"Jack?" James asked suddenly. The masses of eyes on the walk back to the basilicom that happily observed the two, and Jack's arm still smelling of Vert's chest, were indicative that Jack's on-the-spot load of bullshit in his speech had actually had some positive effect. Jack turned to his slightly shorter companion.

"Aye?" he responded, raising his head from the patch of ground in front of him that he'd been staring at as he walked.

"Do you think the people in Leanbox like us?"

There was a pause, and Jack gave a slightly indecisive side to side tilt of his head. "I think we're fairly well appreciated," Jack nodded. "Why?"

"Oh...ah, just wonderin'." James suddenly continued looking back towards the Basilicom gate at the end of the street, where Lady Vert's chauffeured limousine was pulling in. Jack kept an assessing gaze on James.

Was something wrong?

Maybe there was.

Did he piss off James?

He hadn't really done anything to.

Maybe it had something to do with James going for that walk earlier as Jack had been making his speech.

Maybe...

Eh.

All he knew for certain was that Lady Vert thoroughly appreciated all the shit he had come up with on the spot, and it meant that he had fulfilled all he needed to do whilst he was in Leanbox. Stop Communist bank robbers, done. Pretend to be a more banterific version of Hitler in front of a crowd, done. Answer Lady Vert's (noticeably few) questions about Earth, done. Try to figure out how none of his guns would run out of ammo, nowhere even remotely close to completion.

Oh well.

Onto Lowee, after they'd gathered their rather few belongings from the basilicom: James' rucksack full of survival gear, James' copy of Mein Kampf that he had deemed necessary to bring on an interdimensional expedition, Jack's double-barrel, Jack's Skorpion, and Jack's satchel full of specimens and his spare Skorpion. Yep. He was definitely gonna have some shit to show those science nerds that sent him to Gamindustri, even if it meant he dragged Blanc back with him and let her swear at the president a bunch.

Yeah, fuck you, Obama. Fuck you and your...fucking...magic...portal...school science project. You'd probably get a C, lower grades than the napalm biscuits and the baking soda assault rifle.

By the time Jack had stopped with his exposition-displaying thought process, the pair had reached the front door of the basilicom, where, as usual, Chika stood in the door frame, awaiting their return. She flashed her usual smile. "You two get slower every day." James just gave her the finger as he walked past, whilst Jack opted to slow down so she could walk alongside him. The two had become fairly good friends since he had arrived a few days before, so he didn't really mind the confused glances he got from people that realised he was absolutely colossal compared to Chika, who barely reached his chest.

"Yeah, I'm sorry," he laughed, "I forgot that we big people look slow to you little people." His green-haired companion rolled her eyes.

"Yes, you made it very clear that you can pick me up and put me on your shoulders. Hilarious."

"Well, yeah, for the staff, anyway. Also, you don't weigh much. I could carry you anywhere with no complaints." Chika laughed loudly as they stepped into the elevator together.

"Yeah, into battle, with you as my trusty steed!" Without warning, she reached back and slapped Jack's backside after the door had closed. "Hi-ho Mr. Trombone; Away!" Jack wasn't even marginally upset by the slap on the arse. Chika wasn't even marginally embarassed as she stood, grinning. He turned to her, frowning.

"You people make no fuckin' effort when it comes to my name, do you?" he sighed dejectedly. "Fuck's sake, how hard can it be?"

"It's really not," Chika said smartly, folding her arms.

"Then say Lunn."

"Lunn."

"Dun."

"Dun."

"Lunn. Dun."

"Lunn. Dun."

"London."

"Lonesome."

"FUCK'S SAKE!" Jack yelled, raising his arms in exasperation as Chika concealed laughs, the two walking towards the guest room Jack had been assigned.

"I-It's not my fault!" she laughed. "I just can't pronounce your name! It's difficult!"

"You were doin' it perfectly fuckin' fine a minute ago! How fuckin' hard can it be to say 'London'?!" Jack groaned. "Plus, you all keep callin' me fuckin' 'Lonesome', like I've got no fuckin' mates." Chika shrugged slightly as he opened his bedroom door and stepped inside to the rather simple room. Bed, window, dresser, chair, wardrobe. That was all.

"I suppose it does fit you as of right now," she smiled, looking at her nails and leaning in his doorframe, watching him go to his wardrobe and open it. Inside, leaned against the back of the empty wooden container, was the double-barreled shotgun that he had commandeered several days before, and hanging from one of the coat hangers were the leather holsters for his Skorpion and its magazines. Completely disregarding Chika's presence behind him, he undid his belt and began to attach the gun holsters to it.

"And by that you mean...?" he replied.

"Well, you are Lonesome. The Lone Ranger. Stopping bank robberies, making speeches, defusing deity wars...you, Mr. Lonesome, are an A-list action movie hero." The Oracle paused, smiling. "You just need a girl."

"And by that, you're suggestin' I do what, exactly? I hardly fuckin' know women, and the only ones I do know are psychos, the four different colours of Jesus, or way too cute and or young."

"Where do I fit in with those categories? I'm only in my twenties. Am I too young for you?" Chika pouted.

"No, no, you fit in the 'Psycho' category."

"What?!" She stood up. "How dare you insult my mental state!" Jack shrugged, breaking open the action on his shotgun and checking it was unloaded.

"Well, I'm not the one with the plaque of Vert, am I? She's nice and all, and I respect her completely as a leader, but I think you take it a bit too far."

"B-But I-I have to be respectful of Lady Vert!" Chika snapped. "Otherwise, I'm not upholding my duty as Oracle."

"You mean the job that exists for when Lady Vert isn't around to have her arse kissed?"

"Don't you tell me that, as a man, you wouldn't kiss Lady Vert's well-formed posterior. I know I would. Multiple times."

"...you are so weird. You're the best."

"I know: I don't get that a lot. I don't speak to many people: In fact you and James are the first two, besides Lady Vert and Cave, that I can really call good friends."

"Really? Considerin' your impressive figure and interestin' personality, I'm amazed more men don't come lookin' for you in a completely non-rapey way."

"Many have tried," sighed Chika, scratching the side of her jaw as they returned to the lift with Jack's gear. "None have succeeded."

"So I gather. Why, you make weird demands to them or some bollocks?" Chika suddenly perked up.

"UM, NO," she blurted, her eyes darting. "NO, I DON'T. THEY WEAR THEIR SHIRTS. THEY DON'T HAVE TO BE BUTLERS." Jack recoiled slightly.

"Fuckin' hell, just askin'..." he muttered, taking his left hand off his shotgun foregrip and rubbing the back of his head. Using his right hand, he lifted the shotgun up and assessed it as the lift began to move down. "...hey, Oracle Hakozaki?"

"Yes?"

"Are there any laws regardin' weapons in Gamindustri?" The smaller woman next to him looked up slightly in thought.

"None that I can think of in Leanbox," she replied after a moment, "Though there may be some in Lastation, Planeptune, and Lowee. But by our standards, the weapons that you and James are carrying can be seen as high-power anti-monster weapons. I don't see any reason why anybody would doubt two highly-levelled men if their low-level weapons seem to match their strength." There it was again. Levels.

"Alright...oh, you mentioned we're high levels." Jack noted suddenly.

"Yes, and?" Chika responded calmly, raising a brow as the elevator reached the lobby, the doors sliding open to allow the two to exit.

"Well, I was just wonderin' how you figure it out."

"It's simple, really," she smiled, before her eyes drifted to Jack's chest. "Just look at someone's heart." After a moment, she looked up at him again with her striking ruby eyes. "You're level one hundred and seventy? Impressive. How long have you been here?" Jack scratched his head before checking his watch.

"About nine days or so. Probably less. Why, is it bad that I'm only level one hundred and seventy?" Chika exhaled in surprise.

"It took me fifteen years to reach level one hundred, and you reach a hundred and seventy in nine days..." Chika seemed lost in thought for a moment, before shaking her head. "Huh. Well, anyway, if I'm unmistaken, you're headed to Lowee next."

"Yeah, I think so. Did Lady Vert say how we're gettin' there?" Chika was about to answer, but was conveniently interrupted.

"That is what I am here to discuss," came Lady Vert's gentle voice. She approached the two with James following along behind, clutching his AK with his right hand and his left hand clutching a rather specialized looking handgun. As Lady Vert approached, Chika broke into a curtsey.

"Good afternoon, my lady," she said quickly, elbowing Jack in the side of the abdomen. It didn't make an impact, due to his ballistic vest, but nevertheless, he mock-tipped a brimmed hat.

"M'lady," he said flatly. James laughed.

"I see you have achieved new levels of euphoria, good sir," he said in a rather posh voice. Jack smirked, and leaned towards him.

"Yes, yes, indeed," he replied, taking on the same mocking voice, "I tippeth my fedora to you for spottin' my swag." Immediately, he stood back up, and shuddered. "Fuckin' hell, remind me to never pretend to be a neckbeard again. The only time I ever get pissed off at the sound of my voice..." Lady Vert nodded, and bobbed up and down cheerfully. This, as was often very apparent, made her ample chest bounce considerably.

"Never be an otaku again," she beamed. "Now, to answer your question regarding the need for a way over to Lowee, the answer is simple: I shall personally fly you there." Jack's face paled.

"Uh, cou-could we just take a plane?" he asked, raising a hand quickly. "It, uh, it's safer, and you don't have to carry us..." Vert sighed, smiling at him.

"I'm aware of your fear of flight, Mr. Lovebun," she said in her usual motherly tone, "But there is no need for fear: I will be holding you both every step of the way."

"No, no, I'm not soddin' scared of flyin'," Jack said quickly, ignoring James' and Chika's laughter from nearby. "I just don't like the bit where we're suddenly not fuckin' flyin', and where I'm suddenly swimmin' in icy fuckin' waters. Plus, we're both carryin' a lot of heavy gear. You sure you can carry it all?" Once more, Vert smiled gently, and bobbed up slightly again, prompting her voluptuous bust to jiggle once more. James kept his eyes subtly looking towards it. Jack ignored it. Chika was making no effort to conceal her adoring gaze towards her idol's breasts.

"Of course: The recent jump in shares thanks to your public appearance has boosted my physical tolerances. You and your things should be of no problem to me in HDD form, so I shall deliver you to Lowee's basilicom." James raised his gloved hand, shifting his head to move his fringe from his eyes.

"Can you drop us off just outside Lowee's main city, into, like, a forest or somethin'?" he asked. Vert tilted her head at him, a confused expression on her face and her arms folded underneath her breasts, framing them and raising them perfectly. Jack wasn't sure if it was intentional.

"I...could. Why?" she asked.

"Because I wanna fight my way to the town." Now Jack tilted his head side to side, considering the proposal. He still wanted to have a play with the double-barrel he took from that mobster. Maybe he could turn it into a sawed-off if he liked it.

"Fair do, that sounds fun," he nodded, turning to Vert. "I want to kill somethin' before I'm vigorously studied by Lady Blanc." Vert laughed.

"Very well, I can agree to that." Her face suddenly took on a look of concern. "Are you two certain you can hold your own in the wilderness?" Jack her a deadpan look.

"Lady Vert," he began, "I have a shotgun that shoots three thousand degrees Celsius worth of sticky fire, another shotgun that can stop chargin' elephants, a handgun chambered in one of the most powerful rounds available, two low-recoil high-fire-rate submachine-guns, a baton that can split skulls like melons, and a machete that would probably hurt more if the enemy was covered in piss." As he spoke, he gestured to the mentioned items. "James has a ridiculously powerful sniper rifle that can one-shot anyone if you hit them above the legs, two higher-power submachine-guns, and an assault rifle that fires finger sized bullets and will literally never stop workin'. Plus, both of us are wearin' soddin' military grade armour designed to stop bullets, so I'm sure we'll be fine, unless you insist on lookin' after us, which I have no issues with." As if he had suggested it to her, Vert squealed in glee.

"You're letting me go with you?!" she beamed, before pulling the two into a rather crushing hug. "This will be a lot of fun: We can fight monsters, defend against random encounters in long grass, then camp out if it takes too long! Just like the Pocket Monsters games!" Jack could actually feel his body armour cracking slightly under her surprisingly strong arms, whilst his chest was having Vert's left boob squished against it. He didn't know if this was what women on Earth would greet men by doing, but he was very tempted to touch her bountiful, well formed and vanilla scented chest...

Wait...

...Pocket Monsters games?

Jack carefully leaned towards James. "Is that a reference...?" he whispered. James shrugged as subtly as he could, shifting in what was either discomfort from the hug or an attempt to get closer to Vert.

Two hours later, in one of Lowee's surrounding forests...

The first thing that struck Jack as Lady Vert gently set them down, besides some branches, was that the monsters seemed a lot tougher than the Cardbirds and Dogoos he had encountered until then. In a few nearby bushes, he could make out a whole group of what looked to be different types of robot. Considering how unfriendly everything was in Lastation's wilderness and Leanbox's occasional random street spawns, it was Jack's best guess that the machines that idly milled about in the bushes were not going to be as subservient as Siri. If anything, the big lasers that some of them were carrying served to make him less trusting. As soon as his boots crunched against the snow, Jack had already slipped behind a tree and broke his double-barrel's chambers open. He looked to James, who was in a crouch with his AK raised, looking quite professional in his full tactical gear. "Oi, James," he whispered, as Lady Vert (actually Lady Green Heart now she was in Boob Jesus mode) summoned her lance and stood behind a thicker tree, "Think I should go for AP Slugs on these twats?" The Welshman, not taking his eyes from his rifle's sights, removed his left hand from the foregrip and gave a thumbs up.

"Your decision," he replied quietly. His breath was visible as a thick white cloud in the cold Lowee climate, so Jack knew that it'd be best for them to make their way out as soon as possible. Plus, just casting a glance over to Lady Green Heart showed she was definitely struggling in her outrageously revealing outfit: The woman was shivering with a less than happy look on her face, if a bit sad. Jack sighed.

"Let's get this over with..." he muttered, before reaching for the bandolier over his chest, withdrawing two solid black casings with pointed steel ends peeking from them. Carefully, he placed them into the two waiting barrels of the double-barrel in his hands, and closed the break with a clack. He wasn't exactly sure why he wasn't loading the slugs into his Mossberg, but he was certain he'd probably get more style points for using a classic Coach Gun to blow up a robot. Sweeping around the side of the tree, shotgun held at his shoulder, he rested his middle and forefingers on the two triggers of the firearm and took aim towards the larger robot that was gently chugging away to itself as it stared at a tree. Jack held his breath, and squeezed both triggers simultaneously, with instant results: The surprisingly limited force of both shells' recoil pushed against his shoulder as the sound of their report rang out through the air, with the impact of the two slugs smashing into the side of the large machine a moment later. It jolted sideways in registration of the shots, attempting to steady itself on its four legs and only barely keeping itself standing as smoke began to billow from two drainpipe sized holes in its gunmetal grey exterior. As it began to turn its cannon to bear in response, James stepped in.

Loud roars of gunfire ripped from the barrel of his Kalashnikov, the larger rounds smashing against the machine and putting more smoking holes into it, prompting it to step back a bit to process its options. This gave him the opportunity to turn his rifle to the smaller, ball shaped machines that had begun to fly in their droves from the bushes, each bullet guaranteeing a single kill. Jack took the opportunity to break open the shotgun again, withdraw the two AP slugs, and replace them with the dreaded Dragon's Breath shots. Taking aim from the hip, he pointed the two long tubes towards a larger swarm that was approaching from behind them and yanked the first trigger. The flurry of flame flew from the left barrel, the intense heat from the individual pellets ripping straight through the first wall of machines and converting them straight into data, before flying straight on to hit the second robots. While it certainly hurt them, many of them beginning to fly at awkward angles and bump into each other as the sticky magnesium slowly melted them, they still kept coming. "Persistent little cunts!" Jack roared, before pulling the second trigger. This time, only a few of the pellets hit the robots, the rest simply dropping after a short distance and landing in the snow to be extinguished. "Lady Green Heart!" he yelled, looking to the tall woman as he snapped the shotgun open again. "See what you can do about the stragglers!"

The green-haired woman nodded, twirling her lance. "On it!" she replied sharply, before suddenly sliding straight towards Jack, the long lance twirling behind her. Jack withdrew his Desert Eagle, dropping the double-barrel and diving straight out the way of Lady Green Heart. Landing backwards on the snow, he put his knees up and put the pistol between his legs, taking aim at some of the robots that were approaching.

He hadn't fired a Desert Eagle before, let alone one chambered in forty four magnum.

But if playing countless first person shooters had taught him anything, it was that most handguns operated in exactly the same way, and that Desert Eagles could skullfuck anything.

That in mind, he pulled the trigger, and first robot he hit exploded into a ball of flame and data as his Desert Eagle jolted back towards him with all the force of Uni's sudden hug a few days before. Grunting as he felt his wrist click slightly from the sudden twist, Jack made sure he secured the pistol properly for his follow up shot, hitting another of the flying drones dead on. He repeated the secure and shoot cycle as he fired, finally managing to drop enough of them that he could get into a low crouch and begin crouch-walking to James with his new favourite gun held like a normal pistol for maximum mobility. Nearby, Lady Green Heart was like a G-Cup typhoon, twirling her lance around and mowing through crowds of the smaller machines. James had let his AK dangle from its sling, opting to use his Arctic Warfare rifle to begin firing at the large spider-like machine that was still attempting to bring its gun to bear.

And Jack, before he reached James, felt something ram into his side and throw him off his feet. It wasn't excruciatingly painful or anything: If anything, it barely hurt. But the thing that was definitely gonna cause a problem was that the small, slightly melted drone was dangling its laser cannon in front of his face. Down the barrel, Jack could see that there was a shot charging, and his pistol was a few meters away. He reached forward, as fast as he could, gripping the constantly heating barrel of the cannon and sitting himself up slightly, moving his foot to the drone's central lens and starting to wrench the laser towards its body. The two wrestled for a few moments, the weapon drifting back and forth between them, until Jack finally made his move. He moved his other foot onto the drone's eye, before using all his might to rip the cannon from it entirely, halting the charging and sending the spherical robot tumbling backwards into a bank of snow. Immediately, Jack got to his feet, the broken laser in hand, and made his way over to the beeping machine that lay smoldering in a blanket of white. By then, James' gunfire had stopped, and Lady Green Heart was pulling her victory pose, prompting Jack to place his size eleven boot straight onto the side of the defeated device in front of him. Then, with one final, adrenaline fuelled yell, he slammed the broken laser straight through the metallic plating of the drone, piercing its circuitry and causing it to spasm. Green Heart smiled.

"Good work!" she beamed to James, who was standing up and racking the bolt on his sniper rifle. "That certainly was a well fought battle!" Before James could formulate a response, there came the rather sudden sound of repeated shotgun fire. The two cast a glance over to Jack, who was standing on top of the barely functional drone and hammering it with Dragon's Breath shells from his Mossberg whilst yelling things that nobody should ever, ever have to hear. After a moment, Green Heart smiled awkwardly. "So...where did you say you met Mr. Lovebun again?" James shrugged.

"I dunno," he replied casually, "But I should note some of these phrases down."