II – Liberation - January 19th, 3019

"The Persona Division is not my domain. But, if I were to be honest...I think that Doctor Kawakami is not being realistic with it. I'm not going to take the project seriously until they give me a reason to take it seriously."

-Junior Officer Hifumi Togo, voice message to Commander Yoshida dated 11/23/3018

"Do you have it?" she asked. Akechi only nodded. He clutched tightly onto the cell phone, beads of sweat forming around the spot where his hand touched beaten-down metal.

"Good, then. We can proceed with the reclamation, then."

Akechi sank into his chair. They were in a tiny apartment in the corner of an alleyway, home to a Divisions veteran who had agreed to safeguard the Persona Division while they awaited the delivery of the cellphone.

The boy had died for that phone. Akechi watched his last moments: splayed on the ground, a burning hole in him. A casualty of war, yes, and that was to be expected. But an unnecessary one. All he had to do was run a little bit faster, not take the detour….

No, let's not.

"Explain to me our next course of action. We need to connect with headquarters, right? That's what this device is all about." As Akechi spoke, he noticed the grizzled old man hiding him emerge out of his tiny bedroom to the side of the apartment. He had been tuning into the strategic planning for days, but it still bothered Akechi each time, as if there was a risk to including him.

Makoto, however, seemed to have no qualms about planning in front of Iwai. "Yes. We'll connect with mission support, get to Mishima. He's going to call us, and we'll answer on this number. They won't be able to intercept it, I hope, it's way too old for them to predict this. And then we'll go in and strike once we have his instructions."

"Is there anything we need to go over, though? Or are we just waiting for Mishima?"

Akechi saw Makoto bite her lip. She's thinking.

"Are we really going to level the entire invading army? There's two of us, and they have the Warp App. And the Persona Division has barely touched Mementos…I can't help but be afraid that, we might…."

"You think this is a suicide mission," Akechi surmised. Makoto nodded.

Akechi recalled the first mission he undertook with Robin Hood, just months ago, as the Archipelago gathered intelligence before making a formal declaration of war. It was reconnaissance, spying upon a Forces camp on the outskirts of a tiny island they erected a base in. He was barely even in a battlefield. But it felt dangerous, so dangerous, before he went in.

And then on the field, he messed up. He was spotted by a patrol. But he called his Persona, and they destroyed them with ease.

"You know how it feels to call Johanna. We call Personas, Makoto. It won't be an issue, trust me." Akechi rose from his seat and made his way to the countertop where Makoto was sitting. They were in the veteran's kitchen, that doubled as his sitting room: to one side of it was his own bedroom, the other side the exit.

Akechi tried to ignore the burning gaze of the old man: it annoyed Akechi. All he had to do was spill to a passing supersolider in a moment of fear, and Akechi's mission became that much more difficult.

"And now we wait," Makoto said. Akechi gave nothing in response.

Akechi could empathize with her. The first operations were always the hardest – even now he remembered the exact feeling of mounting anxiety before deployment. He still felt it to an extent, here and now.

And this was a crucial mission. They were just two people. Superpowered people, yes, but they numbered two. And they would need to execute whatever direction Mishima gave them to perfection in order to liberate Furutoro. They were the Hail Mary.

"It's scary, huh?" the veteran said, echoing Akechi's thoughts. He jumped in his seat, startled by his sudden outburst.

The war veteran – he had never given Akechi his name – was a gruff, hardened man of few words. Akechi didn't like him: he seemed sarcastic, harsh, standoffish, casual. Compared to past safe houses, his did not give Akechi a sense of stability, of protection. And for such an important operation, he wanted that feeling of safety more than ever.

Makoto gave him a response. "It is. You would understand."

The war veteran fell silent. "Be safe out there," he decided on after what seemed like an eternity of hesitation. He returned to his room. The door shut with a click.

Akechi exhaled, a low woosh. Makoto glared at him. "Be nice, Akechi. He's giving us quarter for free."

"He's creepy, Makoto."

"He's not creepy, he's just quiet."

Their argument was broken by the sound of a shrill cheep. It sounded again, and again: Mishima was calling.

Akechi fumbled with the phone in his hands, almost dropping it to the ground. He found it, and pressed the enter key, accepting the call. Static emanated from the speakers, but Mishima's voice came out in a choppy audio feed.

"Hello? Hello? Can you hear me?"

Makoto spoke first. "We can hear you, Mishima. This is Queen and Crow. We're in the safe house and ready to receive commands. Are we detectable?"

"Excellent. Keep this phone with you at all times. We'll need it to be able to call to you. We're currently unregistered on our own broadcast radar, so I don't think you'll need to worry about detection from the Forces."

Akechi leaned into the speaker, cutting in. "We're ready to go. What are our marching orders?"

He felt anxious now. Akechi wanted to go now, to prepare for battle, to begin the liberation effort. Something was gnawing at him: the image of the delivery boy's corpse in the back of his mind. The pressure of being in charge of taking an entire city. The confidence that he was equipped to handle the task.

"Let me walk you through it," Mishima said. He sounded peppy, almost excited.

Mishima was the main person that dealt with the Persona Division from Ground Support. Akechi had heard through the grapevine in Central Command that he had personally requested a position with them, and while the rumors were always dubious, Akechi felt like they had an inkling of truth in them.

Part of it seemed wrong to Akechi: it was as if it was a game to Mishima. He wasn't the person on the front lines. But he was brilliant at what he did, and he knew how to command the Persona Division better than anyone else at Ground Support.

The phone felt hotter in Akechi's hand as Mishima's voice picked up in speed. "We don't have a solid grasp on the supersoldiers' numbers yet. We've been looking at patterns of their teleportation captured by our fallen, and we think that they're using the Warp App to compensate for a smaller overall invasion. That's going to make it easier for you guys to care of them."

Makoto grimaced, frown lines appearing in her taut face. "What do you mean 'take care of them'? You can't possibly mean we need to personally eliminate the entire attack, right?" She sounded nervous and spoke almost as fast as Mishima.

"No, of course not," he clarified. "Our estimations assume that there's still at least a skeleton guard left from the defense we stationed here. And we can send in reinforcements, that's not the issue. But, with their Warp App, they'll be able to handle them, right? And I don't want to risk you guys by counting on you to overcome the app."

He inhaled, his breath making it through the speakers. "Your mission is to disable the Warp App. Basically, you're going to need to get to the Needle, and make it to the top. You should get a clear view of the cell phone towers outside the city – you guys will shoot it down, and it should disable the Warp App. We'll be sending reinforcements, and as you guys and anyone left from the defense rout them from inside the city, our guys will be on the outside ready to make sure they don't escape."

A crisp silence fell.

Makoto was the first person to speak. "Mishima, is the Warp App…a literal app?"

The phone crackled. "I mean…" he started. He sounded off-kilter, as if he was unprepared for her question. "They use a phone to teleport, so…."

"What if this doesn't work?" she asked, "Do we have any alternate plan?"

"We're working on it, okay?" he snapped, his frustration evident even through the audio. "But it makes sense. It's not like they have connection to the terminals we use, so they're probably using service from the towers."

His voice softened. "Things are a mess down here. Most of the staff and communications are allocated to a military counter-attack – you're just Kawakami's novelty test. They'll think it's a pleasant surprise if it does work, but I think we're just an afterthought."

He said "we're", Akechi noticed. Still, Mishima had a point: it wasn't like the Persona Division was going to be given more sufficient orders.

"I think we have our mission, then," he said. "Let's go, then." He started out the door.

After a moment of hesitation, Makoto hung up the phone, and followed suit.

The codenames were Mishima's idea, and one of the crowning achievements in his young life. Even now, in the high-stress offices of the Ground Support Division, he felt a flush of pride watching the titles of Queen and Crow move on the holographic map displaying on his table.

Why did it matter if no one else was looking? It mattered to Mishima, and that was worth something. Or at least he liked to think that.

They had left the safehouse and were currently on their way toward the Needle – the tallest tower in Furutoro, the seat of the city council's power. Come to think of it….

Mishima swiped on the table and dialed their phone. It was an antiquated call, but it got the job done. The Forces seemed to be able to intercept radio waves with their Warp App, so using the ancient cellphone seemed worth it, even if it had been a logistical nightmare to acquire.

Makoto and Akechi picked up after a single ring.

"Hello?" Makoto said. Mishima could hear wind coming through the speakers: Makoto must have summoned Johanna.

"The Forces might have troops in the Needle. I'm looking at his file now and the Mayor Saikaku stayed there after hours on a regular basis. They might be holding him hostage," Mishima explained. "If he's alive, retrieve him, please."

"Alright, Mishima. Anything else?" Akechi asked. He sounded calm and composed, much more than Makoto did.

"That'll do it. Just be ready to take a call at any moment, alright?"

"Alright." The line went blank.

Mishima ran through the thought process in his mind. It only just occurred to him now that the Forces might have attacked the Needle first, struck at the elite. And if Akechi and Makoto were able to bring them back alive and grateful to them, then the Persona Division might win some credit in the eyes of Central Command.

Mishima examined his table. He had received it when he was granted the position of "Head Mission Support" for the Persona Division. It was custom made, with creating holograms of maps and files and webpages, able to sift through the public Archipelago terminal network, and the Ground Support network as well. It displayed several windows at a time, and Mishima could manipulate them as he wished.

He had thought that the table was the first of many good things to come. Instead, he had quickly learned that the Persona Division was the pet project of Doctor Kawakami, and that he was the only person in Ground Support who was excited about it…or even took it seriously.

This is it, though. The first operation will put us on the map.

Mishima opened the communications application on the table with the press of a button. "Please call Commander Yoshida," he requested.

The table flashed a warning icon in blinking, bright red. "Are you sure you want to call a member of command?" a smooth, female voice asked.

"Yes," Mishima said. The warning faded away and was replaced by a dial tone.

Panic began to bubble inside of Mishima. What have I done?

Mishima had promised reinforcements for Makoto, but he had no real way to guarantee their delivery. Yes, they would come, but the other divisions were working out their own strategy to liberate Furutoro. But Makoto and Akechi were under the impression they would be ready to go as soon as she disabled the cell service didn't want them to think him a liar.

But, calling the commander of one of the strongest brigades in the Third Division to ask for troops? Not just troops, but rapid transportation of them?

And he was just eighteen, scarcely more than a cadet. Yoshida would laugh in his face or turn him away entirely. He might face repercussions for wasting his time if he interrupted something important.

But….

If Mishima could convince Yoshida to send a counteroffensive to Furutoro, and Akechi and Makoto succeeded in bringing down the cell towers, then they could liberate the city with ease. Mishima – no, not Mishima, the Persona Division – would be lauded as heroes.

The phone continued to ring. Mishima waited.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

And then, out of nowhere, the screen flashed to life. A window displaying a video feed to Yoshida's roundtable appeared over the table.

He wasn't alone. Mishima recognized Commander Hondou, another Third Division leader. There were a few officers, barely older than Mishima – likely junior officers, newly promoted. A young woman with dark, long hair wearing the Ground Support uniform was at the head of the table, with several maps spread in front of her. Mishima had seen her before but couldn't place who she was.

"Hello, Commanders." Mishima said. His voice came out shrill and high, a pipsqueak. He tried again. "Good afternoon."

Yoshida stared into the camera, his eyes dark and bored. "What's going on, Mishima?" As he spoke, Hondou and the girl from Ground Support continued to pore over their maps, marking on them again and again and again.

Mishima decided to cut to the chase. "I would like to request the deployment of reinforcement troops to the city of Furutoro. The Persona Division is currently bringing down the cell service towers to disable the Warp App, and would like ground reinforcements to liberate the city once the app is broken."

Yoshida began to speak, and then stopped. Mishima saw a junior officer's jaw drop to the ground. In his peripheral vision, Mishima noticed the other agents staring at him, mouths agape, their calls unattended.

"I am completely serious," Mishima said, breaking the silence.

Yoshida chuckled on the other side of the video feed. It grew into a laugh, a high, shrill expression of terror instead of mirth. Mishima noticed the dark circles underneath his eyes even through a hologram. Several empty cups were dotted along his table.

"You want me to arrange a rapid flight to Furutoro from…I don't even know, the naval base nearby? – to help the Persona Division, glorified celebrities, liberate the entire city in the span of a day?"

Mishima's heart felt very still in his chest. "I do, sir."

"No way. We're going to need to speak after this." Yoshida leaned closer to the feed, and then the window went dark, until it faded away.

Mishima prepared to call Makoto, to tell her what had happened. Only….

Yoshida had just dismissed the entire Persona Division. But were they not famous to the public? Or at least, a novelty? He remembered the press conferences when Doctor Kawakami announced them, the flashing lights, the pressed suits. And their entire premise was legendary, Metaverse-wielding warriors! Why are we such a joke?

"Table, please call Commander Yoshida. Yes, call him regardless, I don't care that he's in command."

The call rang and was declined. Mishima called again, and when it was declined once more, he dialed a third time. Yoshida picked up this time, his face an expression of utter fatigue.

"What are you doing?" he asked, a trace of anger in his ever-calm voice.

"Commander, I understand that you're in charge of arguably the most medaled platoon in the largest ground division of this army. But I am telling you that this city can be liberated in the span of a day."

Mishima began to speak faster, trying to spell out his goal to Yoshida before he hung up for good. "Akechi and Makoto are like entire units of their own. You have not seen them in action-"

"Have you?" Hondou cut off. He entered the feed. Standing side by side with Yoshida, he made his counterpart seem receptive to the idea Mishima was proposing.

"Yes, I have, sir. They're sorcerers, they're gods, they're superhuman. They'll bring down the cell service towers in a matter of minutes, and then the Warp App will be disabled. I've calculated it based off of the video footage from the defense stationed at Furutoro, and I think that the Forces sent in a relatively small attacking force because they have the Warp App."

"And you're suggesting…" Yoshida's eyes went wide. Mishima resisted the urge to smile – he was becoming receptive to the plan.

"Disable the Warp App, and the fighting force in Furutoro is crippled. They're spread apart specifically because they were teleporting, and there just aren't very many of them. Send in numbers – a lot of numbers, good numbers, enough numbers to scan the entire occupied zone – and we can eliminate the entire invading attack without so much as a hitch."

"There's just one hole in your plan," a voice piped up. It was quieter, and Mishima had to adjust the volume on the call to pick it up. It was the girl in the back. "Are we really certain that bringing down the cell phone towers will destroy the Warp App? What's your evidence that will work? I'd love to hear it."

A wave of dread tingled down Mishima's spine. The air seemed to freeze. "I…frankly, it's a theory, but it's not like they can access the terminals! They've got to be using service, how else would it work? And we see them use phones to access the app, it's an app for a reason!"

"You're being emotional," Yoshida said, his voice gentle, his smile strained. "Mishima, let's be real here. You have no idea if this will work, do you?"

"No, I do, I promise-"

"How about this-"

Mishima interrupted the commander, cutting him off as he spoke. "If they can return the city leaders to you, safe and sound, can you give us the troops then?"

Hondou's face turned a shade of light purple. "How dare you interrupt your commander like that."

"I have reason to believe they might have been taken hostage," Mishima stammered, trying to get the words out before further offending Hondou. "Mayor Saikaku is off the grid, and him and the city council are always in the Needle, right? I can send the Persona Division there now. If they rescue them, then can you trust me and send these troops?"

"Mishima…" Yoshida began.

"They're gods, commander. Gods."

Mishima shrank back into his chair. He mentally processed what he had just done: interrupted his commander not once, but several times, and staked the entire operation on a theory that he had realized only minutes ago and given to Akechi and Makoto as an afterthought. He'd be fired for his insolence, demoted to tech support, or worse, moved to an infantry division….

"I'll do it." Yoshida said, breaking the silence.

"I-what?" Mishima stuttered, "You will?" He knew his own disbelief was present in his voice, but he couldn't stop it from leaking out.

"Have the Persona Division them to the roof, safe and sound. I'll deploy a jet to the top of the Needle. If the mayor and whoever else are there, and there's a room full of dead supersoldiers below, then that's enough proof for me."

Mishima could not believe his luck. "Thank you commander, thank you, oh-"

"I'm a busy man, Mishima," Yoshida spoke over him. "Get to it."

"Yes, sir."

Yoshida hung up.

Calling her Persona always began with a manifestation.

She would dip her head backward, and her eyes fell dark. Her mind would go flying up into the corners of her mind to the chamber where Johanna slept. She would stand, crystalized, in stasis. Makoto would use sheer willpower to awaken her, to allow her into her head, and then pull Johanna down to the material plane through utter force, forming her out of raw energy. Corralling the force that lived in the dark part of Makoto's mind was unholy, unnatural, something that she was not fit to do.

She could still feel Johanna in her head now, whispering, threatening, begging, trying to take control from Makoto.

But it's worth it, she thought, driving through the streets of Furutoro at a breakneck pace. She felt the wind in her hair and relished in it. The gleam of her gray armor was crystalline, comforting, and she enjoyed the crunch of spikes rolling through the roads as she charged forth. And the comforting knowledge that she had access to power.

"Stop!" Akechi yelled, breaking her out of her distracted state. Johanna braked with a thought from Makoto, losing all momentum in an instant and leaving them unharmed.

"We're here," he said, looking up. Makoto followed suit. They had reached the Needle.

The Needle was a tall and imposing building, painted an opaque black that seemed to kill all light that hit it. Still, it had an ever so slight luster to it, hinting at a hidden depth to it. Makoto couldn't help but feel impressed: it was simple, just a curving square, but it's height and cleanliness made it feel sleek and powerful.

Makoto had been annoyed when Mishima called once more to change the plan. It was the principle of the matter: she had been given orders, and then given another set of orders, and then the third set of orders changed the entire framework of the plan. Now, to get the forces that they needed to rout the city from the inside out, they needed to rescue the mayor from an active hostage situation – never mind that there may not be a hostage situation to rescue him from. What were they going to do if they entered the Needle and found nothing?

What if they failed? What if they were left on their own to liberate an entire city? What if they couldn't liberate it?

But Mishima was still her person at the base, and she was going to obey his commands. She was a soldier.

"We need to go in, don't we?" Makoto asked. She knew her question was stupid as soon as it came out of her mouth, but she still wanted to hear the answer regardless.

She couldn't help but snicker. She starting to laugh, but nothing was funny in the least. "We might die."

"Hey," Akechi said, speaking over her. "We'll be fine."

She breathed in, and out.

It was an honor to be here. To be chosen to wield this power, to fight for the Archipelago, to be on this mission. She needed to keep that line of thought in her heart. It drove away a fragment of the fear, but the anxiety still loomed large.

What really drove her to open the grand double doors of the Needle, towering above her at what seemed to be a satirical height, was the awareness that she would be associated with a failed operation if she returned unsuccessful. Makoto couldn't afford for that to be her reputation after her first mission. She might never be put on the field again.

Makoto and Akechi stepped into the Needle.

The Needle could only be described as majestic. The main lobby was beautiful, with a flowing fountain in the center and an oversized crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. An unattended bar was on the left wall, and a mosaic depicting the ancient battles of Greek and Roman generals took up the greater part of the right wall. A violet carpet led to a grand staircase straight ahead of her that curved in on itself as it went upward beyond Makoto's vision.

"It puts Central Command to shame," she whispered, her voice breathless. Akechi looked at her with a confused expression on his face, but Makoto didn't know what she had said that was so wrong.

"They'd be on the top, in the meeting room, near the dome," Akechi said, "We should head on up there."

"Agreed."

As they escalated the stairs, Makoto began to detect signs of a struggle. Subtle signs, but signs all the same.

A cracked glass here. A fallen vase there. A painting that had fallen to the floor.

It was unnerving. An eerie silence cloaked the building, and Makoto's footsteps echoed whenever she took a step. Johanna clamored for attention in the back of her mind, begging to be used, to finish the destruction that had only been half-wrought here.

"Has there even been a fight here?" Akechi asked as they continued to scale the steps of the Needle.

"I think so," Makoto answered, "But…something is wrong. You can see the byproducts of a violent fight, but it feels like a very clean violent fight."

"Maybe they're gone," Akechi said. Makoto didn't know how to respond to that. She desperately hoped that they were.

The floors began to blend in with one another. The building was tall, stretching out farther than Makoto could imagine. She had grown up in a suburban town, but had rarely ventured out into the cities. That was the duty of her sister.

Johanna began to speak to her.

-use me-

-ride on, faster, I will jump-

-propel, I said propel-

-bring down this staircase-

Be quiet! Makoto snarled, speaking to the deity inside of her own personality, I'm busy. Bother me another time.

Waking Johanna up was stressful. It took a toll to bring her from the depths of the imagined world into reality. It took willpower, energy, stamina, and precision. But putting Johanna to rest was worse, for she did not like to be put to rest.

"Stop," Makoto said, "Akechi, stop." She ground to a halt, latching onto a railing, and gripping it until her fingers turned white. They were on an enormous square platform. Below her was stairs, and above her more stairs stretched, curving into a circle that overlooked her, bending into higher floors and side chambers. Akechi turned around, looking at her from above.

The best word to describe him was regal. He was the representative of the Persona Division for a reason – he commanded respect, authority, legitimacy. He was the ideal that she was supposed to aspire to be. He who had utter control over the psychic manifestations of the mind. His white suit, more foolish than any child's costume, glimmered in the last rays of sun that reached through the windows of the Needle.

"She's speaking to me," Makoto whispered, her voice small. "Johanna won't be quiet."

"What does she want?" Akechi asked. Makoto felt a crash of relief, thrilled he was taking her seriously.

"She wants to exert her power. She wants me to destroy the staircase."

"Well," Akechi began, "There will be plenty to destroy once we reach the roof of the tower."

Makoto felt her own face fall. "Please, tell me what to do, I want to make it stop."

Akechi took a step toward her. "You've got to control, Niijima, you need to. There's no other way."

"I can put her to bed, can't I?" Makoto asked, "She won't shut up, she wants-"

"No, you can't. I'm sorry, but you can't." Akechi didn't raise his voice, but his words cut deep, stinging like the sharp tip of a knife.

"I want-"

Cannon fire. A spike flew off her armor, dissolving into sky blue energy as it flew through the air. Makoto pivoted on her foot and strained her eyes to see what was happening: on the floor above, overlooking her platform of the staircase, were three supersoldiers – one of whom was armed with a rifle the size of a large barrel.

"Akechi, move!" she screeched, diving to the side, pushing him to the ground.

"Makoto, what the hell!?" he yelled. But an explosion drowned out his voice as he continued to shout.

The supersoldiers were, in fact, in the building. They had a grenade launcher to prove it.

Makoto acted not from rationality, but from instinct, from a place of rightness. She didn't need to think, she just needed to stop thinking. She gave a gentle tug to the back part of her head, and Johanna came spiraling out into the real world, and gave Makoto free leeway to use her power.

Makoto placed her hand on her face, grabbed in a metal mask, and ripped it off.

Another grenade came flying at Makoto. Behind her, she heard the twang of bowstring. An oversized arrow shot toward the grenade and collided, ripping the bomb into shreds before it could detonate. She turned her head for a brief moment, and saw Akechi standing unfazed, his face blank with indifference, his red mask in hand, Robin Hood behind him.

Akechi nodded. Makoto took that as permission.

Do it, she whispered. Johanna gleefully did as told.

With a snap of Makoto's fingers, an entire segment of the staircase above exploded. It crashed into the platform below, pieces of marble rolling down the steps. A section higher up fell vertically, teetering on the brink of falling. The air was covered in dust, and in the corner of her eye, Makoto saw the three supersoldiers fall off the steps.

Makoto rushed to where she had seen them land and kneeled to the ground. They had all fallen together – their formation must have been close together. Each soldier was splayed on the ground. She could make out their individual features now, one with blonde hair, the other with the beginnings of a beard, one almost seven feet tall.

"Are they still alive?" she asked.

Am I a murderer?

She scanned the depths of her thoughts for an answer, asking Johanna for aid, but the goddess had vanished. Makoto still felt her awake, but she was hiding, satisfied with the display of power.

Akechi came to her side. "Let me look." He knelt alongside her, and began to prod at the inert soldiers, putting his hands on the blonde one's neck.

Without warning, the blonde soldier conjured a knife, and stabbed Akechi in his belly. Akechi mumbled something incoherent and began to fall backward.

Makoto sprang to action, pushing off the ground and standing, and kicked the blonde soldier in the head. But the bearded one rose to.

They were playing possum, she realized, noticing the cushioned padding on the bearded one's back. He reached into his belt and pulled out a long, thin pistol. He pointed it at her, and Makoto twisted over her shoulder and began to run.

Johanna, help me, she whispered. I will do anything.

-anything?-

Anything at all.

As the soldier fired his pistol, Johanna materialized in the world. A thin sheet of blue light formed around her armor, and the bullet ricocheted off it with a hollow thwap, like a toy dart gun.

Makoto faced the three soldiers and waved her arms of her head. The explosion came without hesitation, small and contained and pressurized. When the dust cleared, all that Makoto saw was a small pile of ash.

She ran to the place the soldiers stood and kicked the ash out of the way. It scattered like fine sand in the wind, dissipating into the air. Makoto was only focused upon Akechi.

He was on the ground, and a small pool of blood stained his white uniform. Makoto pulled at Johanna, begging for her aid, and the goddess responded. White energy poured out of her hand, and she placed it on Akechi's stab wound. The skin began to fold in on itself, kneading together like dough under a roller.

The reality of what she had done began to dawn upon her. Makoto was a killer.

She accepted the fact with a resigned numbness. She felt like it would happen when the war began, and she knew it was inevitable when she joined the Persona division.

Makoto registered pain, horror at what she had just done, and then the realization that she would need to do this again, and again, and again, until the war was over. She wanted to sit down and cry, to wallow in what had just happened, but Johanna continued to whisper.

-move up the steps, young one-

Makoto found she did not have the energy to resist.

She continued her ascent up the stairs, abandoning the injured Akechi at the foot of the steps. She didn't have the energy to think. In either moments or hours, she reached the top. The faint whirring of an engine sounded above her: Mishima's aircraft must have arrived.

I'm in the meeting room, Makoto realized. It was drab compared to the grandeur of the lobby, but it was unmistakable. The conference chamber was dominated by a large, black table with cozy office chairs, each with coffee and a computer. Some had paper files, and holographic windows displaying images of warships floated above the still powered on table.

Then Makoto noticed that one of the chairs had a person in it.

He was old, with fear painted upon his expression. Makoto strained her eyes, and could see him trembling in his seat, teeth chattering. His hair was gray, and his suit was ripped and covered in sticky brown.

"Who are you?" he whispered. Makoto placed his voice immediately: it was Mayor Saikaku. She had heard it on several newscasts concerning Furutoro in the last week.

"My name is Makoto Niijima, codename Queen, from the Persona Division," she said. Makoto didn't understand the words spilling out of her own mouth: she just spoke.

With a moment's thought, an explosion disintegrated a chunk of the ceiling, leaving a clean hole above the table. Johanna cackled, amused by the exchange. "If you would kindly go to the roof the building, we can get you to safety right away."

Saikaku hesitated. "Are they dead? The soldiers? They had guns, and bombs, and they teleported across the room."

Makoto nodded, and with that, Saikaku scampered out of his seat and climbed through the hole. She could hear him running, his feet clattering against the Needle's metal roof.

Makoto followed suit, grabbing on to the crack in the low ceiling, and hoisted herself to the roof. It was surprisingly stable, though she supposed that should be expected, given the square nature of the building. In the distance, cell towers rose from the ground, dotting the horizon skyline. They seemed almost pretty, eclipsing the smaller skyscrapers around it, but still small compared to the ocean that surrounded the island.

-you know what to do-

"I do."

There was a crack, and a woosh, and a moment of stillness. Pale gray light flashed, visible even miles away. Then the first cell tower teetered, wobbled, and collapsed to the ground. The rest followed suit.

-you did great, Makoto-

Johanna laughed at her, her smile visible in Makoto's mind's eye. She flew into the heavens of Makoto's consciousness, falling back to sleep.

Makoto felt herself swaying in the air, and before she could process if she was fainting or vomiting, the world went black.

Author's note: Hey, it's me! Thank you for making it this far. I hope you've enjoyed this story so far. I hope to update this on a weekly schedule, with one or two entires on the weekends, and entires likely being rare during the week. I'm very busy in reality, which is why. Thanks for understanding!