In spite of the hour that Jack had been told o arrive at the basilicom at, Lady Nepgear was already awake and Miss Histoire was filing through paperwork when he stepped / crouched through the door. The room wasn't untidy, and the sun was just rising above the horizon to cast an orange glow into the living space of the basilicom as Jack made his presence known with a cough. The tiny fairy and mid-sized girl snapped their gazes towards him, with the former offering a smile as the latter began looking slightly concerned. "Mr. Loafbun, good morning!" greeted Histoire, floating her way over from the table in the middle of the room where Lady Nepgear was eating her breakfast. Jack raised his left hand slightly from the foregrip of his double-barrel, offering a short smile.
"Mornin', Miss Histoire," he replied casually, before glancing around. "I thought that Lady Neptune'd be awake by now." Histoire was quick to shake her head, frowning.
"Not a chance. Regrettably, Lady Neptune often sleeps in until roughly ten o'clock." Jack raised a brow.
"Lucky. I'm still used to wakin' up at four in the mornin' with only a little bit of sleep and a punch in the face. And I'll be honest with you: When I was at Miss Compa's last night, I was amazed she didn't bash me in the 'ead to get me up." Histoire laughed.
"I suppose you would not have the contact information for your instruction camp?" she asked. Now Jack shook his head.
"Legally, the project I was part of never existed, and neither did I. I did, for a while, but then they removed my records from existence so I could become some God-tier fighter." At the last words, Histoire perked up slightly as she guided Jack onto the balcony once more.
"Ah! Speaking of fighting, Lady Neptune and I discussed the 'side job' that you inquired about." Jack shifted uncomfortably.
"N'aww, fuck, I'm not gonna bloody like this, am I?" he muttered, reaching his left hand back to scratch the rear of his head. Histoire paused, and shook her head. Jack sighed. "Lemme take a guess: I'm meant to fight someone for her." The small fairy in front of him laughed awkwardly, and tilted her head.
"Not...exactly."
At two o'clock...
"You're 'avin' a fuckin' laugh with this, right?"
Standing a good distance away from Jack, glowing purple ninja sword at the ready, was Lady Purple Heart. She had a look on her face that mixed determination and playfulness, but considering how Jack knew from gaming that if something was glowing, it'd hurt like fuck, he wasn't really feeling too comfortable. The area itself was an open field a few miles from the outside of Planeptune's capital, a couple of trees scattered around the place and the sun high in the sky.
Picturesque, Jack believed the word was. But he wasn't exactly saying he was 'one with the scenery': The considerably cutely coloured girls nearby, being Compa, IF, Lady Nepgear and Lady Purple Heart, fit with their surroundings nicely, as you'd expect cutesy girls to be in cutesy places. Of course, being from Earth, Jack hadn't exactly been dressed for 'cutesy': He looked more like someone from an apocalypse film than someone who was meant to be standing in a bright, flower-specked field of green. Lady Purple Heart (more accurately, Lady Neptune) had, however, insisted that he was to help with combat training.
His main plan was to avoid every single swing as best as he could, and if it got to the point where he could be killed, he would go 100% berserker and force his way out by any means. He'd not come this far just to be killed by a teenager that turns into a fully-grown, attractive woman with a ninja sword and catsuit.
Seemingly oblivious to his blatant concern, the goddess tilted her head slightly. "Why're you so worried?" she asked, genuinely. "It's just a bit of sword practice." Jack threw his arms wide, gesturing to his weapons that were lying in the shade of the tree, not including his combat knife and kukri-machete. Those were being carried by him.
"Well, fuckin' pardon me!" he cried. "Didn't know I was immune to bein' fuckin' sliced up! This is gonna fuckin' kill me!" Lady Purple Heart raised a brow, looking flatly at him.
"You're level one hundred and seventy," she replied, her tone of voice suggesting he was overreacting. "You can probably take a hundred of my sword swings and not feel a thing." Jack facepalmed.
"We don't fuckin' know that, do we?" he shot back.
"We won't, unless we try."
"Then we try it first, on my terms, we clear?" Jack quickly flicked his gaze over to the tree nearby, where IF, Compa, and Nepgear were sat. The latter two were sat, worriedly watching the argument between goddess and Briton. IF, however, was more interested in examining Jack's Desert Eagle, looking over it in what appeared to be amazement at its size. She barely seemed to be able to put her hand around the grip, let alone pull the trigger. Jack turned, and called over.
"MISS IF!" he yelled, prompting her to jump slightly and scramble her hands, attempting to keep a hold on the gun. Once she'd collected herself, she looked noticeably flustered.
"WHAT?!" she shouted.
"DO US A FAVOUR, AND SHOOT ME IN THE FOOT!" The shorter woman raised her brows in surprise.
"WH-WHAT?!" she stuttered. Compa and Nepgear looked just as confused.
"YOU HEARD ME!" Jack repeated, undeterred. "PUT A ROUND IN MY FOOT!" IF blinked, and looked nervous for a second. Finally, she exhaled, and reached into her large blue coat.
"Uh...O-OK, sure..." she muttered quietly, and withdrawing, to Jack's surprise, what looked to be a Beretta 92. He put on a brief look that usually represented 'Hmm', and placed his hands on his waist, moving his green shirt out of the way and resting his palms on the leather bandoliers beneath. IF stood up, and prepared the pistol. Purple Heart now looked worried.
"Uh...are you sure this is the best idea?" she asked. Jack looked at her, with a near-victorious smirk on his face.
"Now you know how it feels to not fuckin' understand summat." He turned back to IF. "C'MON! I'VE GOT ALL DAY BUT LIMITED PATIENCE!" She frowned. She was actually sort of going to enjoy shooting him, even if only in the foot.
"I'M GETTING IT READY, WAIT A SEC!" she yelled back. Everyone could detect a notable hint of frustration in her voice. She hesitated, and began pulling at the slide.
"IS IT FUCKIN' JAMMED OR SUMMAT?" Jack called over.
"YEAH, IT'S NOT MOVING."
"THEN USE ONE OF MINE." IF looked up from her pistol, slipping it away, and then glanced over her shoulder at the stack of guns. She returned her gaze to the large bloke in front of her.
"WHICH ONE?" she asked, moving over and eyeing up the Mossberg. Jack thought for a moment, and flexed his toes. Might lose use of them in a moment. Better use them as much as he could.
"DOESN'T MATTER, JUST USE ANY," he replied. Compa and Nepgear shared worried looks as IF (almost too eagerly) picked up the Desert Eagle.
"Um, Iffy?" Compa spoke up.
"Yes?" replied the brunette calmly. Compa swallowed.
"That...uh, that's the gun that Mr. Lunny said hurt his wrists when he fired it."
"And?" IF was now wearing a slightly alarming smile as she pulled the slide back and checked the chamber, the brass casing of a .44 Magnum round greeting her eager eyes.
"I don't think you should use it." Compa continued, becoming increasingly alarmed. Lady Purple Heart, meanwhile, was looking up at Jack in genuine concern. The Englishman was standing with his arms folded and an impatient look on his face.
"This isn't going to end well," she said flatly. Jack didn't turn his eyes from looking at IF.
"Neither was your fuckin' plan," he retorted sharply. "Either a hole in my foot, or a massive open wound across my fuckin' chest. Which do you think I'm gonna bloody go for?" The goddess went silent, turning her eyes to look back at IF, who had frozen to stare at the majesty of the goliath's pistol in her hands. Then, she looked at Jack again.
"Wouldn't your armor protect against it?" she asked.
"I don't know if sword fuel can melt kevlar beams. That's the problem. So I'm gonna test it with bullets. Speakin' of which." He turned, frowning, and yelled over to IF. "FUCK'S SAKE! IT'S NOT HARD! POINT IT AT MY SODDIN' FOOT AND SHOOT THE FU-!" He was cut off by a loud bang, and he gritted his teeth in registration of...
...nothing?
He looked down. His foot was fine. Not a hole or scratch on it. Groaning, he prepared to yell loudly at IF, before realising that she was nowhere to be seen: Where the short brunette once stood was now a noticeably surprised Compa, who was frantically looking around for where her friend had gone. Jack looked at Lady Purple Heart, who couldn't help but conceal a smile at his "Done With This Shit" expression. "Load of fuckin' bollocks, this is. Y'know what, just fuckin' stab me in the foot. I honestly don't even bloody care anymore."
Lady Purple Heart, in spite of being level-headed and mature when in HDD, didn't need to be asked twice.
A few hours later, at the basilicom...
Jack remained silent as he sat on the living area's couch, elbows on his knees and hands clasped in front of his mouth, a steeled expression on his face. His gaze was fixed on the guns that he had carefully organized onto the table, starting with the lengthy shotguns furthest from him, and finishing with his bayonet and Desert Eagle closest to him. Stacked next to the table were the segments of his body armour, as well as his bandoliers, and his satchel of equipment was spilled out across the empty space that remained on the wooden coffee table. Histoire, sipping a cup of tea, hovered next to him at head height, gazing over them as well. However, she had a more noticeably worried expression. After a few minutes of this, she cleared her throat. "This..." she began, placing her cup onto the saucer, "...is a considerable amount of equipment." She turned to Jack, who remained staring ahead. "Were you not suspicious when your...employers...issued you with this equipment?"
"Not at all," replied the Englishman, still with his eyes locked on the intricate engravings of the steel on the double-barrelled shotgun furthest from him. "I was the one who picked out most of it." Histoire, not knowing what to say, sipped her tea again, and looked at the two large shotguns at the top of the array of weapons.
"Those two at the top are longer than I am tall." Jack nodded, still staring ahead.
"And how tall are you?" he asked. The fairy thought for a moment, briefly glancing out the windows of the room to look over Planeptune's sunset skyline.
"Just over a meter." She sighed. "I don't exactly understand the necessity of carrying all of it simultaneously. The sheer size of most of them is likely to cause you back problems later on."
Jack flicked his eyes over to her. "Can't." Now Histoire tilted her head.
"It will."
"It can't." Jack punctuated by standing, turning away from her, and lifting the back of his shirt. Revealed to her was the significant scar down the centre of his back, to which he was rewarded by a small gasp from the fairy. "I've got titanium drilled into my spine. If my arms were strong enough, I could lift a fuckin' car. Also means I piss off security scanners, metal detectors, and anyone that's remotely magnetic. I'm basically a soddin' terminator." It was at this point, as he dropped his shirt down, that Nepgear wandered into the living area, holding a small tray with a series of cups of brown liquid carried on it. She, herself, was wearing her usual sailor-like dress, plus her long pink and white stockings with her rather large boots, as well as her usual pleasant expression. As she entered, she was about to place the tray down on the table, when she opened her eyes and noticed the large amount of guns on the table. After a moment, she decided to set the drinks down on the couch opposite Jack and Histoire.
"Hello," she greeted calmly, receiving a warm 'Good Evening' from Histoire, and a grunt of acknowledgement from Jack. She looked at the table again, and the smile dropped from her face. "That's...a lot of weapons..." Briefly, she pointed her finger out, and gently bobbed over each one as she counted them up. Finally, she gasped. "Eight of them..." murmured the candidate in amazement. She looked up at Jack. "Do you...carry all of these?"
"It's kinda implied, innit?" Jack nodded.
"All at once?" she asked. Jack was certain he could notice a sparkle in her eyes, which was prompting him to sit up, and recline away from the girl in front of him.
"Uh-huh...why?"
"Are they all as powerful as the one IF used?"
"No."
"But that was a pistol..." she gasped quietly, eyeing up the Desert Eagle. "It must be strong to be able to throw IF into some bushes a hundred meters away, and knock her out."
"...she...didn't brace against recoil, or summat?"
"So...the big guns...are they even stronger than the big pistol?"
"Debatable. Depends where the target is in comparison to me when I fire. The black one is more practical, and fires a single shotgun shell," Jack pointed to the Mossberg, before moving his finger up to gesture to the double-barrel. "That one's if I want to fuckin' rape summat with pellets, and can fire two barrels simultaneously." Nepgear stared blankly at him. "It sprays loads of tiny bits of metal in a massive cone and fucks everythin' it hits. Normally."
"How do the pellets even damage the target?" asked Histoire. "Surely, if many come out of the barrel at once, they must be miniscule. I would call these little more than a deterrent against attackers." Jack, now sat down, turned his whole body to face the fairy.
"Miss Histoire, have you ever seen what a double-barrelled shotgun can do to a bloke if you give 'em both barrels? Turns the cunt's head into red fuckin' paint." Histoire visibly paled at the thought for a few seconds. "Not that I've ever done it to anyone. Just watched the videos of it happenin'." This only slightly calmed down the fairy. Nepgear had already started shifting to the edge of the sofa, so that in the event of Jack doing anything she could quickly get up and run away.
Nevertheless, Histoire forced a smile, and shifted slightly on her book. "That's...interesting, Mr. Lovebun." Jack scratched his chin.
"So anyway, Miss Histoire, my previous internet adventures aside," he began, "Why did you need me to lay these all out in the very specific order you stated?" Histoire sat up, and a genuine smile came to her face, as well as most of its colour. She would struggle with the mental image of the 'Red Paint' euphemism for the rest of eternity.
"Well," she coughed, straightening herself, "I was mostly curious as to the extent of your armory so as to check you were not causing yourself harm; As Planeptune's Oracle, it is my duty to ensure that everyone under my charge is in good health."
"And as I said, my back's not havin' any trouble with it," Jack cut in. "Only problem I have is that carryin' this many guns is mostly just slightly awkward in enclosed spaces. Like, seriously, have you tried walkin' through a Gamindustri-sized doorway whilst my size, and with two massive shotguns strapped to your back?" He shifted slightly to suggest he was stuck in a doorway. "It's not fun, I'll tell you now." Histoire sipped her tea, and raised a brow.
"Then why not simply use a disk?" she asked. Jack looked at her.
"What's a 'disk'?" he asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes. "Is this some kind of euphemism for a surgery?"
Histoire simply shook her head with a smile, and floated over to a nearby table covered in an assortment of objects, including CDs. "Not at all!" she beamed, putting down her cup of tea and lifting up one of the CDs. "A disk is simply a personal storage device that allows you to contain physical objects in a digital realm. For instance, this disk is used by Nepgear to store-"
"Gears!" chimed the Candidate, swinging her legs with a pleasant expression.
"-so if I simply have this on my person, I can take out any object stored inside." Histoire finished. She placed the disk behind her so it would lean against her back, and then reached her hands out in front of her. Before Jack could ask what she was asking for, there was a pink glow in front of the fairy, and a fairly small cog appeared from thin air, landing in her waiting hands. Jack was amazed.
"What's the biggest objects those can store?" he immediately asked.
"Miss Compa has her syringe stored in hers, so I don't see why you couldn't use one for your weapons."
"Then I'm buyin' one tomorrow," Jack said finally, before standing up. "You done lookin' at them, or do you want me to leave them out for you to poke at?" Histoire gave a gentle nod.
"I believe Nepgear would appreciate the opportunity to look at their functions." The lavender-haired girl sat across from them perked up, and bobbed her head in agreement with a pleasant expression.
"Yes, I would!" she squeaked excitedly. "Thank you so much!" Jack flashed her a grin and a nod, before standing up.
"No worries." He stood up, and put his hands behind his back as he started walking towards the balcony. He paused, and turned to Nepgear and Histoire, who were now beside each other and beginning to pick up weapons from the table to investigate them. "Hey. Try not to blow your heads off." There was no response from the two, who began excitedly poking around at the firearms. Shrugging, Jack stepped out onto the balcony, illuminated by an orange glow.
Out of all the places in any nation's basilicom, Jack found that he always liked the balconies, especially at sunset. It seemed as though the balconies had been built to face exactly where thesun would set on the horizon, which meant whoever was on it would get an absolutely gorgeous view. In Planeptune's case, that meant he could see the sun reflecting off buildings in the distant cityscape, and he could still feel the warm glow of the sun against his face. He was almost tempted to smile, but didn't, because that'd be fucking weird. As he stood contemplating how he probably should invest in a GoPro or something similar, Jack heard some footsteps coming up behind him. He turned, and wandering onto the balcony was Lady Neptune. She looked rather like a child that had literally just hit puberty, which was a significant change in both personality and cup size from her HDD. "Evenin'," Jack nodded. Neptune smiled.
"Hi, hi," she greeted, before moving straight up to the side of the balcony and sitting on the small wall overlooking a significantly large drop down into Planeptune's capital city. Jack didn't really pay it much heed: She probably did it all the time. "So! How's the whole 'miserable guy' thing going?" she asked cheerfully, swinging her legs.
Jack scratched his stubble with a grimace, left arm folded to cup his right elbow. It felt weird to have no armour on his legs and arms. "Doin' alright, I s'pose," he replied. "You heard anythin' from IF? Is she alright?"
"I got a text from Compa earlier," whistled the goddess, "She says Iffy's gonna be A-OK. Why the interest? Are you trynna hook up with her? You'd make a cute couple."
"Shut the fuck up," Jack snapped defensively, "I'm just concerned about her because of the fact she flew one hundred fuckin' metres, hit a TREE HEAD-FIRST, and then got knocked out by the gun landin' on her head. That shit would've killed you back where I'm from, so I have reason for concern over her." There was a pause. Neptune's facial expression didn't change from the shit-eating smirk she was wearing when she first asked the question. "Also because I could probably call her my friend." Neptune's smile, somehow, got even bigger.
"Awww!" The girl gave Jack a friendly bump on the shoulder, and there was an audible tap as it impacted his notably muscular bicep. "I thought you were the kinda guy who's all 'I work alone'." She paused, putting a finger to her chin and looking up in thought. "But then again there's that James guy and you're good friends with him." Suddenly, her smile returned. "Anyway, good to see you've made some new friends, because I was kinda hoping that we CPUs wouldn't be permanently looking at you."
"Well, cheers, I guess," Jack muttered, before putting his hands in his trouser pockets. "Shame I can't find any of the ones I already had, outside of James."
"You'll find them eventually," Neptune beamed, before hopping down from the wall and beginning to skip inside. As she left, Jack watched the small girl bounding away without a care in the world.
'And that's who runs this place? Fucking hell, I thought Chika was a weird choice for Oracle.'
Jack smiled to himself. Sure, he was gonna be on his own most of the time. And most of the people from his home that he met would be hostile, ready to kill him on a moment's notice.
There was no way to hide himself, really: One successful speech and the word of the Dogoo Immolation Incident spread together to create a strong presence to his name. Recklessly vocal motivator, and even more reckless when fighting.
The Englishman removed his hands from his pockets as the sun dipped below the horizon in the distance, turning himself around to head inside and see how everyone was doing. The sound of a shotgun firing off earlier had already given him some worries about the girls' safety.
Strange.
He'd never felt so intent on protecting people before. Normally, he despised anything to do with looking after someone or something.
So now that he was helping to safeguard four kingdoms, why wasn't he already on a shooting spree?
Maybe it was the sense of purpose. Maybe it was because he needed to put training to use, and boots to ground. Perhaps it was his strange sense of duty to protect the innocent from the thugs that he knew from Earth.
Or maybe it was how he felt like he fit in. He never did fit in on Earth: People always said it was like he wasn't meant to be there.
Yes.
That was it.
It was because it felt like a place he could call home, and there were people he could call friends.