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.

41. Back In The Saddle

After being issued a set of clothes that had apparently been 'priority-tailored' in Lastation and then sent to the Planeptune General hospital by courier, Jack assessed himself in the mirror that hung on one side of the hospital room.

The manky, shredded green M65 jacket that he'd been wearing for nearly half a year was no more, after being nearly completely obliterated with gunfire during the tower ascent. All that remained were a few shreds of fabric, which Jack had already stored in his bag for later use, and as almost a memento of what remained of his old gear.

As opposed to trying to replicate the old jacket perfectly, whoever commissioned the outfit had traded the standard issue olive green coat for a rather more 'defended' version, the forearms, spine, and shoulders all protected with what appeared – and felt – like cropped down steel plates from requisitioned body armour, sewn into the fabric.

There were a few more pockets, and now a nametag on the left breast that read "LONDON" – to his pleasure, actually spelled correctly. Across the back of the coat in a massive embroidery job was a silhouette of the Cyber-Dragon's head that stretched across his upper back, the shape in black and the eyes in a glimmering gold thread. Beneath, there was a solid black set of text that prompted a smile from Jack as he looked upon it.

GODDESSES SAVE THE QUEEN

He had a strange feeling that somewhere along the lines, someone he knew must have had some input as to what that said.

Thinking about it, Jack considered that it looked almost like some kind of military-biker jacket hybrid, with the tactical parts and the flashy embroidery.

The new trousers had similar treatment; A pair of jeans, again, but they appeared to have more pockets on them, along with some smaller loops of fabric to hold lanyards and potentially his fledgling knife collection.

It was clear that his original bulletproof vest was beyond saving, the kung fu cop's chestplate had been destroyed, and that more than likely, his shin and armguards suffered the same fate. Rather a shame: They were good protective gear. Hell, the armguards were solid enough that they could parry Black and Purple Heart's swords, if he timed it right.

His old bandoliers had been replaced, too: Instead of the brown leather ones he'd arrived with, the new versions were instead made of a more solid black material of unknown origin, yet remained totally flexible, and feel-wise, they felt exactly the same as his old ones.

Genuinely, he was amazed.

Whoever it was that made his new clothes was definitely approached by someone close to him: The heavy black steel toe boots fit perfectly, and the black shirt was made of a sweat-absorbing fabric, things that he had often complained about with his old clothing. The new pockets and pouches and straps were in nearly perfect positions for him to strap things like his knife, a large weapon across his back, a new water bottle – Hell, there was even a good spot for a sling for the minigun...

He was honestly stunned that it was such a professional job. Back on Earth, you'd be paying through the arse for a professionally-made custom armoured jacket like the one someone had just given to him, and the amount of effort it must have taken, and the fact it was done within less than a week...

Did he save some kind of legendary armour manufacturer, or something?

"The person who made it never showed themselves," Cave explained, smiling as London did a few test poses in the mirror with the outfit on. "I fell asleep, then when I woke up, this was all folded up in a box in the wardrobe over there." The woman smirked. "You seem to have a rather skilled fan in Lastation, Mr. Loondumb." Jack grinned, flexing.

"Ya think?" he chuckled, before patting the coat a few times. "This is bloody incredible. I feel a lot more protected."

"Well, the jacket should stay nice, for a while," Cave mused. "After all, I'm certain you've read the doctor's orders for your post-treatment?" Jack rolled his eyes, scratching his head.

"Aye, I read them," he sighed. "I mean, three months with no serious combat? Is that being cautious?" Cave chuckled, leaning on the doorframe as Jack pondered it. "And what's 'serious' combat by comparison to 'not serious' combat? Like walkin' up to a monster and sayin' 'Haha, I'm takin' the piss' whilst shootin' it?"

Cave smiled at the suggestion. "I'd imagine she means 'Don't go playing one-man army against a well-trained terrorist cell'," replied the redhead. "At the very least, you're well enough for some basic monster-hunting and fights, should you feel like it, but she did also say not to overdo it." Jack smirked, sitting on the edge of his hospital bed(s).

"Ah, no issue for me," he laughed. "Got you here to rein me in, ain't I?"

"Well, we have no idea what your limits are. In your absence, you dropped down a few levels from where you were after the tower." Jack chewed his lip for a second.

"What level was I then?"

"You don't remember?"

"I've never known my level unless someone's told me. I can't see 'em."

Cave nodded understandingly. "Ahh...well, if you're curious, you were level...I think two-hundred and fifteen, after killing Mr. Cashbar, the Killachine, and his men," she explained, beginning to slowly pace through the room. "As of right now, you've dropped to level two-hundred and eight." Jack raised his brows.

"Seven levels? Fuck me..." he mumbled. "Does that only happen with inactivity?" Cave nodded, slipping her hands into her pockets as she moved to lean on the edge of the window frame that overlooked a good portion of one of Planeptune city's major thoroughfares.

"Citizens in very long term comas can sometimes wake up a hundred levels below where they used to be, but that's only over the course of, say, a few months." The woman smirked. "Thankfully, the big, brave berserker only slept for a week and a half." Jack found himself chuckling at the comment; Whether it was the word 'brave' or 'berserker' that he found amusing, he wasn't sure.

But, at the very least, he wasn't gonna need to stick 'Back To Rise' onto an MP3 player whilst he pounded the fuck out a gym somewhere.

"So," he began, standing up, "What now?"

Cave scratched her cheek briefly. Jack noticed what appeared to be a relatively hidden scar there; One which her make-up clearly couldn't hide, and ran from her left temple to her jawline. Deep enough to be relatively fresh, too.

Eh.

"As it stands, you have absolutely zero obligations to do anything," she noted. "The CPUs have said they will be waiting in Planeptune both for your recovery, and because they've finally finished their peace talks and are beginning preparations for the celebratory event." Jack smiled.

"Lovely, so they finally got somethin' cobbled up, eh?" As he stood, his knees cracked loudly, and he gave them a quick look. "Damn, might need to do a bit of exercise, later..."

"That's something the doctors also suggested," Cave added, before gesturing to the hospital room's door. The presents and letters Jack had received were stored on a disc that she had bought, so at the very least he didn't have to carry several hundred cards and countless hats that didn't fit his head. "I was told that, as your advisor, I should tell you to get a good amount of basic exercise per day for at least two weeks, at least until your body repairs itself fully."

He smirked at the comment, walking into the corridor like nothing had happened. Around, a few passing nurses and patients let out gasps of excitement as he walked past, offering ecstatic waving and cries of approval. Jack offered mock salutes in return.

"Well, you've got me out here, so where're we headed now?" he asked flatly, turning to Cave. The redhead adjusted her new hairstyle, walking beside him.

"I was thinking that the basilicom might be appropriate," she suggested. "After all, despite your...how you say, 'big meaty shitpost' that you made upon waking up, I don't think they're aware of your current state."

"Cool, so I can surprise the shit outta them."

As they walked towards the elevator down, past dozens of stunned people, Jack leaned on the back of the lift, folding his arms and smiling.

"We ain't gotta check out or anythin', have we?" he asked.

Cave pressed the 'G' on the floors list. "I've already done it, and they considered me an 'advisor' for your health," she replied calmly, before taking up a more refined stance in the elevator as the doors shut. "I'd argue that right now, I know more about your mentality, opinions, personality, and now physicality than any other person in Gamindustri." Jack briefly rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, well, you said earlier that apparently Compa's seen under my boxers, so obviously not..." he muttered. Cave glanced over at him, and noticed that he'd paled slightly.

Good Goddess, even just saying that someone had seen his wholly naked body made him frightened.

As the elevator descended, Cave's mind drifted to the two discs she had been given by the doctors.

On the first, there was a full record of his actions during the tower, stored in a disc labelled "JL-PTN-REC-MEM", meaning "Jack London – Planeptune – Recent Memory". Simple stuff; They basically run a scan of someone's brain to find recent memories. Oftentimes, these discs end up being sold by people after events, as studies or mementoes. In Jack's case, she figured he could sell it for a whole Hell of a lot...after some cropping and editing. Some enterprising film director might make something from it.

The second disc was the one she lingered on the most, however. It was labelled "JL-PTN-LT-MEM-BR-CON".

Alternatively speaking? "Jack London – Planeptune – Long-Term – Memory – Brain Content".

Effectively, this was a much more involved process, taking place over several days. The brain is effectively deep-scanned for information, ranging from opinions, to further memories, to thoughts on different matters, and even likes and dislikes. These discs were hard-coded and encrypted to absolute Hell; You couldn't sell them. The only places where you can use them are on computers which contain the unique decryption software that hospitals use, or by taking them to a government or police official.

After all, the only people who needed to know those kind of things were the police and government. They often used the process on comatose or sometimes even deceased patients, in order to gain information. It did not, however, work on people who actively resisted, hence why no matter how many of Kashuba's men they interrogated, or how many of their corpses they recovered, nobody had any idea where they were hiding out because the men would always spit at them, and the corpses were all mangled beyond repair.

Cave grimaced slightly at the thought. They had no idea where these men had come from. Even the red-clad soldier, Mr. Doe, had respectfully refused to divulge that information, either through wanting to keep their operation running, or because he knew it would be far too dangerous for any government to try acting on it.

Her eyes once again drifted to Jack, who was testing the stitching on his new coat.

'Then again,' she thought, 'When Loondumb's well enough, he'll probably go looking, find the base, and kill them all, government orders or not...'

She thought about the Long-Term Memory disc that she had been given, for Jack.

'He's always been quite secretive. I think he's hiding something, and it's hurting him.'

She mulled on the thought of giving the disc to Miss Histoire. She'd seemed interested in London's mental health, so perhaps a perfect tap into most of his past would be something she'd like to see?

Perhaps she might want to assess it and then try and speak with him about it?

Cave decided it would be best to only give Jack one of the discs.

A remarkably long walk to the basilicom later...

Jack ditched his pen into a nearby bin, the fifth one to be spent in the twenty minute walk between the Planeptune General Hospital and the entrance to the colossal basilicom tower.

From the moment they had stepped out of the hospital into the sun, Cave and Jack were absolutely swamped by people. Either they had been waiting there outside for a week and a half – the presence of tents and placards and improvised food stalls pointing to an extended stay – or they had simply seen last week's big heroes walking down the street and opted to run over for an autograph on whatever they had to hand.

Whilst Cave was less than enthusiastic with the attention, she was somewhat relieved by the fact that not many people recognized her with the new haircut and clothes that she sported. Those who did seemed to ignore her.

Jack, meanwhile, was loving it. He'd posed for more selfies than he ever had in his life, and his phone was buzzing in his pocket as people madly tagged him in their Nepchat stories. A few people had asked him to be recorded calling their friends 'wankers', and other people – presumably adventurers who would have been on the floor he'd been on when it all kicked off - just whipped out their guns and knives and swords and asked him to sign them.

Apparently, halting terrorism was a big deal, in Gamindustri.

In a brief moment of (relative) peace as the crowd dispersed slightly, Jack began to make his way up a set of stairs that would come up adjacent to the level on which the basilicom's hexagon station would be. Practically as soon as his head became visible to the people walking near the basilicom path, he was quickly swarmed again.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Jack kept his smile and waved slightly as dozens of people rushed over or whipped out cameras. Cave had to resist the urge to step in front of him so that she could disperse the crowd.

She literally just wanted to go to the basilicom.

As they began down the massive pathway, the expanse of the basilicom once again came into its' own. It would never cease to amaze Jack how Earth's architecture absolutely paled in comparison to just about any building in Gamindustri.

Regardless of the outside view, the basilicom staff were actually – for the first time since he had ever seen Planeptune's basilicom team – helpful. Within moments of seeing the crowd gathering outside, a number of purple-clad people in bizarre-looking vicar's robes immediately muscled through with incredible prominence, forming a circle around Jack.

He grimaced at their rather hasty judgement, and took Cave's bicep, pulling her inside the circle they had formed that originally excluded her.

"God, Cave," he began flatly, squinting under the now 360° wall of camera flashes as the basilicom staff guided them through the door, "That new haircut apparently really does make you unrecognisable." The usually mature woman pouted slightly.

"I thought it was cute..." she muttered, folding her arms huffily, before going ever-so-slightly red at her accidental admission that she liked cute haircuts. Thankfully, Jack didn't hear it, instead offering a few offhand waves as the basilicom staff guided the pair of terrorist hunters through the doors.

Even as the purple wall of people formed at the door to block entrance by the masses, the people waiting inside the lobby were immediately able to spot the six foot tall man amongst them. As opposed to reacting as the crowds did outside, the mobbed lobby almost immediately parted to allow Jack to begin walking through, many of the people excitedly murmuring as he passed with Cave at his side.

His full grin had died down, now, into just that of a 'hero smirk' that most people would have as they walked through somewhere they held fame, and it failed to drop even slightly as he clomped over to a waiting elevator. Giving a thumbs up to the awed receptionist as he went past, he briefly hesitated and leaned in.

"Is Lady Neptune in?" he asked calmly. The lady behind the desk, smiling like a fangirl, eagerly nodded.

"Y-Yes. Absolutely. She is. Sh-Shall I let her kno-?"

"Nah, don't spoil the surprise," Jack chuckled, before standing back up to his full height and approaching the lift. As he and Cave got onto it, Jack gave a quick and flamboyant 180° heel spin and gave another thumbs up to the receptionist. Shakily, the young woman pressed the button to send the elevator up.

From the elevator platform that raised above the massive lobby, Jack and Cave were faced by a sea of purple, bathed in the sunlight coming from the huge glass walls that made up the basilicom's main structure. Punctuating the violet were hundreds of smiling faces, watching as two of Planeptune's gunslinging heroes made their way up to speak to the Goddesses.

Offering a single mock salute as the lift began its' route upwards, a spattering of applause and cheering began around the entire lobby, hundreds of people showing their approval through noise. Jack smiled, and nudged Cave as the lift began its' ascent. The woman leaned in slightly to listen to the taller man, who in turn leaned down slightly, neither of them taking their eyes off the enraptured crowd below.

"MissCave..." he said quietly. "...I think I've just realized what I've been fightin' to get." She raised a brow at the comment.

"Adoring fans?" she asked. He shook his head briefly.

"Not that. See, in my family's history, even up to my siblin's, they've all done summat to make their face known," he explained, turning as the lift entered a metal shaft so that he could look out to the passing city. Cave followed suit. "My Mum ran a business that fit kitchens, my Dad won a national darts championship, my brother was runnin' four small businesses at my age..."

Jack paused.

Best not to mention my sister.

"...meanwhile, I was doin' nothin'."

Cave folded her arms, shifting her neck slightly to loose the braids that covered her shoulder.

She did so love listening to his bizarre outpourings of character exposition.

"I was just 'the youngest son' of the family, y'know? Not really...there. I didn't do fuck all that made anybody recognise me in the street, barely had many mates...well, that all changed when I came here, eh?"

Cave smirked. "I'd imagine you would be rather envied for having the friends you have now, seeing as how just about everyone you're friends with here is a woman or an immortal being."

Jack chuckled slightly, rolling his shoulders briefly. "Well, I'm no Casanova, but sure, that'd be summat for people to chat about. But now, after all that at the tower..." He hesitated again. "...now I have a name for myself."

Cave nodded appreciatively at the comment. "So you wanted fame?" she asked. "You certainly have that, now."

"Not just 'fame', Miss Cave. I wanted respect." He sniffed slightly, trying to think of something he could reference that she could understand. "Mickey Belch, right? He's famous, ain't he?"

Cave tapped her chin briefly. "Well...'famous' is a strong word. Rather a mixed bag of opinions. I think about fifty percent of Leanbox would vote him in, and the other fifty percent would have him shot."

"That's what I mean, Miss Cave," Jack responded. "I don't want a fifty-fifty split of people wantin' me alive or dead. 'Fame' just means your name's known. What we did at the tower wasn't just gettin' us fame, it was gettin' us-"

"-respect..." Cave finished for him, before smiling slightly. "Put it like that, and our combined kill-count of two-hundred-and-eighty-three seems to be a worthy sacrifice." Jack waved a dismissive hand as the elevator began to slow down, and he turned to face the door.

"Eh. Most of 'em hardly counted as human fuckin' beings, anyway."

Cave opened her mouth to speak again, but was cut short by Jack releasing a 'Now. Shh.' and placing a finger on his lips. As the doors quietly slid open with a mechanical hiss, the sound of voices could be made out in the main living area of Lady Neptune's residence, leading Jack to come to the conclusion that he would probably be best off walking that way.

Being sure to keep it as quiet as possible, he advanced down the short corridor that lead into the living room, then stopped to peek around the doorframe. Inside the living room, he could see the CPUs and Miss Histoire next to each other, the living room's central space cleared up and the large table in front of them adorned with countless papers and a big map of what appeared to be the massive courtyard outside of the basilicom.

It was the same one that Jack realized he had never even bothered to look at, investigate, or ask the purpose of. Maybe all big government places just needed a fucking gigantic courtyard for some reason?

Whatever the case was, the ladies seemed to be discussing placements for seating, bands, and apparently some kind of flypast. If Jack had to guess, they were sorting out the finishing touches to celebrate the treaty's formation.

Silently, Jack turned to Cave and gestured for her to wait, to which the woman nodded and backed away from the doorframe. In the relative silence, he turned back, and swept into a low walk, beginning to approach the ladies from behind as they remained engrossed in the planning process.

Since Cave was on his side, there was no chance of his stealth run being ruined by a chokehold like it was in Leanbox, so he just made sure to slink up between Vert and Noire as quietly as he could, being careful not to get into their sightlines.

The girls were speaking to each other with a good amount of civility, gesturing to the paper with uniquely coloured pens. Vert had her hand extended outwards as the other goddesses watched. Jack leaned in with feigned interest; The face and pose you'd make when exaggerating how much you cared about something you were looking at in a shop that you just discovered, where you noticed that most of the contents are things you can't afford, and the shop assistant is looking your way so you're trying to sneak out and save the embarassment.

"See, Miss Histoire," Vert began, drawing a line from outside the courtyard. "If you could get the airspace permissions, I can have the Green Aces perform their signature Leanboom upon the signing." The small fairy nodded.

Jack was amazed none of them had noticed him standing right in the middle of their group.

"It would not be too much trouble to gain the air forces' approval," Histoire nodded. "What route were you considering?" Vert reached forward, her ample bosom hanging heavy over the table as she stretched over several sheets of paper. Her pen connected with a far off region of the courtyard map.

"Well – what I had considered would be to have them fly straight overhead in four different coloured aircraft," she explained, drawing four lines towards the center of the courtyard. "As soon as the signal is given, they all split apart with nation-coloured smoke streams." Noire seemed to muse on this.

"Splitting apart might send the wrong message," she noted, thumbing at her delicate chin. "The celebration shows unity, not division." Blanc leaned forward.

"Perhaps have the pilots fly straight up the side of the Planeptune tower?" she suggested. "I can certainly loan some of Lowee's SUNWOLF pilots, if you need them."

"Perhaps one ace pilot from each nation?" Histoire added. "What better way to show unity than have four former rival air forces working in a squadron?" Neptune just leaned on the table, hand on her chin.

"Ahhh, Histy?" she asked flatly. "Not trying to be self-deprecating, but our air force kinda sucks. We don't have any ace pilots." Histoire was about to get annoyed, but then realised something unfortunate.

Neptune was right: Planeptune's air force was primarily just a bombing force. No aerial moves or dodges trained. Even hobbyist pilots never bothered with tricks, and those who did were never going to be able to learn how to pilot a jet in the time between right then and the celebration.

The tiny fairy sighed, and scratched her head. "Neptune...has a point..." she muttered, seemingly pained just to say that phrase, before looking at the other Goddesses. "We may need to borrow one of your pilots, if one of you is willing to lend us such a favour."

Jack decided now might be the right time.

"I can put a word in with Chaz, if you want me to," he cut in, smugly raising a hand. Histoire, unperturbed, smiled a beaming smile and nodded. He could feel Noire staring in disbelief at him immediately, and Vert had started doing her double take at his sudden presence.

Roughly midway through her reply, Histoire seemed to notice what she'd missed. "That would be much appababababababababababa-MR. LOONDUMB?!" squealed the tiny woman. Jack broke into his laugh as he was immediately set upon by Vert and Noire from both sides, the two CPUs immediately leaping forward to double-team him with a hug whilst loudly squealing in excitement and happiness.

"MR. LOANDOOM!" Noire cheered, knocking him back with remarkable strength and raising herself off the floor in a jump, skirt swishing in the air as she lifted her knees to wrap around his leg. Jack, smiling, was then immediately bumped from behind as Vert latched onto him, knocking him forward.

Did she not hurt herself on the metal plates in his jacket? He'd have to check if she had a concussion, later.

Jack would have loved to say he knew what they were both saying as they started loudly and excitedly talking to him, Neptune eventually just sort of stepping up to wave and Blanc offering barely any reaction to the former walking corpse she was confronted with down the table.

Histoire was catching her breath as Jack leaned down to scratch Noire's head and ruffle Vert's hair slightly. The Leanbox CPU's hair had a rather pleasant fragrance of vanilla that he could smell from where his nose was by comparison to her.

God, he loved that smell. Would it be weird to ask if he could smell her hair again sometime?

However, Noire's hair, pushed up against his chin as she tried to break his ribs in a hug, seemed to smell of...liquorice?

Ew. That wasn't particularly a lovely smell, unless you're about seventy and living in a care home.

Nevertheless, the gaggle of excitement did bring a smile to his face.

At the very least, he knew they did appreciate his presence.

As ever, he wasn't sure what to do with the sudden physical affection, and so the headpatting continued. It kept on for about half a minute, until...

"Sis?" called out a familiar voice. "What's going on?"

Jack froze. An even bigger smile hit his face right away, and he practically wrenched Noire from his chest with an unbelievable suddenness. "Yo, Lady Noire, outta my way, this is super fuckin' important," he declared firmly, walking past her as she leaned on the table, looking rather annoyed.

"H-Hey!" snapped the CPU. "You have any idea how rude that is?!"

As he looked across the room, from around the corner came a pair of gloved hands and a set of black half-tails in black and blue ribbons, the adorable and immediately recognisable face matching it looking very confused. "I heard screaming, is everything going alright?" Uni asked, brow raised. "The wind didn't lift your skirt again, did it?"

Her vision caught the sight of her sister across the room, leaning on the table looking a little bit annoyed, Miss Histoire struggling with a normal-sized phone – presumably trying to hold it steady for recording something – whilst Blanc and Neptune stared at something to her left.

Where was Vert?

Uni raised a brow and looked to her left slightly, near the windows of the basilicom, where a massive figure was silhouetted somewhat by the dazzling sun whilst something – probably Vert – held onto the back of it.

Uni knew exactly who it was, even before her eyes adjusted, and now she could barely see through them as she immediately rushed the man.

"MR. LOONDUMB!" she squealed, covering the length of the room within about two seconds. Jack sped up slightly as well, crouching slightly to receive her hug.

At this point, Vert failed to hold on much longer, releasing a muffled "Bwah?!" as she lost grip on his back and went face-first onto the carpeted floor of the living room.

Jack, meanwhile, was not as prepared as he'd liked to have been: Uni threw herself at him with the force of a rugby tackle, taking the man off guard and knocking him straight onto his arse. The CPU Candidate, of course, followed him down, clutching him tighter than she'd ever hugged him before and crying harder than she had in months.

"MR. LOONDUMB! MR. LOONDUMB! MR. LOONDUMB!" Uni repeated, nuzzling her head into his chest. Jack, still smiling but now also crying himself, put one arm over her back and wrapped the other around her head to pull the young girl much closer to him.

"Jesus Christ, Uni, I've missed you so fuckin' much, I don't think I've got the words right now!" he gasped, stroking through her hair. The two of them, lying on the floor of the basilicom, hugging and crying and shouting at each other despite having no distance between them, couldn't have cared less about Noire standing over them, the other CPUs staring in a mix of happiness and slight awkwardness at the situation, or Histoire pulling a pained expression as she tried to hold the phone steady for the recording.

Noire, hands on her hips, was already shouting. "Really?! REALLY, Mr. Loondumb?! You give me some half-assed headrub and my sister gets cuddled on the floor?!" she yelled, glaring at him as she lectured, "I helped you shoot down that Killachine and fight that giant dragon, but NOOOOO, you need to give UNI the biggest hug!"

Neptune slithered up beside her in the chaos. "Ohhh, is someone a little bit jealous?" smirked the lilac-haired little girl, prompting Noire to avert her practically lethal glare onto her Planeptune counterpart.

"Neptune, I'd be happy to nullify all of these peace talks if you don't shut your damn mouth!" snapped Lastation's usually level-headed Goddess. "He's my citizen, and that means he's supposed to be happiest to see me!"

Histoire sighed, realizing that she couldn't really use the footage for UniTube money, because of the fact most of it was drowned out with Noire screaming obscenities at Neptune and getting angry with Jack.

Maybe if she muted it somehow, she could...?

No, Goddess-damn it, it was ruined.

TinyBookFairy would have to find another viral hit.

As Vert trudged over to the tissue box to wipe up her slightly bleeding nose and Blanc began silently looking over the celebration plans again, the carnage of Neptune and Noire going on and Cave nowhere to be seen, none of it mattered to the two people celebrating on the floor.

All that mattered to Jack and Uni was that, after nearly a month of worrying, they were finally – tremendously – back together, and – oh! – Jack had some great stories to tell his favourite girl.

An hour later...

By the time the CPUs had finished their planning, and Jack had finished excitedly talking to Uni whilst sat on the balcony about all the adventures he'd been on since their parting, the sun was already setting. It gave Planeptune's basilicom that absolutely gorgeous orange glow that London loved to see, leaning on the edge of the platform and letting the gentle breeze hit his face.

No matter the nation, the basilicom balcony would always have some of the most stunning views that you could ever imagine, and Planeptune was certainly no exception. Practically as far as his eyes could see, there was a forest of glass, steel, and blue glowing platforms, the nightlife of the city just beginning to step up down below.

To the left of the basilicom, easily visible, was the Planeptune Market Tower, which he hadn't looked at since the incident.

It was an absolute fucking husk.

Down near the base, a devastingly thick gash worked all the way around the steel and glass tower, where the Cyber-Dragon had made its' business of punching through it to try and kill as many soldiers as it could. Just about every window above the 50th floor was shattered, leaving behind nothing but a black void. The higher up the tower you looked, the more damage there was.

It made sense: Jack could remember a lot more bullets hitting him as he got higher in the tower, and the guys up there really liked their automatic weapons.

Of course, one of the higher floors and a few surrounding it were marked with a thick black scar from where Chaz had strafed it with an A-10 Warthog's Vulcan, and it looked like a few other floors had burned out at some point.

From what he could see of the surrounding streets, there were absolutely fields of cars, presumably stuck in place because other owners hadn't retrieved theirs to clear up the gridlock some. As they got closer to the building, however, they became progressively more chaotic, up to the point where there were two massive craters where the Cyber-Dragon must have stepped, the shattered carcasses of trucks and buses sprayed everywhere like toys, lodged through upper floors of buildings or just outright blasted out.

Jack grimaced slightly at a sudden thought.

He certainly hoped he wouldn't be paying for all of that damage. He could understand paying for some of it, but...that was easily about fifty-to-a-hundred million Credits' worth of destruction. Likely even more. He'd be working until his death to pay off all of that, and then the CPUs'd probably sell his assets to pay for the rest.

That was the most horrible thought: Someone other than one of the girls being given his guns and armour. As much as he'd love for her to have it all if anything ever happened to him, Uni was still pretty small and not particularly that strong. She wouldn't be able to wear his full steel plate gear or use any of his guns for a long time.

Someone like Chika...well, she could probably handle a musket. Maybe one of those terrorists had something stupid like that. For a moment he had an entertaining thought of Chika tearing up a bunch of Zulus with a Martini-Henry, whilst shouting racial slurs.

He then realized that considering how Chika could get when she was a little wine-touched, it...really wouldn't shock him if she said or did anything of the sort.

Cave, though.

Cave.

His mind lingered on Cave.

She had effectively been in her element in that assault.

He'd given her the AK, and she'd used it with more efficiency than even some of the guys in the project. She'd hijacked someone's armour on one of the floors, and her big concern was getting her ample chest underneath it, but nothing else.

Shit, didn't he hear her execute someone across the room, at one point?

Jack's expression went neutral.

It wasn't something he'd noticed at the time, but Cave was probably just as good as he was, if not a little better in some cases. Sure, she'd been captured and beaten ruthlessly, but even then...Jack had been briefly captured and then shot dead with a Garand.

So in that regard, Cave was probably better at fighting back than he was.

Which lead him to another thought: Just how in the literal sense of the word fuck did he ever even manage to get through even a few of those guys, let alone win against his former Commander's forces?

Could it have been his level? He did take an absolutely ungodly number of bullets throughout the ascent. He had his entire lower body shredded apart. His face caved in from gunfire. He got slammed through walls, blasted with grenades, ribs broken, arms shattered, shot in the head...

He briefly considered that perhaps it was like those men who were famed for being shot a few times in war, but then shook it clear when he remembered that those guys were only shot once or twice in a short space of time.

Jack had been taking entire magazines'-worth of bullets, sometimes at nearly point blank, every few minutes.

The potions worked. But judging by the horrendous scars that littered most of his body, and the rather menacing new scars on his face, they weren't a flawless solution.

So...probably his level.

But then that lead to the question of what level his opponents had been. Everyone told him that level dictates damage and damage resistance, but then at the same time, the enemy had dropped like flies but then sometimes absolutely fucking annihilated him in one or two shots, like those Koreans did.

Why were they a high enough level to be able to three-shot him? And how did James kill them so fast? Had James been power-levelling out in Lowee?

Again, Jack grimaced, before sighing and scratching the back of his head.

Maybe he was thinking too much into it.

It was over. He couldn't do much about it. Kashuba's forces were scattered or hiding or dead. The risk was HUGELY lowered, if nearly null, but...still, here he was, thinking about what went wrong and how to improve next time.

Everyone was right: He really was tense all the time.

Maybe...maybe he did need to wind down.

Perhaps a quiet night out, somewhere?

He was pretty sure he owed that to Miss IF, Miss Compa, MAGES., Tekken, Falcom...

It only then hit him just how many favours he owed for all of that, and how many times he'd said "I'll do whatever you want" when convincing people to help him.

Miss IF, he remembered, cashed her favour in by saying that he had to take all of them out to dinner and answer their questions about all of it: The project, him, his friends, the tower, the treaty...everything.

For some reason, considering that she had immediately demanded to know why he was frightened of girls, and that he would be answering all of their questions, Jack was not looking forward to facing that with a 'true honesty' policy attached to the question.

It didn't matter right now.

All that mattered was that he was alive, the CPUs were alive, Cave was alive, the other girls were apparently alive, and despite not asking, Jack knew his friends would be alive. They weren't dumb enough to get killed by what was essentially their deranged Major's mind in an incredibly angry washing machine.

Besides, he now had the respect he'd wanted since showing up in Gamindustri. Sure, he'd been given some exposure by that speech in Leanbox – the one he'd done zero planning for – but this was...this was universal respect.

It was also essentially like some kind of Christmas for him, since he had an entire disc's worth of gifts to open, from all over Gamindustri.

The thoughts of his friends being safe and his secured legacy brought a smile back to his face.

For a good few minutes, he continued looking over the city, waiting for anything to come along to draw his attention. After a wait, there was a light, hesitant cough to his rear, and Jack turned his gaze towards the owner.

There, hovering a few feet away, was Miss Histoire, the tiny fairy floating at just about his head height. He'd seen her earlier at around Blanc's height; Perhaps she just raised and lowered herself based on who she was talking to?

Whatever the case, she didn't seem too upset or anything, so Jack relaxed slightly. But only slightly.

"It's...been a while since we last spoke, Mr. Glovebox," she began, almost hesitantly, hands in their usual clasped position in front of her. Jack gave a nod.

"Indeed, it has," came his calm reply. "You been alright?" The fairy smiled, clearing her throat again.

"Ah, yes, I have been well," she beamed, before scratching her chin with a tiny finger, chuckling awkwardly. "Though...I daren't ask you that same question, however, since I think we both know the answer to it." Jack shrugged, smirking slightly.

"Well, I bumped into some old mates who were causin' some trouble, had to sort 'em out," he chuckled, gesturing to himself. "Someone gave me some new clothes, though." Histoire concealed a laugh.

"So I see!" giggled the Oracle. "Do you know who gave them to you?" Jack shook his head, before sticking his arm out to inspect the new jacket.

"Ah, 'fraid not," he said, sucking air through his teeth. "Apparently it was some designer out in Lastation. Express order, Cave said. Never showed themselves but managed to deliver the package undetected, somehow." Jack hesitated, and smirked again, patting the armour plates sewn into the sleeves. "Little bit more well-protected than my old clothes, though, so I can't moan about it."

"I see..." Histoire beamed, nodding as she trailed off. A second later, her eyes lit up. "Oh! Before I forget, I did get those results from your psychological exam the other week." Jack raised a brow, resting on the barrier lining the balcony's edge.

"Oh? That thing?" he asked, genuinely curious. "I thought you said it would take ages, or summat." Histoire nodded.

"Yes, but I said it would only be three days for me to calculate a result. It's been eleven..." She checked her wrist, looking at what had to have been a tiny little dolls' watch. "...twelve days since that exam." Jack nodded slowly.

"Right, right...and I take it I'm not a normal bloke?" he asked. Histoire put on a slightly awkward expression, like that of a parent who needs to tell their flu-ridden child why they can't go on the school trip to Disneyland.

"I'm...afraid you're not, no," she replied cautiously. "In fact, you rated so far to the right on the psychopath test, you even surpassed some of the captured terrorists from that horrible ordeal." Jack winced, scratching his head awkwardly.

"Shhhhhhite..." he muttered. Histoire, however, started smiling again.

"It means nothing."

"Eh?"

"It's just to get the notes written down on a counter-terror database. No arrests, no punishment. That, and it most certainly doesn't hold any bearing on how we view you, Mr. Loondumb."

Jack gave her a cautious look, then sighed, smiling.

"Do you know who else was more psychopathic than those terrorists?" she asked. Jack shook his head as she decided to hover next to him, with Jack folding his arms and legs as he leaned on the concrete barrier. "Half of the politicians running the public sectors of Planeptune. Most of the Generals in charge of our military. Thirty percent of the people who get pulled in to the police station over unpaid parking fines." She gave him the sweetest smile he'd ever seen her give as she continued, tiny feet lightly swinging over the edge of the book she always hovered on.

"Despite them being rated highly on an arbitrary scale, someone voted them in to public office, promoted them to General, or let them off from their fine with just a warning. They're people, just in the same way that we are both people." She looked him in the eyes. "And at the end of the day, despite your eccentrics and strong language and all the shooting, I think you're a lovely person, Mr. Loondumb, and I'm glad that we can be friends."

Jack mulled on this, and gave a respectful nod. "I do appreciate that, Miss Histoire. Thank you."

"It's no trouble," she replied politely. "I'm glad we have you back. Neptune has said she'll hold off on any work for a week or two so that you can recover properly, then we'll have you in Lastation again. Lady Noire can decide what to do, there." Jack nodded again.

"I can handle that. What about that upcoming celebration?"

"That's in about six weeks. Everything has been planned, so now I'll just be sorting through paperwork to get everything booked in, get the national holiday set out so that people may attend the ceremony without too many issues booking the time off work." She sighed, closing her eyes. "I have a lot of paperwork to do..."

Jack gave her a slightly concerned look. "If, uh, you need a hand, Miss Histoire, I can-"

"No, absolutely not," the fairy said firmly, raising a hand. "I couldn't possibly force that on you. It would be an undue stress, and you need to be nice and relaxed so that you can heal properly. That aside, I'm certain it will be too boring for your tastes. I'm aware that you don't enjoy taking time off, but-"

"I agree."

Histoire paused.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I agree," Jack repeated, expression remaining flat. "Probably best for me to take time off instead of constantly workin', and this time I mean it." Histoire was, by all accounts, rather shocked by his admittance.

"...you...actually agree?" she asked, raising a brow and turning her book to face him. "That's...good. If I may ask, why the sudden change of heart?"

Jack chewed his lip briefly, trying to figure that out for himself. "Ehhh..." His hand moved back to scratch the back of his head.

Damn, was there a scar there? He hadn't noticed it until then. Some dick must have nailed him there with a nine mill.

"...kind of a recent thought I'd had. Or...too many of 'em, if that makes any sense," he explained. "I sort of realized that I've a tendency to overthink everythin', and that I'm always worried about summat bad happenin' or someone poppin' up to cause problems." He hesitated again. "Besides that, I've decided to try gettin' my life in check. Get a proper place, sort out insurance, bank accounts, all the rest of it."

"That's quite an undertaking," Histoire noted, looking concerned. "Are you familiar with how to achieve those things? You seem the type to have done similar things back on your homeworld." Jack shook his head.

"Ah, 'fraid not," he sighed, scratching his chin. "Unless I missed summat, estate agents wouldn't sell houses to seventeen year olds." Histoire nodded at this, and was about to continue until she stopped.

"Wait."

"Aye?"

"You say...they wouldn't sell you a house because you were seventeen?"

Jack nodded calmly in response, only causing Histoire to continue staring blankly at him. Behind her, the balcony's glass doors slid open, revealing the visages of Nepgear, Neptune, and Vert, who began approaching. Presumably, they wished to speak with the flabbergasted fairy.

"If I may, how long ago did you attempt to buy a house?" Histoire continued, still very confused. Jack thought for a second.

"Damn...three years? Two? Summat like that. If I'm honest, I remember it was near my birthday, but I've kinda stopped botherin' to celebrate that." Histoire was now incredibly shocked.

"That...that means you're...good Goddess, you're only NINETEEN?!"

The fact she raised her voice meant that the approaching CPUs also heard the oracle's discovery: Their own shocked expressions were highlighted by the gold of the setting sun, and their pace slowed considerably.

Jack gave a slightly confused nod. "...when I last thought about it, I think so. Probably twenty...twenty-one, at a stretch, but definitely past nineteen. Is that an issue, or summat?" Histoire gave him an incredulous but slightly pained look.

"When most Planeptunians are eighteen or nineteen years old, they go out clubbing and partying and senselessly drinking and go to school!" she cried. "You spend your time blasting monsters apart with guns and killing terrorists! What kind of sick project were you trained in? Who was the youngest?"

Again, Jack thought for a second, this time standing up to full height and placing a hand on his hip as he stroked his chin. "I think the youngest guy I knew from there was...fifteen, at the start of it." He hesitated. "Although, at one point I overheard staff members talkin' about 'the kids'. I don't know the age, but...well, considerin' the human rights they took from me, I wouldn't be surprised if we were talkin' about six or seven years old."

The colour drained from Histoire's face at the numbers. Nepgear began quietly shuffling backwards, but was stopped as Neptune held her wrist in a remarkably vice-like grip. Also Vert. Vert was holding her arm, too. Should Nepgear have been as concerned as she was? Probably.

"Ch-Ch-Child soldiers..." murmured the fairy, genuinely feeling slightly sick. "A—And you're not even the slightest bit bothered that they stole your youth? You're not worried that they ruined what a wonderful life as a young man you could have had, in favour of turning you into a war machine?"

Jack shrugged calmly. "To tell you the truth: No, not really. Like you say, I was meant to have wasted these years. Instead, I made use of 'em. Trained. Fought. Learned. Now? Got the mentality of someone who's about twice my age."

"That's...a point," Histoire noted, still reeling, "But it's...it's just almost unfair to you." She looked him dead in the eyes. "You missed your best years, Mr. Loondumb."

Jack grimaced, chewing his lip and nodding slowly. "Maybe so..." he murmured. After a brief hesitation, he smiled, and looked back up. "But I'd throw those youth years away a million times if it made sure that you girls finally made peace in Gamindustri, and were all happy."

The girls, not knowing what to say to that, hesitantly smiled.

"That was rather wholesome, Mr. Glovebox," Vert said politely, before pausing. "Or...do I call you something else, in consideration that even physically I am older than you?" Jack rolled his eyes at the mockery as Histoire held back a silent mirth.

"Laugh it up, but give it a few years, and I'll be an age you'd expect me to be doin' all this shit at," he declared proudly. "Besides, I'm the opposite of you. You're like a thousand summat years old and look – what – twenty? Hell, you look so close to my age that I'd have already tried to slip you my number if we were on Earth." Vert smirked at the commentary, raising a brow at the obliviously flirtatious comment he'd made. Neptune shifted up beside Jack as he spoke, before standing on her tiptoes and looking at the side of his head with a judgemental gaze, a quiet 'Hmmmm...' escaping her lips.

Nepgear cleared her throat as she was slowly pulled towards Vert. "U-Um, sis? What're you doing?" she asked, gradually sinking into Vert's grasp. Neptune narrowed her eyes at the side of Jack's head, as if studying it. Then, she let out a loud "HAHA!" without warning.

"Jesus, Neptune, calm down!" Jack snapped, grabbing at his ear. "Fuck me, I've had guns quieter than that go off next to my ear!" The Planeptune CPU offered no apology, instead pointing at the side of his head.

"My voice ain't your biggest concern anymore, buster!" she said firmly, adopting a power stance. "You should be more worried about that washed out colour goin' into your hair!" Jack was briefly confused.

"What? What are...you..."

It hit him.

He stared blankly ahead, a stone cold expression on his face.

"Someone get me a mirror."

Nepgear swallowed slightly as she found herself being slowly pulled into the Leanbox CPU's bosom. "Are...are you alright, Mr.-?"

"GODDAMMIT SOMEONE GET ME A MIRROR!"

Jack's voice had gone up a few octaves, and even Neptune jumped slightly at the suddenness of the whimper. In a flash, she'd turned tail and run into the basilicom's living area, emerging a moment later with a hand mirror. Histoire was confused.

"Neptune, we don't own a mirror that looks like that," the fairy said flatly, watching the little Goddess come scampering up with the object in hand. "Where did you find that?"

"Oh...nowhere, really, got a stash of them lyin' around, y'know how it is, Histy," Neptune said quickly, handing the mirror to Jack. The man immediately grabbed it, and turned his head to see the hair on the side.

Oh dear God.

His hands began trembling, the image in the mirror shaking slightly. Histoire drifted slightly closer. "Are you alright, Mr. Loondumb?" she asked cautiously.

Jack's eyes suddenly went dead forward, just over Vert's head. The CPU raised a brow...

...his eyes were starting to tear up a bit.

Apparently he'd been crying a lot lately, so...it really could have been anything.

Jack's mirror-hand went totally limp.

"I-I-I..." he muttered, absolutely defeated, "...I-I'm going g-grey..."

Histoire and Vert shot him the most bewildered looks they'd done all day. Nepgear just looked worried as Vert's hand began stroking her hair.

THAT was his biggest worry?

Neptune just stood with a victorious little grin on her face.

"There! That's my quick evidence that you're a big fat fibber about your age!" The CPU stepped forward, again jabbing a finger at him. "Be honest: You're a dirty old man, aren't you? You're really, like, forty years old, and here to lust over our sexy Goddess bods! Nobody would be as miserable as you unless they were middle-aged and lonely, or the guy from that film about the car and dog!" Histoire was quick to release an uncharacteristic burst of violence, slapping the Goddess' hand down.

"Neptune! Don't be so rude!" she said scoldingly, placing her hands on her hips. "Of us four, he is the only one here without any degree of immortality, he is not a 'dirty old man', and most certainly not some kind of deviant, so be nice and apologize!" Neptune, after hesitation, sheepishly laughed, rubbing her hand.

"Eh-heh...sorry. Got kinda mean, there." Her purple eyes darted to Jack, who was now looking like a lost soul. "No, uh, no hard feelings, huh, Mr. Lunny?" He offered her no heed.

"I'm gonna look middle-aged by the time I'm 20..." he sighed, before reaching his free hand up to rub his face. All of a sudden, he bared teeth. "God DAMMIT!" he yelled, suddenly turning, reeling back, and throwing the mirror off the balcony in a brief moment of fury. Nobody really wanted to speak.

Until, of course, Histoire asked the real question, watching as the tiny hand mirror went tumbling from the incredible height of the basilicom whilst Jack put both of his hands on the balcony railing, breathing heavily. "Neptune, I really must ask, where did you get that mirror?"

The CPU just sucked air through her teeth. "Weeeeeellllll..."

Inside a basilicom guest room, Noire opened her chest of drawers and began rummaging around for something to help her with her make-up.

Later that evening...

After bidding farewell to the CPUs for the evening and walking through a near constant sea of excitable citizens, Jack made his way down the familiar road that would lead to Compa's apartment. Cave had parted ways with him a few hours earlier, citing a need for an 'official debrief' by the RRoD as the reason for leaving. Apparently, she was meant to have done it a week earlier, but had refused to leave him unattended.

When she told him that, he noticed that her face went slightly red, but he really saw it as nothing to be embarrassed about: He was absolutely flattered by the show of protectiveness or affection. Honestly, he was super glad that she wanted to move in with him. Nevertheless, they barely had time to discuss it whilst nurses stood him up and checked him over before he could leave.

Around him, the sun had already gone behind the nearby buildings, and the well-built area was nearly plunged into night-time darkness, a gentle orange-purple gradient illuminating the skies above.

It was a lovely sight, really. As much as he loved Leanbox for its' laws and culture, Lastation's amazing technology and work ethic, and Lowee for...trying...he always loved Planeptune for one thing: The views.

The views were absolutely gorgeous, with very few exceptions. Light would catch on all the shining silver surfaces that lined buildings, and the massive glass sides to the skyscrapers would bend and warp the day's sunlight around to create truly stunning displays of spectral light in the streets below.

Though it was more out-of-the-way than most other buildings, Compa's apartment building was no exception to the good looks.

And the best view of all was that Lady Neptune must have called ahead: Compa was already standing outside, looking around like a schoolgirl excitedly waiting for her parents. When she caught sight of Jack, he could make out even from the distance he was at that her eyes lit up like fireworks, and she immediately rushed over to him, her smile absolutely beaming.

"MR. GLOVEBOOOX!" she squealed, arms outstretched. Jack really could not help but smile at all of the people who were actually excited to see him. As soon as she was within range, Jack raised his own arms and took the impact of the jumping cuddle, crouching slightly to accept it more efficiently.

His face ended up nestled on her right shoulder, and Compa's pleased laughing gave him a fairly good reminder of why he actually quite liked staying in Planeptune. "Been a while, eh, Miss Compa?" he chuckled, ruffling the back of her head. The fluffy-haired nurse just giggled further and tightened her grip slightly.

"Ah! I'm so glad to seeee youuuuuu!~" Compa laughed, before pulling away from the hug and immediately grabbing at his left hand to pull him along behind her. Jack smiled, and kept pace, relaxing his arm so she could feel like she was pulling him, when in actuality she would be totally unable to move his near 125KG form of both muscles and armour.

He just laughed and followed on as she pulled him through the door. "C'mon, I gotta show you something!" Compa said excitedly, barely giving him time to offer a casual wave to the slightly stunned people in the lobby of the large apartment building. He cast her a bemused look as she guided him upstairs.

"Must really be important for this much speed," he noted. Compa nodded eagerly, taking her key out of her little pouch and turning it in the door.

"Oh, ab-so-lutely!" she declared, pushing the door open to assault Jack's eyes with the pinks of her apartment wall paint. "Basically, it was a request from the CPUs, because they said about needing a safe place to store all of the stuff from the other week." As Jack stepped through the door, he raised a brow, shutting it behind him. Compa had moved over to the couch and flopped herself down, so Jack – not wanting to flatten any of her (notably flat-pack) furniture – decided to seat himself just on the floor, crosslegged.

"Stuff?" he asked. Compa just nodded slowly.

"Yyyyyyyep. All the stuff the police took from the bad guys." She sniffed. "There was quite a lot. Mostly guns and knives and all that other stuff you really like. The police kept the stuff they said was 'key evidence'. Not really any clothes, though, because I think you really did a number on them to the point where they couldn't really save any." Jack frowned slightly.

"Well...that's always good. Why aren't the cops holding it?" he asked. Compa just shrugged.

"I dunno," she replied calmly, swinging her legs idly. "Nep-Nep just asked if I could hold onto all of it...well, Histy asked, really. I think it's because of all places, you really wouldn't think that my apartment would have lots of guns and gear in it. It's too-"

"Cute." Jack cut in. Compa smiled, and nodded.

"Yup! Perfect camouflage!" Jack did concur with this: He couldn't even begin to imagine the shit Compa could get away with by being as cute as she was. Even if she'd just outright shot someone to death before a hundred people, she'd just have to be cutesy and she could probably get away with it.

"So, where'd you store all of it?"

"Your room," Compa said cheerfully. "Had to take the really big bed out, but we'll find you somewhere, don't you worry!" Jack just shrugged at the statement.

"Eh, I'll be fine," he replied casually, waving his dismissive hand. "I'll just do my usual and skip sleepin' for a while."

"No, you won't," Compa said bluntly. Jack was quite surprised by the almost uncharacteristic burst of seriousness. "You've just come out of hospital from a week-and-a-half coma, and you're gonna still need lots of rest to make sure you recover properly, and I'm gonna make sure of it." Her smile suddenly returned. "I mean, I was head nurse for keeping an eye on your room, and had to look after you whilst you were out cold, so I feel like I should make sure you get better."

Jack swallowed slightly. "R-Right. So, uh, in regards to 'looking after me', that entailed-?"

"Oh, the usual stuff. Changing your IV bags, washing you every day, making sure you had clean sheets..." As she thought, tapping at her chin to recall the stuff she did, Jack had already gone bone-white at the thought of a nonchalant and cheerful Compa giving him a sponge bath. "Oh! I also had to get your clothes off when you were first wheeled in here, and I had to change your catheter twice because of standard procedure. Then we realized you didn't need it, so I just had to puuuuuull it out."

Jack was currently emitting light from the paleness that came from Compa explaining how she'd...handled him. And a catheter? He felt awfully faint, all of a sudden.

"I hope you don't mind, but I had to touch you in some places," Compa continued, seemingly ignorant of the privacy breach. "It was all to save your life. I had to really push for the job, because you'd probably rather have me handle your stuff than some lady you've never met."

Jack said nothing, prompting Compa to stop and look at him after a second or two.

"...Mr. Loondumb, you look really pale, are you OK?"

Jack hesitantly nodded. "...a-aye...I'm fine..." he mumbled. This was good enough for the fluffy nurse, who let out an "Alrighty!" and hopped onto her feet, walking towards the apartment's phone.

"Oh, yeah, I was gonna call Iffy and the girls over to hang out on Tuesday," she began, picking it up, "There's the group from the tower and a few others here in Planeptune; Mostly just consoling each other and stuff. We were gonna sit here, play games, drink tea, and talk, but if you're not feeling up to it, I can cancel?" As she had been speaking, Jack was doing his best to push bad things from the forefront of his mind, and he coughed.

"U-Uh, yeah...yeah, I've no issue with it," he responded as curtly as he could, rubbing his face. "How many'd be coming?" Compa thought for a second as she stood in the kitchenette.

"Well...you've got me, and Iffy, obviously," she began, "Then you've got you, and MAGES., Falcom, and Tekken. Your friend Miss Cave said she couldn't make it, because she has a de-beefing, or something. There's Marvy and CC2...I dunno if you've met them before. Then...uh, Ge-Ge wants to come, so that might also mean Nep-Nep comes, too. Oh, and then there's some of the people I made friends with last week when they all asked me what it's like to fight terrorists." Jack watched as Compa scrunched her face up.

"Den...Dengi...Dengu...Degi..." She seemed to be struggling, before shrugging. "Denny something. Then there was a girl called Fammy. She wore kind of weird clothes. Both of them are journalists, so they might ask you dumb questions, but they seem nice, at least."

She leaned on the counter again, counting on her fingers. "I think Tammy said she might come along. I can't really think who else would wanna come."

"Want me to bring the lads?" Jack asked. Compa shook her head.

"Nah, Mr. Black is a perv, Mr. Hillman is creepy, and Mr. Monopoly scares me." She thought for a second. "Mr. Chaz seems nice." Then, her smile returned. "Bring Mr. Chaz, I'd be OK with that!"

Jack nodded. Pulling out his phone and beginning to type away a message to Chaz. "Alright, I'll give him a bell," he said calmly. "Anythin' else you wanted to discuss? Need your couch movin'?" Compa shook her head.

"Nahhh," she giggled. "I was gonna order dinner and then go to bed. I'm super tired, really." Jack raised a brow.

"For real, this time? Or are you gonna stab me again?" he asked flatly, lying down on the carpet with his hands behind his head.. Compa just scratched her cheek awkwardly, one-handedly dialling the number for the pizza delivery company.

"Aw, c'mon, Mr. Lunny, I was just doing what Histy told me to do," she replied cautiously. "Besiiides, you got some nice sleep, right? And I gave you breakfast in bed!" Jack stuck his lower lip out somewhat appreciatively.

It was some very good sausage and bacon.

"Fair enough."

"You want anything, Mr. Lunny?" Compa asked. "I'm ordering pizza." He raised a brow.

"Uh, depends. Do they do chicken nuggets?" Compa briefly looked confused, then looked at the menu she had in front of her.

"Umm...yyyyessy. Either in boxes of four, six, nine, or twel-"

"Five twelves, please. I'll PayBlanc you the money." Compa sputtered slightly at the number.

"F-Five twelves?! That's sixty nuggets, Mr. Lunny!" she said, stunned. "Do you think you can eat that many?" Jack just narrowed his eyes at the question.

"Did you intend that as a challenge, Miss Compa?" he responded in a low voice, suddenly near-deathly serious. "I practically LIVED off chicken nuggets before my trainin'. Sixty is nothin' to a man who's slain countless twenty-boxes in the heart of the Big Mac Garden."

Compa swallowed slightly, before giggling awkwardly.

"Eh...eheh...I, um, have a microwave for the leftovers..." she mumbled, before putting the phone to her ear. "...if there is any..."

Three hours later...

The apartment was now nearly silent in the living room, save for the murmuring of the TV and the occupant's soft breathing. Compa, as per her usual after a large meal, had decided to take a nap, and was curled up on the sofa, her face in a gentle smile and her stomach gurgling happily whilst she rested her head on the cushions. Occasionally, her leg would twitch, and she'd mumble something to herself, dreaming, before she'd let out a quiet 'Uuaahh...~' as she drifted back into deep sleep again.

Resisting the strange, sudden urge in his mind for him to put her on his lap and pet her like a cat, Jack decided to enter the room he had normally slept in, to see what it was likOK, that was a lot of guns.

Lined wall-to-wall in metal storage racks and trunks of all sizes was an absolute arsenal of firearms, melee weapons, and explosives. It seemed like the other guys in the organization found something from just about every era of history as an armament; He recognised quite a few types of things from a quick glance, but looking around...shit, there was a lot of weirder stuff.

Swords, knives, and blunt weapons of all varieties lined a couple of racks near the wall to his right, even more shoved into crates. He could see at least one ballistic shield poking out of a box, and a mace lying amongst the piles of arms.

To his left, there was a wall-mounted rack of firearms, which really peaked his interest: A lot of the stuff on there, if he remembered rightly, was either rare as all Hell, a prototype, or something that very few people would be able to use or obtain.

He hardly even bothered to begin browsing that, since he knew he'd have a gungasm and stay up all nighwas that the stock of a WA2000 rifle? Holy shit, they only made like 40 of those and one of them is here, he needed toFocus.

He needed to focus.

Slowly beginning to pace into the room and flicking the light on, the pink wallpaper almost made a razor-sharp contrast between the blacks and greys of gunmetal, and the pastel pinks of Compa's décor. Heck, situated right beside two RPG-7s and what looked to be a flamethrower was a sticker of a bunny on the wall.

That brought another thought to his mind. "Hell, I might get a pet, sometime," Jack mused. He noticed a rather thick folder on top of one of the crates, which was marked SASGIGNNATOSWATPOLIZEIRANGERSUSMCSBSSPEHSSMEHREENS – the ever-so-easy-to-pronounce acronym for his training regime. Moving across the room and taking a seat on a box, Jack took the folder and read the cover.

REQUISTION MANIFEST : R6S-TOW_SIEGE_110899

REQUISTION OFFICER(S) : SGT. MAXINE PAINT

DESCRIPTION OF ITEMS : LARGE NUMBER OF CONFISCATED WEAPONS AND EXPLOSIVES OF UNKNOWN ORIGIN; ARMOR PIECES AND CLOTHING

NOTES : RECOVERED DATABANKS STORED IN PLANEPTUNE BUREAU OF DEEP INVESTIGATION FOR STUDY; CORPSES LOCATED IN EAST WING OF DOWNTOWN PLANEPTUNE MORGUE – LEVEL FIVE ACCESS REQUIRED; 15KG OF CENSORED R-18 ISLAND PLANTS MOVED TO PLANEPTUNE POLICE STATION EVIDENCE LOCKER; TO BE MOVED WITH WRITTEN PERMISSION OF ORACLE HISTOIRE ONLY.

Jack raised a brow at the last line. Censored R-18 Island Plants? He'd heard Chika mention those at one point, in regards to when she nearly crashed her career because a lookalike was caught smoking it. Presumably it was some kind of recreational drug, or something, but considering the Earth guys had fifteen kilos of it, odds were that it was not of Gamindustrian origin.

Now he had a definite red flag against the project: Why, in any sense of the word 'fuck', would you send through not only criminals, but train them on independent regimes, allow them to choose their own equipment no matter how bizarre, and then send them through with fifteen kilograms of marijuana, possibly even other substances and contraband?

It was almost like they were trying to use the portal as a dumping ground for criminals and contraband...

Jack paused.

That might be a point.

Leaning over to a Kalashnikov rifle that was leaned against a crate, he pulled the weapon into his hands and glanced it over, scrutinizing it for any deformities.

There were a few scratches on it, and some paint chips, presumably where someone had put some paint on it before field-testing it. That wasn't what he needed. What he wanted was...

...there.

Just above the left of the trigger, along the whole of the weapon's housing, was a thick, filed-down scar in the metal, where the serial number used to be once upon a time. Someone, at some point in this weapon's life, had scratched it off; A very good indication that it was not meant to have been in someone's possession at some point.

Jack grimaced, placing it down and moving over to another AK rifle, only to see it had received the same treatment, and this trend of abnormalities continued with the collected rifles: None of the AKs had serial numbers, the CAR platform weapons had what appeared to be custom-made lower receivers without any identifying numbers or branding, and those weapons that did have any kind of serial numbers appeared to be ones which were almost jokes in nature.

His mind went back to the Desert Eagle he'd collected back in the early minutes of the tower: That had been serialized with something like #696969XD, which he'd argue would probably be some kind of joke.

Hell, were his weapons numbered?

If they weren't, then it'd just further his theory: The project had 'dumped' contraband materials into Gamindustri when it became clear they simply had no room or didn't want people finding them.

Criminals, Jack could understand. But looking through the manifest at the sheer volume of captured equipment, he didn't see why most of this hadn't been sold off on Earth or just destroyed: He thought US Police forces often sold off their confiscated guns and cars...someone'd pay good money for the rare shit that had been captured at the tower.

Illegal weapons like the AK seemed to be the norm, though. Of course, legality didn't mean any of the weapons were more or less deadly, especially after the shit Jack had done in the tower, but it really didn't feel right, somehow.

For a good half hour, he rummaged through boxes to see if he could find some kind of evidence or instruction note. He wasn't particularly expecting a full list of the project's plans complete with citations, but even just some kind of "whose gear is whose" list might give him something to work with.

That, and he might find some kind of emergency broadcast frequency, or perhaps rendezvous co-ordinates in order to locate the rest of the men. There were definitely more of them, that much was certain, but the big issue was finding those men before they did anything in retaliation for the tower massacre.

It had been a week and a half: If they were gonna do anything, it was gonna be massive, and DEFINITELY aimed towards him.

For a moment, he mulled on what they could possibly do, before he smirked.

'At the very least,' he thought, looking at the damage-dealers surrounding him, 'I'll be on even more equal terms, this time.'

And thus, he spent an while fiddling with the guns in the room, stripping them down, and finding any useful parts from them. He was roughly halfway through setting together a new shotgun, using parts from a tactically-fitted SPAS-12 and another Mossberg 500, when the door was gently pushed open behind him, accompanied by some very cute yawning.

"Hiiiiya, Miss Compa," Jack began, not looking at her so that he could focus on getting the sight zeroing correct. "You sleep alright?" The response came a few seconds later, as something moderately weighty but very soft and fragrant landed on his back, a pair of arms wrapping over his chest.

"Mmmmmm...I'm still really tired..." Compa groaned in response, rubbing her head against the back of his. "It's like eleven o'clock, Mr. Lunny. I think we should both go to bed." Jack offered no physical response to the attempted cuddling, but inside, he was very seriously struggling to not turn around and cuddle the nurse in turn. Did she just have that effect on people? He wasn't sure how long his mates had hung around with Compa after he went into the coma. He'd have to ask how much they wanted to cuddle her.

"Uh-huh," Jack replied calmly, continuing to tweak the picture of the red dot sight, "So where'm I sleepin', might I ask?" Compa just tightened her grip on him. He wasn't sure if she was pretending to be sleepy, or not.

"We can share my bed...it's super comfy."

Jack swallowed hard. "A-Ah...n-no, that, that's alright, I can, um, sleep on the couch. Or floor. Floor. Yeah." He coughed. "Don't...uh, wanna take up space in your bed, Miss Compa, right?" The nurse just let out a cute groan of frustration.

"Aw, but Mr. Lunnyyyy!" she whined. "I don't get guests in my apartment except Iffy, and she gets all fleety when I ask her to snuggle with meeee!"

Jack blinked.

Snuggle?

He remembered that word: Uni taught it to him when she slept on the couch with him in Lowee. She said there were no lewd connotations to it at all.

In that case, it was fine.

Sighing, he put the shotgun down. "Well...fine."

He felt Compa go stiff on his back.

"E-Eh?!" she suddenly whimpered. "You really wanna snuggle?! You?!" Jack nodded.

"I don't see why not. Helped me sleep, the first time I did it with Uni." Compa let out a quiet 'Woooow' as Jack unhooked himself from her grasp and stood up to face his host.

"You cuddled Lady Noire's little sister?" she asked, before pouting slightly. "You're really friendly with them, and yet Iffy still won't snuggle with me." Jack raised a brow.

"Uh-huh. Anyway, why're you surprised that I'm alright with snugglin'?" he asked flatly. Compa cleared her throat.

"Oh, uh, well, um, when you were asleep," she began, "I was talking to Miss Cave and she said you were super duper shy around girls getting near you and being all kissy around you, so I just didn't think you liked it, that's all. Also, I was kind of joking, but if you wanna cuddle, it'd be nice and warm, which is good because recently my apartment heating started resetting at midnight so it gets super cold."

Jack shrugged. "Well, fair enough. Want me to take the gear off?" Compa nodded.

"It'd be easier to sleep without all the bags and...why's your jacket really hard?"

"Steel plates inside it, for armour."

Compa looked quite confused, watching as he unclipped his bandolier and removed his jacket afterwards, piling them onto the ammo box he'd been sat on with a heavy thump "I didn't really think steel stopped bullets very well," she noted. "We get a lot of adventurers in the hospital who we have to pull bits of steel out of, because their armor just broke in one hit and the shards went into them."

"That one's different," Jack noted, pointing to the coat. "The steel in that does stop bullets, and let's leave it there, because it's super boring." Compa nodded understandingly, before turning to the door and crossing the hallway to her room. Jack, silently, followed.

As the door swung shut, Compa nonchalantly began humming and pulling off her clothes, which immediately caused Jack to go absolutely crimson and face the wall. Compa became confused, facing away from him as she bent over to pull off her underwear.

If Jack had even turned around, he would undoubtedly have been stunned by the sight of a totally nude Compa, and thus he figured it was in his best interests to face the wall and think about anything other than what his roommate looked like without undies.

"What's wrong, Mr. Lunny?" she asked curiously, tilting her head as she removed her bra. "Don't you have any jim-jams to sleep in?"

Jack was barely able to murmur a quiet "N-No..." as he intently stared at the wall in front of him. With MAGES., months ago, he'd made the error of peeping at her briefly. As nice as it was, GOD, he felt dirty afterwards. He couldn't even look at the magician the same way again.

With the way he thought about Compa sitting at 'lovely girl', he really didn't want to sully that by looking at her when she was changing.

It only took a minute or two, and he did at one point decide to close his eyes when Compa had to squeeze past him to get into her pyjama drawer, but eventually, he was able to turn around again when the nurse let out a nonchalant "All done!".

Clambering into the bedsheets, Compa appeared to be wearing...underwear...beneath a see-through nightgown. Jack went red again. "U-Uh...n-nice PJs, Miss Compa," he began cautiously, unlacing his boots. "They're quite...uh, visible." Compa just smiled at him as she removed her hairband, cozying herself underneath the sheets of her rather large bed.

"It doesn't really worry me," she replied dismissively. "The only person who ever sees me in these is Iffy. Oh, and you, now. But it's fine, I know Iffy's not a pervert, and I'm pretty sure you're not, either." She paused and narrowed her eyes. "...wait...I remember MAGES. said you snuck into her room whilst she slept, right?"

Jack froze. "...u-uh...we-well, no, see, she'd...she'd hit her head, downstairs, so...James and Tekken and I took her upstairs...th-then I was checkin' on her. A-And she woke up." After a moment of judgemental staring, Compa nodded slowly, yet understandingly.

"Okaaaaay...so you didn't look when she was getting changed?"

"W-What? No."

"Not even a teensy little peek?"

"No. Not a glance."

"I dunno, Mr. Lunny, you seem like the guy who might take a peek."

"What, after what just happened now? I don't like to see girls naked." Compa inhaled slightly.

"Ohhh, so you like men?"

Jack's eye made that shattering noise that happens when you make a critical insult.

"No!" he snapped, before witnessing Compa jump slightly, and then reining it in. "I-I mean...um, no, I'm not gay. Josh is. I ain't. I...I've just had bad experiences with girls in the past...s-so...yeah." As he finished removing his left boot and started on his right, he could still feel Compa staring at him almost confusedly. Eventually, he cleared his throat. "...what's up?"

"Mr. Lunny," Compa asked carefully. "Are you OK?"

He stopped unlacing his boot, staring at his foot for a second or two, before sighing. "Yeah...yeah, I'm...I'm alright," he mumbled. "Thanks for askin', though." Compa herself sighed, closing her eyes worriedly as Jack finally pulled his boot off and moved both of them – slowly – to the side of the room.

I don't think he's OK.

Compa shuffled up in the bed slightly, and as Jack clambered into it very carefully, she turned the lights off. He spent a moment getting comfortable, before very slowly, Compa rolled over to him and cautiously put her arms around his chest. Jack tensed very suddenly, almost as if he was going to back out right then, before Compa let out a gentle 'Shhh...' and wrapped her legs around his waist – not too difficult, considering she was way shorter than he was.

Steadily, Jack began to relax, and eventually found the courage to move his arms around Compa and draw her closer to him. Something very soft suddenly went into the bottom of his ribs, and he made a conscious effort not to think about it.

He was wrong: This was nothing like snuggling with Uni.

"You're really warm, Mr. Lunny," Compa whispered, resting her head on his chest. "Maybe you should take your jacket off when you're indoors, because you might get a fever." Jack hesitantly chuckled.

"...says the one wearin' a sweater and sleeve things all the time," he quietly retorted. "Besides, what if someone shoots me all of a sudden?" Compa rolled her eyes.

"Oh, you worry too much," she giggled. "Sometimes, you just really need to let things just happen, and live in the moment."

"I did that when I was fightin' the Killachine," he noted, beginning to stroke her head lightly. "You watched me do that." Compa suddenly let out a 'hmmph'.

"I did, and I'm really not happy about what you did," she said sternly, tightening her grip on him. "That was really super duper dangerous. Those boosters will stop your heart in large, frequent doses, and you used three right then and there." Jack gently shrugged.

"Eh, no problem for me," he began, "I survived, didn't I? Besides, I-"

"Besides what, Mr. Lunny?" Compa asked sharply, prompting him to halt on the headpatting. "What if you didn't survive? What would we do, then? In that minute you got knocked out, that big mean robot managed to really hurt Tekken and hit Black Heart. It didn't do that before, because it only wanted to hurt you. If you died, it would have just started attacking us."

"That's why I took the booste-"

"So that you could potentially do its' job for it?" she cut in, pushing her face into his chest. "You could have died taking those needles, Mr. Lunny, and you looked me right in the eyes when you did it. Do you know how scary that was, for me? To see you try to kill yourself?" Jack swallowed hard, beginning to crack slightly.

"M-Miss...Compa, I-I didn't want to-"

"Then you shouldn't have!" the nurse cried suddenly, tightening the hug exponentially. It was starting to hurt. "I see enough people come through the hospital who've done silly things like that, and all they leave behind is their loved ones, who're heartbroken about it!" Compa suddenly hesitated, sighing, and rolling over, releasing the hug. Finally, after about a minute of silence in the dark, she spoke again. "Sometimes, I have to be the one to tell people really bad news, Mr. Lunny. Three days ago, I had to explain to two little girls and their mom that their dad was going to need surgery and might never walk again. The day before that, I watched an old man saying goodbye to his wife, and then within the two minutes after she'd left, he went to sleep and still hasn't woken up."

"I hate it, Mr. Lunny," she whispered flatly. Even though he couldn't see her face, Jack could tell she was choking back tears. "I just want to escape it. But I don't even know what the worst part is: That it's part of my job, and that I have to do it, or that when you put those needles in your arm, you didn't even think for one second that I might have been telling you to stop for a reason. It would have hurt me too much to tell your friend Miss Cave that even though she was looking after you, you still died, and there was nothing she could do. And I can't even say if I'd be able to tell Nep-Nep and the CPUs what happened."

Jack tried to open his mouth to speak – to apologise – but nothing came out. Thus, they stayed in deathly silence for almost five minutes.

Finally, Compa sighed again. "I...I just don't want any of my friends to die. That's all I want. I don't want anybody to have to die, anymore. I may not be a rough and tough fighter like you and Miss Cave or Iffy, but I've still had to see too much death and suffering in the hospital. It never gets easier, but the way you described fighting all those bad guys...you made it sound like it does. Death shouldn't be a throwaway thing, because whether you're killing hundreds of bad guys or nearly stopping your heart, you're always leaving behind someone who'll be heartbroken because someone they really care about is dead."

Jack blinked.

Compa was getting really deep, here. He really hoped he hadn't upset her.

"So...so just please, Mr. Lunny," she said finally, rolling over to face him and shuffling up to try and cuddle him. "Please be really careful. I don't want you to die. You're a really nice man and all of us would be really sad to see you go."

Jack was flabbergasted by Compa's tirade. Slowly, he found the sense to once more wrap his arms around her, this time pulling her towards him with both arms and pushing his head into the top of hers. Trying to avoid crying, he sighed.

"I...I'll do my best, Miss Compa..." he whispered, before once again gently stroking her hair. The nurse, after a moment, breathed out contentedly, and shifted slightly to get comfy as the little spoon in the snuggle.

Again, silence reigned in the dark room, only being broken after a few minutes by a gentle clunk in the roof above.

Jack tensed slightly, but was immediately calmed when Compa just rubbed her face into his chest. "It's just the apartment's heating system resetting," she whispered, gently stroking his chest. "It's just gonna get cold, now. It's why I asked if you wanted to cuddle for the night: If you slept on the couch, you'd get super cold, and that's not good if you're recovering." Jack swallowed after a moment, and nodded, relaxing back into the bed.

"...r-right..." he muttered, before exhaling. "I...I snuggled with Uni, and...and it wasn't like this." Compa, eyes closed, raised a brow.

"Really?" she yawned quietly. "How so?"

"Well...she was in pajamas, first of all," he noted. "Yours are, uh, a bit different." Compa just gently chuckled to herself.

"Weeell, I can't really find comfy pajama shirts, Mr. Lunny," she replied, "So my nightie and my undies are the only things I can really be comfy in when I'm sleeping." Jack avoided every thought of Compa squeezing her chest into a button-up shirt, like Uni had worn in Lowee. "Besides, you're not really wearing PJs, right now."

"I don't have any other clothes."

"Then we can go shopping tomorrow, and get you some. This time, there won't be terrorists." Another pause, before Compa once again shifted to get comfier in the hug. "Also, yessy, you've got some PJs. You have a vest and your undies." Jack tensed.

"I-I...I...I suppose..." he mumbled. "...j-just, I...I don't wanna...go into just those...just some...bad experiences with it...a while back...y'know?"

"...I see."

There was another pause.

Finally, Compa gently moved her hand and leg underneath her hulking bedmate, practically engulfing him in a full-body hug. "You'll...let me know if I'm making you uncomfortable, right, Mr. Lunny?"

"A-Aye."

Compa just gently sighed, keeping her eyes closed as she tried to get to sleep. Her thoughts, however, were oddly plagued by concern: He really was quite prudish...to the point where it seemed like the "bad experiences" he spoke of were more than just 'bad'.

She'd seen PTSD before.

Just before she could mentally make a serious note to tell Histy to check him again, she was suddenly sent for a spin as Jack moved his hand to her head, and began gently stroking her hair. Compa let out a quiet, contented gasp, arcing her head back slightly to lean into the remarkably careful caressing of her pink locks.

It was just like her Dad used to do to her when she was little...she'd never been able to ask Iffy to do it.

Compa finally relaxed completely, settling her head against the big man's chest and nuzzling up against him, sleep beginning to take hold. "That's...that feels good, Mr. Lunny..." she murmured, mouth hanging limp after every word. "Can...we do this tomorrow night...?"

Jack chuckled lightly, growing more tired himself as he listened to Compa's gentle breathing, nearly in rhythm with his hand movements. "Sure," he whispered, closing his eyes. "Sure."

Later...

The two sleepy roommates were rudely awoken when there came a gibberish screaming, and someone throwing a book on orthopedics at Jack's face. Thankfully, the corner missed him, but the full force of the impact damn-near broke his nose. Compa yelped loudly as Jack shook, yelling in pain.

"WHAT THE &£%# IS GOING ON HERE?!" came a loud yell. Jack grit his teeth, and opened his left eye, clutching his forehead. Standing in the doorway was an absolutely livid IF, who seemed to be in the process of drawing her Jericho.

Jack, meanwhile, had no disk, and thus just had to raise his hands defensively. He had no idea how that Jewish pistol would do against him.

"Miss IF, what the Hell're you doin'?" he snapped, sitting up. Compa shuffled up, pulling the sheets over herself and looking frightened.

"What am I doing?!" IF repeated, racking the slide on her handgun. "What the Hell are YOU doing?! You SLEPT with my best friend?! SERIOUSLY?!" Jack nodded.

"Yeah, I slept in the same bed as Miss Compa, so what?" he snarled. "No law in place against snugglin' someone, is there?" IF looked like she was about to burst a vein.

"Compa, why?" she asked flatly, pistol levelled at Jack's forehead, the sight picture being the absolute pinnacle of unintimidated irritation. "Why would you ever share a bed with him?" The nurse just cleared her throat, blearily rubbing her eyes.

"Iffy, a better question is why you're in my apartment...?" she whined, before squinting at the clock in the darkness and groaning. She threw herself back onto the mattress, before grabbing a pillow and pushing it onto her face. "Aw, Iffy, it's one in the morniiiing!"

The brunette in the doorway narrowed her eyes. "Damn right it is! I can detect when a friend's in danger, any time!" IF barked. "And what happened here isthat Mr. Casanova over here charmed you into bed with him!" Jack was very confused now, and Compa was – uncharacteristically – annoyed at IF.

Perhaps not even the bond of childhood friendship could stand the test of 'being woken up midway through a super good sleep'.

"I asked if he wanted to snuggle, Iffy, not canoodle!" cried the nurse, throwing the pillow downwards. Jack cast a glance down at her upon use of the word 'canoodle'.

They were really throwing out that word? What the fuck was a 'canoodle'?

"We've just been hugging! That's it! He's super duper comfy and warm, and my apartment heating's not working." As she explained, IF seemed to lower her pistol in confusion, before hesitantly putting it away. Compa finally sat up again, resting on her elbows. "C'mon, Iffy, you really need to start calling ahead if you need to stay here for the night."

The brunette slowly lowered her head in embarrassment, putting her hands behind her back. "You...you did give me a key..." she mumbled. The nurse just rolled her eyes.

"I know, and that's OK, but why did you need to throw a book at Mr. Lunny?"

At this question, IF looked up again. "I'm still trying to get even for his stupid gun knocking me out." Now it was Jack's turn to groan loudly.

"Oh, come on, that was ages ago!" he cried. "You just threw a fuckin' book at my forehead!" IF just let out a 'hmmph', folding her arms and looking to her right, eyes closed in the generic tsundere pose whilst a snooty look crossed her face.

"Well, we're still not even," she declared. "And you still need to take the girls and I out for dinner and answers, like you promised." Compa raised a brow, then rolled her eyes.

"Mr. Lunny, did Iffy manage to trick you into making her a promise?" she asked, sighing. Jack looked side to side.

"Sort of."

"That...was kinda silly of you."

"Well, I realize that, now." He looked at IF, who was still standing in the doorway. "Anyway, what're you still here for? Go to bed or go home or whatever." The brunette just narrowed her eyes.

"Well, normally, I'd sleep in the guest room, but somebody just had to go and kill loads of guys and force poor old Compa to make space in the house for the captured gear." Jack was now confused.

"Uh...sorry for savin' thousands of people from terrorists, I guess?" he replied sarcastically. "Besides, it was Histoire who asked to store them here." At this point, Compa just groaned, pulling the pillow over her face again.

"Ugh, can you two just stop arguing and go to sleep?!" she yelled into the cushion. Both parties were very surprised at the outburst, confirming Jack's theory that nobody could be nice all the time. "Iffy, where were you gonna sleep? The living room is too cold and the heater's broken."

IF raised a brow. "Still?" she groaned. "I thought the landlady had fixed that." Compa just sighed, scratching her head sleepily.

"Ugh, I wish she would. My next door neighbour says she's got the problem too." Jack raised a hand.

"I could always get Luke to take a look at it?" he suggested. Compa shook her head.

"Nah, it's fine."

"...you just don't want him in your apartment."

"Yessy. He looks creepy and smells of old tobacco." Jack chuckled lightly.

"I'll be sure to pass him the message."

"So where're you gonna sleep, Iffy?" Compa continued. "There's no spare bed and the couch is cold." IF just went slightly red, before finally clearing her throat.

"W-Well, I, uh, was gonna ask to s-sleep with you," she began shakily, "But you've already got Mr. Ladykiller in there with you...somehow. Can't he sleep on the couch?" Compa adamantly shook her head.

"Big no-no, I'm afraid. Mr. Lunny needs to have good sleep to recover from his coma, and lying him out there would get him super cold." Then, Compa smiled. "Always room in here for one more, though!"

Jack just about spat out his non-existent drink as IF began angrily sputtering.

Compa's smile darkened.

Both parties sensed intent, and decided it best to throw aside their differences.

And within two minutes, IF had mentally steeled herself, stripped to her underclothes – simply by removing her jacket, belt, and shoes – and stood next to the bed. She looked at Jack. "Move up," she ordered. "I'm between you and Compa." Jack rolled his eyes, and looked to the nurse.

"You heard her, Miss Compa, we need to..."

The nurse was already fast asleep again.

"...shite."

"Well?" IF whispered frustratedly. "Just move her up!" Jack glared at her, shifting up to the middle of the bed.

"Look, you wanna wake her up, fuckin' be my guest," he hissed. "Otherwise, we are going to have to put up with each other for one night." IF's eye twitched, before she closed her eyes, steadying her breathing.

Finally, she raised a hand slightly. "Touch me, and I'll cut your balls off. We clear?"

He narrowed his eyes, throwing back the covers so she could lie with a gap between them. "Touch me, and I'll throw you into a tree myself." She scrunched her nose, climbing into Compa's abnormally soft bed.

After that, there was silence in the room – a sizable gap between all three bedmates. On the large bed, you had Compa on the left, then Jack in the middle, and IF to his right. Compa had already fallen asleep facing away from the two, and Jack felt awkward if he tried to cozy up to her. That, and IF seemed like she wanted to kill him anyway.

It really was a strange social dynamic they had: At the tower, they couldn't be more glad to see each other and embraced like long-lost friends. Right then, they were one accidental poke away from crucifying each other with one of the many nailguns in the other room.

Just then, the bed shook slightly. Jack grinned mockingly in the darkness. "Cold?" he mirthed.

"Sh-Shut up." IF whispered. "I'm j-just recovering f-from a frost poison. I-It gets worse with inactivity and I'm f-feeling it in the c-cold."

That changed Jack's tune. "You got poisoned?" he asked quietly. IF growled quietly, then sighed.

"Y-Yeah, I just said I d-did. D-Don't laugh."

"I'm not gonna," he replied carefully. "Do you need a potion or summat?"

"N-No, I had one earlier, b-but it takes a while to k-k-kick in." A pause, before IF slowly exhaled again. "C-C-C-C-Crap, even w-with the blanket, I wish I had my c-c-coat..." Jack grimaced.

"Want me to wake Compa?"

"N-No, don't. Sh-She'll end up fussing over me, and she's tired already."

"Then do I get you your coat?"

"You moving around will w-wake her."

Jack just stayed quiet for a moment. "Then how can I help?" he whispered. IF just grumbled something, then shivered again, and grumbled some more. Finally, she rolled over to face away from him, taking a good amount of the bedsheets with her.

For the next few minutes, she lay there shivering in silence.

From where Jack was lying, and what he could make out in the darkness...it was getting worse.

Now it was Jack's turn to be worried about someone for being closed-off and stubborn.

She really needs to warm up.

Sighing, he mentally fortified himself, and cautiously reached out to the girl beside him, one arm under her torso and the other underneath her left armpit to more easily take hold of her. As his hands made contact, there was a quiet yelp, but no physical resistance outside of rather subdued shaking.

IF's bare skin was absolutely freezing. There was definitely something wrong.

Without hesitating, he gently moved her towards him, before raising the much smaller girl up from the mattress and placing her gently onto his body, her head resting on his chest. IF's long brown hair immediately fell about everywhere, covering him, but he gently shifted it out of her face. "There," he whispered, carefully beginning to hug her. "That better?"

The adventurer just said nothing for a moment.

"...she was right, you are warm," IF murmured, slowly moving herself into a near-fetal position on his chest. "...I don't know what to say..."

"You don't have to say anythin'," he said quietly. "If it stops you shiverin', it's enough for me." IF swallowed hard, nodding.

"Y-Yeah. I mean, nobody else can ever find out about this...but thanks."

"I won't tell a soul."

There was more silence.

"...considerin' nobody's gonna hear about this, you want me to stroke your head?"

"I thought you were gonna ask for something else."

"Not my thing. Between us, I'm...uh..."

"V card?"

"...s-sort of."

"...kind of doesn't surprise me."

"Listen, you called me 'Casanova' earlier, so it must surprise you."

"Shut up. You're the one holding me to your chest."

"And you're not resisting...?"

"Oh, shut up."

"We're getting sidetracked."

"From?"

"My question. Do you want me to stroke your head?"

"Pssh. Nobody's stroked my head since I was a kid living with mom. She used to do it to get me to sleep."

"Did the same to Compa. Still works on her. Apparently I'm good at stroking people's hair and getting them to sleep."

"..."

"...want me to stroke your hair?"

"...please do."

A week and a half later...

Brow raised, Jack looked up from the pictures in front of him.

"I...am not doin' that."

Noire folded her arms impatiently as she sat behind her desk, an unamused expression on her face as Jack sat opposite her. After another day of keeping Uni in check, the CPU had rather suddenly called him to her office for a "talk". He'd expected her to complain about something, but not ask something of him.

"Did I say it was a choice?" she said flatly. "You do realize that you seriously owe me for throwing that mirror away." Jack groaned, and reclined in the chair slightly, the seat itself also groaning under his weight.

"Listen, I've said it repeatedly, I'm sorry," he sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Neptune was the one who nicked it from you, anyway..."

"And you threw it!" Noire cut in sharply, prompting Jack to wince.. "It belonged to my mother!"

"I understand that it's priceless, but you just said it's unbreakable."

"Yeah, but am I ever gonna get it back to make use of the unbreakableness?"

'Noire is really on point with her comebacks, today,' Jack noted.

"Besides, it was a petty thing to throw the mirror over. I don't know why you're so worried, a lot of men look good with grey hair."

"Yeah, when they're fuckin' forty something!" Jack groaned, throwing his head back on the chair's spine. Noire rolled his eyes at the dramatics. "I'm too young! I've barely hit the age to pay for my first pint, let alone a bloody mortgage and kids' university fees, and I'm already goin' grey!" He sighed haphazardly gestured towards Noire, who raised a brow. "What the Hell'm I talkin' about, you're always gonna look like a solid ten with no grey hairs, you'll never bloody understand this."

She wasn't sure whether to be insulted over his insinuation that she lacked empathy, or very complimented by the fact he called her a "solid ten". Unless he also meant that as an insult, somehow.

She'd probably need to calm him down. "Well...uh, on the bright side, there's plenty of people who pull off grey hair at a younger age. Like, what was that actor you said you found really attractive? George Boonie?" Jack rubbed his face, grindingly sitting forward again.

"Ugh...aye, I suppose he does it well."

"And does George Boonie-"

"Clooney."

"-Clooney actually halt terror attacks, or live a life stressful enough to warrant having all that tingeless hair on his head?"

"I...suppose not, no. He's just an actor."

"Exactly!" Noire beamed, with a hint of exasperation filling her voice. 'Why the Hell do I have to counsel him?' "Besides, at least you've got hair. No offense to him, because he's a nice guy and all, but Mr. Hillman-"

"Has a hairline that started last fuckin' Tuesday?" Jack cut in flatly, raising both a brow and a choking laugh from Noire.

"U-Uh! Yeah...yeah, that. Your hair's still there and not receding, so you can be happy that you'll get nice grey tints and a full head of hair for later life, alright?"

Hesistantly, Jack nodded, and sighed.

"Yeah, I suppose. Cheers, Lady Noire."

"No worries. Now, in regards to paying me back for the mirror-"

"So why am I bein' punished with a game of dress up?" Jack asked flatly. The bluntness of it prompted Noire to sputter slightly and wave her arms frantically, pointing at the door to her left and the elevator slightly further down.

"Shhh!" she hissed, jabbing a finger at him and going ever so slightly red. "Someone might hear, you idiot!" Jack crossed his legs, folding his arms to almost mimic Noire's previous posture. He raised a brow silently.

"What, the two door guards who've already fucked off because their shift ended..." He paused to check his watch. "...four and a half minutes ago? Might surprise you to know that loyalty usually only goes as far as the length of time they're actually gettin' paid to be loyal." Noire grumbled something and sat back in her chair properly.

"Ugh, you're absolutely impossible..." she groaned, before closing her eyes. "Fine. The reason I'm asking you is because – obviously – you're the only person who knows that I do that. You understand? The only one. And that being said, back when I told you, you distinctly mentioned that you had at least some interest in conventions, right?"

Jack nodded. "Right."

"Exactly. So why're you being hesitant?" Jack gave her an incredulous look, before grabbing one of the images from the table.

"Well, first off, the designs put down here are female characters from...Four Goddesses Online? Whatever. Anyway, I don't know if you've noticed, but I've hardly got a woman's physique, Lady Noire." Noire smirked slightly.

"Really? I remember you got really angry last week when Neptune said you have a woman's butt." Now it was Jack's turn to go red.

"I-I do NOT have a woman's arse!" he hissed, before scrunching his features slightly and mumbling, "It's just...moderately well-formed..."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Loafbun," Noire said calmly. "Anyway, the armours in those images have a male and female version. It would just be outright unfair to force you into some of the things the women in that game wear. Unless, of course, you want me to force you to wear women's clothes..." Jack jabbed a finger forwards so sharply that it almost whistled, a glare on his face so hardened that it could probably block a sword.

"Friends or not, Lady Noire, I'll fucking lynch you if you even attempt that," he snarled. Noire felt a bead of sweat roll down her head at the sudden aggression, raising her hands defensively.

If the after-action report from Miss Cave, his bodyguard, meant anything, then she was now terrifyingly aware that he was one of those rare people who could actually follow through with a threat: Broadly speqking, you don't try to intentionally pick a fight with someone who says "I'm going to kick you in the balls so hard that they pop out of your nose", then goes and does it.

"H-Hey, it was just a joke!" she laughed nervously. "Calm down, I'm not into abusing men like that, I'm pretty sure that's Leanbox's Oracle's thing." Jack sighed again and leaned back into his chair, rolling his eyes.

"Leave Chika out of this, rumour has it that if you say her name three times, she'll drunk call you," he grunted. "Anyway, second point, how're you plannin' to sort out the armour for this? Foam?" Noire nodded, clearing her throat.

"Um, yes, that's generally what I use for that sort of thing," she nodded. "Why?" Jack firmly shook his head.

"Wrong. Armour should always be made in full steel because then you can actually make use of it outside of conventions." Noire was slightly confused.

"But it'd weigh a ton."

"So does that attitude: You wanna go stomp on Dogoos whilst dressed like a Black Knight from 4GO? You go full armour." Again, Noire was confused.

"How do you know anything about that game? I thought you said you'd never touched a Gamindustrian console." Jack shrugged calmly.

"I browse N-Chan. Their video game board really hates it and talks about it all the time." Noire nodded understandingly, thumbing her chin in her usual display of thought.

"Ah, yes...they really do hate video games on that video game forum, don't they?" She paused. "...do they still post those weird pictures of us CPUs spanking each other?" Jack nodded, a grim expression on his face.

"I have no idea how they're that good at editin' those images, but yes, those remain a constant thing."

The CPU's frown deepened. "Ew."

"Yeah, let's just...not discuss that."

"Right...where were we? Ah, yes, armour. You say you've seen the armour from Four Goddesses Online?"

"Not in-game," Jack replied, leaning back in the chair. Noire noticed a purple flash, and in an instant, he was twirling a bowie knife between his fingers. It was practically a shortsword. She made sure she wasn't looking at it, otherwise he'd probably rant about it to her. "But I've seen enough to know that there's quite the variety. The men are built like mainline armoured vehicles and the women have breasts the size of Bristol. Rogues and thieves are universally just slutty."

Noire raised a brow in an unamused way. "I play thief," she said flatly. "But go on."

"I did look at a few of the designs with James whilst we were in Lowee a while back. We determined that the only armours with any practicality were mostly Mercenary's early game gear, the Paladin's intermediate full plate, and most of the Crusader's gear, not counting the 'Sin Wrecker' legendary stuff." The Goddess raised a brow as he continued. "I mean, for a game with nearly thirty total classes, based on types of combatants from throughout history, you'd expect 'em to have at least got some of the gear right."

"You...certainly know a lot about a game you've never played," Noire finally noted. "Why don't you get into playing it?" Jack mulled on it.

"Just...well, MMOs have never been my thing. I prefer classic-style shooters." Noire stuck out her bottom lip appreciatively, until Jack added, "Besides, MMOs are too serious, and I think my general attitude'd fuckin' annoy everyone."

"Understandable, to each their own," she said calmly, refraining from adding how his last comment was very agreeable even in real life. "But what you're essentially saying is that you would only do it if you would get some use from the costume?" Jack nodded calmly.

"Yeah. Like I said a while ago over text, cosplay was a HUGE thing back on Earth, but all of the stuff there was essentially plastic. I saw very few costumes that were 'practical', in a way." Noire was now unsure as to whether her large male counterpart understood what cosplay was about.

"You...realize that's probably because it's a costume, right? Not an actual piece of equipment?" she asked. Jack nodded.

"Yeah, but I'm always more impressed when someone makes summat that works properly, as opposed to bein' just an outfit." He sniffed slightly. "Are you just tryin' to defend yourself for makin' costumes out of foam? If you are, don't worry, I really ain't judgin' for that, Lady Noire."

She sighed, and leaned forward on the desk. "No, I'm not, just-I'm...ugh. Fine, look, we can go on N-Chan and see what they've posted in the discussion threads, and whether anything catches your eye, then try and find concept art for reference material." She grabbed her computer monitor from the side of the desk, and swivelled it around to point between them, away from the door.

Within seconds of opening an N-Chan tab, something did catch his eye.

"Fuckin' Hell, they really are good at image editin'."

Noire facepalmed, going crimson and scrolling past an (admittedly very well-edited) image of her spanking Vert's backside whilst the latter appeared to be enjoying it.

She groaned, and rubbed her eyes for a moment. "That's...just completely weird..." she mumbled, before exhaling loudly and returning to searching for the thread.

Jack shrugged, mentally filing the image away as "Weird Shit", which sat next to a folder labelled "Guns I Would Have Relations With".

"Welcome to N-Chan," he mused, watching as Noire clicked on the link for a 4GO discussion thread.

After a couple of minutes of silent scrolling, Noire cleared her throat to break the rather awkward silence. "So...you get up to much with Uni, today?"

"We went shoppin'," Jack replied calmly, briefly hijacking the computer mouse to save an image of a man in full armour that looked particularly nice. "Basically just went into gun stores and looked at stuff in there. I'd considered gettin' a new bandolier, but then I remembered that this outfit came with one."

"I did notice that you're wearing those clothes," Noire replied, scrunching her face up slightly as she crossed her legs and rested her chin on her palm, supported by her elbow. Her hesitation to continue made Jack raise a brow.

"I...uh, I'd hope you did notice I was wearin' clothes," he said slowly. "I mean, if you had x-ray vision or summat, you wouldn't be laughin' at me, would you?"

"I don't know, is there something I would find funny?" Noire cut in sharply. Jack swallowed.

"...u-uh...I...I dunno."

"Very well, then. Are they a good fit?" Jack cleared his throat and nodded quickly.

"Uh, yeah, they are, actually. Apparently one of your tailors came and took my measurements. Some girl in red-framed glasses with black twintails, red eyes, and a bad attitude, apparently."

Noire was sweating hard but kept her face neutral.

"Oh? R-Really? That's...cool."

"I suppose, but then they got to see me naked, which I'm really not happy about. I'm sure you know that I'm not a fan of girls seein'...well, anythin' under my clothes." Noire just gave a dismissive yet forced 'pfft', waving her hand to dispel his worries, completely unaware of just how much he was underselling that part of his personality.

"Come on, what is there for you to be shy about? You're all muscles and scars, most girls love that kind of thing, especially older women." Jack raised a brow in genuine confusion.

"Why older women, specifically?"

"They grew up with all the classic action stars like Mr. C. Ontra. Far as I know, muscly guys who take a lot of battle damage will probably never go out of favour with them." Noire then gave a shit-eating grin. "Though, I suppose it might be strange, having someone old enough to be your mother hitting on you, huh, Mr. Loondumb?"

His features went dark as Noire rapidly saved countless images. "Oh, for fuck's sake, it's this meme again..." he mumbled.

"You're like the teen angst phase, but you're able to actually do all of the things you threaten to do, so at least you have that going for you."

"Jesus Christ, that was dreadful."

"You look like you just graduated from high school and went straight to your forties."

"Shut up."

"You look twice your age and have it as your IQ, too."

"Fuck, calm down."

"Aw, come on. One more?"

"...fine. After that, I'm gonna start gettin' angry."

"You're so cosy with such a tough woman that you might as well be gay."

Immediately, Jack raised a defensive finger as Noire continued scrolling, now with a big grin on her face in the knowledge that she'd actually gotten to him.

"Hey, no need to drag Cave into this, she's done nothin'," he began almost argumentatively, before stopping and chewing his lip briefly. "And...yeah, admittedly, she's quite masculine, but she's...nice...you haven't got an issue with her, have you?" Noire pushed her lower lip out, briefly shaking her head.

"Nnnnnope," came the Goddess' practised reply. She really did have no issue with the woman who was currently lodging in the basilicom as a guest: She was polite, mature, good with Uni, and offered no form of burden.

Of course, Jack didn't know that, so she could now turn it into an insult. "A bit on the matured side, though. Personally, I didn't think you would be ga-ga for older girls." Her smirk only increased in size as Jack sputtered slightly.

"I do-wha-who the fu-I'd-I should kick your fuckin' arse, who said that I was?" he snapped. His face was red, either from anger or sheer embarrassment. This was going one of two ways: Either she was making him angry and she'd be stuck head-first through her desk within the next ten seconds, or she was calling him out on something. Whatever the case, considering how London was how he was, it was absolutely impossible to tell.

"I've no interest in gettin' into that sort of shite!" he continued, folding his arms defensively. "And with an older lady, no less? I'm no cougar hunter, Noire – shit, I'm hardly even a hunter in that regard! What'd people say if I was in public with someone older than me? 'There goes Mr. London and his fuckin' mum'?"

Noire was getting into this.

"Well, at the very least..."

She withheld a choke on her own laugh. Oh, how everyone was correct: Getting him worked up with teasing was absolutely hilarious.

"...you've got the hair of someone who should be dating older women."

She was pretty sure she heard glass breaking as his eyes snapped shut and his teeth began gritting, the man clearly trying not to vault the desk and punch her in the face.

She would probably add this to her 'List of Times I Lived Dangerously' notebook, and just bask in the fact that for once, she'd gotten a leg up on him in an admittedly one-sided insult match.

Later...

Jack lay on his usual provided bed, awake as per the usual at this hour. As he'd said to Noire when she told him to get some rest, he'd just 'had a bit of rest' for an entire solid week. He really didn't need any for a while.

Uni was already in bed, practically sealing herself in a room whilst she played with a new auto-loader that London had bought her. Noire had kicked Jack out of her chambers after about an hour, after 'briefly' giving him a tour of the study which she made cosplay gear in, and where she stored all of it. Apparently the talk was intended to be longer, dragging on to about two in the morning, but she got angry when Jack picked up an elasticated bra and slingshotted a heavy ball of thread at the back of her head.

Of course, this was after she regained consciousness roughly five minutes later.

After Noire had stumbled off to her room with her eyes spinning around and a low 'ehhhhh' coming from her mouth constantly as she rubbed her head, Jack decided to go for a short wander around Lastation basilicom's garden to see if it was any different at night...it wasn't, really. Though he did feel like even though it was beyond midnight, that someone, somewhere, was watching him intently.

Eventually he did the smart thing, and retreated to his own guest chambers so that he could prepare for the next day...wait.

At this point, he really had no actual planning to do. Playing with Uni was always quite spontaneous, and never unenjoyable. Noire could spring some bullshit on him at any time. Kei would constantly nag at him to "find somewhere else to loaf around!". The soldiers and government officials roaming the grounds in their downtime had recently taken to asking to take photos with him, apparently out of "crazy respect" for what he did at the tower.

So, really...he did have nothing to do.