In the usual manner that she moved in, Noire strode out onto the balcony, folding her arms as she left the basilicom to keep a little bit warm. After all, the fine garments she was wearing had obviously no effect against Lowee's rather strong windchill. "Lovebun, I know it's one of your days off and all," she began huffily, approaching his table, "But this had better have been worth me coming out here." Jack gave a nod, and gestured to the radio on the table.
"And there's your answer," he replied calmly, almost as if he were speaking to the radio. The goddess raised a brow. "Gents, that voice you just heard was none other than Lady Noire, the CPU of Lastation." Noire stopped in front of the table, and looked irritatedly at Jack. He flashed a grin. "Give us a second, I need to speak with her for a minute." With that, he released the button to speak over the radio, and looked up at Noire.
"Hi," he began, smiling. Noire's expression didn't change.
"Are you seriously trying to waste my time with one of your little schemes?" she snapped. "Regardless of the fact we've agreed to stop hating each other-"
"I never actually hated you."
"-I'll still get pissed off if you waste my time."
"Ah!" Jack replied sharply, pointing at her. "Trust me, you'll like this one." He turned back to the radio, offering it to her and unplugging the headset he was wearing. "This radio right here lets me contact the guys back home who sent me here in the first place!" The CPU looked rather hesitantly at it. Goodness, it was a rather large radio. Almost the size of an average N-Gear. Slowly, she looked down at Jack.
"Mr. Lovebun, I understand that you're not used to having nothing to do, but has a normal sleeping length and a few hours of R&R really driven you crazy this fast?"
"No, no! Trust me, it lets you speak to them! Just trust me on this one. You already trust me enough to look after your little sister, why not trust me enough to speak to another fuckin' dimension?" Noire closed her eyes, and rubbed her face.
For a few seconds, she slowly exhaled.
"Fine..." Reluctantly, she took the radio into both her hands and pressed the button. "Hello? Is this Mr. Lovebun's world?" Jack crossed his fingers, hoping for a response. There was no noise on the other end, and Noire looked more annoyed as the silence continued. Her face, however, lit up as there was a loud bleep. McCain's voice crackled over the radio once more, the sound resounding through the air as it left the speakers.
"...y-yes...th-this is Earth...my God, you're...you're the...!"
"That's right! I'm a CPU!" Noire smirked proudly, immediately acting as if she knew it would happen. Jack pumped his fist. "My name is Noire! I'm in charge of Lastation, the greatest of all the nations in Gamindustri!" McCain's voice was barely audible over the cries of ecstasy on the other end of the radio.
"HOLY SHIT! THAT KID WASN'T LYING! SOMEBODY CALL THE FUCKING COLONEL!" He coughed. "Sh-Shit! London, wherever the hell that portal shoved you, you might have just turned a new leaf in Earth's scientific history!"
"Right, whatever," Jack sighed. "Just speak with Lady Noire, McCain. And send us through some gear, would you?"
"G-Gear?"
"Weapons, explosives, armour, fancy hats, whatever the hell you think I might need," Jack replied, leaning over to Noire. "Namely some remote explosives, grenades, and a rocket launcher." Noire looked rather frightenedly at him.
"...say again and provide reason, London? I thought you said you were in a safe place."
"You remember those Eastern European gangsters that came through?"
"All two hundred of them?" Jack frowned.
"Holy shit, what, two hund...you know what, never mind. White suited arseholes."
"Yeah. I remember those guys."
"Right. They've turned to crime. I think they're currently terrorizing Leanbox but they may expand their presence."
"Fuck's sake. When the Colonel shows up here, you'll need to give him a report on this. You met with any of the others?"
"A few. Josh Monoplie, Lucas Black, James Hillman, and...uh, 'Chaz'."
"That guy who can get planes from nowhere? We sent him through? Who the hell ordered that?"
"He can summon planes?"
"Yeah...we dunno where the agents dug him up."
"Huh. Right, anyway, yeah, only the four so far, not counting a bunch of those thugs I..." Jack paused. "...uh, 'helped deal with' when I was in Leanbox." Noire looked at him.
"But you killed them."
"What? Please repeat that."
"Oh, son of a bitch," Jack groaned.
"Uh...he killed a bunch of the armed criminals that you sent here?" Noire repeated curiously as Jack desperately tried to think up how he could stop her from speaking without it being classed as sexual assault.
The pressure point on the buttock would make her slap him and tell everyone he was a pervert.
The pressure point on the chest would make her slap him, and tell everyone he was a pervert.
Punching her in the throat would probably kill her, and then Uni would start crying and he'd feel like a massive cunt.
Punching her in the crotch would render her infertile and depending on her sexual interests could cause extreme arousal.
Christ, why did women have to be so difficult to take down?
"What the hell have you done, London?" McCain snapped. The voices in the background were going crazy. "You might have compromised this whole project because you just couldn't keep your finger off the fucking trigger! You'd better be expecting a goddamn court martial when you get back!" Jack glared at Noire, who looked back innocently.
"First off, Lady Noire, I fuckin' hate you," he said flatly.
"Sorry..." muttered the CPU, kicking at the floor slightly.
"McCain, get fucked, I'm not goin' back to Earth. I'll send research data from here," he continued. "Additionally, with the explosives you're sendin', send a TV camera wired for interdimensional operation. I can get you people a glimpse into what a real society looks like."
There was a pause. "Fine...Wilkins, get this down! Interdimensionally capable wireless camera! Anything else you need, London?"
"Hmm..." Jack thought for a minute. Then, he grinned. "Yeah, I'll need a ride, too." Noire concealed a laugh. He was really taking advantage.
"Of course! We were supposed to have sent you with something in the first place for navigation of harsher terrains, but somewhere along the line we ended up forgetting."
Jack concealed his emotions of anger that they didn't give him a vehicle to begin with. The soles of his feet were hard enough to stop a bullet after all the walking he'd been doing. "Don't worry. Needs to be relatively fast, though, both on and off road."
"I'll see what I can get pushed through logistics...why did you kill your fellow operatives, London?" Jack sighed.
"Christ, fine, how about this?" he snapped. "Those fuckers have already gotten back into crime, I've already said. A bunch of 'em kidnapped Lucas Black and Joshua Monoplie and held them hostage in a nightclub, then attempted to murder an RRoD operative that attempted to free the two. So I killed six of those fuckers and sent the rest to prison. Happy now?"
"...we'll need evidence to prove that the killings were justified-"
"Holy fuckin' shit, this is a pisstake."
"-until then, keep this radio active and submit anything you find. Your equipment should be on its way shortly. Good luck, London."
"Luck's for people with no real skill, McCain," Jack said smoothly. "That's why I'm the unluckiest bastard in this universe." Noire raised her brows as Jack passed over the radio.
"Needlessly dramatic," she giggled.
"Sounded cool, though," Jack whistled, sitting back at the table. "Alright, McCain, I'm gonna leave you to speak to Lady Noire. She's a goddess over here; Treat her nice."
"U-Understood!" McCain stuttered. "Nice work, London, you go get some rest." As Jack walked away, he groaned, and checked his watch.
He'd only had less than three hours of his day off.
He turned, and looked at Noire, who was looking back at him with a victorious smirk and her tongue stuck out. "Oh, and when that motorcycle and the explosives show up, Mr. Lovebun?"
"Aye?"
"We'll need to talk. A lot."
"God fuckin' dammit."
A half hour later...
Jack's next idea to cure his boredom was to wander about Lowee's streets and see what there was to do. Of course, he was getting a few looks from the tiny little womanlets that populated the land, but he didn't really care. By that point, he was about used to it.
Yes. Wow. Look how tall he was. Amazing. None of them seemed to be used to that.
Whatever.
Sighing, he rubbed the back of his head and pressed on, looking around the busy streets for anything he could go and do to keep himself entertained. Unfortunately, Lowee being Lowee, and Lowee being a rather 'family-friendly' nation, there wasn't really that much for him. Any of the things he'd normally do for enjoyment were off: He didn't feel like polishing his guns, he wasn't allowed to go fight monsters, the other guys from Earth had work to do, and there wasn't a Chika, Cave, MAGES., Uni, or Compa for him to speak to.
And if he remembered rightly, he had several days off. That meant that if he couldn't find anything to do, he'd have to try again the next day, and the next, and the next...
Oh, God, he really needed something to do.
He stopped at a street corner, and reclined against a lamp-post, earning a few looks from those passing by. He then withdrew his phone, navigated to contacts (Took a while; His hands were too big), then called up Chika.
After a moment, the voice he knew and loved came through. "What's up, Glovebox?" the Oracle asked casually. Jack pictured her reclined in a chair, with her legs crossed on the table and an entire bottle of Prosecco in hand whilst she spoke to him.
"Oracle Hakozaki, I need your help," he began firmly. "The CPUs told me to take some time off because I work too much. What the fuck am I meant to do?"
"I dunno," Chika replied flatly. "First off, call me by my forename. It's weird if you call me by my title. Second off, what're you asking me for?"
"Well, we're like-minded people. What the hell do you do when you have a few days off?"
"Uh...play video games, pester Vert, tidy my chambers, steal and sniff Vert's pannnnn...das...y'know...the expected stuff." Jack raised a brow.
"Video games, eh?" he mused, scratching his chin and completely ignoring everything else that was said. "What do you play them on? Like...console, or summat?"
"Nah, I have a fairly decent PC that I like using. I'd never really played video games up until recently, so I decided to use a platform I sort of understood before I delved into Leanbox's hardware." There was a pause whilst Chika sighed. "D'ahh, Vert doesn't like it when I talk about my PC..."
"Uh huh..." Jack stood, and began looking around the street. That was an idea. He just needed to see if anywhere sold a PC with a large keyboard and mouse and...basically everything. "Well, no problem for me; I was a PC user myself before I came over here. I played all the classics. Doom, Quake, Wolfenstein, Spyhunter..."
"I don't know what those are."
"Shame. Anyway, cheers for the advice," he replied calmly, beginning to march back to the basilicom so that he could mooch off the free Wi-Fi. "Gonna buy a fuckin' mad PC off Blancazon."
"Ugh, don't taunt me with disposable income. If I tried using the national budget to buy a decent PC, that'd be embezzlement. Also, I think Vert would disown me."
"Ah, well, that'd be alright. You could live with me and Chaz!"
"You two are gonna live together? As in, room-mates, or...?"
"Don't go there, Seafoam-Top. It's a man's thing for two men to live in the same house in a non-gay way. It'll be like Top Gun. Totally. Not. Gay."
"OK, then, suit yourself, whatever. Where're you even gonna live?"
"Gonna buy a house in Lastation, just opposite the basilicom."
"Awww, c'mon, Gloveboooox..."
"What?"
"I thought we were bestiiiiiiies..."
"We are, though."
"Then why not live in Leanbox?"
"Because I'm a Lastation citizen, and I'd end up missin' the CPUs."
"Ri...wait. CPUS?"
"...yeah. Noire and Uni. Is there an issue, there?"
"I thought you hated Noire, and vice-versa."
"Nah, I didn't really hate her. Just...didn't like her. I think she just hated me because of the fact I spend so much time with Uni."
"You really do love that kid, don't you? Why do you care so much about her? As far as I know, all you got told to do is look after her, and you love her like she's your own little sister. In fact, isn't that sort of the reason why Noire didn't like you? For stealing her sister, or something?"
Jack stopped himself before he began explaining what he'd already told Noire.
Should he?
...nah.
"She's just really great," he said finally, beginning up the road leading to the basilicom. "Let's just leave it at that, aye?"
"Uhhh...OK, whatever you say, Glovebox." Out of all Jack had gathered about her, he knew Chika wasn't really one to bother chasing things up if they weren't important; That was probably because she had more important things to think about most days. "So...why're they giving you time off? Did you do something wrong?"
"I dunno," Jack sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Summat to do with me doin' nothin' but work, or 'workin' too hard', or some bollocks. Me! Workin' too hard! Can you believe that shit?"
"Yeah, I can."
Jack rolled his eyes. "Come on, Chika, you know I don't work that hard."
"Trust me, you do."
"I don't. I enjoy my job; It's like free time for me."
"Yeah, and during that free time, you practically go into a trance and shoot everything that moves whilst you have this murderous expression on your face."
Jack thought for a minute.
Nah, he never did that. She was taking the piss.
"Don't remember the whole 'murderous grin' bit you're talkin' about."
"I think there's something wrong with you."
"No, there's not."
"I suggest speaking to Histoire when you're next in Planeptune. She's trained in psychology...and, y'know, you're kind of a sociopath."
"Actually, Chika, the psych-evaluation during training had me identified as a highly-destructive psychopath," he retorted nonchalantly. "If you're gonna make accusations, back them u-"
"Yeah, y'know what? I should probably call Planeptune's basilicom and give Histoire a heads-up."
"Chika, bae, don't do this."
"Seriously, you can't even see that you need time off."
"But I don't!"
"Yes, you do!" Chika replied exasperatedly, before finally sighing. "...listen, I'm not asking you to have a psychological exam. I'm ordering you to have one."
"Sod. Off. Of all the things I went through in training, it was the mental trainin' that I fuckin' loathed. Psychologists are fuckin' 'orrible, as well. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go buy some shit off the internep, like conso-"
"London."
Jack froze in his tracks, staring at the N-Gear in his hand. The icy winds of the path up the mountain leading to the Lowee basilicom burned his face and eyes, but he kept his look of shock.
"Oracle..." he stuttered, "...wha...what did you just call me?"
"London. It's your name, isn't it?"
The man was at a loss for words.
"You...you can pronounce it..."
"Yes, I can pronounce it. I'm certain we all can, when it's plot convenient. But I have your attention now, yes?"
Jack swallowed, and nodded, ignoring the blatant mention of a 'plot'.
"Good. What I want you to do is go through with the psychological test that Histoire'll give you. If we know how mentally stable you are, I think we'd all sleep a little better at night, you included." There was a pause. "That, and it'd probably help, considering that you've...done some...things."
Jack remained silent, listening to her every word, and rubbing his forehead in an attempt to gather why he was enjoying being ordered to do things.
"Until then, what I want you to do is go and play some video games, read a book, talk to people, or do something other than working. Are we clear, soldier?"
"Y...Yes..." Jack murmured, staring almost blankly ahead.
"Great. Go get some rest, Glovebox: You, of all people, have earned it. See you later."
"B-Bye..."
The click at the other end signalled that he was now truly alone on the mountain road. For a moment, he remained still, before he began to absent-mindedly continue walking, mind racing with questions.
Why did she call him 'soldier'?
Why did she suddenly become incredibly domineering?
Why did he like it?
...at what point did he become a masochist?
In fact, he could probably piece together what he was into. He'd read Wikipedia, he knew all the fancy words that basically meant 'fetish'.
So, if he remembered the prefixes rightly and was being honest with himself, he was a heterosexual sado-masochistic hoplo-mechanophiliac.
He paused at that thought.
Maybe he really did need that psych-exam.
Whatever.
It was as his mind whirred over all the reasons why he found weapons and machines so sexy that he suddenly had an idea as to how he could fill time.
Two days later...
"Excuse me, Noire," Blanc began, tapping her fellow CPU on the shoulder. The taller goddess let out a 'Hmm?', turning to look down at Blanc.
"Oh, hi, Blanc," Noire greeted. "What's up?"
"Have you seen Mr. Lovebun anywhere for the past few days?" Noire thought for a minute, rubbing her chin.
"...come to think of it, I haven't. Why, you need him for something?" Placing a hand on her hip, she withdrew her N-Gear and dialled up his number. Blanc shook her head.
"No, I was simply asking because nobody has seen him around," she replied. "I have concerns that he might have gone out to fight monsters against our requests."
After a moment, Noire groaned. "Ugh, that man..." she muttered, before shaking her head and looking at Blanc. "He declined the call. Maybe we should check his room." Blanc gave a nod, and the two began to walk in the direction of his room. "So, I think these meetings are going well."
"Yes," came Blanc's rather quiet reply. "I feel we've made considerable progress. And the meeting in Planeptune will be the last?"
"Hopefully so."
"Yeah."
The two went silent, and continued walking. After several minutes of walking (and shuffling, in Blanc's case), they finally reached the doorway leading to the guest room which London had been issued. The door handle looked like it hadn't been turned in a while.
Noire sniffed, frowning at it. "No fingerprints...I've seen Uni around, and she's not tried to visit him?" Blanc nodded in concern, as a look of slight worry went over Noire's face. "I wonder if he's feeling OK..." After a hesitation, the Lastation CPU reached forward, clutching the doorhandle and slowly turning it to reveal the dark room inside.
Hunched over the desk, with most of his guns all around him in various states of completeness, his N-Gear set up like a laptop and a pencil in his hand, was a rather dishevelled-looking London, illuminated by the desk lamp that shone onto the large sheet of paper he had spread in front of him. Jack looked like he was focusing hard, so the CPUs took caution to be quiet when they entered. The only sound as they approached was footsteps, and the scratching of pencil on paper.
To their surprise, he had, in fact, followed the advice that they had given him; Next to the desk, there was a small stack of about six boxes, each unopened and adorned with the box art of different nations' consoles. The bit that concerned the two CPUs was 'unopened'.
He bought them and didn't play with them? Why? What was he focusing on?
As Noire stepped closer, her foot crushed something soft, prompting her to stop and look down. The floor was littered with scrunched up balls of paper. Curiously, she bent down and picked one up, unfurling it.
At the top of the page, there was a set of three letters.
'G.B.F.O.G' 5000 ENERGY GENERATOR
Underneath, there was a plan view of what appeared to be concept art for a...machine of some kind. Whilst it appeared strange and clunky, the thing that most amazed her was the proposed size; The 'Dimensions' section on the bottom right of the page, whilst slightly hard to read, mentioned that the concept she was looking at would be even longer than she was tall, at 1.5 meters, weigh twice as much as the weight-limit for the elevator to her study (Which could take TWELVE people), and would roughly be as tall as Blanc's sisters.
She swallowed. Why was London making an 'energy generator'? Was he trying to solve the world's energy problems?
Noire lowered the paper, and glanced at Blanc. The smaller CPU was looking at a half-finished exploded-view drawing of a similar-looking thing to the picture in Noire's hands. Upon meeting Noire's gaze, they both shrugged, and Noire looked at London. "Lovebun, are you alright?" she asked gently. He'd been away from society for two days.
He might have gotten violent, she needed to be cautious.
The man suddenly perked up slightly, and glanced behind him at the two with a slight look of surprise on his face. "Oh!" he said quickly. "Hi. I'm fine. Why?" Noire was slightly taken aback.
"O-Oh. We've, uh, we've just not seen you for the past two days, so...we thought maybe..." Her voice began to trail off. What had they thought he was doing?
"We thought you'd gone out to fight monsters against our requests," Blanc finished for her. Jack waved a dismissive hand, turning back to the lit area on his desk.
"Nah, I've been in here," he whistled. "Just doin' a bit of work, 's all." Noire sighed.
"Lovebun, we said not to do any work."
"This isn't work for you." London sharply turned to face them, almost exasperated. "I'm doin' this for myself, because I want to. Is that a crime?"
"But we said not to do any work," Blanc replied, calm as ever. "It's slightly hurtful to think you'd ignore us like this."
Jack thought for a moment. "How long've I been in here?" Noire checked the clock on the wall.
"Like I said, we've not seen you for about two days." Jack raised his brows.
"Cool. Must've made some progress on this, then..." He glanced back at the paper on his desk, scratching his chin. Blanc raised a brow.
"If I may inquire," she began, "What is it you've been working on?"
"It's an energy generator I'm designin'. Gonna call it the GBFOG 5000...well, I would, if I could finish these bloody plans." Noire raised a brow.
"You're making an energy generator?" she asked, genuinely surprised. She and Blanc approached beside the desk, looking down on the plan he was drawing. It was a significantly more detailed version of the one that Noire had stepped on, with what appeared to be a list of components down the side.
NEED:
- x200 Plasma Fuel Cells
- x4 Neptunium Rods (150cm long, 5cm diameter)
- 0.7 tons of scrap (Don't use iron / steel, will probably melt)
- A metric fuckload of rivets and screws
- Energy level meter (Might not need?)
Blanc eyed the list in interest. "Mr. Lovebun, I had no idea you were capable of designing such devices." Jack just shrugged.
"I'm not," he whistled, reclining in his chair, "I just know the basics: If you can direct unstable energy, you can do summat with it, and send it somewhere else. I'm just drawin' up the plans, and then..." He paused, thinking. "...hell, I dunno what I'll do with 'em. Maybe sell 'em. Someone'll buy the idea. Maybe." The CPUs glanced at each other.
Neither was sure whether to rip into him for not having a proper holiday, or to congratulate him on working on a generator to aid in the fight for affordable energy.
So, after a moment, and seeing as how she saw herself as the 'closest' CPU to London, Noire placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's...great that you've found something to do other than killing monsters, London," she began. "But I don't understand. You were given a holiday to sort yourself out a bit; Half the time, you look like you're about to bite someone's head off, and your attitude just sours by the day. So why would you spend your time off doing...this?"
"I wanted to design summat," he replied calmly, before continuing to write illegible words on the paper. "And it's one of those things where if I don't design it, nobody's gonna design it. Nobody ever made it anywhere by expectin' things to be done for them, Lady Noire. You should know that." She paused, then shrugged appreciatively.
"But why an energy generator?" Blanc asked.
"Because energy generators are fuckin' awesome," Jack replied calmly, tapping his pencil on the desk briefly before grabbing the two sides of the design paper and beginning to roll it up. "Anyway, don't think I'll be making the damned thing."
"You're not gonna build it?" Noire raised a brow. The man sighed, and rubbed the back of his head, shrugging as the paper disappeared into his disk.
"Well, think about it," he began, starting to gather his weapons. "I'm not exactly 'mechanically inclined'. There's people here who are, but considerin' that this thing's my personal project, I'd rather do it alone, and I don't know how to make advanced devices." The two CPUs began to leave London's room, following behind him. Once they were in the hallway, Jack stretched himself. "Fuuuuck..." he grunted. Noire winced at the audible clicking of his back. "Soooo...what's on the agenda for later?"
"Well," Noire began, smiling, "The other CPUs and I got talking, and we agreed that it might be nice for you to head to Planeptune a few days early." Jack, as per his usual, frowned.
"I dunno," he whistled, scratching his chin. "Seems like it'd be an inconvenience to Histoire. And then there's Compa. Feels like it'd be mean to just show up and start livin' in her house again." Noire narrowed her eyes.
"Wait, living?" she asked quickly. "You're living with a girl? Who is she? Have I met her?" Jack dismissed her with a hand.
"Calm it down, Lady Noire," he said in as reassuring a manner as he could muster. "She's a friend of Lady Neptune. Friendliest girl I've ever met, and she's also a nurse." Noire's eye twitched.
"And you live with this...nurse?"
"Aye. I signed a contract with her that said I could crash at hers' whenever I'm in Planeptune, so long as I lend a hand when she needs it." Noire grimaced further.
"Help with things such as?" she asked, pressing on. Jack became slightly suspicious.
"Uh..." The man eyed her up and down, trying to evaluate her motives. "Movin' the furniture around, helpin' her with shoppin', helpin' her practise CPR, that sort of thing." Noire paled slightly.
"C-C-C-CPR...?" she whimpered. "S-So...l-like...m-m-mouth to m-mouth...?" Jack looked at her in confusion.
"The fuck're you havin' a panic attack for?" he groaned incredulously. "All I do is tell her things I learned from my trainin'. And besides, you really think summat like mouth contact matters when someone's about to die?" He folded his arms, shaking his head at her. "You 'ave got a dirty mind."
Hours later...
Jack was more surprised than anything that nobody had asked him about Josh and Luke's Challenger tank parked out front. It had pulled up earlier whilst he was getting ready to head to Lowee, but he didn't see anybody leaving it. That must have meant that whoever had managed to move it (From the police impound lot, he might have added; The thing was somehow confiscated after the nightclub fiasco, alongside a rather swish Pontiac Firebird that Jack felt like he should have asked the Leanbox police force about when he was there) had clambered into it, closed the hatch, and figured out how to drive one of the British Army's most dangerous pieces of equipment without accidentally driving through an orphanage.
And to top it all off, considering how he hadn't noticed anybody get out of it, they must have accidentally sealed themselves inside because the hatch was too heavy.
Bloody idiot.
Whilst he stepped out of Lowee's basilicom front doors and started walking through the night-lit courtyard, Jack thought about how the CPUs would respond to it had they have asked.
Knowing Lady Neptune, she'd ask if she could have a go, to which the answer from all the Earthmen would be a resounding "Fucking no".
Lady Blanc would stare at it for a minute, then ask if it could be removed because it might scare Lowee's citizens. Again, the response from the others would be "No", but Jack would have been happy to drive it off the premises and through a field of Fenrirs if he weren't on a forced holiday.
Lady Noire would either go ballistic, or ask about its ballistics. Jack would then explain all of the tank's details, and Noire would probably fall asleep.
Lady Vert would likely question how it had managed to end up in Lowee. Jack would also question this and ultimately decide it didn't matter because it was there for him to...'borrow' from Luke and Josh.
That evening was quite a clear one; The skies were dark but cloudless, meaning he could easily see the field of stars above him as he approached the Challenger tank. The large metal vehicle had already grown a few icicles in few hours it had been sat outside, and the treads, front plate, and lights looked to have been covered with some sort of red material. Come to think of it, the red paste looked like Dragon Blood.
Huh.
Whoever had moved it to Lowee had obviously taken a detour through some cave systems and fields.
And that person was probably still inside the vehicle.
Putting on a serious face, Jack stooped low and withdrew the AK, racking the bolt because it would probably look pretty cool, and carefully approached the side of the tank, placing an ear to the freezing metal hull. Inside, he couldn't hear anything. "Shite!" he muttered, stomping a foot slightly. "What the hell was I expectin' to hear through a few inches of armour?!" Mentally slapping himself for being such a dopey fucking twat, Jack went to the front of the vehicle, placing one foot on the front hull, and then pushing himself up onto it as silently as he could. Crouching again once he was on top, he took one step, slipped on a patch of ice, then fell straight from the vehicle, smacking his back on the front of the tank and landing on his face in the snow. It took a lot of effort to conceal the fact that getting smashed in the spine by a piece of metal was not pleasant, even with body armour.
It took even more effort not to make a quiet whining noise.
Picking himself up, Jack grit his teeth, put the AK away, and prepared to board the vehicle, whether it liked it or not.