I mean, I don't see you hang around with anyone else? And I don't really want to hang around with anyone else besides you, these days." London noted, dusting his thigh a bit. "Besides, you wouldn't take time out of your day to talk to me for this long if we weren't friends, right?"

"I...I suppose not? Though, I remind you, this is my job," Cave replied, rotating the computer monitor to face her again as she eyed him from over the desk. "That aside, I am going a little above-and-beyond by indulging you with a history lesson." She brought a hand to her chin in thought, mulling it over, then raised both brows appreciatively, looking back to him. "Perhaps you may have a point. I like your daft remarks on serious matters. They're...grounding."

"Grounding?"

"Less stuck up. My superiors and their input can be...muffling, really. Very high praise for minor achievements, fluffing up with needless details and dancing around the point they're making." Her gaze seemed to look him over for a moment. "You, however, get to the point. And if you hate something, you tell people, or mock it. I suppose it's quite refreshing, in a way." She finished with a smile. "Now if only you'd shut up, sometimes. We've been bouncing around historical points between your snide remarks, and as funny as they are, I'd very much like to continue answering your questions."

London just laughed in response, crossing his legs.

"Well! Glad someone appreciates my sense of humour!"

The next day…

London felt somewhat frazzled that morning, in the Basilicom's breakfast hall.

It was an impressive room, with a kitchen on one side that was open for guests and diners to see their meals being made, and to hear the usual hustle and bustle of a large kitchen. Up above, on the ceiling, there was a map of Gamindustri...or at least, a moderately correct map of it. From what London could tell, a lot of the places listed on that map - nations - simply no longer existed, or their territories were now property of the four major nations.

From what Cave had told London, the map above the staff and guest dining room was an old war map. Better yet, the dining room itself used to be a war room, many millennia ago, at the height of the Share Wars. Frankly, the notion that the entire building he was in was at least seven times older than most human civilization on Earth that he was aware of almost made London feel insignificant.

The Leanbox Basilicom had held strong for a very long time. It had seen a million lifetimes' worth of people come and go through its doors. It had seen bombings, terrorism, warfare, shootouts, Goddesses throwing steel and hands, and countless inappropriate encounters between residents.

And yet, despite this, in a few weeks, for the first time in the nation's long history…

...it would be seeing peace.

To this end, London had about six notebooks in front of him, laden with information that he'd jotted down about Gamindustri. More than a few important notes were made, and he was trying to remember as many of them as possible. After all, being the ambassador for your world's people means that you need to understand the world you're being an ambassador to.

If you start peace talks in a world, you damn well better know what the world is supposed to be.

As he sat there, munching on his breakfast scran, the floor shook slightly, and there came a mild, growing array of thumping noises. London furrowed his brows a bit, three sausages in his mouth, and looked up to the source of the noise. Entering the room, clad in that same heavy green armour from a few days prior, were a few PERSIANs; Captain Ballandes leading, with her neutral expression as she spoke to her comrades, and all of the other women - as ever - were unreasonably attractive, gossiping, and laughing.

They headed over to a reserved table in the corner of the room, mounted on a far sturdier piece of flooring, with metal furniture that was very clearly built to hold the weight of the billion-credit battlesuit-wearing super soldiers, and sat themselves down. Their chatter seemed surprisingly normal, for what Cave had told him about how they all grew up: Taken as kids, military trained, and honed to a razor edge.

London would have found them somewhat relatable, if they weren't all stuffed with mechanical parts, bio-augmentations, implants (even THOSE kind of implants), and hormone cocktails that rendered them all pretty emotionally stunted.

Though, today, the PERSIANs almost seemed...quite relaxed, really. The opposite of everyone else in the room at 6:45AM: They didn't even seem to need coffee, they were already wired up and ready to go, sitting at the table and being served breakfast with smiles on their faces. Meanwhile, the table full of secretaries to London's left looked more like a morgue with how they chewed their breakfast in almost zombie-like ways.

However, as London observed, finally swallowing the sausages he'd been eating, he made brief eye contact with Ballandes...and her mood almost instantly dropped. Her calm smile instantly converted itself into a deathly scowl, aimed directly at the young man a few tables away, and her subordinates followed suit soon after; A table of women, all glaring at London, for…

...uh…

"...did I do summat wrong?" he asked finally, sitting up a bit. The women jerked slightly on reaction to him suddenly speaking, but remained grumpy. "I'm, uh...sorry if I've upset you all, somehow. This is the, uh, third time I've ever met you ladies, so…"

Ballandes narrowed her eyes at him, huffing a bit. "So, you're a smartass, too."

He blinked a bit at the accusation, glancing around, then looked back to her with a raised brow. "I...don't get what you mean."

"You know what you did."

"No, not really."

The response London got was a disgruntled murmur from their table, and - unsurprisingly - a few people on tables nearby finally feeling awake enough to, y'know, pick up everything and get out of the room. He kept his expression of confusion, looking at the people scurrying away, then back to the PERSIANs.

"No, seriously, I don't know what I've done to upset you."

"He's not lying," one of them said rather bluntly. A woman at the back with white hair, probably in her early 30s, stared at him. One of her eyes was a large optical sight of some kind; Her other was a somewhat softer glare than the others were giving him. "Detector's coming up at 98.4% truthful."

As Ballandes turned to glance at her, looking almost suspicious, London tilted his head towards the woman who just spoke. "Detector?"

"What do you think this is, genius?" she grunted, tapping the metal on her face. Again, London just...looked around slightly, then back to her.

"Your...um, your eye, is my logical guess?" he shrugged, gesturing to his own. "I mean, that's what I've got in that spot, so…"

"Can it," Ballandes spat, now rotating in her seat. London eyed the huge woman for a moment as she slowly stood up, beginning to walk steadily over to him. After a moment, she took a deep breath, and a disconcerting 'pleasant' expression took over her face. "Now...I suppose you're right. We are being a bit upset with you, aren't we?"

The man she was approaching just nodded firmly.

"Yes."

"Mhm. And why might that be, you ask?~"

London squinted, and raised both hands a bit, in the universal 'What's that meant to mean?' gesture.

"...literally what I'm askin' you?" he retorted. "Why are you bein' so obtuse about this? I'm not tryin' to bugger you off."

The PERSIAN offered a smug smirk to him. "Well, now, that's very noble of you, isn't it?" Ballandes sighed, placing a fist on her hip and checking the nails of her gloved hand. As she stood in front of him - unless he stood up - she was far taller than him. This always worked. "Always thinking of the right thing to do, right?"

"Shouldn't...we all be doin' that?"

"Oh, for certain. Just maybe not you."

London blinked, leaning on the table, and looked up to her in confusion.

"You...would rather I be a terrorist?"

"Why, Goddess, no, that would be terrible, wouldn't it, girls?" she asked, feigning shock, and looking back to the other PERSIANs, who nodded in agreement with their Captain. "The notion that we would be called out to deal with you, and you'd still be there when we arrived? How awful."

Her gaze finally returned to London, and this time, with the light over her head, her eyes were shrouded in light shadowing from her fringe. Ballandes looked downright evil, from where London was sitting.

"Unlike another big terrorist incident we were called out to, and another more recent skirmish. Ringing bells, yet?"

At this, London thought for a moment, scratching his chin. "Well...the second one you mean is the other day, and, y'know, I...don't get why you're mad that we won."

"I'm mad that some jumped-up little twerp is what everyone's talking about!" Ballandes snapped, finally grabbing his shoulders and dragging him to his feet. "You realize that a PERSIAN deployment's a big deal?! You should've been thankful we showed up, but, what, you said that we were 'wearing cars'?! This is EXCALIBUR armour! It's worth billions! Each suit!"

London winced a bit at the volume as she yelled into his face. He tensed his shoulders a little to test her strength.

'No shifting. That's a strong grip.'

"Two of us got knocked out by that dragon! That's a sacrifice in the field of duty, and you just - just - you carried on! You killed it! WITHOUT us!" At this point, the other PERSIANs had started getting up to join their Captain, forming a circle around the man.

"It ain't just disrespectful, it's selfish!" another snapped; A tanned woman, standing next to...herself? London looked between them in confusion. The woman who shouted rolled her eyes, then gestured. "Oh, don't worry about it. She's my sister."

The other PERSIAN raised a hand, smiling. "Older sister."

"By two years."

London gave an understanding nod, offering his own smirk. "Oh, OK, that makes sense. Nice to meet you both. Uh, carry on."

"Thanks," the first woman smiled, before jabbing a finger at him. "Anyway, go fuck yourself."

"Listen, for your info-"

"We had all the information!" Ballandes barked, shaking him slightly. "We're PERSIANs! We go in with the best intel and the best equipment, and still get outshined by some...some…! Some idiot with a shotgun!" London finally saw fit to lift his hands, balling them into fists, and jerked them upwards, throwing off Ballandes' grip, and stepping back a bit.

"Right, listen, first off -"

"No, you listen!" she snapped, as another woman behind him put a huge gloved hand on his shoulder. "WE are Leanbox's elite. YOU are a Guildie. YOU work for US when things go bad. You don't just...just SOLVE the situation, without US. And if you do, WE give the order. Why don't you get that?"

London glared at her.

"...lis -"

"And let's not get started on the Planeptune Market Tower! What the Hell were you thinking, resolving the biggest terrorist incident in the last few hundred years without your backup?! Lady Vert called us in to get you out, and deal with the guy on the top floor! How it actually went, that…! Well, that wasn't how it was supposed to go!"

"R -"

Ballandes opened her mouth to continue ranting, jabbing a finger at him, but by that point, London had been cut off just one too many times. His hand darted up, grabbing her finger, and clenched it in a fist. Her eyes widened slightly, and as she tugged her hand back, London's grip remained; An audible array of clicks came from her finger as the joints popped, much the same as cracking your knuckles would produce, before he released his grip.

The woman behind him tightened her grip; This time, it was painful. He winced a bit. One of those two women who were mildly polite grabbed his left hand, and held it in place. The other - the one wearing the lie detector in her skull - darted for his right hand, but wasn't fast enough, receiving a slap on the wrist.

Ballandes, however, shook her afflicted hand, flexing the finger a bit, and snorted hot air from her nose, glaring hard at him. "You've got fucking balls," she snarled. "Right here in the Basilicom, assaulting a PERSIAN? That's death in most constituencies."

The man in front of her wrestled against the grip of the women for a moment, then grimaced. He looked around. Finally, London nodded at something on a wall. "See that sign, up there, Ballandes?" he asked.

In response, she narrowed her eyes, and looked back.

Straight into the lens of a security camera.

"Of course you don't. It's a fuckin' CCTV camera. Now, in an argument between someone who's been hangin' out with the Oracle and CPU daily, and the one who got caught on video admittin' she's jealous of someone, marchin' over to restrain him, and then tryin' to start a fight, inside the Basilicom…"

Ballandes pursed her lips in frustration, furrowing her brow, and glared side-on at him. London, however, offered a shit-eating grin.

"...who's the one gettin' in trouble?"

The room fell into a deathly silence, only marred by the sounds of (limited) kitchen work as everyone inside stopped to watch the confrontation between 6'0+ people. Finally, Ballandes spoke, maintaining eye contact with him.

"You'd've done better to stay with TV appearances and speeches," she said coldly, stepping back a bit. "If you'd stuck with just that, maybe we could have been friends or colleagues. Accidents happen in the field. Keep that in mind." The other PERSIANs stepped back as well; Ballandes glanced up slightly, towards her internal HUD's clock. "We're gonna skip breakfast, girls. Nutrition paste in the Goliath. Let's go."

Her platoon of juiced-up cyborg supermodels all turned on her command, and started moving towards the door. Ballandes herself was the last to start leaving, because she gave a sharp glare to those two sisters that decided to politely wave goodbye to London as they went. They'd have gotten away with it, if he hadn't waved back and smiled.

When the Captain was halfway out of the room, and her squad was gone, she halted, turning to face London again. "You'll regret stepping on our turf, London," Ballandes said flatly, maintaining eye contact, before once more heading towards the door. "Pray we cross paths as little as possible."

London just rolled his eyes, and waved her off, returning to his seat. "Ohhhhh, you wanna kiss me so bad!~" he called out after her. "Fuck off back to Central Perk, Jennifer!" The woman only offered him a stern glare as she rounded the corner, before the room went silent again. London looked down at his breakfast.

It'd gone cold.

"Dumb cunts…" he muttered, sighing, before he started to pile bacon onto his fork. Not inedible, by any means: Just would be better if it was hot. With a mouth full of bacon, he looked over at one of the members of kitchen staff observing him, before shrugging. "This is why I eat food quickly."

As people gradually returned to the dining room to get breakfast, the morning crew starting to roll in, London was studying his notepads, just like he'd been planning to.

AN HOUR LATER…

"And the agenda for today, is…?"

"A special one."

"The...thing we're doin' first? Or the whole agenda?"

"The whole agenda."

London nodded once, slowly, as Cave continued obeying road traffic laws, maneuvering their requisitioned vehicle through Leanbox's streets. It was a fairly sizeable SUV, adorned in the usual phthalo colouring of the Basilicom's luxury vehicles. Frankly, with the wooden interior parts, gold trim, brown leather, and extremely high-tech readouts on the dashboard, London felt like there were probably very few vehicles on Earth that could maintain this level of comfort.

And, with a glance into the car to his right as they pulled up to a traffic light, he not only got to wave at some random dude and get a fist bump, but also see that even the stranger's 'shitty', slightly beaten car was still more comfy-looking than some high-end cars back home. As the car drove off at the light change, with London smirking at the bumper sticker reading 'HONK IF YOU JERK TO VERT' and the 'stick figure family' where the wife had been drawn with huge breasts, he looked over to Cave. "So...where are we goin'?"

Cave set the indicators to the left, checking both ways first. "We're heading to the primary Leanbox branch of Belch Real Estate," she replied calmly. "Apparently, your aid to Mickey Belch in the Tower incident has had him hounding every channel he can get hold of in an attempt to thank you."

"Mickey who?"

"He's a, um, TV personality, real estate mogul, and Leanbox Presidency Candidate."

London pursed his lips a bit, raising a brow.

"That seems alarmin'ly topical."

"Mm. I'll not go into his policies."

"I would not understand them, I don't do politics."

Cave chuckled at the irony of the person who ended a 13,000 year-long war declaring he's not into politics, but continued. "He's a little bit too busy to thank you in person, and I believe Lady Vert stated he couldn't turn it into a publicity photoshoot of him shaking hands with you, but he's still more than happy to offer anything he can, as a show of appreciation."

Her passenger simply nodded, staring out of the window. "That's cool, then."

The dull roar of the car's engine continued, along with the usual sounds associated with the road. However, eventually, London spoke up again. "Know what this place reminds me of?" he asked.

"Hm?" Cave could only afford him a brief glance as she pulled onto the highway.

"Los Angeles."

"Lost Anjills?"

"Los An-ge-lees. It's a city in the USA."

"I see. You were from London, correct? In...the UK?"

"Near London. But yeah. The USA was on the opposite side of the pond."

"...pond?"

He glanced to Cave, and vaguely drew a square in the air. "So this is Earth."

"Right."

"And this bit's the USA."

"OK."

"This is all ocean."

"Right…"

"And this is the UK."

"What about the rest of it?"

"Fuck 'em."

Cave withheld a snort and a smirk, shaking her head and pulling into a different lane. "Right, right. So, let me guess, here."

"Alright."

"The pond isn't the actual name for that ocean. It's slang." After a pause, she looked to London, almost excitedly. "Am I correct?"

He nodded once, firmly, looking out of the front window, a small smile on his face.

"Y'know what? You didn't grill me much on Earth. I can answer questions."

"Oh?" Her hand flicked down with grace to change gears. "I see. Well, we went over language and culture similarities yesterday. Is there a place that reminds you the most of your homeland?"

London licked his lips for a moment, putting his hands behind his head in thought, and crossing his legs with mild difficulty due to the size of the footwell. "Not...particularly, no. I would have said Leanbox, but this place just reminds me of, like, the kind of clean images I used to see of the USA. You know, what you'd see in films and TV and stuff."

She nodded in response. "But nowhere reminds you of home."

"Nowhere."

"Hm."

"Maybe this could be it."

"Hm?"

"Maybe this could be home," he repeated, looking at her. "We're headed to a real estate place, right? I've got money saved. Millions. And I've got citizenship."

Cave looked at him as he spoke, eyes alternating between the man in the seat next to her, and the road ahead. "I...would say it's a drastic spend, but if that's what you wish to do with your money, then feel free," she replied, "You'd just need to let the Oracle and Lady Vert know that you plan to make such a purchase."

"Oh, aye, I'm sure they'd find out, one way or another." London scratched the side of his head for a moment, then smiled at her. "Besides, I still remember what I promised you." At this, Cave was momentarily confused.

"...promised…?"

He nodded. "Remember? When you agreed to come up the Tower with me? You said you'd do it if you got to live in the house I wanted to buy." Cave's eyes widened briefly in realization. "Well, this'll probably be it."

At this, she was mildly stunned, almost pushing the brake a little too hard as they came up to the lights. When the car stopped, she stared at him.

"You're...by Goddess, you're...you're not joking, are you?" Cave murmured, her eyes wandering back and forth, trying to find any trace of sarcasm on his face. But they found none. His reply was calm: Another nod.

"Why would I be jokin'? A promise is a promise, Cave. I'm not gonna go back on summat I said I'd do for you." London smiled at her. "Glad you're comin' with me to this place; Wouldn't wanna pick out a shit gaff that you hate." Cave swallowed hard, gripping the steering wheel almost anxiously.

"I…I didn't think you were serious," she finally replied, flushing red slightly as the car gently rolled back into movement. "A...A house is a rather...large investment to make, especially just to appease a suggestion made to your bodyguard in the heat of a crisis…"

"No, Cave, I made a promise to my best friend, in the heat of a crisis, that we both fought through. There's a big difference, and like Hell am I gonna short-change you on that promise."

At this, Cave gasped slightly, breath catching in her throat. Her cheeks turned crimson. Mentally, she practically just went on auto-pilot. She was sure he was saying other things for the rest of the journey. It seemed like it.

But she really just had to...um, process some things.

AN HOUR AND A HALF LATER…

If there was one aspect Cave normally hated about bodyguarding, it was that it was essentially just following a VIP around as they went shopping, or went about their business. Frankly, she detested wearing a suit for it - as was the normal demand - and the tie being black-on-white always seemed to draw attention to her chest - way more than she was happy with, even for a born-and-bred Leanbox girl.

Most of her usual clients were stuck-up their own asses; Selfish pricks that, frankly - had Cave not been there - would probably have been killed on the spot by whoever they'd pissed off. Politicians, ambassadors, business leaders, representatives, defectors from other nations, inside men from ASIC...she'd seen them all. And they all sucked.

They came foremost; Their bodyguard was a tool, the general public were a nuisance, money was disposable, they were the most important person within a mile's radius, and everyone needed to know these things

The worst thing was having to follow them on a 'day off': Nothing important. Just following some pompous bastard / bitch across whatever area they've decided to grace with their presence, soaking up any particular misery aimed at them. And at the end of the day, Cave has to bow, muster all her manners, and leave in a dignified fashion, even if she's been shot, punched, spat on, or stabbed during the day's events.

However, this usual perception didn't apply today.

Cave knew London was different, the moment he returned from a hot dog stand with two of them in hand, giving her one, and suggested a nearby bench for them to sit and eat lunch on. When she mentioned she liked ketchup, he ran back over to get the sauce for her. He followed up by talking about the myriad sausages that existed on Earth; Apparently, Loweean Blancwurst was very similar to a type of sausage used for Earth's hot dogs.

She knew London was different, when he broke off from the sidewalk to help an old man struggling to get his groceries to his car, enjoying a leisurely chat with the elderly fellow as he slowly walked with him, carrying the bags to make things easier. London was very obviously amazed when the man - who turned out to be a soldier from the Share Wars, and missing his right hand - mentioned he lost it when he had a duel with Lady Black Heart on the battlefield long ago, so that his squad could get to their evacuation point safely.

She knew London was different when they took a five minute detour so he could talk to some street artists spraying 'ONLY FAT NERDS PLAY RTS GAMES' and 'TURN BASED, BASED ON WHAT' on the wall of a parking lot. Not so that he could complain about their vandalism - oh no - but so that he could better understand the friendly gang feud between 'Da RTS Krue' and 'Turn-Based Strata-Gs'. They got some selfies with a celebrity out of it; London learned two new gang signs, which he began trying to teach Cave with a smile on his face.

She didn't nail them down. Too many finger twists.

The biggest sign that he was different to her usual clients came as they headed down Burinx Avenue. Primarily a shopping district, mostly focused on things like houseware and whatnot. As Cave had turned her attention away for a moment, watching a car with an ASIC logo on the door blasting crappy rap music tear down the street and roar through a red light, London had stopped to look through a window.

"D'aw, fuck, Cave," he said suddenly, drawing her attention. "Come look at this." She turned, raising a brow inquisitively, before noticing what shop he was in front of.

'VIVA PETS'

The woman approached his side, bending slightly to see what he was crouched to look at. Sat on the right hand side of the window, in a little cage rather cruelly marked 'REDUCED STOCK - LOW EXPECTANCY', there lay a very small blob of black and white fur, floppy-eared and breathing fairly weakly.

"That's fuuuucked…" London said, sounding rather sad. "Look at it. Sellin' a bunny off for cheap because it's poorly. That's fucked up."

Cave sighed, nodding, and brought a finger to the glass. The rabbit seemed to notice, head shifting slightly to look at Cave's hand, but it didn't get up to investigate further. Likely, it wasn't in a position to do that. "Oh, Goddess, that's sad."

Cave looked towards London. "I know what you're thinking, but I don't think adopting a pet at this time is a good idea. You spent most of your millions on a quarter of that house; I paid the other quarter; Mickey Belch covered the rest. It's going to be ready in two weeks. Perhaps we could find a healthier rabbit around that time?"

"..."

"...oh."

Cave realized, after finishing her statement, that she'd been talking to herself. Looking back into the window, she watched a set of feminine hands reach down and gently scoop the little rabbit up. As Cave stood to head inside and repeat herself to London, he strode confidently out of the shop, tucking a disposable shopping Disc into his pocket...and in his other hand, holding the sickly rabbit.

"Apparently there's a good vet two blocks down," London began, softly stroking the top of the rabbit's head. "That's next." Cave put a hand to her mouth, the other on her hip, and pursed her lips.

"London...listen, I don't think a pet at this time is -"

"Her name is Daisy." He smiled, hoisting the little rabbit up, to show Cave more closely. "She's a two week old Holland Lop. She has weak lungs but that can be fixed with some kind of medicine they do at the vet's."

His bodyguard swallowed hard, as Daisy's little eyes stared into hers. Cave hesitantly reached out to the rabbit...and got her fingers sniffed by the bunny. London looked absolutely endeared by the interaction.

"Look, she's sayin' hello to you," he beamed, once more stroking Daisy's neck. "You sayin' hello to mummy, Daisy?~"

Cave was almost tempted to protest the use of calling her 'mummy' in any capacity. However, with people walking past letting out 'd'awww' noises, she'd...she'd look like a bitch for being mean. Instead, she opted to stay silent, burning crimson, and letting London's absolute favourite new thing gently sniffle at her fingers.

"...fine. The vet's, it is."

Pursing her lips, Cave just had to accept that she'd be seeing a lot of Daisy from now on. A sickly, young rabbit: A rabbit's bad enough, but for it to also be very seriously poorly, and a baby? That's a lot of work. Pets could be a real problem...

'Though, in fairness,' she thought, as the pair began walking down the street, 'A cute problem to have.'

Her eyes drifted up a bit, watching London, cooing lovingly at the baby bunny in his hands, running his large rugged hands across Daisy's soft fur and rubbing her carefully against his face as they went down the sidewalk, people occasionally taking photos of such an endearing sight.

Cave smiled, keeping pace.

'And at least I won't be handling her alone.'