Goddesses Save The Queen

by Good Old Hoxton

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

40. Goddesses Save The Queen

As night fell, James, Josh, and Luke had reconvened with Chaz, who had managed to slip by several dozen police barricades after parking his A-10 Warthog...well, nowhere, and instead just ejecting and letting it sail off into the distance. The lights all around were a flurry of blue and red, with some flashes of cameras and a constant blur of noise; Orders being barked out, journalists crying out for attention, and people constantly yelling "Stay clear!".

The four men, however, were rather close to the building; More accurately, they'd decided to sit on top of the corpse of the Cyber-Dragon, a now smouldering wreck of flesh and steel that the police had cordoned off from the public.

Luke was lounging on one of its remaining horns, smoking a cigarette that he'd retrieved from one of the corpses of the terrorists that the dragon had pulled from the building. His eyes lazily gazed up at the top of the tower, watching flurries of bullets occasionally come bursting from the windows at the top, along with showers of glass, all twinkling in the police spotlights. The only recent action had been the 197th floor practically exploding in a massive gunfight, before being strafed by Chaz's 20mm.

"So," Luke began with a sigh, the other three looking at him for the sudden statement, "How're we gonna help him?" Josh raised a brow, and chuckled.

"Help him?" he spat mockingly. "How are we meant to help him? He's practically two miles above us, and the last choppers up there got shot down." Chaz raised a hand in irritation.

"Oh, come on, it took a Dragon to do that!" he replied in a whiney tone of voice. "Besides, I've helped him more than you guys have. I strafed the place with the Vulcan."

"Yeah," James spat mockingly, puffing his own cigarette as he stood on a cooled puddle of the Cyber-Dragon's steely blood. "After you got shot down, and after I saved him from two Gooks that were poised to blow his brains out, and after Luke defibrillated him, and after Josh shoved a live grenade into some fella's mouth and kicked him off a balcony to get him away from Jack."

He released a cloud of smoke with a puff, Chaz blatantly being annoyed behind his mask and folding his arms as it harmlessly wisped past the helmet. James grinned at him, lowering his arm so that the cigarette dangled near his waist. "Otherwise, yeah, massive help, Charlie."

The pilot grimaced, folding his arms huffily. "It's 'Chaz'..." he muttered, shaking his head.

"Have the CPUs suggested anythin'?" Luke asked. Josh shrugged.

"Nothing smart."

"Meaning?"

"Well, when I listened to them, they were suggesting sending in a military strike team." Josh idly raised a finger to the street below, directing the other men to look at an APC parked amongst the squad cars. Near the open back door, there was a small gaggle of women in what was likely meant to be military uniforms; The only two that seemed to be actually kitted for the situation were Lastation, with a small trio of fully equipped tactical units, and Leanbox, with what seemed to be four well-built women dressed as World War 2 Commandos. Lowee and Planeptune were laughable, little more than about seven smaller girls timidly clutching some rather bizarre looking rifles whilst wearing little more than hoodies and baseball caps.

Upon looking at this, Luke slowly nodded in both understanding, and severe disappointment. "Right..." he muttered, scratching his head before fiddling with his cigarette. "Any other ideas from the girls?" Josh shook his head again, picking at the bullet-torn scales of the dead Cyber-Dragon that they were seated on.

"They're already miles ahead of us," he sighed. "Last I heard, they were already trying to decide what they were gonna wear to the victory celebration gala that they want to make coincide with the treaty signing celebrations." He stroked his chin. "Miss IF, Miss MAGES., and Lady Vert also had a brief discussion about trying to get us drunk and then uploading our shenanigans onto Unitube."

James snorted loudly. "It might work on us, but ain't Jack teetotal?" he asked. "Thought the guy was more straight-edged than a fuckin' Stanley knife."

Chaz nodded. "Yeah, I haven't seen him drink before." There was a pause. "Come to think of it, none of us have drank since we got here."

"The training was two years, Chaz," Luke cut in, "I haven't had booze for the past two-and-a-half-fucking-years. Jack can avoid it all he wants, but I'm gonna get slaughtered at that gala." Josh cleared his throat.

"Yeah, you missed the point of what I was saying," groaned the blonde, "They're planning further ahead than actually possible. You can't have a victory gala if you don't even win."

Chaz raised a hand. "Tell that to Hillary."

Josh paused, and shot him a look. "Chaz, what are you even talking about?"

The pilot gave a blank look, before slowly bobbing his head. "I thought...oh, wait, we never saw the 2016 Election. Never mind. You won't get the meme."

Josh just nodded slowly. "...right. Whatever happened on Earth doesn't matter, whether we saw it or not. We're here now, and Jack's up there struggling without us. We need a way to help." The men went silent, and thought for a moment.

"Can't use a chopper," Chaz said finally, "We know they have anti-air weapons, and hostages. Hellfire missiles and hostages don't mix." Luke grimaced.

"I could always parachute in from above," he suggested. "But then that leaves Josh and James twiddlin' their thumbs." Josh puckered his lips slightly, uncrossing his legs and reclining onto the giant corpse.

"Well...I'm fairly decent at dropping from heights," he noted, adjusting his glasses. "If Chaz drops you off first, then I drop in after during a flypast of the building-"

"-then I can stay in the chopper and pick off arseholes from distance?" James finished, prompting the blonde to grin and nod.

"That's right."

"What about hostages, though?" Chaz asked. "We can't really just leave them up there." Josh scratched his chin.

Damn.

"What's the limit to what you can summon, Chaz?" James asked. The pilot gave him a tilted head look, which was made more difficult to read by the fact his face had, as always, been obscured by that damn mask. James rolled his eyes. "Like, size-wise. Can you only summon small planes and choppers, or...?"

Chaz nodded in understanding. "Ohhh, I get it. Well, uh, biggest I've summoned before joining the project was an AC-130 gunship."

Luke nearly swallowed his cigarette in shock.

"Buuut, yeah, I'd say that there's not really a limit, so long as I know what it looks like."

Josh tilted his head, this time. "I've been meaning to ask you about that," he said flatly. "How the Hell do you summon planes, and how come we never see them appear until we look away?" The pilot shrugged.

"Weeeeell, I kinda sold my soul to the Devil," he whistled, scratching his head. "Signed up for a previous secret project to create the ultimate soldier, and that involved splicing highly experimental transdimensional stuff into my body and connecting it to my brain." The other three men raised their brows. "It took up the space of one of my lungs, so that's why I have to wear this mask most of the time. The one I got given only let me summon aircraft, nothing else. Another guy, Garry, could summon random, small, inanimate objects and move them around. We all got weird powers, but they were individual, so the planes are mine, and the summoning objects thing was Garry's mod. That kinda thing."

"So..." Josh trailed off, before shaking his head as he understood that final joke. "Wait, you didn't think to tell us this?"

Chaz shrugged. "I never thought it mattered. Other guys're dead though. The guys who took us for this project found me standing in the middle of the desert because I'd just escaped the other project that wanted to kill me and get their stuff back."

Luke looked very confused. "...for a side character, that's an incredibly exciting backstory," he noted. Chaz seemed almost offended.

"Ugh, side character? Me?"

"Well, yea-"

"Guys, we don't have time to break the fourth wall," Josh cut in, prompting the two to sigh. "Chaz, see if you can do some kind of transport chopper. Like...what's it called? Chinook?"

"Good choice," Luke said calmly, causing Josh and James to look at him. "Got huge amounts of space in the back, and James could go shooting from it."

"Nice," Josh said firmly, pointing at him. "If you're parachuting in, then we'll need to make a loop; You get dropped in first, you clean the house, then Chaz swings her around to hover in a place where the hostages can evac." James raised his hand.

"Where'm I, in all this?" he asked. Josh thought for a moment, then looked at the nearby buildings.

The Planeptune Market was 250 floors. Kashuba must have been set up on 250. It's the only place where there was serious limitations to enemy snipers, the ascent was controlled before London rocked up and started shredding people apart, and any aircraft could easily be seen. Sure, Jack was up there doing his thing, but he still had 53 floors to go, each floor no doubt either increasingly well-armed, or Kashuba was running out of men.

The News Chopper was shot down early, presumably when they hadn't set up and fortified the top fifty floors. For all Josh knew, that meant the other fifty floors contained all manner of anti-aircraft weapons, which would make it impossible to get up there, even with Chaz's piloting skills.

And hostages...they could really be anywhere. Doubtful that they would only have a few up on the top floor like princesses in a tower.

Josh grimaced, looking at the main tower, and the constant flurries of bullets that were rapidly eating through every window on each floor, one by one, with remarkable speed.

No doubt, Kashuba's men were going up there to stop him. Josh had only heard about the man's tactics briefly during training, but he was well-known to throw everything at one problem until it was solved.

So, that probably meant that the ground floors were clearing up, and Kashuba's numbers were quickly thinning out.

So, from there, he could deduce that floors 0 – 200 were likely void of enemies, or very badly defended by those that remained.

Josh finally nodded slowly in consideration of the plan he'd cooked up, before turning and jumping from the Cyber-Dragon's corpse with a brief 'Excuse me a moment, boys'. The leather-armoured blonde casually walked past the Press pool that had formed, ignoring their questions, and made his way towards the CPUs.

The four ladies were busy talking to a few official-looking individuals. Seeing as the incident took place in Planeptune, Neptune was surrounded by old men in suits, and she looked very bewildered about the whole situation and the flurries of questions. Josh just moved to Noire, instead.

"Lady Noire?" he began. The raven-haired CPU cast him a quick glance, then turned back to the man who was speaking to her.

"Would you please excuse me for a moment, Captain?" she asked politely. The man nodded, and she stepped over to Josh. "What do you need, Mr. Monoplie?"

Josh's gaze hardened. "Tell your troops to ready up for a full-frontal assault from the ground." The CPU seemed shocked.

"What?" she asked, stunned. "But...you said they'd be killed."

"That was before," Josh corrected, before pointing upwards. "Our 'special asset' is currently draining all the enemy's resources and numbers whilst they try to take care of him. Undoubtedly, they've moved every single man up to those top 50 floors in order to stop London, which means-"

"-that they're not defending the first 200 floors..." Noire finished, thumbing at her chin. "That's a lot of ground to cover. I was only able to bring six Operators from Lastation's special forces." Her eyes looked up at Josh. "And let's be honest between ourselves, Planeptune and Lowee have troops here that are hardly going to be much use outside of cannon fodder."

Josh nodded solemnly. "What about Lady Vert's troops?"

Noire bobbed her head side to side. "About equal to my own. It'll be another half hour before her air force can drop in any of her Atmosphere Drop Shock Trooper units, or drop off any of the PERSIAN soldiers." Josh nodded, scratching his chin.

"So what were you thinking we should do? I think waiting'd be a bad idea."

"If we wait, we get better troops," Noire sighed, fiddling absent-mindedly with her twin-tails. "But if we wait, they could well have just shot whatever hostages they have and blown the building apart as some kind of retribution." Her eyes once again drifted onto the blonde man in front of her. "You're trained in this kind of thing, and you trained with these jerks: What would you do to get rid of them?"

Josh wiped his mouth briefly and looked at the tower, shifting his weight and adjusting his glasses. "Well...the boys and I have been thinking," he replied finally, "We thought we might get Chaz to fly us up there in a Chinook, drop Luke and I off to engage them on the top floors, then have James provide sniper fire from the helicopter. After that, Chaz would fly in close to pick up any hostages, and James, Luke, and I would begin fighting our way downwards." Noire nodded in response to each point.

"Just you three?" she finally asked, raising a brow and folding her arms. Josh smirked, and gestured up to the tower as an entire floor practically detonated, two men flying out of a window on fire before being incinerated with laser-fire.

"That's what London and Cave are doing, and there's only two of them," he replied calmly. Noire scrunched her nose.

"Fair point," she sighed. "Still, it's in our interests as CPUs to do something." As she began looking around at the crowds of panicked people, Josh snapped his finger to get her attention again.

"Hey, Lady Noire. Listen. You're doing just fine down here," Josh said flatly, the CPU folding her arms. "This isn't even your country and you've taken charge of the situation. All honesty, you'll probably get better PR from this than Lady Neptune will."

Noire stroked her chin briefly, letting out an 'Erghhh...' of contemplation as she glanced over at the smaller, purple-haired girl to her right who was currently filling in a national military deployment order using a purple crayon whilst looking very confused as to what "experimental assets" and "mandatory use of lethal combat tactics" meant.

He did have a point.

Closing her eyes, Noire sighed, and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"...fine..." she finally muttered, before looking at Josh again. "I'll have a word with Lady Vert so we can get a ground assault moving." Josh smiled.

"Much appreciated, Lady Noire. I'll let Chaz know to fire up the Chinook." Just as he was about to leave, he hesitated. "Oh, and...Lady Noire?"

The CPU, who was also just about to walk off, stopped to look at him. "Y-Yes, Mr. Monoplie?"

"After this is over, I was planning a trip to go outfit shopping...did you wanna come?"

Noire gave a confident smirk, placing one hand on her hip and waving the other dismissively.

"Oh, please, Mr. Monoplie, I don't need to go out to buy my clothes," she chuckled, "I make my own."

Josh raised a brow. "Really? You make your own?" he asked, surprised.

Noire then caught herself.

If he thought she made her own clothes then he might ask about costumes and then he might ask about cosplay and then he might look up pictures of cosplayers and then he might find pictures of her in cosplay and then he might tell everyone and then he might start mocking her for being such a nerd

"MAKE MY OWN FUN!" she said suddenly, causing Josh to jump slightly. "YEAH, THAT'S IT. I DON'T GO OUT CLOTHES SHOPPING FOR FUN BECAUSE I MAKE MY OWN FUN!"

She looked strained. A few people were looking at her.

Josh nodded slowly, looking confused, and began walking away. "Uh...if you say so, Lady Noire," he coughed, "Just...uh, give me a call if you change your mind...?"

Noire could feel a lot of sweat on her face for some reason.

Meanwhile, on floor 228...

Jack grimaced as the new pair of boots failed to fit his size eleven feet, his old boots lying in tatters to the side. With a sigh, he discarded the heavy piece of footwear with a thud as it hit the floor, and continued pulling shoes from the pile of corpses that he was sat beside. "A hundred terrorists in these fifty floors, and I don't destroy the shoes of the one with feet smaller than my fuckin' mum..." he grumbled, scratching his chin and eyeing over the corpses for a possible other pair of shoes.

Under Cave's suggestion, they had decided to come to a halt on floor 228 after coming across a large number of hostages, setting it up as a small staging area so that Cave could organize an evacuation.

Jack, meanwhile, had looted all the enemy corpses, lining up those he could find down a small alcove in the office space. The shrapnel-laced man was currently trying to find both a new pair of shoes – which he was struggling with due to different sizing methods internationally – and a new set of clothes that fit him – which he was also struggling with due to the fact that most of the corpses were filled with so many bullets that what clothing they wore was torn to shreds.

Naturally, the fact he didn't really have any way to protect his feet was rather frustrating, especially considering that the floor was saturated with broken glass. So, as he continued prying shoes and boots from different corpses in an attempt to find functional footwear, Cave was ushering out hostages into the elevator, all of them either crying, shooting London bewildered or starstruck looks, or silently shuffling into their escape method.

Cave, however, remained stoic. She knew hostage situations, and she knew that getting them out would come first.

Just so that she had a method of keeping her mind from flatlining due to the hideous amounts of damage that she and London had both sustained, she contemplated just how great she was going to sleep after all of this was over. Odds were, she'd end up being in a blissful rest for a couple of days.

Heck, if Mr. Loondumb got himself together, maybe he'd be able to bring her breakfast in bed in that house of his, then give her the massages he owed her.

Maybe they could even cuddle for a bit.

Mentally, she smiled.

That was a nice thought: Getting that boorish man to finally listen to her and do as she said, even just for a day or two, and some interaction between them that wasn't an argument or tag-teaming in a gunfight.

The nice thoughts were something she needed as she hustled the floor's last hostage into the already crowded elevator. "Hands and arms inside!" Cave barked, the hostages whimpering and panicking inside the sardine-can cube. "When you leave the building, do so with your hands clearly in the air, to avoid accidental shootings! Report to the Hostage Rescue Team units and get accounted for as soon as you can, before you even THINK about doing anything else!" Briefly, she narrowed her eyes at the petrified gaggle of businessmen and secretaries. "And do be sure to leave your praises for Lady Green Heart of Leanbox."

Some of the hostages looked at each other in confusion as Cave reached in with her scissors, tapped the massive 'G' at the bottom of the list of buttons, then stepped back as the doors closed. As they did so, the awful scraping of bullets lodged into the metal that were grinding against the edges of the doorframe became apparent.

The civilians, nevertheless, disappeared from sight, allowing Cave to drop the 'hardcore' façade for a moment and display her exhaustion. Groaning, she trudged over to where London was trying out a pair of all-in-one boot-and-ballistic-shinguards, which seemed to fit rather well. "That's all the hostages gone from this floor," Cave began, pulling herself onto a nearly-ruined desk and stretching herself out slightly. "I'm surprised they stored so many on one floor, as opposed to splitting their assets across multiple floors."

Jack raised a brow, tilting his head as he gave one of the boots a good test stomp. "Well, depends on if they had the manpower for it," he replied calmly, stroking his tattered stubble. "They needed blokes guardin' every other which way, so I dunno if they'd've been able to hold onto so many hostages at the same time across so many floors."

He hesitated briefly in though, beginning to slip on the next greave. Cave glanced at him for the pause. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

Slowly, Jack shook his head. "Eh...like you said, they've got hostages up on the very top of this dump, Miss Nepgear included." He scratched at his chin, which dislodged a large chunk of dried gore and cement dust that had clumped onto his jawline. "Considerin' we haven't run into any others so far until now, I'm guessin' they had two lots of hostages, and the 'prizes' are at the top."

Cave nodded slowly in understanding, folding her arms and thumbing at her chin. "The prizes being a CPU Candidate and important businessmen..." she murmured. "I recognised a lot of them from previous close-protection work."

Jack looked at her, raising a brow as he stood up in his new boots. "If they warranted usin' you as a guard, they must've been important," he noted. "We talkin' politicians? Real estate moguls? TV stars? Some bizarre mix of all three?"

"The only one who somewhat fits the bill with that is Mickey Belch," Cave nodded, watching Jack begin sifting through a small pile of weapons, trying to decide what to take with him. "TV star turned Leanbox Presidential candidate. He's rich, and has a lot of his credits stored away."

The cogs in Jack's head continued turning.

Like Doe had said earlier, Mickey Belch's money flooding the markets would devalue the shit out of everything.

People would then turn to extremist parties for a solution...

...was Mickey Belch involved, somehow?

"What kinda politics does this Mickey bloke do?" Jack asked, narrowing his eyes at a rather bizarre looking double-barrelled Glock pistol. Cave just shrugged as he cautiously flicked the fire selector onto 'full-auto' and dropped it into his disk.

"I don't know. I'm bad with politics."

"Same."

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, it's like this. Remember that rocket launcher fella that was with Kashuba?"

"Yes. He killed some civilians."

"Right. He explained that they need the money from those businesspeople in order to destabilize the economy. They do that, everyone's poor, and everyone wants to blame the CPUs."

"Thus lowering Shares for all four Goddesses?"

"Correct. In times of trouble, people lean towards extremists or dangerous views. See where I'm goin'?"

Cave squinted, looking rather confused. "Somewhat...?"

"C'mon, Cave, stick with me, here."

She pouted slightly, stomping her foot briefly and folding her arms. "I'm trying my hardest."

"OK. So like I say, he apparently wants to make people start supporting extremist groups and leaders. If the CPUs are weak, then nobody opposes a popular revolution, aaaaand...?" He gestured to the older lady to finish his thought. Cave twirled her one remaining twintail in thought.

"...are you suggesting that they want to make people support Mickey Belch's Presidential run?"

Jack clapped once, and pointed at Cave. "Bang on, sweetheart," he said calmly. Cave shook her head, and paced briefly.

"I think the hole there is that Mickey Belch is just one country's candidate, and considering it's largely just a ceremonial and administrative job, he'd have no major impact on international politics as whole," she noted, raising a finger. "Then, you need to think about the fact that Mr. Belch's policies aren't too outstanding or extreme: Just some proposals on monster hunting, military spending, and working more closely with Lastation. If anything, people think he's incredibly boring and has nothing new to offer."

Jack, materializing his AK, grimaced. "So there's other groups that these arseholes want to get attention for."

Cave gave a small nod as she called the elevator back up. "Were I to give an educated guess, we'd likely be looking at ASIC."

Jack frowned, giving a flat shrug. "Who the fuck're they, when they're at home?"

"Basically an underground piracy cult. A huge number of members, incredibly bizarre proposals for world reform, and no balls to try and stage anything bigger than a small-scale protest." Cave narrowed her eyes, taking on a rather sudden hardness. "Goddesses be damned, as soon as those jobless hoodlums step over the line, I'll personally beat them into submission, those freeloading sons-of-bi-"

"Cave, tangent, what do they want for the world?" Jack cut in. Cave cleared her throat.

"R-Right. Apologies. What they want is a revival of a God or something. However, records prior to the group's founding prove that there is no mention of 'Arfoire' prior to their founding."

Just then, the elevator made a loud 'ding' as it arrived, the two warriors walking into it.

"So they're talkin' bollocks, then," Jack said flatly. "We ready?"

Cave nodded. "Floor two-hundred-and-twenty-nine?" she asked, her finger hovering over the button at the top of the huge list of numbers.

Jack thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Nah. Two-fifty."

Cave blinked, reeling her finger back steadily with a sudden silence permeating the elevator as the doors closed.

"...what?"

"You heard me," Jack said calmly, twisting side to side to stretch his back. "If he's expectin' to be able to prepare for us by listenin' for the gunfire below, he thinks we're goin' floor-by-floor. Goin' straight to two-fifty gives us the jump on him."

Cave gave him a flat stare. "We'd also be deep in enemy territory, and we have no idea how many people he's got up there, hostages or terrorists."

"And where would he expect us to not be, Miss Cave?" Jack retorted sharply, placing his hands on his hips. "Of all the places, he'll be sendin' all his guys to the next floor above us. So my idea is to go all the way up."

"And then he panics and kills all the hostages." Cave folded her arms, and drummed her fingers on her bicep, an unamused expression on her face. "At most, I could support going a few floors below. But not all the way up. That'd make all of this useless."

"Then what if we give it a few minutes before we do anythin'?" Jack groaned, already understanding that the odds of him winning this argument were low. "The floors are thin enough that we'll be able to hear them on the floors above us, so we'll know if they're gonna be waitin' for us or not.",

The winds rustled through the office as London stepped forward from the elevator, Cave sighing and following behind. Their feet crackled against the broken glass, and they shifted themselves to the window that overlooked the streets below.

For the first time, Jack got a look at just how gargantuan the Cyber-Dragon had been. The corpse spanned nearly an entire street, and the crowds of people spilled everywhere looked like the pooling blood from his view above. Police cars dotted the streets in front of the crowds, presumably to keep them back, and helicopters kept low-orbit around the building.

Presumably, that was to avoid repeating what happened earlier with Doe and the new chopper.

But...overall, the night view from this skyscraper, even with all the sirens in the distance and lockdown warnings...

"...it's nice."

Jack raised a brow, and looked down at Cave, who was standing close beside him.

"The view?" he asked. She nodded.

"Yes. It's...impressive." Cave adjusted the shoulder straps of her newly-acquired combat vest. "Certainly more vast and modern than Leanbox, I can tell you that much."

Jack nodded slowly, leaning on his arm against the nearby window support beam and folding his arms. "Aye, I suppose. Don't really hold a candle to some places on Earth, but it's definitely somethin'." Cave smirked, and moved to the beam opposite his, resting on it with her back, crossing her legs, and resting her forearms on some of the many pouches on the vest.

"I have been meaning to ask you about that," she began, "After all the places you've been to, and all the things you've done, and all the people you've met in Gamindustri, you still fail to discuss your homeworld very often." Jack grimaced slightly. "If you don't mind me asking, Mr. Loondumb, is there a reason for that?"

Jack paused, then slowly nodded. "Yeah. It's because Earth sucks."

Cave sucked air through her teeth, nodding slowly. "...do you care to elaborate?"

"Well, I'll put it this way," he sighed, scratching his head. "Let's say you found some money in your house, right? Good stash of it behind the radiators, or some bollocks."

"Mmm."

"Then let's say the neighbours, who're fat and like guns, decide that they want it. The other neighbours decide they want it, too, and they do fuck all but drink vodka and starve their kids. So what do they do?"

"I would assume 'asking nicely' is not an option."

"Right. They go into your house and shoot each other dangerously close to your family. Then the vodka neighbours decide to enslave your family. The gun neighbours pay some fellas that're local to you to go into your house and kill the vodka neighbours."

"Mr. Loondumb, what even is this analogy?"

"I dunno. But basically, your rights came second to what some arsehole up in a big buildin' wanted. Those arseholes also had a nasty habit of listenin' to people who whine all the time. My humour'd get me fuckin' crucified back on Earth."

Cave smiled. "And I take it I'd be the one cutting you from the cross?"

Jack chuckled. "Or the other way around. I keep savin' your arse, too, y'know."

"You do, indeed, you do..." she giggled lightly. "I've...almost come to appreciate how good you are at getting us into trouble." Jack shrugged slightly.

"Well, you've an impressive penchant for fightin' through it," he noted. "Hell, you helped me through the nightclub with about a minute's notice beforehand."

Cave smirked, and folded her arms. "That, I did. And I still await the payment."

Jack raised a brow, adjusting his hair that had been blown about by the rushing winds. "Lady Vert still ain't paid you? You on a bi-monthly contract, or...?" Cave shook her head, reaching up and undoing one of her twintails; It was the one which had suffered serious burns and cuts, and it flopped down to loosely match the rest of her crimson hair.

"No, I get paid weekly," she replied calmly, reaching up to undo her other twintail. "I just mean I'm waiting for you to come through with your side of our deal." Jack looked momentarily confused, before he gradually realized what she meant and rolled his eyes. "It's quite a debt you've worked up, Mr. Loondumb," Cave continued, grabbing all of her hair to put it into a loose ponytail so that it stayed out of the way, tucking it into the back of her dress collar.

"Now that's summat I've needed to ask you, Miss Cave," Jack groaned. "What is your obsession with massages all about?" The woman raised a brow, and hopped slightly, causing her chest to jiggle. Jack briefly glanced at them, then mentally slapped himself.

"Do you really think these weigh nothing, Mr. Loondumb?" she asked, smirking. "I may be well-built, but eventually, my breasts do start to take their toll on my back. The RRoD actually had to hire me a masseuse and make them sign a non-disclosure agreement before they could work on me."

"Then why not use your masseuse? Hell, do it yourself?" Jack asked. Cave shook her head, hands behind her back.

"Well, for starters, my masseuse is on holiday for the next month or two. Second, if I could massage myself, I would. Third, I assumed someone like yourself might lunge at the chance to get their hands on an older, more mature woman." Jack went slightly red, as Cave narrowed her eyes at him, smirking. "You seem the type to be experienced with close contact."

Jack swallowed, shifting his weight and beginning to pace, scratching his head. "N-Now, Miss Cave, I-I'd say this ain't the time to be...uh...y'know, s-sayin'...that..." he trailed off. Cave's smirk moved to a somewhat venomous smile.

Watching this beast of a man that was built like an armoured vehicle, with the attitude, bloodlust, and temper of your average Viking, getting flustered over high-school-level flirting, was never going to stop being funny.

Maybe she was bullying him. Depending on how you viewed it, it was teasing.

Perhaps, even, she was being slightly sadistic with the amount of flirting she kept doing, despite the knowledge that he clammed up over it.

But, damn it, she thought there was still a lot of comedy to be had by making the big guy flustered.

She gently raised a hand, ignoring London's light flinching, and ran it down the exposed bicep on his left arm; The sleeve of his jacket had been completely blasted off, leaving behind the bloodied and bruised skin. As soon as her fingers made contact, he shivered slightly, but didn't seem to offer resistance.

She mentally swallowed, but kept her physically calm demeanour as best as she could.

Good Goddess, he was muscular. It was like running her hand over solid marble, even down to the massive chips where shrapnel had flayed parts of his skin and carved the flesh away.

"Am I wrong in assuming that you have experience with physical contact?" she asked nearly mockingly. Jack just shrivelled slightly up against the wall, Cave quickly closing the gap as she caressed his arm.

"C-C-C-Cave, d-don't be doin' this now..." he whimpered, visibly and audibly distressed.

"Why, though?" Cave asked calmly, a nearly predatory grin wracking her face as she pushed herself against the much taller man. He was more than capable of shoving her off, but it was quite clear that he was too frightened and overwhelmed to do anything about it. "We might both die at any time soon. Surely it would be best if we got some weight off our chests?"

Jack was absolutely crimson.

"N-N-Not...n-not now..." he mumbled, being sure to avoid eye contact with her as she traced her fingertips along his chestplate. She briefly had to keep herself from biting her lip as he fingers graced the solid surface.

Either that's body armour, or he's that well-built that his chest is similar to ballistic plates. And she could probably grind meat on his abs...

She mentally had to slap herself to stay focused on the joke.

"Somebody's dodging the question," she pressed on, turning her head slightly to meet his downturned gaze. "Perhaps there's something that the big, brave Mr. Loondumb is hiding?" Gently, Cave moved her hand to grace the bottom of his stubbled chin, prompting him to noticeably shiver.

Mentally, she was laughing her ass off at the sheer comedy value of him turning into a timid young man at the slightest flirting.

Physically, she was making sure she appeared in charge of the situation, turning his head carefully to look her in the eyes. For the first time since...well, forever, she could see an emotion in his eyes that he hadn't been too open with.

Despite fighting a huge dragon, terrorists, monsters, and mobsters, this was the first time Cave could say he looked genuinely frightened.

"Am I right?" she asked.

For a moment, Jack stuttered. "...a-a-about...about w-what...?" he whimpered.

Cave thought for a moment.

Oh, Goddess, what could she pry out of him? She had the power here to ask anything she wanted.

Damn, if she'd had her radio, she could've shared some good intel with Lady Vert and gotten a raise, or-

She had an idea...perhaps she could get his goals out.

"Well, from what I've seen," she began, tracing her fingers down his neck and prompting him to go rigid in fear, "You seem to have become less and less happy as time has gone on in Gamindsutri. Could it be that despite your friends from Earth being here...you feel rather lonely?"

London seized up further, then nodded in an almost agonized way, prompting Cave to smile.

"Well, that simply won't do, will it?" she cooed, sliding her hand up to his cheek and softly rubbing it. She could practically feel the fires of Mount Doom burning beneath her palms, and her adjacent cheek warmed up as she moved herself to whisper into his ear. "I think you should come and relax with the girls and I, once this is over, don't you think?"

London, once again, went even more tense than he had been.

Cave was about to smile again.

"...n-n-no...n-no thanks..." came his whimpers. "...p-p-please...s-stop..."

Just as she was opening her mouth to see if she could go any further with her (admittedly limited) seduction interrogation training, she stopped.

The meat of her thumb was...damp?

She glanced over at her tattered white glove, still planted on his cheek.

It was wet.

Why was it...?

Her eyes snapped to his face.

London's crimson cheeks weren't from embarrassment: His eyes were crimson as well.

Oh, Goddess, the big softy was actually crying.

Immediately, Cave retracted her hand, and stepped back slightly, letting go of him with an admittedly stunned look on her face. As soon as her grip was released, he stepped away several feet at speed, trembling and looking at her with a tear-stained face.

"I-I..." he mumbled. "...I don't want that to happen again, p-please..." As he spoke, he looked down at his feet, shaking like an abused kitten.

Cave, meanwhile, was both confused and very regretful. There wasn't anything funny about this.

That initial fear that he'd shown at the baths in the presence of just her alone...was it seriously so bad that he was actually mortified by that kind of contact?

She stared at him flatly.

Despite where they were, what they'd done, and what they needed to do...

...THAT was the thing that scared him?

The presumable trauma that Histoire mentioned after his psycho-analysis...it must have been far worse than he would ever let on normally.

Her face dropped as she looked at him shakily wiping away tears from his soot-covered face. He looked rather pitiful, like a bullied schoolboy who wasn't strong enough to fight back.

Oh, Goddess, now she felt truly awful.

Sighing, she raised her hands slowly. "I'm...I'm dreadfully sorry, Mr. Loondumb," she said in as soothing a manner as she could. "I...I had no idea you felt so strongly about that sort of thing."

He slowly nodded, breathing heavily and wiping his eyes. "Y-Yeah...I..I've got bad memories of stuff like that," he coughed, sniffing loudly to clear his nose. "I don't really want to talk about it, or experience anythin' like that ever again."

Cave closed her eyes and nodded apologetically. "I understand. I'm very sorry." She looked up at him again. "I just thought with the amount of that type of interaction we end up joking about through text, that you might appreciate it in person."

Jack immediately shook his head. "I didn't. It's summat I'll eventually manage to sort out with myself, but until then, just..." He sighed, finally leaning against the wall and rubbing his forehead. "...easy on the physical side of things, jokin' or not...alright? I...I'm not used to it, and it's just..." Cave nodded slowly again as he trailed off.

Her mind was whirring.

New objective. Get him over his trauma. But how do I get him to open up? Heck, how do I get near him to calm him down? Maybe I should change the topic...

She stayed silent for a moment, watching the near-unstoppable gunslinger as he dried the tears in his eyes. "...I haven't heard any serious movement upstairs."

Jack raised his head to look at the roof, and narrowed his eyes. "It's not the serious movement you ought to be worried about," he replied flatly, rubbing away the last of any tears. "I haven't seen some of the professional guys on our way up. Odds are they're set up either on the floor above, in the staircase, or on the top floor."

"They any good with hostages?" Cave asked. She mulled on the idea of moving towards him, and finally decided to do so, but just slowly.

"Not a damn clue," Jack grimaced. "We never got trained in hostage takin' during the actual trainin': Surprisin'ly enough, most government agencies don't have people who're trained to take innocent people hostage." He looked down slightly, his frown deepening. "Although, a good number of the guys were already life-in-prison convicts. Wouldn't be outta the question if they knew how to take hostages and hold 'em."

Cave considered this. There were probably good odds that the criminals were the ones running most of this operation.

"This...Cashbar man," she began finally. "What is he?"

Jack shrugged with a flat expression on his face as he got up and made his way to the elevator doors nearby. "That's easy, he's an absolute cu-"

"No, I mean before all the training," Cave cut in, prompting Jack to pause and then raise his head understandingly. "Was he a soldier?"

"Hell if I know," replied Jack, "Considerin' his accent, he's Eastern European. Think he's only a couple of years older than me, though, so there's no way he's an ex-Soviet goon." As he reached the elevator doors and reached for the button, he suddenly hesitated. Then, he looked them up and down, then put his ear to the steel doors, giving them a light knock. "You want my guess?" he asked.

Cave nodded silently.

"Sociopathic violent criminal, brought up in a harder area, and he has self-taught military skills that were strengthened by the training."

Cave raised a brow, folding her arms.

"Why sociopathic?" she asked. "Considering the fact he tried to rape me multiple times, he's probably more of a psychopath." Jack gave her a brief glance.

"You know the difference?"

Cave paused, then tilted her head side to side.

"Somewhat. It's down to interactions with people, I believe."

"On the right track," Jack replied. "A psychopath struggles to interface with people, make bonds, and is generally unlikeable. They don't have remorse, either." He hesitated. "Well, neither does a sociopath, I suppose. Maybe you're right."

"You think a psychopath could convince hundreds of soldiers to commit an act of terror, many of whom have served under a national flag and sworn to only do the right thing?" Cave asked, smirking as she outsmarted him. "He's a sociopath, plain and simple. Good at manipulatin' people." Jack stood up to his full height, then looked on the floor for anything he could use to pry the elevator doors open, his eyes finally coming to rest on a piece of flat rebar that had become lodged in a desk.

Cave nodded slowly, watching her taller companion march over and one-handedly wrench the metal plate from the wood.

"It'd take a good amount of charisma to be able to convince everyone else to do this level of shit..." Jack muttered.

There was a pause which Cave filled by thumbing at her chin. "Though, we can both attest to the fact he is of terrible character?"

Jack gave an incredulous yet smug look as he walked back to the elevator. "Is the Pope a Catholic?" he asked.

Cave raised a brow. "I...have no idea what either of those are."

"And I barely do, too, so we're pretty much even on that. But yeah, Kashuba's a shitbag. Why?"

The redhaired woman gave a devilish grin as Jack forced the lift doors open with the bar, discarding it down the dark elevator shaft. "I suggest we both make an oath now not to tell anyone what we do to him if we capture him alive." Jack turned his gaze from the service ladder on the other side of the shaft and looked at Cave.

The response was immediate; Jack was right in her face, hand extended. "Done deal." She smiled, and shook his hand.

Oh Goddess his hand is like an arm-sized vice I can't see past my elbow

Nevertheless, her smile remained.

At least she'd snapped him out of the panicking.

A good ten minutes of silent ladder climbing later...

At some point in the few minutes prior, every floor they passed by had been gradually making sporadic bursts of gunfire. Not into the elevator shaft, mind you, although at one point a round had pinged inside and nearly taken off Cave's remaining hair.

But they were shooting...for whatever reason that may be.

For a good few minutes, the two carefully picked their way up the service ladder, being cautious not to attract enemy attention as they made their ascent to the top floor. It was only as they got closer to the top of the tower that they realized what the commotion was: There seemed to be the loud, muffled whupping of chopper rotors, which circled the building.

Jack smiled slightly at first, but then realized what was happening: They'd set up their own plan, and not told the guys down at the bottom about it.

There may well have been some plan colliding on the way.

Nevertheless, the two continued their route to the top floor, their path only occasionally lit by an emergency lightbulb, until even those stopped being placed sporadically and were instead just no longer lighting that part of the shaft. Perhaps the people who made the building just never envisioned anyone climbing up to floor 250 with the service ladder.

Whatever the reason was, it meant that Jack could barely see Cave above him, and he was relying on the thin slivers of very faint light coming from beneath the elevator doors on the opposite side of the shaft to illuminate the numbers of the floor.

Thus, it wasn't an easy job, and he was relying on the sound of Cave's broken shoes hitting the ladder to know when the woman above him was stopping or going, or how close he was to her.

Squinting, he could just about make out the top set of lights that illuminated 250.

An explosion once again rocked the building, prompting Jack to look down as he climbed.

Even from outside, the sound reached the elevator, a muffled boom that reverberated loudly and loosened a good bit of dirt from the lift shaft.

It came from below them, too. Huh. At least they were above the action. Maybe they'd reach Kashuba before the others did.

As he turned his head to look back up, he suddenly found himself engulfed in something warm and firm, with his arms now either side of a pair...of legs.

Cave let out a frantic, yet subdued gasp of surprise, so as to avoid attracting any attention.

Jack froze.

Oh dear Mother of Christ.

There was a pause more frightening than any Jack had experienced thus far.

Neither moved, which was probably not the best course of action.

"Mr. Loondumb," Cave began from above, whispering with a razor edge punctuating each word, "I suggest that you remove your face from my backside within the next three seconds, or I'm going to kick you down this elevator shaft. Are we clear?"

Jack immediately dropped back about ten ladder rungs, barely catching himself in his fluster. "S...sorry..." he mumbled.

Cave sighed, adjusting her skirt and patting her buttocks a few times to get rid of the weird feeling that still lingered there, before beginning up the ladder again.

At the very least, considering how he'd literally cried a few minutes before when she made light flirtatious advances, she knew that was definitely an accident.

And at least it was dark, too, otherwise he'd probably have seen her underwear...for whatever that was worth, after he'd had his face there for a moment.

As she kept point on their ascent, she listened carefully to what he was doing below.

...did he just whisper something to himself about not being able to get married anymore?

Five minutes later...

At the top of the elevator shaft, on floor 250, there was a small alcove usually reserved for elevator maintenance. It sat to the side of the actual shaft, but presumably, this was where both elevators would get serviced: Parked at the top.

Right now, the engineering area was a perfect staging ground for Jack and Cave. It had concrete walls - meaning nothing would be coming through to them, offered access to both elevator doors – whether the lift was there or not, and access to the circuit breaker for the adjacent room.

The last point was incredibly important.

The adjacent room was where they had fought and literally died to reach.

The fact that they could now shut down the power to practically the entire floor meant they had a huge advantage. They were fairly certain Kashuba's men hadn't even checked the elevator shaft...or been able to open it.

It also had a few small maps of the circuitry around the floor – presumably so that engineers could sort out light fixtures when necessary. If they went by that, there was some kind of large winch on the roof, which also meant there had to be room on the very top of the tower for them to use.

It was just a matter of actually getting up there.

Jack turned to Cave and leaned in as close as he could to her ear. "I'll get in touch with Chaz and see if he wants to help," he whispered. Cave nodded, and Jack turned, grabbing the elevator cable and sliding down two floors to somewhere Cave figured was empty. She watched as he approached the closed elevator doors inside the shaft, before suddenly what appeared to be a hook on a chain was flung in, buckling the metal, grabbing London's collar, and yanking him through.

The only accompanying sound after that was gunfire – albeit brief – from that floor, also accompanied moments later by a particularly tubby man in a gas mask being slammed through the doors himself, before falling down the shaft to his presumed death.

London's hand appeared in the door, giving a thumbs up, and allowing Cave to once again breathe easy.

In said room, Jack fired up his radio, stepping over a scrawny corpse with a homemade grenade launcher. "Chaz, you there?" he asked, beginning to pace. There was a pause, before...

"Y-Yeah, we're here!" came the response, interspersed with gunfire and metal impacts. "Just dodging a sparrow, why, where are you?"

"Right on Kashuba's doorstep. And for that reason, I need your help with a distraction."

The response took a moment, but did finally come. "Uh, alright, what did you have in mind?"

Jack thought for a second. "...that chopper got spotlights and speakers?"

"Rock-concert grade, for both crowd control and target spotting."

The gunman smiled wickedly.

"Fantastic. Here's my idea."

In the adjacent room...

Kashuba was, despite his previous, serious arrogance, panicking. Badly.

As it stood, he'd sent a number of the hostages out of the room earlier to fill up the floors below, leaving him with the purple haired crybaby, the weird grey haired girl who practically came all over herself when he kicked her in the stomach, two high ranking executives from Lastation's defence contractors, one TV director who'd made some influential stuff in this land of "Gay In This Tree", and his big catch: Mickey Belch.

He'd forced all of them to sit at the table, then cable tied their wrists to their feet, looping them through the arms of the chairs and effectively immobilizing them all.

All they could do now was watch as their captor, alone, frantically darted from window to window, looking down on the helicopter that was sieging the lower floors, and screeching into his radio for anyone to make their way up.

Nobody, however, had responded.

His hair, formerly relatively well-maintained, was now a dishevelled mop of black greasy locks, furthering any comparisons one could make between Sergei Kashuba and Tommy Wiseau's character in The Room. The deranged look of fury and fear that was carved into the lines of his face was not, however, something you'd see in such bad movies.

The once well-kept suit had been progressively dismantled as the siege wore on, with him ditching his jacket, then his tie, then rolling up his sleeves, and eventually, Kashuba was just down to his vest, revealing a tattoo and shrapnel-coated sleeve on his muscular arms.

After screaming nearly non-stop for fifteen minutes at his soldiers, he finally let out a nearly primal scream and threw the small radio against a nearby window, the plastic device practically rebounding on contact and throwing itself around the room, finally coming to rest on the table before it slid onto an empty seat.

Nepgear winced at the violence, still shaking. Her eyes briefly darted to Kashuba as he leaned his head on the window, breathing heavily.

Mentally, the Candidate made a note to herself that if she were to die amidst all of this, that she would have to go to Mr. Glovebox in the afterlife and apologize for saying he was really scary.

After seeing this deranged guy with a funny voice and a blistering hatred for the CPUs, she'd be more than happy to hang out with Mr. Glovebox and his weird friends.

That in mind, she was also a lot more thankful that she'd managed to keep it under wraps that she was a CPU Candidate. He would have killed her right then and there for it.

Just as she was swallowing to say something about suggesting he surrender, a voice came from her right.

"Y'know, you terrorists are all the same," Mr. Belch began, glaring daggers at Kashuba. The Russian just grinned, and looked up, not even turning his head towards Mickey. "As soon as things go downhill, you crap your pants and start screaming. If I had the authority to do so, you'd be hanging by your tiny balls off the Leanbox basilicom flagpole."

Kashuba slowly nodded. "Mr. Belch," he began, "I am going to be...very frank. Only reason you are still alive? Money. If you did not have money I need, I would have you through window within two second of you opening mouth. Considering plan is currently shit bed, I am also considering doing that, as way of prove point." He paused, mulling over words. "A...'last act of resuscitation'? Is that term used for describe that?"

Nepgear cleared her throat. "...i-it's 'retribution', Mr. Cashbar," she said finally.

The Russian went dead silent. "...you. You, shut fuck up." His head finally rotated, revealing the suddenly very dark expression he was now wearing. "I think I have noticed...trend. Of all hostages, I know big thing about them. I know job, I know family, I know income, I know past big hero deeds they do...but you?"

Kashuba approached the desk slowly, and leaned onto it, staring into the terrified Candidate's purple eyes.

"You...I know nothing about."

Nepgear swallowed hard, shaking as she tried to come up with a lie.

"...w-w-well...I-I'm j-just really nobody..." she whimpered. "Y-Your friends grabbed me a-and dragged me up here before I could run away."

Kashuba slowly nodded, standing up. "I suppose is possibility you are nobody..." he mused, stroking a deep scar that ran from his bottom lip to his Adam's apple. "You have very brightly color hair. Maybe Chanker was see this and be drawn to it. I cannot blame him for this; Light purple is a very...recognizable colour."

Nepgear let out a sigh of relief, closing her eyes. "Oh, thank goodness, you believe me..."

Kashuba suddenly turned, hands behind his back with a brow raised. "Oh? Believe you? Little girl, I am know you are full of shit. In this land of Gay In This Tree...only people who have plot relevant important job have big color hair. Your hair is very colorful."

Nepgear was now confused as well as terrified. She glanced at Mickey Belch as Kashuba continued pacing, the two giving each other a confused look. Mickey looked at Kashuba with his eyes narrowed. "You son of a bitch, I'm blonde," he snarled. "You dragging me up here means I'm plot relevant, even though you've done nothing to tell me just what you really want me for. Your hair's blacker than a goddamn oil slick, and you sure as Hell are plot relevant. Your argument means diddly-squat."

Kashuba rolled his eyes, beginning to rummage through the weapons case in the corner of the room to begin retrieving his full combat gear. "I have already said, I want your money, asshole," he said miserable. "I have also already said that you mean fucking nothing to me outside of money."

"If that was the case, you'd have forced me to give you the money, then shot me dead on the way out."

"I can shoot you dead now, if you ask nice?" Kashuba replied flatly, one of his 500 Magnums glinting wickedly in the light as he strapped on a ballistic vest with his free hand. "And what, you think I am in big rush? Anything the kingdoms throw at me is go home in box. It happen with soldiers, it happen with news helicopter, it happen with that faggot London. All are dead, I am untouchable, and as soon as I have means of escape for my men, I will punish you all."

Suddenly, Tekken shifted almost excitedly at the word 'punishment', prompting Kashuba to give her a rather disgusted look as she remained blindfolded in her chair, smiling. "This girlie is fucked up," Kashuba muttered, jabbing a finger at her.

Just as he was about to turn and put on the rest of the body armour that remained in the weapons chest, the room was plunged into darkness, with the only lights now coming from outside and below, the roar of the helicopter circling the building becoming more like a sign of impending doom.

Kashuba and the hostages responded quickly, immediately looking around. The Russian just grit his teeth. "This whole floor is on separate circuit," he murmured, "We cannot be of having powercut..." Squinting his eyes, Sergei continued rummaging through the box at a faster rate than before, his hands trembling slightly in anticipation for...something.

The gunfire downstairs had died down. Were his men dead?

Probably.

The helicopter had begun to move downwards, the roar of the rotors disappearing further to become but a dull chopping sound amongst the sirens that were like a now permanent soundtrack to the city.

The hostages were saying nothing.

There was no sound in the room besides Kashuba's heavy breathing and the rustling of things in the box as he tried to gear up.

Something shifted behind the plantpot to his right.

His gaze immediately snapped to it.

Holy shit...had that lady been there the whole time?

He dropped what he was doing and prepared to grab the peach haired girl.

Nepgear's eyes widened. "C-COMPA?!" she squealed. Kashuba looked at her, then grinned.

"Oh, you KNOW this girly, hah?" he spat, practically baring teeth.

Then, a new sound.

"Are you familiar with classic rock music, Sergei?"

The Russian man froze nearly instantly upon hearing the voice, and all of his hostages did, too.

The voice came from the radio that he'd thrown on the chair.

There was no way.

"I'd personally praise it as the genre of some of the best songs ever written," the radio continued. Sergei, trembling slightly, slowly walked towards it. "Bon Jovi, Deff Leppard, Lynyrd Skynryd, AC/DC...man, some top notch music from those lads. I mean, even better is that those scientists gave us a decent wodge of tunes to listen to."

At this point, the room began shaking violently, frightening those few tied to chairs and evidently the nurse behind the plantpot, but Kashuba, nearly catatonic from fear, had just about reached the radio. Shakily, he picked it up.

"Y-Y-You...you are...not meant to be alive..." he stuttered, grasping tightly at the mess of greasy black hair that had slipped over his eyes.

"You didn't answer my question, Sergei," London's voice mocked. "I'm yet to find out if you like classic rock music."

"I have...I have no time to answer this!" Kashuba spat. "YOU ARE MEANT TO BE DEAD, PIECE OF SHIT!"

There was a pause.

"Not a fan, then. Gotcha."

Despite normally not being terribly fond of the man or paying attention to his mannerisms, Nepgear was willing to ignore the fact he was apparently resurrected, and instead cheered herself up with the thought that Mr. Glovebox was probably looking at Mr. Cashbar through the sights of some big laser rifle as he spoke, a big yet sinister grin on his face.

Kashuba grit his teeth, and snapped out of his stupor slightly, still clutching the radio as he marched to the chair at the end of the table to retrieve his insanely modified M4. "No matter," he snarled, pointing it at one of the Lastation executives tied to his right. The woman's eyes practically turned to pinpricks as the rifle's barrel came to bear. "If you are alive, it means I am losing."

"Ah, clever of you to figure it out, you Commie shitbag," London mused. "As of right now, just about all of your men are dead or in police custody. You, my friend, will be leavin' this buildin' in a fuckin' bag."

The Russian narrowed his eyes, staring at the hostage. "If I die, so do these little scum shits." His eyes darted to the two elevators. Between the doors was a large mirror, reflecting the crazed image of him with the rather dark night sky behind him.

Another hesitation. Kashuba had opted to ignore the room shaking, accepting that at this point, it would mean nothing to him whether it was there or not.

"If that's the case, it's my job to save those people. And I've just the soundtrack for it. Charlie?"

The radio suddenly made the noise to signal that someone had keyed into the channel, prompting Kashuba to glance at it briefly. Then, he snapped back to the elevators. London had to be coming from there.

"Hiya, London," came a new voice that not even Nepgear recognised. "Shall we set the mood?"

"Absolutely. Let's hear some Van Halen, eh?"

"Oh, bloody good choice. I'll get it going. Kick his arse, London."

Not even the split second that the noise for 'Charlie' tuning out rang from the small device, Kashuba's eyes and ears were suddenly and violently assaulted. The mirror in front of him suddenly began to glow with the intensity of a dozen suns, with something akin to a truck horn blaring from behind him.

Taken by surprise, Kashuba yelled, raising his arm to shield himself from the glare. At the same time, he dropped the radio, desperately trying to cover his left ear from the noise.

The civilians sat around the table were in equally about as much agony from the light and sound that came from outside, except Tekken, who still had her blindfold on. They were in just about as much of a state of confusion as Sergei, with Nepgear scrunching her eyes and looking up, screaming in terror and bewilderment.

It was only as the ringing subsided that the Planeptune Candidate began to make out...

...music?

Her eyes adjusted quickly, allowing her to survey what was happening: At the window right behind Mr. Cashbar, a large twin-rotored helicopter was facing away from the building, revealing its' large cargo bay that was seemingly filled to the brim with speakers and spotlights. She couldn't really see past, but she swore that she could make out eight different figures in there.

Her eyes caught movement to the left.

The elevator doors were suddenly ripped open on the other side of the room, revealing a solid red light inside from the emergency lighting, which was quickly overwritten by the dazzling white of the searchlights filling the room.

The red light was suddenly cut off by the image of –

"MISS CAVE!" Nepgear cried.

The battered redhead paid her no heed, instead raising what looked like one of Mr. Glovebox's guns and releasing a hail of bullets towards Mr. Cashbar. The man was still shielding his eyes from the glare that came from between the elevator, which meant the attack from the elevator came as a total shock.

The shots from the rifle bounced off Kashuba's machine gun, but cracked into his bulletproof vest, staggering him but giving him a moment to raise his weapon to waist-height.

The hostages immediately ducked and Cave slid along the floor as Kashuba – eyes still practically closed from the improvised stun attack – yanked the trigger and began firing absolutely wildly. Bullets bounced around the room, turning it into a near-bullet hell with a totally random setup.

That was the point where Cave fell short: She recognized patterns in artillery fire and adapted, but random shooting was a no-go zone, even for her.

Even then, it wasn't too much of an issue for part two of the initial strike.

As she went down on the floor onto her requisitioned chestplate, even through the deafening roar of Jump by Van Halen and the blitz of munitions, she could feel the heavyset footsteps of London come tearing up beside her, then she caught a glimpse of his towering silhouette vaulting onto the table, AA-12 raised.

More deafening booms shook the area as he slid at speed across the polished wooden table, knocking off phones, pistols, and paperwork as he went, all whilst holding the trigger on the shotgun to release a flurry of lead towards the Russian.

Once more, he staggered at the shots, but controlled his stumbling just enough that he could bring the M4 to bear on the direction of the attack.

London grit his teeth: No way to avoid it, gonna have to take it!

He let out a yell of anger as the 5.56mm bullets shattered through his armour plate, beginning to hammer against what remained of his bulletproof vest and shin guards. He felt a rib break.

Not a concern. Too unimportant.

What mattered was timing, and he needed to nail it.

As he reached the end of the table, he swept a hand down to push himself off the edge, both feet extending suddenly to deliver the mother of all slide-kicks to Sergei's chest.

The man screamed in surprise, rage, and agony as he was thrown backwards, between the weapons case and the...the Killachine spawner...

He could barely see the markings, but he'd figured out how to use it earlier.

It said to throw it away after flipping the switch – like a grenade.

But if it was close enough to kill him, it was close enough to kill London and that fucking redhead.

As he gathered himself, he rolled to the side, grabbing the football-sized dodecahedron with one hand and tugging it towards himself as he staggered to his feet, rifle still barely clutched in his other hand. A loud thud to his side indicated that London had landed from his attack, and to the top of him was that damned light and noise.

Letting out a scream, Kashuba put the summoner under his left armpit and once more flipped the rifle up to bear on the chopper.

Clik

"FUCKING CUNT GUN!" he screeched, dropping it immediately, and reaching behind him to retrieve one of his .500 revolvers.

He could feel it in the holster, he just needed to shoot at the fucking spotlights-!

A massive hand gripped his right wrist, and another grabbed his left thigh, holding them in an iron grasp. He yelled out, unable to use his left arm for fear of dropping the device, and was lifted up sideways like some kind of log.

Before he could even kick at London, he'd been thrown full-force into one of the windows to his side, seriously cracking it to the point where just about anything could tap it and shatter it.

Unlike the glass, however, a few of his ribs practically shattered on impact with the surface, leaving him on the floor gasping in agony. He crawled over to the glass, placing a hand on it for support, so that he could get up, just so that he could stand-

It gave way nearly instantly, slamming him chest-first onto some small broken glass shards that pierced some of his armour and dug into his chest with an almighty force.

Thankfully for him, they didn't get anything important, and now he could actually see down this side of the building.

There was, as he expected, a massive downwards curve in the glass, which lead to a small balcony area.

A design feature.

A stupid one, but one that was his next move.

Raising his right arm, he planted it on the outside of the building and tugged.

He barely moved. The glass in his chest was still lodged in the building.

Behind him, London's footsteps got louder, and the helicopter suddenly moved away, the searchlights and music fading somewhat.

He had to go.

Kashuba let out a screech of agony, and with the limited movement he had, finally shoved the building, snapping the glass shards from their frame and allowing him to shove himself down the side of the building. He briefly heard the sound of London speeding up to catch him, but was quickly overwritten by the sounds of the rushing wind and his body sliding down the glass.

He blinked to clear his eyes as he descended.

To his right, just about every glass pane was broken from the chopper assault, and a few of the approaching panes below him were cracked.

Would they break as he slid over them?

He hoped not.

What did it matter? He was gonna escape anyway.

Seemingly forgetting the situation, Sergei laughed as he rapidly approached the balcony, aiming for the part that smoothed out and would allow him to halt his descent. "You lead sheep to die and avoid slaughter, Kashuba!" he chortled, "You have INFINITE HEALTH!"

As he slid, he moved the spawner from his left hand and held it in both to briefly appraise it and find the switch.

Barely three seconds passed before something suddenly slammed into it, throwing it from his grip and sending it rolling down ahead of him. He yelled in surprise, spinning around as he slid to try and catch it. When it became apparent that the device was going too fast, he began pushing at the glass like a skiier would with snow, to get his own speed up.

It was headed for an embankment that curved to the opposite direction, and then...straight off the 200th floor.

Kashuba screamed again.

That meant he was now going to go off the 200th floor.

And now, he threw away all hopes of escape.

Behind him, he caught the brief and distant report of a sniper rifle going off.

Someone had made that shot, as he went down the glass at great speed, shooting a small, football sized object out of his hands from about half a mile away.

Whatever, he had a spawner to catch.

The icy winds of the night burned his eyes, but he could only push through as he reached the embankment, merely a second after the spawner, and just like a bobsled racer, he zoomed up again in pursuit on the other side of the slope.

His vest had disintegrated from the friction generated, leaving just a pair of ceramic armour plates that actually boosted his speed somewhat. Sparks flew behind him.

Behind him?

He glanced.

Up at the top of the tower, he barely glimpsed London, that fucking redhead, the pink-haired lady from the plantpot, and the hostages jumping into the back of the Chinook as it returned.

Fuck.

Definitely good that he bailed.

As he turned back around, he saw that the spawner had just flown off the edge, becoming but a glowing blue shape in the night.

He had matched its' speed.

He sent out a quick prayer to whichever God still saw even a shred of light in him, and flew straight from the glass to try catching it in mid-air.

Aboard the Chinook...

London immediately rushed past everyone else, ignoring any of the CPUs' attempts to speak to him, and went to the cockpit, sliding up next to Chaz. "That Russian fuck went flying just now, get after him!" he barked. As Chaz nodded and began setting up the controls to go after him, London returned to the back and jabbed a finger at Nepgear, who had literally just gotten to see her big sister.

"Nepgear, what the Hell was that thing he took?" he asked immediately. The lilac-haired girl immediately went flustered, halting and taking up a slightly cowered stance.

"U-Uh! Th-The dodecahedron?" she whimpered. London snapped his fingers almost impatiently, giving the 'hurry up' gesture as everyone else looked in bewilderment at the sheer lack of awareness he had for anyone else at that time.

"Yeah, yeah, that thing, whatever the fuck it was, what did he take?!" he asked frantically. Nepgear stepped back slightly.

"Uh, I-I think he said it was a 'beast release' or s-something," she stuttered, twiddling her fingers and looking away. "H-He never really said what it'd do."

"Beast release? What?" London said flatly, looking at the CPUs. "What's a Beast Release?"

A rather unimpressed Purple Heart, who'd been looking forward to hugging her sister, spoke up first. "It certainly is great to see you as well, Mr. Loondumb, and yes, thank you for asking, we're OK."

London's eyes took on a very harsh look. "Drop that fuckin' tone and save it for later. What's a Beast Release?"

Black Heart sighed, hands on her hips. "Well, if I was guessing, that would be a monster spawner," she began, practically glaring at him. "Why he wants one is beyond me." James suddenly raised his hand from the corner of the troop bay.

"In perspective as to how much he wants it," began the marksman, "I shot the thing out of his hands and he diverted his course to go off the edge of the fuckin' buildin' to chase after it." He raised his hat brow slightly. "If we'd've been at a better angle, I'd've loved to do some clay dickhead shootin' when he went airborne."

"Well, the point is, he's just signed himself a ticket to Hell," White Heart cut in. "So now Mr. Arrogance over here can explain why he's in too much of a tizzy to even fucking say thanks for saving his sorry ass."

Cave shot her a glare as she sat on one of the chairs to calm down.

"Respectfully, Lady White Heart, it was my ass that had to follow along behind," the older lady said flatly. "I've already saved him from death in there; You just showed up at the end."

As White Heart opened her mouth to spit some vitriol, Green Heart cut in.

"Oh, goodness, Cave!" cried the Goddess, quickly making her way over to her employee. "Y-You actually followed him through all of that? I thought you would have evacuated!"

Cave looked at her boss, without the hint of pride she normally had whenever they spoke. "You told me to look after him. So I did. All things considered, your highness, I think I'm entitled to a vacation."

Green Heart let out a slight chuckle, then, not knowing what else to do, kneeled down and gave the woman a rather one-sided hug.

Meanwhile, Jack stood up to his full height and began pacing. As he passed by the light at the end of the chinook's bay, most eyes on him, it became apparent that he was...good Lord, practically a walking corpse.

Luke swallowed slightly as he looked at him. "Christ, who won, you, or the woodchipper?" he asked, stunned. "You're a right fuckin' mess, mate."

Black Heart was tempted to reach forwards and touch him again, but remembered that most of the blood probably wasn't his. "We...we need to get you to a hospital..." she murmured.

"No, goddammit!" Jack snapped, glaring at her and prompting her to jump slightly. "I've come way too far to just stop now! Even if he dies in that fall, I need to see Kashuba lyin' in a meaty paste before I agree to stop fightin', or my name's not Jack London!"

Josh raised a hand. "Technically, it's not."

Jack jabbed a finger at him. "Fuckin' do one, you absolute gaylord." The blonde just raised a brow, arms folded and slightly annoyed at how calmly he was willing to come out with an insult that seemed to be something that a mix of Phil Mitchell and a prepubescent teenager would say.

Green Heart shook her head at the comment. "Mr. Loondumb, my PERSIAN troops will be here within the next ten minutes," she began, desperate to calm him down, "I know they can handle it, so we can just-"

"No, we bloody can't," Jack sniped, before pointing at Cave. "I made a promise to Miss Cave that we'd both be the ones to take down Kashuba, and I'm not about to let that slide off just because of some minor flesh wounds." Black Heart's jaw dropped at the comment, stunned.

"'Minor fle-?!'" she gasped, before catching herself. "Mr. Loondumb, you look like you've died a thousand times!"

The look of determination that suddenly set in on his face said it all.

"And I'll die a thousand times more until this sack of shit's been buried." Jack turned to the cockpit, ignoring the CPUs' protests. "How far, Chaz?"

The pilot tapped his helmet twice. "He can't have gone too far..."

Just then, his internal earpiece buzzed.

Police chatter? It had been nothing but muttering for the past hour.

As he listened, his eyes went wide.

"Fuck."

Jack looked at him.

"What? What's happened?"

Chaz just swallowed, reached down to the console, and patched his headset channel through to the Chinook's small troop bay intercom for everyone to hear.

Nobody liked what it had to say.

"Get any civilians clear of the area! Extend that exclusion zone!" barked one voice. In the background, there came the very clear sound of gunfire and screaming, mixed with the sound of a digitized screeching and explosions.

"Chief, we can't, there's too many civilians and no time to organize! That thing's going haywire because of the Fuser!"

"Goddesses be damned, we get everyone out of here! NOW!"

"U-Understood! All tactical officers, concentrate fire on the Killachine! Draw its' attention from the crowds! Use everything you've got! Anyone else is to be moving civilians to the original exclusion zone!"

A new voice chimed in, likely one of the aforementioned Officers. Everyone held on tight as Chaz banked the chopper around. "Uh, solid copy, Captain, but there's no fricking way we can be dealing with a Fuser with the gear we've got right no-"

"JUST DO WHAT YOU CAN UNTIL THE CPUS RETURN!" There was a temporary pause. "Goddesses protect us."

Chaz decided to cut the radio there.

However, there was no silence.

Jack, Cave, James, Luke, and Josh were already checking their weapons, standing up into ready stances as soon as they were prepared and grabbing the handrails or whatever they could reach as the Chinook went below building height, sweeping over the top of thousands of screaming people.

As they came closer, they could finally see what their final hurdle.

A hideous, malformed amalgamation of human flesh mixed with gigantic mechanical arms, both wielding a massive melee weapon. It was easily a dozen feet tall, but even from the distance they were at, Jack could definitely see the vile grin of Kashuba stretched across the mutant's face, a dazzling blue light burning from its' eyes and mouth.

The thing was swiping wildly at everything within reach, detonating cars and police vans with single swings as it tore through whatever was in the way. At this point, even the small, black-clad Planeptune tactical police officers were in the process of turning tail to run.

The Chinook was screaming towards the drop zone at a rate of knots, but with just enough time for Chaz to turn around in the cockpit to peer at the twelve occupants that were prepared to fight, the CPUs, Compa, Tekken, Cave, and Nepgear included.

"IF YOU'RE NOT GOING, HOLD THE HANDRAILS!" he yelled as the bay doors opened, sending rushing winds into the bay and blasting everyone's hair around. "I'M GONNA HAVE TO FAST DROP YOU! TUCK AND ROLL! I'LL BE BACK IN TWO WITH AIR SUPPORT!"

Jack, Josh, Luke, and James all nodded, and turned to the winds. The CPUs followed suit, drawing their respective weapons. Nepgear had her saber active, and Compa had withdrawn a large syringe with a remarkably determined face. Tekken just balled her fists, looking slightly confused, as per usual.

Then, without warning, the chopper suddenly tilted upwards, sending them all falling straight out of the back and onto the dirt.

As expected, Compa, Cave, and Tekken were not prepared, immediately hitting the floor hard and rolling into heaps amongst the devastated road, although bizarrely quite harmlessly. The CPUs were quick into levitation, Purple Heart instantly sweeping an arm under Nepgear to carry her to the floor safely.

Josh did his usual; Landing with a roll and drawing his saber to point at the monster in front. Luke barely had time to open his parachute, whilst James just rolled on the ground and drew both of his Uzis.

Jack had managed to nail this "kickass entrance" business, opting to stomp hard on the concrete and shatter a good portion of it beneath his weight and the force of his impact. Physically, his knees were screaming in agony, but he knew that it had looked so goddamn cool that he could totally ignore it.

Around them, the last remnants on the civilian population ran past, leaving them a wide open space to fight in.

Ahead of them, amongst piles of debris, smashed cars, and critically injured police officers, was arguably the most hideous thing that any of them had seen thus far.

It was quite clear that despite it having his face, Kashuba was completely dead, his skin simply stretched over the Killachine's frame like some kind of tarpaulin on a tank. The area above the Killachine's thruster was decorated with the charring, melted and torn flesh where Kashuba's legs no doubt used to be, and the eye sockets and mouth of Sergei were now but a decorative cover for the machine's long, pointed head.

The arms, however, were now gone entirely, replaced with the usual hulking masses of steel that Avenir usually gave their Killachine units.

As it hovered amidst the carnage, slamming its weapons against a SWAT van in the hopes of breaking it, Jack grit his teeth, drew his Mossberg, and fired a single explosive shell towards the machine. The damage it did was minimal; At most, it tore apart a small amount of the human flesh decorating the machine'e arm, but certainly got its' attention.

The Killachine stopped smashing the car, and slowly turned to face the line of twelve people that faced it. It was a bizarre mix, but all seemed determined...to die.

Especially him in the middle, the one switching to a more powerful gun.

As it prepared to issue a statement of intent, the Killachine found its' programming for interaction overwritten.

"Lan...don." it boomed, head twitching. "Lan...don...alive."

Jack narrowed his eyes, racking the charging handle for the minigun.

"Unfortunately for you, yeah, I am."

The machine's head briefly straightened up. "Twelve hostiles detected." Then, it began twitching again. "I...even...score...Lan...don. You...kill...men...mine. Kill...men...your."

Black Heart decided to speak up, looking down the line. "If that's a Killachine, just remember it has no ranged attacks," she explained firmly, "It's an anti-CPU weapon above all else, one we've told Avenir to stop developing. Keep distance."

Purple Heart nodded. "Anyone with close range abilities, wait until it's stunned or until you're certain you have an opening." Her eyes drifted to Compa. "Compa, keep everyone as healthy as possible...especially anyone with a gun."

The nurse nodded. "Righty!"

"Anyone got any STR potions, don't tell me and just stab 'em into me whenever you get a chance," Jack said flatly. "Believe me, I can do some fuckin' damage with those things."

"I'll set up on overwatch," James added. "Luke, anyone here drops, zap them back into the fight, and keep your medbox on the floor." The commando nodded, and raised his L85.

"I'll see if I can get a combo going," Tekken said meekly. "Should...should I aim for the thruster?" Green Heart gave a nod.

"That's an idea. We all need to do as much damage to the thruster as possible, then the arms."

"And then I'll rip off its' goddamn head," Jack snarled, before looking at the machine again as it hovered before them. "This is the last round, Kashuba!"

"Yes...you...die...while...this...have...infinite...health."

Jack offered a cocky grin.

"And I've got infinite bullets. I think one of us is lyin'."

Bravely, he raised the barrels of the minigun to point at the stretched carcass of Kashuba.

"Time to find out who."

That one line seemed to send the machine into battle mode.

The Killachine raised both of its' almighty weapons, before bringing them together to slam the ground in some kind of battle ritual, smashing the ground apart and sending the remains of a few cars flying to the side. The field now fully clear, it swept the weapons behind it and let out a synthesized roar that shook the ground.

The 12 heroes readied their weapons as well: Blades, fists, axes, and guns all took their forward positions. The Killachine took this as signal that it was on: The thruster beneath suddenly lit up with a powerful wash of jet flames, sending it screaming towards the group.

"Here we go, everyone!" Purple Heart cried, before readying for a charge. "Hold it here and don't give it an inch!"

"Get serious, people!" Jack yelled, winding up the minigun and beginning to steadily march forward towards the approaching monster, pulsing the trigger as he went to unleash hails of lead at the beast. "I'M GONNA BITE YOUR FUCKIN' HEAD OFF, YOU BASTARD!"

Compa swallowed hard as everyone else rushed in behind him across the open ground, beginning to fire with their weapons, or circle the creature to try and find an opening.

'Mr. Lunny really is kinda scary,' she thought, breaking into a light jog but staying relatively far from the action. She wasn't really much of a soldier.

Meanwhile, at the front, the soldiers were doing business.

Jack was going at speed, ignoring his legs as they roared in agony from the absolutely terrifying levels of abuse he'd suffered in the past few hours, and keeping a wide movement arc around the Killachine whilst spraying it with a constant flow of minigun rounds. He couldn't see any signs of weak points, since Kashuba's flayed skin covered all of the important parts of the robot, but that just meant he'd have to paintbrush all that skin away.

Surprisingly, quite a difficult task; It had hardened like some disturbing mix of leather and ballistic fiber, absorbing abhorrent amounts of damage without so much as tearing slightly.

Whatever the case was, every time it raised its' hand to go for a swing on either him or any of the others, he had to divert his aim to try and take out the hand or at the very least, knock it away.

The first time this brief stun occurred, Tekken took the opportunity to strike, moving from the back to the front of the battle in a flash and delivering a solid strike to the Killachine's thruster. It barely shifted, and although it was obvious that there was some degree of elevation drop.

It also had the undesired effect of drawing the monster's attention to Tekken, prompting it to emit an even louder digital scream and violently slam its entire body against the floor with no warning, barely giving the grey-haired brawler a second to dodge as the floor detonated under the force of the bodyslam. Emitting a high pitched squealing, Tekken picked herself up and scampered away.

The bodyslam move didn't leave the machine at a disadvantage; Just as fast as it went down, it got back up, tearing itself from the Earth to come back swinging, still ignoring the hailstorm of ammunition coming from Jack, Luke, James, Josh, and Cave, seemingly immune to their weapons. Nevertheless, it was still angry, swiftly darting right to come up in a wide flanking arc against Black Heart.

The Goddess bared teeth and took up a parrying stance as the Killachine screamed towards her like a jet fighter. Just as the beast's crane-sized axe came sweeping around, she made her move.

In the blink of an eye, she'd taken a swing of her own that clashed with the axe head of the monster, creating a huge shower of sparks. Not even a split second had passed before the CPU was straight on it, flying forward with a battle cry into an almighty flurry of blows against the Killachine's open guard.

Try as it might, the machine struggled to regain its' combat stance beneath the barrage of strikes, the onboard CPU desperately trying just to keep up with the sheer speed of Black Heart's assault.

After just a few seconds against Black Heart, the Killachine had been pushed back to the middle of the makeshift arena, once again allowing the team of twelve to encircle it in a ring of firepower. Black Heart rejoined the other CPUs in circling the robot, barely able to hear each other over the buzz of Jack's minigun.

"At least we know it can be knocked around!" she announced, flying to keep pace with White and Green Heart. "I didn't even feel my blade going through! I don't think we can pierce the skin!"

Green Heart narrowed her eyes, her long spear in hand as she flew, looking the monster over to see if there were any cracks in its' bizarrely indestructible flesh.

As she watched, she noticed that London's minigun was doing nothing to the areas of the flesh that seemed to be thicker; The arms, head, and torso, specifically. It didn't seem to bother the man, since he'd just been surprise-jabbed with an STR boost needle by Cave and so was not thinking particularly straight (as usual), instead choosing to keep holding the trigger down.

However, when any of his shots hit the monster, they carried the impact force needed for it to at the very least flinch, even if not from receiving damage but from the knock that came with the bullets. When they hit places like the neck, elbows, and shoulder joints, the machine responded much more aggressively, usually shifting its' attention straight on London and ignoring James and Luke, who were pelting it with 40mm grenades and sniper-fire.

It was responding as if...

...the skin wasn't protecting those parts.

Green Heart's expression went from analyzing, to the smirk of someone who'd just figured out the secret to victory. "The joints!" she cried suddenly, prompting the other three CPUs to look at her. "The skin must be thinner on the Killachine's joints, otherwise it would struggle to move!"

Purple Heart assessed this, then her eyes lit up with the glow of bravery. "Then we'll take its' arms off!" she replied proudly, before peeling away from the group briefly so that she could get to James. "Mr. Hillman!"

The Welshman was barely able to offer a grunt of acknowledgement between him racking the bolt and firing with his Arctic Warfare rifle, the whole sequence taking barely half a second and appearing to offer no penalties to his accuracy.

He did, however, seem to be listening, and that was all she needed.

"Aim for the Killachine's shoulders and elbows! The skin isn't as thick there, and we stand a chance of making it weaker by hitting those points!

At the words "weaker" and "points", James' expression suddenly went incredibly serious, a cocky smirk mixed in.

"Weak points, eh?" he chuckled, before reaching into one of his pockets and loading one of the high explosive rounds he had used on the Cyber-Dragon. "You got it. Try and make it hit Jack."

Purple Heart blinked briefly in confusion, before nodding and once more flying away, the armoured sniper levelling the massive rifle towards the machine and holding position.

As she looked towards Mr. Loondumb, she tried to think exactly how she could make it take a swing at him instead of making quick ground attacks to whoever came close to it. He wasn't exactly just going to go incredibly...close...?

Again, her eyes lit up with an idea, and she diverted again to approach Compa, Tekken, and Cave, who were hanging back slightly. "Ladies, do you have any of the STR boosters that Mr. Loondumb suggested?" Compa tilted her head, then reached into her bag to withdraw a pair of syringes.

"Well...I have two, Nep-Nep, but I don't think it's smart for him to be running in and trying to fight that thing bare-handed," she replied cautiously, rolling the two needles around in her hand with her own giant syringe leaning on the floor next to her. "If anything, using more than one of these is more likely to stop his heart than anything else."

The purple-haired Goddess smiled proudly, gesturing to Luke, who was trying to find an opening to throw a brick of C4 at the Killachine – and failing miserably. "That's why it's beneficial to have Mr. Black with us, because he can restart Mr. Loondumb's heart."

Compa still looked worried, scratching her chin and laughing awkwardly. "That's...not a good mindset to have about the potential for someone else having a heart attack, Nep-Nep." Cave cleared her throat suddenly, as she swapped out the AK's magazine for one of those that she'd scrounged from the corpses in the tower.

"If I may interject, my Lady," she said calmly, checking the chamber and racking the bolt with a flat expression. "Mr. Loondumb mentioned that he'd already used four STR boosters at the same time inside the tower, which acts as a testament to the strength of his heart in accepting foreign chemicals." Compa groaned loudly at this.

"But Mrs. Cave-!"

"It's Miss. I'm not married, yet."

"Ugh, fine!" Compa huffed in a rather out-of-character way. "MISS Cave! That doesn't mean anything! Now that you've said that, I'm much less likely to hand these over, because that means his heart's gonna be even MORE likely to break! It's really not a good idea!"

Just then, Tekken decided to interject. "U-Um...I-I actually use them quite a lot in training," she added timidly, carefully raising a hand. "Sometimes I use about five or six, and I can punch through solid stone, so..." As she noticed the glare coming from Compa – the death stare of a nurse whose patients are threatened – the fighter backed away slight. "Uh! M-Maybe that's just me, though!"

Purple Heart sighed. "Fine, so we can't make him use boosters to get the Killachine to swing at him."

She paused.

"Wait, if you use boosters to punch through concrete, why can't you go and hit that thing?"

Tekken swallowed slightly as the Goddess of a country suddenly began asking her questions.

"...b-because it might hit me...?"

"Oh, that's ridiculous," Purple Heart huffed, glaring at the timid woman, "Look at Mr. Loondumb, he's practically a walking corpse, and you're worried about-"

"Nep-Nep, please stop bullying Tekken!" Compa cried. "Go fight the monster, we'll think of something." The Goddess stared in disbelief at the usually polite nurse's suddenly bold disposition, before sighing and flying off to rejoin the other three Goddesses in the air.

"So, what do you plan to do?" Cave asked, briefly turning to fire a few potshots at the monster's head. "I doubt he'd be willing to just enter the Killachine's weapon range just because you asked." Compa stuffed the STR boosters back into her satchel, before scratching her head.

"Uhm...well, I don't really know. I kinda just wanted Nep-Nep to go bother somebody else for a little while and stop shouting at Tekken." The brawler looked to her nurse friend.

"Th-Thank you, Compa."

"Don't mention it!" beamed the nurse, before looking back towards London, who was in the process of his usual acts of bravado and pelting the monster with minigun bullets whilst standing in plain view of it. "He's...a lot more violent than people let on."

Cave nodded. "I have seen him do things to other human beings that you would not believe."

Compa paled slightly.

A-And I have to live with a murderer...?!

At that thought, her mind sparked.

Then, the gears in Compa's cute little head started churning.

When he moved in, he agreed...to the non-descript text on the contract.

She smiled. "I have an idea!" Compa declared, the other two girls looking at her curiously. Putting her needle down, she raised both hands to her mouth. "MR. LUNNY!" she yelled.

The gigantic man's ears pricked up, and he cast her a quick sideways glance. "Make it fast, Miss Compa!" he called back.

"I'm invoking the roommate contract! Article six of the little text says that in a battle, I get to tell you to do things three times before you don't have to listen!"

London's eyes widened, and he briefly stopped firing, stepping back from a wild swipe from the Killachine. "W-What?!" he responded frantically. "That was in the agreement?!"

"Amongst other things!" Compa chirped. "First command is to make that thing really really mad so that it tries really hard to hit you!"

Jack mulled on this, ditching the minigun in favour of the AA-12. "...well, uh, I can do that, no problem," he replied, racking the bolt. "If I get hurt, you'll help, right?"

"Of course!" Compa beamed. "Now get up there and make it try to beat you to death!"

Jack, despite himself, grinned.

"Fuckin' love to."

On the last syllable, he broke into a charge, hipfiring the AA-12 as he went and immediately drawing the Killachine's attention towards him and away from Josh, who had taken up delivering swipes to the monster's skin-coated back with his saber.

"COME ON THEN, YOU UGLY MUNTER!" bellowed the Englishman, continuing to pump shells towards the beast. "YOU WANTED TO KILL ME, THEN FUCKIN' KILL ME! FUCKIN' COME ON AND FUCKIN' DO IT!"

The Killachine wasted no time in accepting the challenge, rotating to face its' attacker and releasing another synthetic roar, ignoring the devasting bursts of buckshot that pounded against it. As Jack neared, it raised both arms and both axes over its' head for a downwards strike.

And that was all the window James needed.

He squeezed the trigger, sending out the tiny explosive at mach speed with a louder bang than his rifle had been making prior. It screeched forward past Jack's head, before piercing straight through the stretched film of skin that coated the Killachine's left shoulder joint.

The monster hesitated, arms over its' head, and processed that attack.

It didn't take long for it to realize that the bullet had, indeed, gone through, and was now rattling around inside its' frame, trapped by the coating of hardened skin that covered it.

But by the time it figured this out, it was too late.

Once more, James' bullet detonated like a bomb, sending out a huge wash of flame that poured from every open orifice on the Killachine and sending it careening out of control to its right. Even the thruster temporarily gave out, prompting it to scrape along the floor for a few feet before sputtering to reignite itself.

Jack stepped back for the moment, not releasing the trigger and continuing to pump lead at the front of the beast. Either it was dying, or dead, but there wasn't a way to be sure until he'd pulled its' head off.

As the machine struggled to right itself, Josh swept up behind, sensing an opportunity. He'd seen the way that the Killachine's skin stretched out violently when the bomb detonated, meaning just like when you stretch out a balloon, it becomes a lot easier to break, and he was gonna use that to his advantage.

Letting out a battle cry, the blonde jumped forward, rotating in mid-air to bring the sword straight down the back of its' head and all the way down its' spine. It didn't seem to notice the strike, only really identifying that Josh was behind it and giving an almost panicked swipe behind it with a now-empty left hand. Such a swing was easily dodged by Josh, and he immediately dropped back.

Now, as the machine got back into the air, Josh could see just what his swipe had done; The layer of flesh, as the machine moved, slowly began to peel off, Kashuba's grinning and mangled expression that had adorned its' head now sliding off in the most disgusting possible way, leaving behind a thin coating of red gunk.

Obviously, the Killachine wasn't happy.

Deciding against having its' vision obstructed, the beast grabbed the flesh with its' mangled left arm, and ripped it away like an indecent old man whips away his coat in front of schoolgirls in the park, before releasing an ear-piercing shriek unlike any that it had released before.

All twelve fighters winced at the noise, and relented on their attacks briefly, deciding instead to observe and see what it was going to do in stage two of the fight.

The Killachine scanned the arena briefly, identifying the locations of those surrounding it, and identifying their threat levels, prioritized them in a list.

Once again, however, this list was immedistely overwritten by an unidentified entity in its' system.

Eleven of the entries were deleted instantly, as though they had never been scanned in the first placd. The only remaining entry, originally labelled "LARGE MALE; POSSIBLY MID-40S" was now retitled to "FUCKING_SHITPIPE_LICKING_ASSHOLE".

The targeting computer promptly reminded itself of where FUCKING_SHITPIPE_LICKING_ASSHOLE was in comparison to itself, and locked on.

London really did not like the way it ignored the four CPUs, and instead focused on him. Nevertheless, it was now unarmoured, and a lot easier to kill.

"PRIMARY TARGET LOCATED." A brief head twitch, which was now more pronounced since the skin was not obstructing the neck's range of movement. "I'LL...FUCK...ING...END YOU...LAN...DON."

It was at this point, as Jack swapped out the AA-12 for the minigun once again, that it finally clicked exactly why the machine seemed to be switching dialects. "Well, I guess you're just as ugly as Kashuba was inside, too..." he muttered.

"It's why we banned Monspawn technology in Lastation," Black Heart cut in, drifting up beside him. "Not only is it illegal to summon dangerous monsters outside of test locations, but it's also got a very good chance of getting you caught up in the summoning process."

"And I take it that's why he was pasted over this thing?" Jack asked, keeping distance as the Killachine began circling slowly. Black Heart nodded, sword held ready.

"Exactly. It's also why it seems to be holding some of Mr. Cashbar's mannerisms," she added. "Normal Killachine dialect is primarily anti-CPU, which is something I routinely visit Avenir to try and force them to halt the manufacture of. Nevertheless, they have a bizarre obsession with trying to kill CPUs, despite the Lastation government originally contracting them to manufacture anti-personnel weapons." Her eyes drifted to Jack's minigun, then briefly she raised her brows in appreciation. "Oh, they've actually started building those things."

Jack grinned and nodded. "Yep. Now to use this Avenir tech to break more Avenir tech."

Black Heart smiled, turning herself to raise the sword with a look of determination.

"Forward thinking like that is exactly why I took you to Lastation first, Mr. Loondumb."

The man nodded appreciatively, winding up the minigun barrels. "Just on loan, keep in mind," he chuckled, eyes locked on the Killachine. "Got three other lasses to argue with over custody, eh?"

"And not right now," White Heart interjected, sliding up beside him and slapping him on the back, mighty axe resting on her own shoulder. "We got bigger fish to fry, and by 'fry', I mean 'kick the ass of'." As she spoke, Green Heart and Purple Heart also joined the small group, before being followed by Jack's team and the three Makers. In the distance, jet engines could be heard, meaning Chaz had finally managed to get to a returning position.

"So, what's the gameplan?" Luke asked flatly, swapping for a fresh magazine. "I'm out of forties, for now."

"Don't need 'em," Jack said firmly, turning to him. "You just focus on shootin' the joints. James, you're on headshot duty. Josh, you get close, cut any cables you find." The three men nodded, and quickly ran to positions they had decided were advantageous. Jack continued his briefing. "Tekken and Lady White Heart are gonna have to focus on chisellin' off the thing's armour; If White Heart can lodge that axe in, then Tekken can give it a good thump to pry open the metal. Any opening you can make is an advantage."

The Goddess gave a mock salute. "You think it'll help, we got it covered!" She gave a playful thump to Tekken's arm. "Right?" Tekken, resisting the urge to moan at the sudden attack, nodded.

"I'd hit back, but I don't wanna punch my country's God," she noted. "So I'll just do my best!"

Jack didn't stop, turning his gaze to Compa and Cave. "Miss Cave, keep an eye on Miss Compa; She's our only medic, and I really don't want either of you hurt in the crossfire." The two red-tinged ladies glanced at each other, then nodded, but before Compa could ask any questions, Cave had grabbed her jumper sleeve and dragged the nurse away with a yelp.

"Ladies Black Heart, Purple Heart, and Green Heart, I'll need you close to me so that I can cover your approach. When you're close enough, just dodge the one-handed swings and try to get any parts off it that you can."

"So what're you gonna do?" White Heart asked flatly, raising a brow. As Jack shifted the minigun's weight slightly.

"Break a washing machine," he replied, glancing over his shoulder at the girls. "You ladies in?"

They smiled, and nodded, taking up combat stances.

The Killachine had stayed at a rough distance of fifty meters away, constantly maintaining sensor lock on FUCKING_SHITPIPE_LICKING_ASSHOLE. Lying on the ground, too far for it to reach and too heavy for its' mangled left arm, was one of the Killachine's mighty axes, meaning it only had half as much damage output as before. The left arm in question was barely of use, meaning the machine would have to focus on using an already very damaged right arm, which seemed to be barely retaining its' structural integrity to the point where it could swing the axe.

Jack glanced to the right of the monster. Josh had taken up position behind a small pile of smashed cars and building parts, so that was where they'd be directing it to first.

A glance left showed Luke currently in the prone position, crawling towards a door so that he could head inside and get some elevation against the beast.

If he was guessing, London could tell that James was already practically invisible and in a good spot, rifle trained on the Killachine. He was very good with only being shot at by people who had seen him, although he could only really stand about three hits before he was knocked onto his arse.

Since they were all in position, that meant it ultimately fell to him for damage-dealing, and the CPUs for getting at any parts that might be loose enough for removal.

His first target was the right shoulder.

The Killachine made as if to speak, head twitching, but to catch it off guard, London immediately opened fire, letting the stream of shells fly loose towards the machine in a brilliant shower of tracer rounds. Even the CPUs were very briefly surprised by the sudden violence, seemingly scrambling to get behind him as the bullets flew.

On hearing his friend's gunshots, James opened fire too, immediately pinging a round straight off the Killachine's face and causing it to flinch hard. The engines below and on the back of the Killachine screaming into life, the machine suddenly lurched forward with an almighty burst of momentum, practically shrugging off the bullets coming its' way in favour of focusing down the one target it had left.

Jack kept his cool as best he could, gritting his teeth to alleviate the burning in his arms that was coming from the constant vibrations of the minigun as he steadily marched slightly forwards and heavily to the left, leaving a golden trail of shell casings as he went. Behind him, the CPUs used him as a form of riot shield against any attacks, all keeping it serious with a hardy glare aimed at the approaching monster.

Barely a second or two since launching, the Killachine was upon them, moving its right arm across its' body for a sweeping attack from their right.

Green Heart was ready first, so she made the first move; As the axe came near, she swung forward with her spear, expertly deflecting the blow above their heads by a mere foot or two.

The Killachine was taken off guard by the deflection, awkwardly jolting as the computer struggled to process how to effectively respond with no left arm and a wholly open guard.

Green Heart wasted no time in lunging forwards, to the right of London's bulletstorm. "Let's do it!" she cried, repositioning her spear once more, "RAINY RATNAPURA!"

It was a blink-and-you-miss-it moment; The Leanbox CPU was instantly upon the Killachine's open chestplate, slamming her spear into it easily a few dozen times per second. She had no real target; As with most fights, she just dumped stabs into the monster until something significant broke.

In this case, one stab yielded a loud snap as a retaining cable was severed from the chestplate, causing the Killachine's entire left shoulder to violently contract. What little movement it had there was now gone: The non-responsive limb immediately pulled in on itself, compressing the forearm straight up into the bicep and flattening a few significant motors in the joint, leaving just a stump that was leaking fuel through gaps in the mangled steel.

The Killachine was, naturally, less than pleased, ignoring the bullets further and delivering a rather sudden and unrefined smack to the CPU with its' almighty hand, practically swatting Green Heart like you would an insect or particularly annoying Jehovah's Witness.

The Goddess cried out in pain as she went flying across the arena, slamming into a pile of cars with an almighty bang and sending dust flying everywhere.

Now it was Jack's turn to be livid. "TIME TO REGRET THAT, YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH!" he roared, before turning the minigun away from the Killachine's shoulder so that it pointed at its' head. A trail of sparks indicated where exactly his shots were landing, and at the range they were at, said sparks illuminated Jack and the CPUs nearby in a dazzling gold.

The Killachine immediately responded to the sudden, constant force being applied to its' face: It raised up its' right arm to try and deflect the shots, beginning to back away. It had no time to go for another swing, since the onboard damage readouts were listing that its' head unit couldn't take much more damage.

So, naturally, it followed its programming and began to retreat back to the center of the area, bullets still tearing away at the armour on its' right forearm. From another angle, it could feel a slower stream of bullets bouncing off the plates across its' back, but the damage output being done by the unrecognized source was nothing compared to FUCKING_SHITPIPE_LICKING_ASSHOLE.

As it moved away, Jack began a slow pursuit, continuing to march along and shower the machine with lead, yet maintaining distance. He briefly turned his head to look at Compa, who was being slightly restrained by Cave next to some cars, then glanced at Green Heart.

The CPU was not faring well; Even from a single swing, he could see that her eyes were spinning in their sockets, her usual composure in tatters as she sat with a dazed look on her face and her head lolling in a small circle. "COMPA! CHECK ON LADY GREEN HEART!" Jack yelled. "CAVE, KEEP HER COVERED!"

He had no time to check if they heard him; In his brief moment of distraction, his bulletstorm went slightly off course above the monster, and it was all the opportunity that the Killachine needed.

In barely a half second, it pulsed the thruster at its' base, closing the gap between them with astonishing speed. White Heart, Tekken, and Purple Heart easily saw where this was going, dodging backwards, but Jack's attention had come back too late.

The Killachine let out a scream that was a horrifying, synthesized mess of Kashuba yelling and a broken transistor radio, lurching forward with an almighty sweeping motion, swinging its' axe.

Jack's eyes reduced to pinpricks, unable to turn for a dodge or turn to shoot it.

He had time for one phrase, a quote so universally accepted that it would work in this situation or just about any other.

"Oh, for fuck's sa-"

The next few seconds felt like a blur as he was launched out of the fight, landing mere meters away from where Lady Green Heart was struggling with her own concussion.

He felt the absolutely world-shattering impact of a large bakery van that he plowed into the side of, which came with the loud steel impact noise and the sound of shattering bone, then the slightly less painful thump against the floor, where he lay face-down and staring at Green Heart's thigh, unable to move or hear very well.

After a few seconds – which seemed to feel like minutes – someone halted in front of him, facing towards Green Heart. He recognized the fluffy ankle warmers and the bottom of a plaid skirt.

Compa.

As she knelt down to tend to Green Heart, her pouch flopped open, spilling some small potions and a few medical parts everywhere.

Right in front of him were three STR Booster needles.

At this point, Jack felt like he could move again, but did so slowly, the sounds of a raging battle behind him. Shakily, he moved his left hand into a lifting position, then put it on top of the three STR needles, gathering them up carefully so as not to gather Compa's attention.

The nurse cast a quick look to him as she bandaged Green Heart's forehead. "That's it, Mr. Lunny," she assured him, "You can do it!"

Jack grit his teeth as a searing agony began rippling through the front of his body.

That was definitely some broken ribs.

The best painkiller for that was usually swearing, as Lieutenant Garner told him during training. "F-Fuckin'...absolute wanker..." Jack mumbled, struggling to get up. As he closed his eyes and pushed away, Compa dropped a hand on his shoulder, not doing much to halt him as he used the van for support.

"Mr. Lunny, listen, if it hurts that much you need to listen to your heart," she said in a very worried tone, her other hand pouring an anti-stun potion through a funnel into Green Heart's mouth. "Nobody will say anything if you just drop out now and let the Goddesses handle it."

Jack stood, breathing heavily against the van in front of him as he contemplated it.

He actually could.

Nobody could fault him for doing as much as possible. The thing was nearly dead, anyway, and he was sure the CPUs would make mention of the fact he did so much during this whole endeavour.

It was a nice thought.

He sighed, welling up his mouth and spitting out some blood against the van.

He clenched his right fist and tensed his arm.

Still working.

He tensed his left arm.

Bit stiff, but still good to go.

But should he?

He breathed in deeply, then out.

"Alright, Compa," he finally coughed, looking down at her. "I've listened to my heart."

The nurse turned around, beaming as though there wasn't an end-game level boss fighting behind them. "That's good, Mr. Lunny!" Compa smiled, but said smile dropped and turned into an aghast look of fear as she noticed what was in his left hand. "...g-goodness, Mr. Lunny, are you crazy?! Put those down this instant!"

He sighed, and turned away, not looking at the three STR needles in case he pansied out. "An unfinished duty calls, I'm afraid," he declared firmly, before closing his eyes. "Goddesses save the Queen."

Before Compa could stand up and grab his hands, he'd pressed the needles in and pushed the three plungers with his palm.

His heart rate tripled in seconds, as before, and the rage took hold again.

But this time, the existing STR fluids in his system adapted quickly to the new stuff, and his vision nearly instantly blacked out.

The last thing he could remember was going for the Killachine's lamp-post sized axe that lay on the floor and hefting it over his head.

? later...

Surprisingly, Jack slowly awoke to a warm, golden light across his face, and the sound of light speech.

No sounds of gunfire, no explosions, no screaming.

He didn't hear Chaz's planes, nor James' rifle, Luke's L85, or Josh's little submachine gun pecking away.

The Goddesses weren't yelling, nobody was making witty remarks.

He also wasn't at the Arena Gunner again.

So he was alive.

He grimaced in preparation for the worst headache and pain of his life...

...nothing?

He paused, waiting for Ragnarok to unleash on his torso, or legs, or arms, or head.

It never came.

At this point, he was weirded out.

Slowly, he managed to force his eyes open, and glance around the room he was in.

Definitely a hospital, for starters: The wall in front of him, a plain affair made of a smooth but blindingly white material that went wall-to-wall. On his right, there was a large window that again went across the length of the room, but was covered by a purple curtain that only let in thin slivers of light.

His bed was also...interesting. It seemed to be three hospital beds, with two at the top and one horizontally at the bottom to accommodate his massive size. There was also no quilt, revealing that they had stripped him down to just his underwear. In fact, it wasn't even his underwear; It was purple, and he normally wore olive green boxers.

Considering how it fit well in most regards, it must have been tailored specially for him, but considering how the front part was significantly baggier than the rest, the tailor probably got a bit overzealous in guessing the size of his manhood. The underwear seemed fit to accommodate a footlong Subway sandwich, not his rather average equipment.

He swallowed hard, for some reason being very bothered by the fact that even a doctor had seen it.

And it was with that thought that he realized he had suffered no brain damage, especially since his first thought was a rather prudish one.

After looking around, he decided to look at himself.

His body was absolutely coated in scars, albeit not incredibly obvious at first. A rather faded burn mark took up his left shoulder and pectoral muscle, and a massive slash was across his stomach, faded to the point where it might be mistaken for a muscle line. His arms were pocked with smaller shrapnel cuts, and his legs were lightly scorched and scarred, too, likely from the rocket jumping. This didn't even mention three bullet marks on his chest from being shot dead by the Korean soldier's M1 Garand, and the two accompanying defibrillator paddle-sized patches of weird-looking skin that surrounded the bullet wounds.

The thing that confused him was how the scars had healed so well. It can't have been that long since the fight.

Across the room, there was a wardrobe covered in a sliding fog-glass door. He guessed that his equipment was in there.

As he was about to move, he heard a noise, then he paused, and looked to his left.

There, sat in a chair and leaning on the bed with her eyes closed, fast asleep, was Cave.

The woman looked far less battered than she did the last time he was conscious. Her hair had been braided, swinging over her left shoulder as opposed to the dual ponytails she normally had. Obviously she was accommodating the fact that Kashuba had cut off a good amount of her hair, and was likely running a temporary style until it grew back.

Other than that, she looked...well, fine.

He smiled, and briefly ran his hand over her head.

Had she sat here the whole time? A night in hospital's never fun.

It was also then that he noticed what seemed to be a large fold-out table next to her, absolutely brimming with envelopes, flowers, and parcels both big and small. Each one was labelled with some crude attempt at spelling his name, but he got the idea.

They were definitely meant for him.

For the briefest moment, tears pricked his eyes.

So...he'd done it.

Smiling, sighing, and reclining back into the bed, he closed his eyes for a moment.

Then, upon opening them, saw a button.

PRESS FOR ATTENTION

His massive hand reached for it...then halted.

If he did that...he'd get way more attention than he could be bothered with.

But how else could he get people to know he was awake without letting the entire hospital go stand-still because of him being fussed over?

He thought for a moment, scratching his chin.

It was smooth. They must have shaved him.

Bastards.

Whatever the case, it took a moment, before he realized what he needed to do.

Looking over to the table with the presents, he noticed his N-Gear sat on the top. Definitely his: Had too many chips and dents to be anyone else's. Leaning over, he gingerly picked it up, and signed into Nepchat.

Lazily, he pressed "My Story", then turned the camera around to get a selfie, offering a gang sign and taking the photo.

Upon pressing the "Continue" button, he was presented with a text box, and began to type.

whom'st'd've'th're been thinkin this nigga dead

After reading his carefully constructed post, he clicked the "Send" button, smiling to himself, then put the N-Gear back on the table.

Sure enough, within a minute, he heard a good number of footsteps fade into earshot, running down the hall behind the door.

Apparently he actually had followers in a hospital.

Who knew?

Suddenly, the door flew open upwards, and a slurry of nurses scrambled in. Cave jolted awake, nearly losing her balance, but then looked at the door angrily.

The women there were all breathing heavily, wearing rather stereotypical pink nurse's outfits, and staring in disbelief at Jack in the bed.

Cave glared at them, then realized...if they were all...

She didn't even have to see him before her eyes practically let loose the entirety of Six Flags and she found herself launched at London, wrapping him in an incredibly tight hug.

"YOU'RE ALI-I-I-IVE!" she cried, burying her face in his chest. Jack was immediately stunned by this middle-aged woman holding him like a child, but he then reciprocated as best as he could.

"H-Hi, Cave!" he chuckled, barely holding back his own tears that had begun forming when he saw all the things people left as thanks. "I take it we won, eh?" Cave finally pulled away, standing up straight and wiping her tears with a sleeve.

She was wearing a white tank-top and a pair of jeans. Presumably she didn't have many copies of her normal outfit.

It didn't matter, though: Jack only cared that she was wearing a smile.

"Eheh, well, technically speaking," she began, straightening up. "You won. Miss Compa says you took three STR Boosters, and then rushed in. We all saw you behead the Killachine with its' own axe, your swing pushed faster when three of the CPUs and Mr. Hillman hit the back of the axe mid-swing to speed it up." Jack raised a brow as a nurse came up and rather aggressively turned his head and shined a torch into his eye.

"R'lly?" came his muffled response as the same nurse – a rather ecstatic looking woman – squeezed his cheeks and stuck a thermometer into his ear. "Ac'ually 'id a 'eam a't'ck!" The woman let go suddenly, leaving Jack to try and massage his jaw. Cave shifted out the way as another nurse grabbed his arm and put a blood-pressure measuring device around his bicep. "Damn. How long have you been here, Miss Cave?"

The woman cleared her throat. "I've...I've not left since you came here a week and a half ago."

Jack's jaw fell. "...I've been here eleven days?" he asked.

Cave nodded. "Recovery time and surgeries included." Jack mulled on this as another nurse began poking his foot, whilst two more simultaneously tapped his knees with reflex hammers.

"Damn..." he murmured, scratching his chin. "And you stayed here the whole time?"

Cave went redder than her hair. "I...I wasn't willing to leave until I knew you were alive," she said awkwardly. "It was my job to keep you safe and you ended up here...s-sorry." Jack looked her up and down, silently.

"...you know I'm gonna have to tell the CPUs I want you fuckin' commended, right?"

Cave blinked. "S-Sorry?"

"You are arguably the greatest bodyguard who has ever lived," Jack continued. "You followed me into what might as well have been Hell and we fought together and we would've kept fightin' together until we were both lyin' dead. Then you stay here for a week and a half just so that you could confirm I'd wake up." He offered her his best smile...which was, as usual, less than comforting, but with every word he spoke, Cave could feel herself brimming with pride. "I owe you the fuckin' world, Miss Cave."

"...th-thank you..." she whispered, wiping away another tear. Jack smiled at her.

Just then, a nurse tapped his shoulder. "M-M-M-Mr. Glovebox?" she stuttered, clearly quite shaken. "We've finished o-our checks."

"And I'm alive?" he asked sarcastically, still smirking, and prompting a few of the gathered women to giggle at the comment.

"A-Ah, yes, you're...you're alive."

"Perfect, all I needed to know," he sighed. "So what now?"

"You may want to get dressed," Cave interjected. "As nice as it is that you've developed the body of some kind of action hero, you'll be able to walk around more modestly with some clothes. Even then, they're saying that it'd be best for you to not do any serious activities for about a month or so." She gave him a stern look as most of the nurses left the room, chittering excitedly. "I'm going to see to it that you listen to the orders given."

He chuckled slightly, and scratched his head. "Right, right...hey, what about you?" Jack asked. "You got pretty bashed about."

"Well, I'd assume you've noticed the hairstyle change."

"I have, and it looks very nice."

"Oh...thank you. Anyway, that aside, they've given me about the same orders, even if they gave me those same orders week before the incident. I sort of pushed my body too far."

"You think I didn't?" Jack smirked, folding his arms after briefly gesturing to his battle-damaged flesh. "Besides, if we're both in the same boat in terms of what we can and can't do, we can keep each other company, eh?"

Cave smiled at the comment, nodding as she sat back down on the edge of the bed, ignoring the fact that there was still one Nurse in the room who was taking a thermometer reading of Jack's right armpit.

For a few moments, neither of the two combatants said anything, choosing just to enjoy the moment.

Finally, Cave cleared her throat, and gestured to the table with the letters on it. "I, um, assume that you saw all of these?" she asked, getting up. Jack nodded.

"Aye, caught my attention, I must say," he mused, scratching his chin. "What're all those for?" Cave shot him a deadpan look.

"You think someone practically halting a terrorist attack on their own is incredibly common around here?" she asked. "People have been incredibly grateful. This hospital had to close to non-visitors a few days after they admitted you here, because there was such a high volume of...shall we say, 'zealots' trying to get in." Jack mulled on this.

Well, at least now he knew he definitely had fans.

Oh, now he could ask.

"So where'd my pants come from?" he added. "Someone take the measurements whilst I was out?"

Cave nodded. "A tailor came through by Lady Noire's request to get your measurements. They practically made the underwear on the spot, sent the details of your measurements to Lady Noire for Lastation's tailors, then sold the measurements to a number of other companies." Cave smirked. "At the very least, you won't be struggling for clothes anymore."

Jack thought about this further.

"So who stripped off my clothes?"

Cave went red again, but didn't look very embarassed; More frustrated, than anything. "We had to hold a lottery for that...duty," she groaned. "The honours went to Miss Compa."

Jack went slightly pale.

Great: Now his roommate had seen him nude.

"She maintained professionalism about it, I must say," Cave continued, thumbing at her chin as Jack began slowly going red. "Despite being bombarded with questions and bribes to get photos, she offered them no heed. Besides, she said that she wasn't really in a position to judge over anything she would see, because you'd saved a lot of lives, although she did seem to be smirki-"

"OK, Cave, I think I get it."