Despite them not being able to see her face, Cave and London knew that Chika was smirking. The two had shown up early that morning, arriving by train, and – accompanied by a couple of plainclothes security guards – the Oracle had decided to greet them on the platform. As the train pulled in, Chika wasted no time in hopping aboard, waving off the stunned ticket conductor, and then entering the carriage where the two were meant to be.
Since it was a long-haul train journey – around ten or eleven hours due to the stupid railways built in Lastation that wound through the mountains for just about no damn reason – the carriage had sleeper compartments, all separated with wooden walls and doors to make them like mini hotel rooms. Cave and London were aboard one of them.
Instead of finding them doing something she would expect – like sorting through guns, or whatever two bullethoses would do – Chika had her phone out immediately to get pictures of the two, cuddling in the train carriage's bed with rather blissful looks on their faces. Not the 'post bang' look, mind you, because Chika knew what THAT looked like, but a look that suggested they were very happy to sleep in the same bed and in each others' arms.
Hence, the limousine ride back to the Leanbox basilicom was quite awkward for at least the first ten or twenty minutes. The roads were quiet, due to the time of morning, but the distance between the railway station and the basilicom was rather vast.
It felt like longer for Cave and Jack, who had to look at Oracle Hakozaki's incredibly smug grin. She finally broke the silence, turning to look at them fully.
"So, you two banged, yet?" she asked suddenly. Jack almost choked on a drink he didn't have, and Cave narrowed her eyes at her boss.
"W-What?" Jack sputtered, looking as if he were about to lunge from his seat in either anger or embarrassment. Before he could rattle off anything else, a hand from beside him landed on his shoulder to stop him.
"Mr. Glovebox, please forgive the Oracle's poor choice of words and conversational topic," Cave explained, stressing the latter words and shooting a glare at Chika. "I can only make the assumption that it was a joke, correct?"
The woman on the other end of the limousine may have been one of the most powerful women in Leanbox, but she did know better than to annoy a special forces assassin who she'd seen beating down multiple PERSIAN soldiers in training matches. Instead of a comeback, she snorted from her nose, still smirking and rolling her eyes.
"Sure," she chuckled, crossing her legs. "Let's say it was. But needless to say, you two have been rather cozy since that nasty business at the tower. You're not trying to raise the age rating of this story, are you?" Jack groaned at yet another reference to a plane of reality he couldn't comprehend, whilst Cave thumbed at her chin.
"Well, he did give me a rather good massage," she mused. Chika's smirk grew.
"Ah, he gave you a massage, did he?" she laughed. "I trained him up, myself. I'll say he does a very good job for someone who'd never given massages before and is the most glaringly obvious v-card holder I've ever seen." Jack scowled harder.
"S-Shut your mouth, Oracle," he snapped, before folding his arms and looking downwards slightly. The older woman just grinned, folding her arms.
"Don't get mad at me because you're unsuccessful," she laughed. "Not my fault you somehow failed to get action despite having THAT bod."
Jack just sighed. "I'm...I'm just...savin' it, for...for that special someone..." Chika mockingly clasped her hands together and tilted her head.
"D'awww," she sneered, leaning forwards. "Just telling yourself that because it makes the last forty years more bearable, huh? That's pretty wholesome, Mr. Glovebox." Jack didn't bother correcting her about the age thing, because-
"He's not forty," Cave cut in, raising a hand with a flat expression. "He told us his age, a few days ago." The seafoam-haired politician cast her a glance, then slowly reclined back into her seat, curiously eyeing up London.
"Well, well," she murmured finally, "Finally giving us hints on that birthday candle number, huh? What're we looking at...thirty?"
"Nineteen," Cave said, rather matter-of-factly. Chika just rolled her eyes.
"Oh, bull," she groaned. "Bull. If you were nineteen, you'd be in a nightclub, not a terror siege."
"Ask me summat only a nineteen year old would know," Jack replied flatly.
Chika wasted no time in replying. "What's my favourite position?"
"You've never told me. It'd be a bit rude to guess."
"That proves it: You can't be nineteen."
"How does not knowin' where you like to take it tell you how old I am?"
"If you were a teenage boy, you would have projected a fantasy onto me and replied with that," the Oracle replied smartly, holding her head high in a rather snooty way. "Thus, your actually respectful answer means you're not a teenager, and thus the media cannot complain about 'child abuse' if I make you give me another massage."
Jack stared blankly at her. "...or it just means I was raised with manners?" he suggested, before rolling his eyes. "Fine. What if I'd said summat like 'cowgirl'?" Chika offered him a confused look as the limousine rounded a turn. Cave just kept a flat, unamused expression as the two got comfy for their in-depth discussion.
She really had no idea why he was comfortable discussing this but not handling basic flirting.
"First, I'd say 'correct'," Chika said calmly, face not even changing, and she was not even slightly bothered that Cave seemed to be noting it down either as blackmail material or just future research material, "Second, I give pretty mind-blowing rides, so I'd probably ask if you wanted a demonstration, but you're probably more of an 'on-top' guy, so nah."
Jack smirked, and opened his mouth to respond with one of the usual innuendoes that the two communicated with quite casually, but was cut off. "Respectfully, Oracle," Cave piped up, "I think he's more likely to prefer having his partner on top." She withheld from flashing a sinister grin as Jack swallowed hard, looking away. "Just a theory, however."
Though she offered no confirmation, Cave's input was enough for Chika, who grinned at the much taller man. "Ah, you're a bottom guy, huh? Maybe you would want a demo?"
Jack shook his head quickly. "What? N-No, I really try to avoid bein' useless as much as possible..."
The Oracle didn't let up. "So you just prefer to let the woman take charge?" she asked mischievously. "There's nothing wrong with that, especially if you really are only 19. After all, you couldn't possibly be too experienced at that age, can you? Nothing wrong with letting someone else take you by the hand and show you what to do, is there, now?"
Jack blinked and swallowed again, now sweating slightly. Cave and Chika smiled at his nervousness, once again finding comedy in the art of taking an unstoppable titan and making him blush.
This was actually bordering into the territory they sometimes got to where innuendoes would lead to light touching in a joking manner. If it was a joke it was fine.
This was rather terrifying.
He cleared his throat. "I, uh, I...I'm not at liberty...to say anythin'." Chika rolled her eyes, smirking.
"Good Vert, you really are a terrible liar, Mr. Glovebox," she chuckled. "First you tell me you don't drink, now you tell me that you're still holding your Infamy Five card...any other bits of innocence, you're hiding?"
Jack opened his mouth for a retort, but for some reason, Cave couldn't help herself.
"He likes to be the little spoon," she interrupted, glimpsing the young man immediately freezing in the corner of her vision, "It seems that all he truly desires is for someone to hold him close, stroke his head, and be gentle with him." Chika's smirking increased, and she covered her mouth, giggling.
"Ohoh, now that is adorable, Mr. Glovebox!" she tittered, staring at Jack, who was now curled up in the far corner of the limousine. Chika was pulling her greatest Smug Anime Girl Face™. As she watched him start going crimson and looking away, she rolled her eyes. "Oh, come now, there's nothing wrong with a bit of petting and cuddling, is there? It's something a lot of people rather enjoy...just, obviously, not something I expected from YOU of all people. Vert calls it 'coddling': We've done it a few times, and oh, it's simply HEAVENLY."
Cave raised a brow. "I had no idea that was how close you really were with Lady Vert," she noted, glancing at her boss. "You really must have a way with words." The Oracle gave her usual smug smirk of victory as the limousine slowed down near the basilicom's front gate.
"You would be surprised how a few acting lessons can help in pretending you're sick with a non-contagious virus," she chuckled, before reclining slightly in her seat and looking up nostalgically. "Ahhh, she was fawning over me all day. The highlight of my career behind closed doors." Her favourite assassin seemed confused.
"What would be your public highlight?" Cave asked, shifting over to try and comfort Jack by rubbing his shoulders. Chika didn't even stop proudly smiling with her eyes closed.
"Remember when I punched that ASIC protestor for trying to attack Vert?"
Cave nodded. "I was planning to shoot them."
"My punching was faster. Then in the ensuing media storm, I proposed outlawing their group as terrorists, and it succeeded."
"I'm aware, Miss Hakozaki," Cave said flatly. "I was on your personal protection detail at the time. You're – what – five years my junior? I have had to look after you since you were a fresh-faced young woman coming into the job." Chika snorted again, picking up her handbag from the limousine floor.
"Yeah, and look at you now," she laughed, "Thirty-something years old and with a higher body count than a missile strike." Then she shrugged. "Pity the body count is kills."
"Respectfully, Oracle," Cave sighed, "I'd rather have a high kill-count instead of a high copulation-count."
"At least I can say I have both counts," Chika replied childishly, pouting slightly as the car began to stop. "Better to be loose than tight."
Cave just rolled her eyes, and refrained from further responses, because every counter to that metaphor she could immediately think of ended up involving the words 'screwing', 'screw', or 'tight fit'.
Later, inside the basilicom...
Jack was, by all means, concerned.
Upon walking through the doors, a number of staff gave cheers to him: Expected, since that's what they'd done absolutely everywhere since he woke up.
Then someone tells him that Lady Vert wanted to speak with him. That confused him slightly: Had he done something wrong?
So, walking through the hallways and occasionally waving to people, he finally reached the fairly secluded corridor to Vert's personal chambers. Inside, there came the usual sounds: Bizarre, totally eccentric, one-sided cries of 'Come on' and 'Oh, yes, that went well'. Since Cave had been dismissed to head to the RRoD headquarters within the building for a long overdue ribbing and debrief, Jack now stood alone.
He was quite hesitant to touch the door handle and open it, for fear of what he'd see.
It really did sound like Vert was just loudly masturbating without any kind of filter.
What if he walked in and she really WAS just going at it with a magic wand?
A large number of almost pornographic scenarios played themselves in his head, each making him more nervous than the last.
"Please, Christ, be wearin' some fuckin' clothes..." he whispered to himself.
So, as opposed to just barging in, or doing what he'd been trained to do and just kicking the grand eight foot door off its' fucking hinges, he slowly raised his hand and knocked. To his surprise, there only came a short pause until he heard the woman's gentle voice cry out "Oh, do come in! It's unlocked, as always!"
His mind now closing all the 'Busty Blonde Older Girl Disciplines Insubordinate Young Man' tabs that were running and then gently humming away at the potential security risk of leaving your door unlocked like that, Jack gently pushed the door open and was greeted by a relatively darkened room...what the Hell were all those boxes for?
Filling a large portion of the grand room, there were lots of cardboard boxes of all shapes and sizes, piled nearly to his waist height. None of them were labelled, but there was a huge number of invoice sheets on the floor at his feet, none of which actually mentioned what had been bought.
Although, 'discreet delivery' was marked on a lot of the documents.
Jack grimaced slightly, deciding it best to just step over the sheets and not even think about what Lady Vert had seen fit to order en masse with utmost discretion. "Lady Vert?" he called out. "It's London, I was told you needed to speak with me."
There was no response. Instead, the noises appeared to be coming from the room next to the one he was in, through a smaller door that seemed to connect the two. Jack raised a brow, almost tempted to draw his revolver, but then deciding against it because it would be incredibly rude. He made his way over to the door, which seemed to be open just enough to see the blue light inside and hear a strange tapping noise, and he slowly opened it.
Inside, he was slightly awestruck by what he saw. In front of him was a huge bank of monitors, all running different things, but none of them operating CCTV. They lit up the dark room in a combined glow, which highlighted the figure in the chair before them.
Lady Vert was sat there in her usual garments, with a pair of headphones on and holding an...Xbox controller? She seemed lethally focused on the game she was playing, but Jack couldn't exactly see what it was. As opposed to interrupting her, he sat down nearby and waited for her to finish.
He used to play video games all the time. Nothing annoyed him more, back then, than when someone interrupted an online match. Like the old saying goes; "Mum, it's online, you can't just pause it".
It really did surprise him. Of all people, he'd never expected Vert to enjoy video games.
The chair he found was nothing special; Some kind of expensive looking bench which matched the usual interior décor of the basilicom. He rather liked the aesthetic Vert had chosen for the place. Very homely. It was probably his favourite basilicom to stay in, in terms of amenities and style.
It also somewhat helped that there were absolutely mind-bendingly good views, very friendly staff, a populace that viewed him as a hero to some degree, a Goddess who really seemed to like what he did, an Oracle that was practically his best friend, and it was home to the bravest woman he had ever known.
He wasn't taking back what he told Histoire: Leanbox was his favourite nation, and not even Noire herself deciding to 'convince' him would change his mind.
After a few minutes, Vert finally let out a loud 'Phew!' and stretched her arms out above her head. Then, she sighed, said 'AFK', and removed her headset, finally standing up. Jack did the same.
"Lady Vert?" he began, approaching her, "I've returned with Cave." The Goddess gave one of her usual gentle nods, clasping her hands in front of her.
"Indeed, you have," she replied warmly. "It's always good to see you, Mr. Loondumb."
Jack smiled, and gave his own nod. "Likewise." He gestured to the screens. "Never, uh, thought you'd be into this sort of thing, Lady Vert." The Goddess shrugged.
"I run a couple of guilds in Four Goddesses," she boasted. "It really is important to fill your free time, Mr. Glovebox." Jack nodded appreciatively.
"I suppose so," he murmured, then spoke up. "Oh, yeah.You said you needed to speak to me?" Vert blinked, tilting her head slightly.
"I did?" she murmured thoughtfully, looking up and scratching her chin with a finger. Her face suddenly lit up. "Oh! So I did, correct! I was just going to let you know that you've had some fan mail, which will be in your guest chambers, and that you've also been asked – alongside your friends – to appear on Saturday Nep Live, as guests."
Jack raised a brow, putting his hands on his hips. "TV appearance, eh?" he chuckled. "I need to wear a suit, or summat?" Vert shrugged lightly, guiding him out of the room.
"If that's what you wish," she replied. "I can most certainly have a tailored suit put together for you and sent to your room...unless you had other ideas?" Jack shook his head.
"Nope, I'll just do what I'm told, Lady Vert," he whistled, looking both ways as they stepped into the corridor. "What're they wantin' us to talk about?" Vert once more clasped her hands in front of her as they walked, yet took on a thoughtful expression.
"Well, were I guessing, they would most certainly wish to hear of your exploits during the tower ascent," she began, "That might be slightly easier, considering Cave reported that you were issued your-"
"Short Term Memory disc?" Jack asked. Vert immediately nodded.
"Exactly," she smiled, pointing at him briefly. "I would suggest you get that all edited together, and remove anything you don't wish to show the world. For instance..." Vert cast a sly glance at a maid who passed close by, before leaning towards London for a whisper. Jack leaned down slightly to hear it. "...I've read Cave's report on it. I gather you two had a few very personal moments."
Jack paused, shocked, but then realized she didn't elaborate. Cave must have withheld information about their discussions from Vert...a smart choice. He really didn't want Vert to start getting the wrong idea about how much he knew about Cave and how much he'd told her.
Jack just decided to nod in response. "I see," he murmured. "I'll try and get some of it chucked together, to see what's usable."
"Speaking of 'usable'," Vert suddenly said, raising her voice back to normal and returning her hands to their usual pose, "We have an object from your planet that we can't decrypt any information from. It was recovered from the tower incident by an undercover SMD agent, and brought here ahead of your arrival."
"Huh. You get hold of some hard drives, or summat?" Vert shook her head.
"The hardest drive to crack is the one in someone's head...especially when that 'someone' only responds to your questions with staring and silent mockery," she explained. Jack gave an understanding nod.
"I see...how many did you bring here?"
"Only the one who we can confirm was definitely in the tower. A couple of other gentlemen surrendered to the Leanbox embassy a few hours or days later. Their processing has been much more civil; I expect you'll meet them, soon enough. The one I want you to speak with is the troublesome one."
"Really?"
"Mm-hmm. A Mr. 'Foster'. He wrote that much on paper, along with the words 'You won't get anything from me until I get to see my lawyer', but nothing else. He also won't take off the gas mask he's wearing, even when we try to force him. I don't even think he's eaten since he arrived, and is not speaking to anyone." Vert furrowed her brow. "If he was part of that assault, then-"
Jack interrupted with a hand gesture. "Not a chance. Odds are, he got cold feet when Kashuba started killin' civvie helicopters, and decided to bail on his own terms." He shrugged, checking his nails. "I never chatted with most of the guys in trainin', but if he's not tried anythin' by now, it's likely that he's just gonna try the same diplomatic route I took. Keep in mind, Luke, James, Josh, Chaz, and I ain't some kind of rarity. There must be more guys who wanna try integratin'."
Vert nodded with a...reasonable amount of understanding. "I see...will he eat anything at all? It's been several days, and he hasn't asked for anything or said anything."
"Nah, no big concern. He'll eat when he wants to eat. You want me to talk to him?"
"That would be grand," Vert replied smartly. "However, he's currently undergoing processing by the SMD. We can't do any proper interrogation until he's in his cell. The team should hopefully be done by tonight, so you may pop your head in to see if he responds better to you than any of our girls. At the very least, he won't be as horrendously flirtatious towards you."
"Can do," came Jack's flat reply as he briefly chewed a loose nail on his finger. "He's the only one?"
"Lastation and Planeptune have the rest. Lowee lacks the resources and intelligence bureau to get anything from your former comrades."
Jack squinted slightly as Vert stepped into the elevator ahead of him, following suit shortly after and immediately leaning on a wall like the stylish devil he was. "Cave told me that she's the only field agent in the RRoD," he said, almost curiously. "You're saying someone else got the guy?" Vert nodded, pressing the 'G' on the lift buttons and returning to her relaxed stance as it slowly began to move down.
"It wasn't actually too difficult," she mused, sifting through her hair with graceful fingerstrokes. "Apparently, our agent caught him in the process of trying to hotwire a car near the end of the tower siege, a few blocks away. She promptly caught his attention and lured him to one of our unmarked vans, hit him with a tranquilizer, and brought him back here. Doubtless to say, he was less than pleased when he awoke."
Jack lightly chuckled. "I suppose it was the same when Miss Compa drugged me," he sighed, scratching his jawline slightly as Vert turned her head to look at him.
"You were drugged?" she asked, concern scrawled across her gentle features. "How so?"
"Got told I needed sleep, and refused. Went to Planeptune, stayed with Compa, and she drugged me so that I'd get a full night's sleep," Jack replied calmly. "Won't lie, I wasn't happy, but it was a good sleep." The CPU hesitantly smiled, and nodded.
"I...see," she finally said, "And I understand from Cave that you've been sleeping better, drugs or no?" The elevator had finally come to a stop, and the two stepped out, Jack briefly licking his lips and furrowing his brow.
"Aye...everyone's been askin' me that," he said carefully, "I got told to sleep more, since it'll help with surgery recovery. Is...there summat I've done?" Vert just shook her head, an innocent look on her face.
"No, no, not at all," she replied, guiding them to the patio doors. "I'm simply glad that you're finally getting into a better schedule of rest. Need I remind you what happened when you didn't have one?" Jack rolled his eyes, before squinting due to his stupid decision of rolling them to point at the sun.
"Oh, aye, you don't need to remind me," he groaned, blinking a few times to clear away the pain of his own stupidity-induced solar blinding. The Goddess beside him just lightly giggled at his reaction, leading them towards the same table and chairs that they normally ended up sitting at. Just as soon as she had taken hold of a chair, she found a chair suddenly behind her, and let out a yelp as she fell onto it.
Jack then took the chair she was going to use.
As the CPU adjusted herself, Jack steadily placed himself down onto the metal chair with a loud creaking. "Hmm, damn," he muttered. "Either I've put on weight, or these chairs are weaker than I remember." Vert cleared her throat briefly, still slightly surprised by the chair.
"Well, ah, it doesn't appear you've gained weight, Mr. Glovebox," she replied. "If anything, you would more than likely have lost it considering your week and a half of inactivity. Have you been eating well?" Jack stared blankly at her, and thought for a minute, then put his hand out to count on it.
"So...breakfast last week on Tuesday...a meal on Tuesday night..." he murmured. Vert already had a look of total disbelief on her face, giving him an almost exasperated look as he stared ahead, trying to think of his last meals. "...does it count if I say I sustain myself on sheer anger?"
Vert groaned loudly, leaning back in her chair and looking up. "Oh, for goodness sake, Mr. Glovebox, you're absolutely useless at looking after yourself!" she cried, looking at him. "Are you really telling me you have an eating cycle like your old sleeping cycle?!" Jack put his hand down sheepishly, almost embarrassed.
"Uh...m-maybe," he sighed, "Just don't wanna gain any weight, so..."
"You still need to eat," Vert cut in, "You're not going to heal if you don't have anything in your body to sustain yourself. Even if it's just some bread. Just eat something."
Jack shook his head. His ears could pick up the signature heeled footsteps of Chika walking through the patio doors behind him. "No bread. Carbs just get turned into fat and stored on the body." The CPU smirked slightly.
"Don't be silly, bread can't make you fat."
Jack gave a deadpan look. "Bread makes you fat."
Vert suddenly looked quite stunned. "Bread makes you fat?"
Jack nodded, and she mulled on this rather startling revelation. Then, she smirked again.
"Well, it should be of no concern to me, as the fat on my body is in two places," she declared, almost proudly. "Two places, I might add, that young gentlemen such as yourself usually find irresistible." Jack rolled his eyes.
"I already hate this 'age' meme that's goin' around. That, and-"
"Do you agree?" Chika suddenly cut in, near instantly having a chair and being in a fairly relaxed pose with a glass of wine in hand. She was somehow right next to Jack all of a sudden, with Vert on the other side.
Once he'd recovered from shock, he cleared throat. "Pardon?"
"You surely agree that larger bosoms are superior?" Chika elaborated.
Jack gave her a flat look. "Are ASIC a bunch of pikeys and scroungers?" he asked rhetorically. "I told you before, when I first showed up: Y'can't tempt a proper English gentleman, y'know?" Vert smirked at the quote, a throwback to chapter 2, leaning on the table with one elbow.
"You're not denying it, though."
Jack just flashed a shit-eating grin.
"Go big or go home, Lady Vert."
The CPU didn't roll her eyes, instead nodding appreciatively, and turning to look out over Leanbox's capital city, stretching miles out into the distance beyond the walls of the basilicom. Jack did the same, folding his arms.
Jack would never cease to be amazed at how visually gorgeous everywhere in Gamindustri really was. Leanbox and Planeptune's capitals were easily his favourites: Whereas Lowee had blizzards and Lastation had a fairly dull grey tone, Leanbox's landscape was a vibrant emerald, speckled with smaller houses and farms that surrounded a huge, glistening white and green city.
Sure, when you got to the middle, it was like any other city, with bustling traffic and dingy alleys, but that really couldn't be helped, nor could it distract from the overall spectacle that was Leanbox.
After a few minutes of staying sat down, Vert finally cleared her throat.
"Seeing...as you're both here," she began slowly, "I have something that I have been meaning to do, which I feel you both could help with." Jack and Chika cast a cautious glance, but nodded simultaneously at Vert all the same – Chika with an excited smirk on her face.
"I'm up for anything, dear Vert," beamed the Oracle, displaying her well-maintained teeth and near perfect complexion as she gave a beaming smile.
"Aye, same, throw us the job and I'll give it a go," Jack said flatly, displaying his fairly chipped teeth and horrendous facial scars as he gave a fairly unenthused sigh.
Regardless of their responses (and the level of excitement behind them), Vert nodded slowly.
She looked troubled.
Vert rarely looked that way. Jack now had reason to be worried.
"I'd...normally do this myself, but it seems to me as though it may be beneficial to give you a non-strenuous job to regain your strength, Mr. Lonesome," she began. She got up from her chair, and stood between the Oracle and the 'orrible man, before crouching slightly and raising her slender arm to point out into the landscape. Her finger seemed to be aimed at an outskirts area of the city, a series of warehouse-sized buildings either side of a long road that stretched off behind the mountains in the distance.
"Do you see the long highway to the East?" she asked. Jack nodded, tilting his head to look down her arm, and also so that he could smell her perfume again.
God, he loved the smell of vanilla.
"Yeah, I do," he replied calmly. "Don't that one head towards the dry gulch between Leanbox and Lowee?" Vert nodded, moving away and back to her seat.
"Indeed. On that road, about two hundred miles out, there exists a small frontier town – Nokeya. I'd like you both to go there." At this point, Chika became slightly confused.
"I thought Nokeya was something that Leanbox bought and then abandoned when it became a liability?" she asked. Vert shook her head lightly.
"That's a common misconception, however I am not surprised that you, too, believed it," the CPU continued. "Nokeya was an independent town, which had existed outside Gamindustrian laws. When Leanbox pushed forward about one hundred and fifty years ago, long before you became Oracle, Nokeya was taken over by our armies and turned into a research outpost developing communications equipment."
"Did it do that before?" Jack asked.
"Yes, it did, actually. They produced some incredibly hard-wearing equipment. Much of it is still in use today, like their Thirty-Three-Ten Radio System. We still supply them to ADSTs and PERSIAN troops due to the fact that they can withstand such tremendous punishment in the battlefield, which is why Nokeya still remains active." She grimaced. "Truth be told, their Glass Phone project was...undeniably quite the failure, but they still flourish."
Jack nodded appreciatively. "I see. So...why're we goin'?"
Vert closed her eyes for a moment.
"There's someone there you must both meet before the celebrations, to ensure that she understands fully why they are taking place," she said finally. "I...I want you to introduce yourselves to my mother."
Chika's heart nearly stopped.
Jack stopped using his tongue to dislodge a piece of bacon fat that got lodged in the gap between his wisdom tooth and molar a few days prior.
Was meeting Vert's mum important? Probably.
"L-Lady Vert, you can't be serious!" Chika cried. "As much as I follow your words, is bringing your mother along not a bit-"
"Show-offy?" Vert finished for her. The Oracle paused, swallowed, then nodded.
Jack shrugged. "Sure, I've no qualms there," he replied calmly. "Anythin' I should know?"
Vert smiled. "It's good to see you're open-minded, Mr. LANDoom," she said warmly. "If you go, there are...four things to remember. Important things." Jack nodded, sitting forward on the chair.
"Say the word."
"First of all, my mother is...tall."
"You mean in a literal sense, or in a 'Fresh Prince of Bel Air' sense? I don't judge either way."
"No, no, I mean tall. She's...tall."
"How tall?"
"If I were going by your height, I suppose she would be about a head taller, maybe two. You'd probably only reach her chest or upper tummy. Around seven foot." Jack raised both brows, whistling.
"Christ. How come nobody else is that tall?"
"My mother is just naturally tall. Ties into the fact that she likes everything to be big, and spent many generations under the mantra of 'bigger is better'. It's why the basilicom is so large, the roadways, and the natural voluptuousness of Leanboxian women." The CPU flashed him a grin. "As I'm sure a young man like yourself must have noticed."
Jack opened his mouth to retort and was instantly cut off by Chika, who leaned forwards, smirking. "Oh, don't worry, my Lady, I've seen the way he undresses women with his eyes," sniggered the Oracle. "Seems to be a running thing with all of his friends, except Mr. Chaz and Mr. Monoplie. Those two are unreadable, and-or gay."
Jack just rolled his eyes and pretended that for the past few minutes, he hadn't been staring at Vert's exposed bra strap, he hadn't been contemplating just what it had to be made of in order to hold the CPU's huge bust in place without snapping, and he hadn't been contemplating what it must have been like to just...sink your face into them...
"Say what you will," he sighed, disposing of his thoughts, "I'm a bloke and I've got my instincts. What's next?"
Vert reached forward to drum on the table with her fingertips. "Secondly, she runs a gun range. She's done that since she went into retirement. I don't think you'll have any complaints, in that regard; At most, she might ask if you'd like to show her your skills with a weapon, but otherwise, I've never known her to be particularly aggressive." Briefly, the Goddess pursed her lips, staring at the table with a troubled expression. "Quite the opposite, actually."
Jack slowly nodded. "Uh-huh. And the third thing?"
"This part applies to both of you: Please don't be intimidated by my mother. She's one of the nicest women I've ever known in all my generations of life, and would never hurt a fly that didn't deserve it."
"So, like you?" Jack asked, raising a brow. "That's fine by me."
"Well, she's more of a hugger than I am, and is...quite the charmer towards both genders, but she'd never try to upset a stranger. It does hurt her feelings quite a lot if people remain apprehensive about speaking to her, so just approach as you would normally and tilt your neck up. Also, if she gives you her phone-number, please answer her calls. She just wants to talk to people, so try not to cut contact. I made that mistake before, when I was setting up my role as CPU. She'll never let me live it down."
Chika tilted her head. "So...just be nice to her?" she asked. "I'd be nice to anyone if they were related to you, Vert." Jack gave an agreeing thumbs up.
"You know me, I love meetin' new people," he said calmly, returning his arms to a folded position across his chest and reclining slightly. "Besides, she sounds like a genuinely lovely person. Like you, but taller." Vert let out a relieved sigh, putting a hand to her chest.
"Thank goodness, you're not declining the request," she murmured, before straightening up. "The...final point is more aimed at Chika, but you may be interested as well, Mr. Glovebox. My mother is...shall we say, she has quite the mouth, when things go off-course for her." The two people in front of her gave confused looks, prompting Vert to roll her eyes. "You'll...you'll understand what I mean, once you meet her." After a moment, Jack began to slowly nod his head.
"Rrrright. So nothin' major?" he asked finally. Vert shook her head.
"Not at all. I assure you, she's a delightful woman. I simply felt it might be better to give you some words of advice before you met up with her."
"When do you want us to leave?" Chika asked. "And how do we get there?" Vert lightly thumbed her chin, watching as Chika poured out her...next glass of wine.
"Well...if I were to offer my best suggestions, you could tag along with a supply plane headed to Nokeya, you could drive, or take the train. Since I know you don't like flying, Mr. Loondumb, you may wish to use the latter two options." Chika let out a 'pfft'.
"You're scared of flying?" she asked, mockingly, as Jack groaned and tilted his head back. "You really are dropping all the funny stuff lately, aren't you?" The man in question shot her a glare.
"Oh? Aye, Little Miss 'Backrubs-Make-Me-Purr-Like-A-Cat-In-Heat'?" he replied sharply, watching as the colour drained from her face. "You think you're only one who's been intelligence gatherin'?" Vert suddenly perked up again, both to interrupt their arguing and make a point.
"Oh! At mention of 'intelligence gathering'," she began, prompting them both to look at her, "I'd also like you to find out why Nokeya has dropped off communications. Their official channels aren't working and the phonelines seem to be dead." Jack raised a brow.
"You tried callin' your mum?" he asked. Vert sighed and nodded.
"Yes. I think she's left her mobile phone on silent."
"Sure she ain't in trouble?"
"Mr. Loondumb, my mother is the trouble when it arises."
"I thought she was a nice lady."
"She is. But do you really believe that someone who used to lead Leanboxian troops into battle is without experience in all manner of situations? Believe me, she can handle herself."
"Good. And you want us to invite her to the celebrations?"
"Actually, I'd like you to bring her back here with you."
Jack paused.
Then nodded again.
"Rrrright. Will she fit in a car?"
"No need; I can requisition a van for you from the SMD. You know how to drive, Mr. Loondumb, correct?"
"Not driven for a while. Also depends how well I fit the seat and footwell." Vert gave an understanding 'ah', before looking at Chika.
"Chika, dear, you drive, don't you?" The Oracle was about to nod, then paused.
"I would say yes, but legally I can't."
Vert raised her brow. "Why not?"
"I haven't renewed my license," Chika sighed, awkwardly scratching her head. "And goodness me, those guys in the DMV will probably not have my license done until next month." Vert chewed her lip.
"I see..." she murmured. Then, she sighed. "I'll see if I can find a designated driver for you, but it'll have to be someone trustworthy. Knowledge of my mother's location is top secret."
Jack scratched his chin. "Want me to ring up Chaz and see if he can fly us in?" Vert shook her head.
"As much as I trust him, I'm afraid that Chaz is currently practising the celebration's flypast with the Leanbox air force. It would be too much hassle to jostle him between the two jobs at such speed."
Chika gave a nonchalant shrug. "Could always ask Cave. She's already his bodyguard and legally doesn't exist, so we might as well." Vert stroked her chin.
"Well...yes, but she has just come back for a debriefing. I think – no offense, of course – that she may wish to spend some time without our dear Mr. Glovebox, seeing as she spent so long hanging around with him."
Jack just gave a flat stare ahead as he deduced exactly what came next.
"You kidding, Lady Vert?" Chika laughed. "She loves working with him. Probably even more than just a working relationship, considering the fact I caught them cozying up in a train car, this morning. Looked like a married couple." Vert smirked, raising a brow curiously and looking to the large man sat beside her.
"Oh?" she said, amused, cupping her elbow with a hand and resting her chin on her free arm. "I take the intimacy as a sign that you like having Cave around, Mr. Loafpun?" Jack licked his lip briefly.
"No, it isn't a sign," he sighed.
"So you don't like having her around?"
"I love havin' her around. Basically the only person who knows what I'm really like."
Vert nodded understandingly. "Ah, yes. You two did fight up the tower as a pair. She's seen firsthand what you want to do in battles."
Jack just nodded in agreement.
'Yeah, and she also knows that I really enjoy gentle cuddling and how socially stunted I am. But sure, the killing thing works, too.'
"So, shall I message the RRoD directorial board?" Chika asked. Vert nodded finally.
"I don't see why not. There's no major incidents to be resolved anywhere, so she can certainly have the simple task of driving you two to places," she mused. "Cave is also on a long-term recovery leave. Make sure the RRoD directors understand that, or they'll be taking up her position whilst she's gone." Chika smiled, pulling out her phone from her bosom.
"Understood, my lady."
Jack raised a brow at the convenient storage space that Leanbox girls had, but opted not to question it or stare at it for fear of being slapped.
Nevertheless, he was slightly troubled.
Why wasn't Vert going to visit her mother instead of them?
Later that evening...
Jack had always wanted to be in one of these rooms.
It was a small, dark room in the eastern wing of the SMD headquarters downtown, with a couple of chairs and a tape recorder, and light streaming from a massive one-way mirror on one side. Beyond that was a grey concrete room, illuminated by a dingy little blue-ish filament light hanging above. Inside that room – labelled 'Processing Room 5' on the wall - there existed a table, three chairs (two on one side), and a smaller tape recorder.
That one did absolutely nothing: The one behind the mirror recorded everything anyway. Turning it off was just a psychological tactic, since they could never see through the mirror to check whether the cops really had stopped recording. So, word of advice: You ever get arrested, don't tell the police anything and just glower at them until you're free.
Today, along with one SMD Officer, Cave, Chika, and Lady Vert, Jack was standing against the back wall, reclining on the wall. They all had a look fixed on the gas-masked man sat at the table before them.
He seemed to be dressed both for work, and an impromptu motorcycle ride, with business clothes up to a shirt, trousers, and tie, and an armoured leather jacket. On top of his head, there was a black flatcap, and he twiddled his fingers in a pair of black fingerless gloves.
The women in front of Jack were quite confused, and none of them spoke for a few minutes after stepping inside. Finally, Vert turned to the large man at the back of the room. "That's...not particularly very army-esque equipment, that he's wearing," she noted. "Did he come through looking like that?" Jack shrugged, and scratched his chin.
"Well, I can't ID him without removin' the mask," he sighed. "But yeah, they were quite lenient on what you were allowed to wear upon comin' here. Remember those mobsters wearin' the grimy white suits?" The SMD Officer raised her hand.
"I processed the survivors," she replied smartly. "Their recovered equipment was less than tactical, and the recovered equipment and bodies from the tower, slightly more so." Jack cast her a glance.
"Did you recover the massive corpse from the two-hundred-and-fortieth floor?" The woman gave an immediate nod.
"That one stuck out to me enough that I don't need to check inventory to tell you we retrieved it." She licked her lips briefly, then inhaled to speak. "How...may I ask, did you actually-?"
"Joint effort by me and Cave," Jack replied calmly, gesturing to the red-head in front of the glass. She was wearing the standard military dress uniform, her hair plaited and neatly placed on her left shoulder, which meant that she looked ever-so-formal as she calmly raised a hand and gave a small wave, a trio of medals lightly jingling as she did so.
"Hello."
The SMD Officer just whistled, raising both brows. "You really do just keep ramping things up, Lieutenant Commander..." she murmured. At the rank, Jack raised a smirk, and looked at Cave.
"Only a Lieutenant Commander?" he asked. "Hard to believe." Cave rolled her eyes.
"A promotion is usually a ceremony, in Leanbox," she groaned. "And with a higher rank comes more responsibility, and more paperwork. I much rather prefer field work." Jack shrugged.
"Well, definitely your forté," he mused. "Besides, formal military wear quite suits you, Cave. Should try bein' a pencil pusher, sometime, I reckon you'd suit the outfits." The woman folded her arms, smirking.
"If you start wearing a suit, I may consider the suggestion. It'd bring out that rugged jawline of yours."
"Aye, and secretary outfits look good on anyone, so-"
"If you two are quite done lightly flirting," Vert interrupted, drawing everyone's attention and prompting the two gun-nuts to look away from each other with near-synchronized eye rolling, "There still stands the point of what to do with our guest."
As Vert turned to face the glass, she suddenly screamed, aghast in fright at the image before her. Everyone else jolted back, and Jack instinctively drew his .44, tugging Chika and the SMD Officer behind him.
The gas-masked man was now standing right in front of the mirror, leaning on the glass.
Though she couldn't see his eyes, the dull black lenses of the filthy GP-5 gas mask gave a clear image to Vert: He was staring directly at her, not even towards the man who had a loaded handgun aimed at his face.
The quiet audio from the room next door was coming through the tiny speakers on the table in front of the group. It was just the quiet, rythmic hiss of a gas mask filter being breathed through.
The man himself, however, did nothing more. He seemed capable of tracking movements through the mirror, demonstrated when Vert decided to shield herself behind Jack, and his head followed her. Jack just grimaced, finally – hesitantly – slotting the .44 back into his waist holster.
"I'm thinkin' he wants to talk, now," he said flatly, before turning to the door. "Cave, you're in charge of keepin' the girls safe if anythin' somehow goes off." The redhead silently nodded, watching as he walked past, then turning her attention back to the man before them.
Just before he stepped outside, Jack noticed a piece of paper on a cabinet. It had the writings that Lady Vert had mentioned earlier.
Two lines total.
My name is Mr. Foster.
You won't get a bloody word from me until my lawyer shows up.
Eloquent. At least the use of 'bloody' indicated he was British. That was some common ground.
Nevertheless, he held onto it.
Jack stepped into the corridor, turned right one door, and then calmly walked on in to the interrogation room.
As he walked in, he was pleasantly surprised to find that the man in question was already moving back to his seat, calmly sitting himself down and staring at Jack with the dead eyes of a Soviet gas mask.
He'd never been in a police interrogation room, before. That was a good thing, usually, but in this case, he could definitely feel uneasy just walking into it. Keeping his eyes on Mr. Foster, he approached the table, pulling out the chair, and sitting himself down.
Foster tapped the table twice with a finger. "Oh, good, here comes the mass murderer," came a flat voice, rather upper-class sounding. "Come to finish the job, you tosser?"
Jack grimaced slightly, put the paper on the table, and slid it towards Foster, who leaned forward slightly to look at it.
"You wanted your lawyer, or someone to get you out of the shit," Jack began flatly, staring at him and templing his fingers. "That's me." Foster just gave him a blank stare.
Then, after a moment, there came a loud sigh, and he raised his arms exasperatedly.
"Well, this has been an absolutely fantastic few weeks," he groaned. "First I get tranquilized, then I get all my money taken from me, then they bang me in the slammer, then they send in the bloody Grim Reaper himself to question me." Jack raised a brow.
"Grim Reaper?" he repeated. "Who's that?" Behind the mask, Foster rolled his eyes.
"Who do you bloody think?" he asked rhetorically. "You killed just about every one of Kashuba's men. I'll have you know I've got a damn good reason to be alive, and that's because I decided not to try and square off with you, or some...eighty foot flesh-tinkertoy thing." Foster folded his arms and leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs. "Congratulations: I don't know your actual name, and I don't care to know right now, so I'm going to call you 'Grim Reaper', because the fact you even showed up to the tower sealed a lot of fates for the other lads."
Jack chewed his lip for a moment.
Well, they did call James 'Dragon Slayer' in a few places.
"And what the Hell was that dragon?" Foster continued, throwing his arms wide. "Was that yours? Was that ours? Who the Hell killed it? HOW the Hell did they kill it? All I remember was seeing its' head above some buildings and then the floor shook and suddenly, the big bastard's not there anymore."
Jack chuckled. "You've a Hell of a lot of questions for someone who's been silent for about two weeks." Foster leaned onto the table.
"And you've got remarkably few, for someone who shot up most of the project he was meant to have worked for."
"Morals over orders, Foster."
"Oh, kiss my arse, talking about morals," the masked man retorted sharply. "I watched you pull someone's arm off and beat him to death with the bloody thing. And now you want to talk about 'morals'?" Foster folded his arms, and even through the mask, Jack could tell he was glaring at him. "Good Christ, you're the biggest hypocrite I've ever met. Ever thought about going into politics?"
"I have," Jack replied, drumming his fingers on the table. "And that's lucky for you. Without me, you'd still be either sat in your cell, or in a bodybag. Just some good fortune for you and any of the others who turned themselves in that I managed to make a diplomatic approach, here." There came a 'Pssh' of dismissal, and Foster rudely looked away, shaking his head.
"Oh, right, big hero, you are..." he muttered.
There was a brief silence.
"Why?"
Foster looked at him.
"Eh?"
"Why siege that tower?"
"You damn well know why."
"No, I don't. I wouldn't be askin', otherwise."
"Well, a gentleman of your intellect should be good enough to figure it out."
"Money?"
"Why the Hell would we need money? You think disputes in Sierra Leone are settled with bank transfers?"
"Then, dominance? Show of power?"
"The point was originally that nobody was supposed to know we were in the building. We just had too many trigger-happy arseholes following along. A show of power was something we wanted to avoid. No showing our hand to the opponent."
"And you intended to do what, exactly?"
"Oh, I didn't intend anything," Foster sighed, raising his hands defensively and leaning back on the steel chair. "Just happened that a one-man mutiny was an incredibly stupid idea, and I'm not an idiot. No way was I taking on the entire force after killing the Major." Jack raised a brow.
"You didn't like Sergei?" he asked. Foster nodded.
"Not in the slightest. He was a rather self-entitled dick, if I can put it like that. The fact is that he was only in charge of us because he was the highest rank of all the guys we'd gathered up to fight with." There was another pause as Foster scratched at the back of his gas mask. "Truth be told, we never really did figure out where the Lieutenant Commander went. Maybe he's stuck in a tree, somewhere."
"If that were the case, you'd be bone collectin'," Jack replied grimly, before leaning forward. "But you're sayin' that Kashuba was unpopular, right?"
"I'll put it bluntly: If you were looking for a ray of sunshine, he was far from it, for a lot of us. Someone like that surrounds himself with his favourites, because he knows they'll look after him if he puts them on pedestals. Like that 'Duke' guy: Big African fellow in armour. Guy was like Kashuba's lapdog...less chihuahua, more wolf dog, if you know the guy I mean."
Jack solemnly nodded. "Yeah. He's dead."
Foster's gaze suddenly tilted, and slowly looked towards Jack. "...you killed him?" he asked slowly.
Jack, again, nodded. "Aye. Snapped his neck with a sledgehammer." Foster stared at him, then shifted his pose to relax on the back of the chair.
"Don't try to piss me about," he finally said, rather sternly, "There is no way you killed Duke. That man...thing...was just an absolute tower in advanced armour. You're just some tosser in a crappy jacket." Immediately, Jack planted his hand on the table and pointed at Foster angrily. Foster's stance shifted slightly as Jack took the bait.
Behind the glass, Cave facepalmed lightly, knowing exactly where her stubborn charge was going to take it.
"Oi, now listen, you absolute dickhead," Jack snapped defensively, "You can hardly slag me off for droppin' that gigantic twat, because-"
"I wasn't slagging you off for it. I was slagging off your bloody terrible fashion sense," Foster replied. "The punk trend died before you were even a sperm, you little reprobate."
"Oh? Rich, comin' from a deleted character from fuckin' S.T.A.L.K.E.R."
"I'll have you know that this mask is rated up to current CBRN standards," Foster declared, folding his arms childishly, "And so when someone decides to tear gas you, suddenly I won't look like as much of a mug, will I?" Jack narrowed his eyes.
"You'll look a right nonce, once I've shoved the thing up your arse."
Foster raised a finger appreciatively, not hesitating. "Ah, yes, indiscriminate hyperviolence. You know what? That's something you seem to be very good at." He scratched at the green metal filter on the mask idly. "Oh, and womanizing. I've no idea how you did that, but half this bloody world's trying to suck your dick, if women's magazines are to be believed."
Jack grimaced at the mental image.
"What a delightful thought," he groaned sarcastically. "Now are you gonna give me any useful information, or do I have to go Guantanamo Bay on you?" Foster just gave a flat shrug.
Jack simply had to admire the level of absolute defiance that Foster just seemed to glow with.
"What're you gonna do?" he chuckled, gesturing to the mirror at the side of the room. "Far as I know, those lovely ladies in there are probably not quite as happy to watch torture as you are to inflict it."
Jack glanced over to the observation window, and chewed his lip. Then, he looked at Foster.
"I'll go ask them."
The older man just chuckled, putting his feet on the table as Jack got up and moved to the door. "Whatever you say, champ," he mirthed. "Oh, and grab me the Financial Times on your way back. I need to check on my stocks."
As the door clicked shut and he began moving towards the neighbouring room, Jack mulled on that.
He'd invested in stocks?
Maybe he could-
"Well, you got something out of him," the SMD Officer said, cutting off his train of thought. "At least he speaks to you." Jack just sighed, and sat down on a chair in the corner of the room.
"It's a start," Chika agreed, shrugging. "The guy really should find a career in stand-up. I found him quite funny." Jack raised his brow, adjusting his stance on the chair slightly.
"You found it funny when that falcon stole your bikini top whilst you sunbathed and then you flashed me intentionally," he replied flatly. "Makin' you laugh ain't a hard thing to do, Chika. Besides, the guy's an absolute cunt. I'll give him the credit that he's stubborn and sharp-witted, but he's ultimately just a massive prick." Vert stroked at her chin.
"I would have said you could try and out-do him, Mr. Glovebox," she began, "But no offense...he really threw you through the mud. He must have either years of experience playing online, or years of experience working some kind of important job where insults are important to ruin an opponent's reputation." Cave hesitantly nodded, absent-mindedly taking a seat beside London.
"I can agree with Lady Vert," she added. "His comebacks were quite fast. I would have theorized that they were pre-prepared...but he's never met you before. He just took what was in front of him, and began insulting it." There was a pause. Jack looked at his sleeves. "If it makes you feel any better, I actually rather like the jacket," Cave beamed.
Jack briefly chuckled, shaking his head. "Cheers."
"Well, with subjects like this, normally we'd fill the room with gas or smoke to stun them," the SMD agent suddenly cut in from across the room, scratching her chin with a pencil. "But in consideration of what you drew from him, it sounds like this 'CBRN' thing means we can't do that."
Jack nodded, once more chewing at his lip. "Aye. CBRN is basically the acronym for anythin' meanin' 'don't breathe this shit in'," he explained. "I'm not gonna question why you'd gas people to try and interrogate them, but I'll say that it won't work." The agent shrugged.
"Restricted airflow induces panic, and forces brains into partial or total blackout," she explained. "For instance, being choked out."
Cave scratched her head awkwardly, staring at the floor. She could feel Jack glancing at her.
Was he still upset over that? It was ages ago that she'd choked him out.
She'd read about that sort of thing before. What if she'd awoken something in the poor, confused young dear?
On Jack's end, it gave him an idea. He looked at Vert.
"What's the legality of beatin' prisoners?" he asked. Vert shook her head near immediately.
"A citizen of Gamindustri is not permitted to attack other imprisoned citizens," she said sternly. "It's a breach of civil righ-"
Jack's finger pointed at the man behind the glass. "He ain't a citizen."
Vert narrowed her eyes. "...and...?"
"He's not a citizen, so he's not got those civil rights."
"Mr. Loondumb, I'm not going to permit you to beat someone for information. You're in the public eye and it would destroy your reputation, especially ahead of a TV appearance."
Jack groaned slightly, and scratched his chin.
She had a point.
"Respectfully, Lady Vert," Cave said suddenly, raising a hand. "I am not in the public eye. I could technically do it." The CPU was stunned. Chika, not so much.
"Oh, nice," the Oracle said, (possibly) sarcastically, "I do love watching SMD Black Site tortures."
"Cave, I understand your devotion to duty," Vert began, clearly straining slightly, "But physical violence on a prisoner is really something I cannot ask you to do." The redhaired woman simply stood up, the same look of cold determination on her face that existed when she was busy fighting through the tower.
"Lady Vert, I'd actually be asking you to allow me to do this." Her gaze hardened quite suddenly, and Jack felt a cold air roll through the room. "This is one of the subordinates of the man who beat me and left me to die. It's only fitting that I return the favour as closely as I can."
Vert gave her a bewildered stare for almost a whole minute. The room was in silence. Cave didn't move from her stoic pose.
Finally, Vert sighed; Slowly, she rubbed her brow, folding her free arm beneath her bosom.
"...no weapons, no waterboarding, and no full beatings." The CPU gave her best agent the most serious look Jack had ever seen her give. "Are we clear, Miss Cave?"
Cave, uncharacteristically, grinned. "As glass, my Lady," she said, almost wickedly, before turning to Jack as she moved to the exit. "Mr. Loondumb, grab that roll of tape and that map." Jack raised a brow at the sudden burst of action, rather hesitantly picking up a roll of duct tape that had been sat on the table nearby, along with a large world map of Gamindustri, then speedwalking after her and out of the room.
"So, uh," Jack began, watching as she stopped outside of the interrogation room door, rotating to face him. "You...wanna take the lead on this one?" Cave shook her head, folding her arms.
"An interrogator usually works with a torture expert," she replied calmly. "I, personally, am not exceptionally well-trained in basic interrogation; The disciplines I decided to properly study in my free time after the tower do not fit this situation." Jack stared at her, then shook his head, pouting slightly.
"So you want me to lead?"
"If you don't mind. Though, I shall wait out here for your call." Without a further word, she leaned forward, plucked the roll of tape from his hand, and then stepped back, gesturing to the door.
Jack was rather concerned. Her usually cold green eyes now held a certain...fire behind them. It was rather unnerving: Almost similar to that look some of the guys in the tower held when Jack came charging towards them and they waited to open fire.
He licked his lips, nodded slowly, then reached out to head into the interrogation room.
Cave's hand stopped him.
"When you call me in, refer to me as something sickeningly sweet."
"Eh?"
"A pet name," Cave repeated, face still somewhat unreadable. "It unnerves people more if the interrogators don't appear to be serious. Perhaps 'honey', or 'dear', or 'sweetheart', or 'darling'."
Jack blinked a couple of times.
...it did seem like it might work.
Slowly, he shrugged. "A'ight."
Then, he pushed open the door.
As before, Foster just gave an exaggerated, annoyed gesture, still reclined in the chair with his feet up. "Oh, Christ, you're already back," the masked man groaned. "Did your fit-looking mum in there tell you not to whip out the US foreign policy training? And where's my bloody newspaper?"
Without a word, Jack approached the table and swept Foster's feet off it with one hand. The man was almost stunned, before he adjusted his pose and started chuckling, rubbing his chin. "Ah, here we go. Let's see how those other lads felt."
"Actually," Jack replied, sitting down, "I'm not gonna torture you." Foster stared at him, then shrugged slowly, reclining again.
"Well, your call. I did tell you those fine ladies wouldn't approve of violence."
Jack smirked.
"Oh, you thought you weren't gettin' tortured at all?" he grinned. "I just told you that I wasn't gonna torture you." Foster froze quite quickly at that, and stayed silent for a moment.
"...fine." he muttered, staring ahead. "You're speaking like there's a way out of it. What do you want me to do?" Jack's smirk remained as he pulled out the world map, and unrolled it across the table.
"Simple," he replied, smoothing it out as Foster turned to look at it. "I need two pieces of info from you. Care to guess what they are?" Foster stared at the map, then scratched at the back of his mask.
"Well..." he sighed, straining slightly as he poked fingers underneath the mask seal to scratch a small itch, "One of those would probably be something to do with our mutual friend, the late Major Kashuba, correct?" Jack nodded.
"Correct. I wanna know where you boys set up shop before that siege," he replied, gesturing to the map. "Whether you had city bases, wilderness outposts, some kind of cave system – Hell, you arseholes could've been set up on the fuckin' moon, for all I care. I just want to know where you set up." Foster gave a nonchalant shrug.
"Not a bloody clue about the spot," he replied flatly. "I know it was really bloody cold outside. Quite close to that...how'd you say it? Lowes? Looey?"
"Lowee."
"That one." The man gestured a fingerless gloved hand towards Lowee, the almost Russian-esque landscape in the right of the map, drawing a loose circle. "Idea was that we'd be able to move quickly around the place and lose pursuers in the cold. Fairly solid boat routes between that cold dump and Plan...Planep...Plan...ugh, sod it, the purple one. Rather thankful that Lerwee had bloody terrible military units, or we'd have been tracked months ago."
Jack nodded, taking it in. "That was the main camp?" Foster nodded.
"Yeah. Any vehicles, food supplies, and heavy weapons were stored there," he explained. "We made friends with a bunch of guys who were willing to smuggle supplies and men overseas."
"Who were the smuggling guys?" Foster just shifted his head, implying he was rolling his eyes.
"Oh, Christ, don't even get me started on them," he groaned. "Some weird fucking elf thing with a terrible attitude, and a bloody talking gerbil." He stayed silent a moment, then looked directly at Jack. "Go on."
"Go on, what?"
"Tell me I'm talking bollocks. Call in your torturer, or whatever." Jack shrugged.
"Nah. Trust me, mate, I've seen some absolutely real shit since I've been around this place," he replied calmly. "A talkin' gerbil and an elf are probably in the top fifty list of weird shit." Foster shook his head slowly.
"Bloody Nora, you've actually managed to desensitise yourself to it," he murmured, scratching his head. Then, he sucked air through his teeth. "Each their own, I suppose. Next piece of info?" Jack kept his flat glare, folding his arms.
"Where were you runnin' to?"
At this, Foster suddenly seemed to tense briefly, then looked back at him. "Not a bloody clue what you mean."
"You were leavin' Kashuba. You got caught at a van. You were goin' somewhere."
"Originally I'd wanted to find a bloody toilet," Foster snapped, crossing his own arms. "I left Kashuba's top room to go find a bog, and there were no men's toilets anywhere. You get what I mean, right? Not a single bloody men's room." Jack smiled, nodding along.
"Yeah, I get what you mean."
"Right?!" Foster said quickly, gesturing to him and laughing nervously. "I know it's a woman dominant society, but come on! Had to be some workplace laws, or some kind of-"
"How'd you end up at a van?"
"I decided to piss off when you started smoking up the bloody tower!" the masked man cried. "Kashuba didn't let me take my guns to the bog! I think he knew I was trying to leave, you know?"
"And where were you goin'?"
"I don't bloody know!"
"You do. Otherwise you wouldn't have been gettin' in a van. You would've run on foot." Jack narrowed his eyes, leaning forward towards Foster. "Or...maybe it was too far to go on foot?"
He gave Jack a blank, yet clearly petrified stare.
"...w-well...where was I allegedly going?" Foster asked slowly.
"You tell me, Mr. Foster."
Silence, again. This time, Foster didn't speak up, deciding to fold his arms and look away from his interrogator. Jack stuck his lower lip out, gradually shaking his head.
"You got an answer, for us?"
Still, the man before him stayed quiet. Eventually, Jack sighed.
"Well, your choice, not mine, champ," he grunted, standing up. As he approached the door, he stopped, leaned on the wall, and knocked a few times. He opened his mouth to say 'Cave', then remembered what she'd suggested. After a very short moment, he spoke. "Darling? Mr. Foster doesn't seem to appreciate good conversation," he called, subconsciously putting a rather quaint 1950's English accent into his voice, "You wouldn't mind coming in to have a talk with him, would you, dear?"
There came a pause. He was almost certain he heard Cave breathing some kind of sigh on the other side of the door, but was quickly cut off as the door opened quite suddenly. The woman in question was wearing a very serious expression, glaring daggers at the man before her. "Of course, dear," she finally replied, raising her hands slowly and extending her roll of tape. "I do love a good chat."
Jack didn't let his face betray it, but for some reason, he felt really cold all of a sudden. Cave's line delivery was remarkably scary.
Of course, Foster wasn't with-holding anything: He shifted his chair back, standing up very fast, and putting the table between himself, and the two interrogators. "F-Fuck me, get her out!" he snapped, pointing at Cave. The smaller woman began approaching him, to which Foster circled the table. "Do not let that fucking woman near me!"
"Why?" Jack replied, blocking his passage. "Bad memories of her?" Foster tried darting around him, but fell foul of a table leg, falling forwards only to be caught in Jack's massive hands. He struggled against them violently, yelling out in frustration and panic as his younger counterpart slammed his back flat onto the table.
"Shit! Shit, GET OFF!" Foster screamed, legs flailing. Above him, tape in hand, was Cave. With both his arms pinned by Jack, he couldn't even properly fight back as the redhead glared down at him. "Don't bloody touch me, you WRETCHED little psychopath!"
Without a word, Cave moved the tape towards his mask, and Foster started screaming.
Two hours later...
Eventually, the observation room door clicked open, and Jack was immediately greeted with an open-handed slap to the face from Lady Vert. "Never in all my years have I seen such a gross abuse of power," she began angrily, placing her hands on her hips as Jack didn't even rub at where she'd hit him, instead raising a brow. "Despite getting the information, you two used extreme methods to do so, and rendered Mr. Foster totally immobile. I would never-"
"You owe us about two thousand credits for all the duct tape you used," the SMD Agent cut in, ignoring the fact that Chika immediately broke into laughter in the corner of the room, "That, and when the time comes, you are both expected to clean the residue off the room's walls."
"The fucking CEILING!" Chika screeched, clutching at her stomach. "You taped him to the fucking CEILING! I am SO putting you two on pre-emptive interrogation, sometime!" A shit-eating grin went across Jack's features as he chewed a fingernail, and glanced into the room. Cave did the same, a satisfied smirk on her face.
Sure enough, Mr. Foster had been completely plastered with duct tape, and was being pinned to the ceiling with countless strips of the material. The only pieces of his arms that had been bound were his wrists, both tied together with his hands totally engulfed in tape. Cave had also taken the liberty of taping over the lenses of Foster's gas mask, making it impossible for him to see anything, and with his fingers blocked by tape, he had absolutely no way to untie himself or remove the improvised blindfold.
The room, of course, was absolutely filled with expletives, as the Englishman flailed around violently, threatening ungodly things against Cave and Jack.
Vert turned her gaze to her red-headed operator. "I expected better, Miss Cave," she said sternly. "I thought you were above such actions."
"Respectfully, Lady Vert," Cave replied, "I used no weapons, didn't waterboard him, and did not beat him. Those were your orders. Not only that, but he is in no way injured. Give him a few hours, and he will answer the question."
Vert really had no words, instead opting to slowly cup her elbow in her palm and put her hand to her forehead to slowly rub it, sighing.
'She's...not wrong.'
As the observation room stayed quite quiet, Foster was absolutely roaring his lungs off, making a number of rather crude comments about 'ripping off' Vert's greatest assets.
The next morning...
It was about seven o'clock, as Jack was lacing up his boots, that he received a knock on the door to his room. It wasn't too much of a surprise; The maids in Leanbox's basilicom knew that he would gladly let them in to clean at any time of day, even the morning, so perhaps a slightly more morning-centric servant had decided to pay him a visit.
That, or Cave. Cave was good at waking up early. She also liked waking him up early, now that he was sleeping more. No complaints from him, obviously, since it meant he had someone to hang out with.
"C'mon in," Jack called, tightening the laces. "It's unlocked."
The person on the other side of the door released a quiet yelp of surprise, then a moment of silence, then slowly, the door creaked open. In a rather uncharacteristically slow manner, Chika stepped into the room. "...hi."
Jack stopped, and cautiously looked at her. "...what's happened, now?" he asked suspiciously. Chika inhaled slowly.
"So...we got answers from Foster," she began, beginning to pace into the room. "You were right; He WAS trying to run. He'd set that van up for a long-haul drive."
"Aaaand? Where was he goin'?"
"That's the issue. He said there's some kind of 'resistance' against Kashuba's guys. Your whole project split apart. Kashuba's guys got the majority and the resistance is only a few guys less than that."
"Huh." Jack thought for a moment, then looked at Chika. "My radio didn't come out with anythin' about that. Where're these 'rebels' located?" The Oracle licked her lips briefly.
"Nokeya," she said finally. "They're using Nokeya as a base of operations." Jack stared at his boot, slowly nodding and finally continuing to lace his boot.
"I think I see the problem."
"Oh, DO YA?!" Chika hissed, marching up beside him and putting her hands on her hips. "Mr. Loondumb, if Lady Vert's mother has made contact with the rebellion, who knows what they'll tell her. And we don't even know what she's been doing out there for all these years! She might have...I dunno, raised an army, or something!"
Jack sighed, tugging his laces to tighten them properly, then stood up to tower over Chika. "You're worryin' too much," he replied flatly. "She'll be absolutely fine, trust me."
"How do you know that?" Chika groaned, rubbing her forehead.
"Because I've already sparred with Lady Purple Heart," he replied. "Even though I'm allegedly a high level, she was still way faster than me and way stronger. Vert's mum is probably way more powerful than all of the possible survivin' Earth guys combined. Nothin' to worry about; Things've gone tits up, she'll've massacred all of them."
Chika bit her lip, and scratched the back of her head, finally sighing. "Well...you've got a point. But I still want you and Cave to bring some gear in case anything does go wrong." Jack let out a 'pfft' and a dismissive hand wave, gesturing to the corner of the room.
As Chika looked over at the huge pile of gifts that she'd missed, she was actually not surprised that a good portion of it consisted of different weapons. Predominantly guns, with a number of swords and other such close quarters weapons. This, of course, was mixed with sets of armour (all too small for Jack), clothes (too small), wine (which Chika later 'borrowed'), and books (shameless self-promotion by some people).
"I figure I can spare some of my new toys," Jack chuckled, looking down at her. "You ain't got anythin' to defend yourself with?" Chika tilted her head side to side, wincing slightly.
"Yeah, I mean, I've got a spear, and I sometimes train with Lady Vert, but..." She sucked air through her teeth, putting her hands on her hips and looking up at London. "...I really don't think a spear'll cut it if your Earth guys start shooting at us." Jack thought for a moment, rubbing his chin.
She did have a very good point.
"Alright," he replied finally, "You wanna go learn how to shoot?"
After a hesitation, Chika checked her watch, shrugged, and nodded, giving a sigh of what Jack assumed was annoyance or irritation. "I mean, I already kinda know how to shoot, but sure, I've got time, I guess."
An hour later...
"Vert-dammit, it's huge! What did you call this monster, again?" Chika asked, frustratedly trying to wrap her hands around Jack's tool and get a more solid two handed-grip.
"It's my cannon," Jack chuckled, placing his hands behind his head and looking up at the SMD's shooting range ceiling, smiling to himself. "You said you knew what you'd be doin' with it, so show me what you've got."
"You said I'd be taking it slowly! This isn't taking it slowly!" Chika whined, desperately trying to keep it up. "My arms are already tired, Mr. Lovebun! Can we please just take a break?"
"Oh, c'mon, it's an average-sized one, and we've just started!" grunted the larger man. "How can you be strugglin' with this?"
"This isn't the average size for Gamindustri! How the Hell would I fit this in my mouth?"
"You DON'T put it in your goddamn mouth, that's your answer! Why would you even put it in there?!"
"Ech, I don't know, finishing a situation quickly? For someone who says he's so 'good' with this thing, you really have no idea what the Hell you're doing, huh?"
Behind them, the door creaked slowly open, prompting them to break off from the argument and turn to face their visitor. In the doorway stood Cave, arms folded and not looking particularly pleased.
"I trust that you two are just testing a weapon, here?" she asked sternly, drumming her fingers on her large biceps. "Because I can hear you from outside."
Jack raised a brow, turning to face her. It was then that Cave saw past him, and glimpsed what Oracle Hakozaki was doing with her hands.
In her hand, gripped tightly, was Jack's Deagle. It was nearly the size of her entire forearm. Chika herself was giving a rather flat stare at the bodyguard.
Cave let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.
"...what the Hell kind of shootin' range doesn't have a soundproof door?" Jack replied, slightly confused. "Besides, what else would we have been doin' in a shootin' range?"
Cave gave him a rather stunned look. Chika just raised a brow at him, arms trembling from trying to hold up his pistol.
"Mr. Glovebox, I was in the conversation," she began, "And even I could see exactly how it'd be mistaken for something else by someone who wasn't in the room." She shifted her crimson eyes to look at Cave. "What did it sound like?"
"It sounded as though you were performing fellatio," she replied matter-of-factly. "And I know what that sounds like, considering I have been on your door guard detail, Oracle." Whilst she briefly expected Chika to go red, for some reason, she knew better. Chika just gave a 'pfft' and gestured to the taller man beside her.
"You think this massive virgin would sound that calm if I was doing that?" she asked mockingly. Jack rolled his eyes.
"Oh, come on, you're just takin' the piss, now," he grunted, folding his arms. "A lack of skills in that department is summat I make up for in other places, like-"
"Committing acts of hyperviolence, having the rugged semi-good looks of a man twice your age, and, apparently, seducing your bodyguard," Chika cut in, smirking at him. Cave narrowed her eyes, pouting slightly.
"Oracle, much to your disappointment, he has not seduced me," she replied sharply. Chika let out her usual sassy 'pfft'.
"Ha, yet," she chuckled, "I saw your face when you two were all cosy in the carriage. Happiest I've ever seen you, Cave." The accusation prompted her employee to narrow her eyes, either through attempting to not kill her boss, or embarrassment. Jack remained indifferent, scratching his head briefly.
Was this a catfight?
"Just saying," Chika shrugged, rather dangerously waving the barrel of the Deagle towards Jack's face in the process, prompting him to step out of the way slightly. "Besides, you two'll get plenty of time for your usual chit-chatting and frick-fracking on the way to Nokeya." Cave rolled her eyes.
"We don't 'chit chat'," she muttered, folding her arms.
"You didn't deny the frick-fracking."
"She didn't, but I will," Jack cut in. "Cave and I ain't a thing. She's like fifteen years older than me." The Oracle to his side pouted briefly, scratching her chin.
"Well, some people're into that kinda thing. You don't like mature women? I'd already pegged you as some kind of cougar hunter."
"I...yes, well, mayb-why are we discussin' this?! Stop derailin' conversations! I don't wanna have to keep discussin' this!"
"Juuust asking," Chika whistled, before scratching the back of her head and looking down at the Deagle. "Anyway, look, Mr. Glovebox, this thing's too big for me. I can't use it. Got anything smaller?" Jack shrugged.
"Not on me," he sighed. "Left my nearly-full disc at Compa's place."
"Isn't that your nurse cuddlebuddy? Why'd you leave it there?"
"It's with a shitload of other guns. I was tryin' to sort out my gear and...I kinda forgot it. Had my Deagle, forty-four, and knife on another disc, so that's all I've got."
"Could I try the forty-four?"
"You're not bloody touchin' my forty-four, I'll tell you now."
"Oh, you're just being ridiculous now."
"Listen, I'll find you a gun on the way to Nokeya. Cave's drivin', she probably won't have an issue with stoppin' somewhere to buy a decent gun." Cave raised a brow, leaning against the wall just next to their spot at the range.
"And how do you expect to speed up the process of the background checks?" she asked flatly. Jack stared at her for a moment, then at the floor, then back at her.
"We'll go to a Pawn shop. I know a good amount about them. A guy called Rick showed me."
Chika rolled her eyes.
"Oh, good Vert, I'm not going to enjoy the next few days."