Quick thing: thanks, Savaris, for favoriting! It's great to have you on board! Thanks, Hailflare for following! Welcome aboard!
Without further ado, let's get right into the new- I mean, right into response time! Not too sure where that last would-be proclamation came from...
Guest: this duplication nonsense really is strange. I put considerable time and effort into proofreading the previous chapter's contents, finding no formatting or other errors within, and yet, there it is; a duplication. To be fair to FanFiction, I don't think this one is on them, as the duplication in question isn't identical. This could entirely be a slip up on my part. Until proven otherwise, that's the explanation I'm sticking with.
While you're correct, technically, such a thing applies only to Kamachi's canon. Given that this piece takes place in an alternate universe, minor differences from the original, prime canon are to be expected.
321jaz: another! As a certain Norse god would say.
Indeed, it seems that Shokuhou Misaki is having some, shall we say, second thoughts. Perhaps Kumokawa Seria's words cut deeper than even she knows?
You're absolutely correct, there. One can only assume that a certain Aztec magician, a certain "top dog" and a certain spy each had their reasons to keep the truth about the 'Other Side' to themselves. In fairness, they likely each had the contents of the Magic-Science Treaty in mind. Given the emergence of the unknown party that seems focused on blurring, if not completely erasing the lines between the Sides, their efforts did turn out to be for naught. Good try, though, boys!
Kamijou Touma's 'new and improved' body does seem to have a few potentially debilitating weaknesses, doesn't it? I suppose all things have their drawbacks. You're also right on the money there, that ball-form does indeed bring up memories of a certain 'backup plan', and that same plan's utter defeat at the hands of a certain Norse Magic God, doesn't it?
Karasuma Fran pretends that she doesn't like being teased by Beauty-Senpai; I'm quite certain that she's pulling off the tsundere act. In regards to the Kamisato Faction, you've got that right, friend. Only time will tell, as it always does, whether or not the Kamisato Faction will make an appearance. Given that Fran obviously possesses lingering feelings for Kamisato Kakeru, it's really anyone's guess.
Doesn't it just harken back to those old times? Actually, that's precisely the sort of 'feel' I was aiming for!
As a certain sensei of mine once said, "paradise can't last forever". A certain someone's arrival is living proof of that.
As always, I'm very glad to hear that you're looking forward to subsequent chapters, and I'm also very glad to know that I'm able to continuously gain your approval, friend!
whwsms: the Dianoid's fate hangs in the balance... but for now, we'll talk about some events that happened to catch your eye, friend.
* Her own unique 'brand' of approval, evidently... I do have to wonder just how Tsukuyomi Komoe would react if she learned that building a harem has become her little Kamijou-chan's intention.
* Beauty-Senpai having the ability to woo girls? H-ha! That's funny! By no means have you uncovered a section of my evil plan, which was most certainly not hidden in plain sight! Not at all. Musujime Awaki finding Kumokawa Seria to be attractive is a mere coincidence and little more! Absolutely.
* Bahahahaha! I can see something like that happening, at least in a piece whose narrative was more focused on uncharacteristic humor; uncharacteristic in the case of Aleister Crowley, at least. I do believe that Aleister assumes he's one-upped a certain Archbishop, and, for all we know, perhaps he has. Kamijou Touma's newfound ability to refine mana could be the development that shifts the balance of the Sides.
Or perhaps not.
As always, time will tell.
* The damage inflicted upon Shokuhou Misaki might not even be fully known by Kumokawa Seria, or perhaps it is. Who's to say that Seria didn't know exactly where to strike, where to jab the metaphorical blade in and where to proverbially twist it?
* If the individual who has shown their face is indeed a certain spy, then I do believe the Dianoid might be in trouble. Then again, perhaps not. Perhaps the combined efforts of Kumokawa Seria and Misaka Mikoto can reign Touma in? He's unlikely to deny his data's insistence that he should feel wrathful at the sight of 'the snake'.
As always, it's great to know that I'm able to consistently gain your approval, friend! I hope to continually do so through subsequent chapters!
Anon Guest: CAUTION, HOT!
*You didn't miss it, friend. Misaka Mikoto was actually the first to be made fully aware of who and what Kamijou Touma has truly become. This was, in fact, the precursor to his previously mentioned confession of love; a confession which shook the Railgun's world to its core.
* While not a direct reference, it could certainly be interpreted as such! I haven't read "To Ascend", myself, partially due to the fact that I've heard its narrative progress came to a grinding halt, but I have heard plenty of good things about that piece.
* I can't say too much about that right now, but I can say that you should keep your eyes peeled, and, as always, read on!
* That's a good point you bring up. Now that he's found himself capable of refining mana, will Touma passively produce mana, and will that mana be detectable by other magicians, including the likes of Othinus and Index? Another good point brought up here is whether or not Laura Stuart has similar surveillance methods set up in order to monitor the activities of those around her, in the same vain as Aleister Crowley's UNDER_LINE. One can wonder. Revelations regarding any 'casualties' are... heh, actually, I can't say too much more about that. As always, read on! That's one surefire way to learn more.
And as I often say in reply, it's great to know that I'm able to continuously gain your approval! I hope to consistently and regularly do so through subsequent chapters!
DarkBetrayer: I think you ended up being commentator number one hundred and one, sensei. Close enough, right?
Isn't he just a gentleman? He seemed to have enjoyed himself, at least, so that's a plus. It's more enjoyment than our hero usually sees in the span of a day.
Savaris: now you're just making me blush, friend. I very much appreciate the continuous support!
I wasn't about to leave anyone high and dry! Without an explanation, I reckon plenty of you lovely people would find yourselves rather confused, given the natures of a Certain Strange Scenario and Times Change, respectively. I felt that a thorough explanation was entirely necessary.
To learn more about what our hero, Kamijou Touma has been put through, I can only recommend the action I oftentimes find myself recommending: read on! Regarding the situation in which he finds himself, I to have to offer my condolences. True feeling, true emotions can never be substituted, not by technological or scientific advances at least. Quite the double-edged sword.
That one's entirely up to you. If I can make a recommendation, I would recommend that you take your time, as mental burnout can often lead to a less-than-comfortable experience; this really applies to any activity, not just the reading of literary materials.
I'm with you! Othi-chan is one of the best girls. I'd also stand by Beauty-Senpai, otherwise known as Kumokawa Seria.
All in all, I thank you humbly for your readership and hope you enjoy your reading of a Certain Broken Testament. I hope as well to hear more feedback and input from you in the future!
If Kamijou Touma had possessed veins filled with blood, said crimson liquid would've been boiling.
The sight of Tsuchimikado Motoharu casually approaching the quartet, hands stuffed into his pockets, head held high made Touma want to vomit.
He was so disgustingly smug, so horribly self-obsessed.
Tsuchimikado Motoharu, the Backstabbing Blade knew exactly what he was and he didn't care even a little bit; if everything was convenient for him, everything was going per whatever sick, deranged plan or plans he'd set in motion.
Unfortunately for Touma, vomiting in disgust just wasn't an option that was possible. He'd have to settle for eying the Backstabbing Blade warily, fighting back the urge to strike the bastard dead where he stood.
It seemed that Misaka Mikoto was thinking similar thoughts to the boy who'd been holding her tightly, like a child clinging to the bosom of their mother. Had the spy seen the display of affection? He could easily hold such an act over the Railgun's head. Perhaps he would threaten to spread rumors throughout the halls of Tokiwadai if she didn't comply?
He seemed more than capable of such a thing.
Then again, she could always just zap the life out of the sunglasses-wearing, spiky-haired boy if he proved to be too much of a problem.
"Everyone's so quiet. What's with the cold shoulder? It's almost like you're not happy to see us."
"Us?" Both Touma and Mikoto inquired at once. Tsuchimikado Motoharu grinned like a shark that'd come across easy prey in a vast and open body of water.
Around the corner walked a lanky man, arms swinging limply at his sides as he tiredly engaged in locomotion; it looked as if even walking was a chore for this fellow, whose eyes were sunken and circled by darkened bags.
His hair was ashen and his face was pocked by acne, along with the scars left behind by his apparent attempts at physically annihilating sections of said acne that dotted his cheeks and his forehead. Atop the blemishes, light ashen facial hair dotted his cheeks, his chin, and his upper lip.
Clad in a cheap-looking ready-made suit and a pair of informal dress shoes, the bottoms of which clacked repeatedly against the paved walkway leading up to the Dianoid's many northernmost entranceway doors, Oculus Operative David Horton soon managed to catch up to the Backstabbing Blade.
Attached to his hip was a holstered firearm, a handgun.
The older man flashed a strange-looking badge and then tiredly, almost lethargically pocketed it before he spoke.
"Evening, Kamijou… and company. Gladio-Oculus Operative David Horton. You weren't joking, then, Tsuchimikado."
Tsuchimikado Motoharu crossed his arms and nodded affirmatively.
"No, Operative, I wasn't. It's a real disease. Its effects are still being studied, so far it only seems to have any sort of effect on girls who Kami-yan has helped. He can't passively attract girls, not yet at least. Field Agent Aogami and I will report back when we have more information. For now, we should consider Kami-yan to be a continued threat to the gene pool!"
David Horton shook his head as if he was in a state of disbelief. He moved about, leaving Motoharu to produce his phone, which he began to tap the touchscreen of, while the Oculus Operative approached the group, consisting of Misaka Mikoto, Kumokawa Seria, Karasuma Fran and Kamijou Touma. The first of the quartet couldn't have been any more confused.
Kamijou Touma chose that moment to speak his piece to the level five electromaster.
"So, Misaka. Look, something's about to go down and it involves… the "Other Side". Davey here can explain his part in all of this on his own, I'm sure, but I have a question. It's not a trick question and there's no wrong answer, just say what you're feeling. Are you in? Not only would your firepower be a good support for our little team here, if we find ourselves needing firepower, but…"
Mikoto suddenly scooted towards the boy who'd seated himself next to her and placed either of her hands' palms upon his icy cheeks.
"Of course I'm "in", I don't care what it is, I'm in. T-thanks… for including me and giving me the chance to stick with you. I appreciate it. I've never been more "in"… well, in my life! I'm with you, all the way, whatever that might be, Touma. I'm with you, and I'm not letting go."
Kumokawa Seria giggled as she seated herself between both Kamijou Touma and Misaka Mikoto, crossing her right leg over her left and abandoning an unconcerned Karasuma Fran.
"Now isn't this just the sweetest thing? Let senpai in, hm? I'd like to share in the love~."
"Ahem. We have little time for games and I'd rather not lose my lunch. T'was expensive."
"Fuck you, Davey."
The tired-looking Oculus Operative shrugged his shoulders; both he and Kamijou Touma exchanged grins. Evidently, there was little in the way of malice between the two.
"So, I presume you're all familiar with Tsuchimikado here? Hard not to be, he's so personable," Horton spoke, taking a seat upon the bench which Fran had originally spread herself out on. The fake gemstone scooted to the other side.
"I can hear you, you old, special care home-bound suckup," Motoharu retorted. "I'm going to slap down the last piece of this Field. Keep the goonies entertained while I work, huh?"
From the pocket of his pants, the Backstabbing Blade produced a singular card, apparently cut from a sheet of thick cardboard. Slapping it down upon the pavement before him, Motoharu then casually left the site where the card had been placed.
Instantaneously, the card glowed, and so did many others scattered about the vicinity of the Dianoid, set in place by the combined efforts of Tsuchimikado Motoharu and Oculus Operative David Horton.
The backstabbing Blade nodded affirmatively after he muttered a short chant, hands clasped before him.
"Done."
A People-Clearing Field was activated. Those beyond a small semicircle of rune-dotted cards that surrounded the northernmost section of the Dianoid were compelled to take their leave, as were a small group of those who remained within, not counting the individuals relevant to the meeting between the realms of magic and science.
Those compelled would sense nothing out of the ordinary nor would they even remember any compulsions that'd temporarily taken over the "controller" of their collective higher minds.
"Are you two young ladies aware of the existence of "the Oculus"?
Horton looked to Misaka Mikoto and Kumokawa Seria, conveniently neglecting to include Karasuma Fran, who continued to lay upon 'her' bench, casually sprawled out like an old rug.
"I'd normally have the bunch of you sign non-disclosure waivers, but... it's all common knowledge now, to an extent. Thank that... what're they called? Multipurpose Arachnid? Something. We're-"
"You're G-men," Touma interjected, effectively completing Horton's sentence for him. Motoharu chuckled. Having taken a seat next to Fran, he casually leaned forward, clasping his hands as he rocked himself back and forth, his legs responsible for most of the unconscious, habitual movement.
"You want the real facts? Look, the Oculus is a subgroup involved with Gladio, which… fuck, if any of you think that Academy City is secretive, Gladio brings a whole new level to paranoia. 'Could teach me a thing or two. Black operation. Political assassinations, reconnaissance in Vatican City. Were involved in the Third World War, I mean… hell, Davey here may or may not have been involved with the Gladio team that sniped that motherfucker Krainikov. None of this is common knowledge if you go looking in the right places. Useful Spider kicked your asses. Hard. Let's try not to let that happen again, eh, Davey?"
"Useful Spider", that's their name... regardless, the guts and the glory for that trophy go to the UN," David Horton asserted casually. From his pocket, he produced a pack of cigarettes and a small zippo. He offered a cancer stick he produced from within the pack to the fake gemstone who shook her head rapidly. With a shrug of his shoulders, Horton lit the collection of deadly chemicals and brought it up to his lips.
"Though Academy City's Gladio may or may not have been involved, I can't confirm or deny Gladio's involvement or the involvement of the Oculus in Kremlin affairs. Privateers being knocked off wasn't us, either, that I can safely confirm. Don't know who did it and nobody involved really cares, so I don't care. That's not important. Dead Russian presidents aren't our concern, not now."
It was Misaka Mikoto's turn to speak. She wasn't about to be left in the dark. If it wasn't her turn, she would make it her turn.
"Then what is?"
"A possible attempt at an aggressive, highly provocative and hostile invasion of Academy City by a magical cabal. The same many believe to be the same cabal responsible for more than a few civilian casualties in Hawaii, lead by… of all things… a twelve-year-old child. "The Dawn-Colored Sunlight". She's the lesser of two evils..."
"Except there's no proof of that," Motoharu asserted. He craned his neck to face David Horton, who looked right back at the Backstabbing Blade, raising an ashen eyebrow. He took a drag from his portable death sentence and puffed out a plume of silvery smoke.
"There's not a shred of evidence. Dawn-Colored Sunlight is a convenient scapegoat being utilized by a certain bitch; the fact that ruling over both "Sides" is one of the cabal's endgame goals suggests that, at some point or another, they'd attempt to overthrow Academy City's leadership, given that it's the greatest hub of power in the scientific world. Again, all convenience, anecdotal evidence, and very little solid proof. Could be anyone, it could be the work of Santa Claus for all we know. As for "two evils", we've got a trump card for one, at least. Deep Blood. Disarming is important, but, no evidence that they're behind any sort of invasion attempts."
Kamijou Touma rose from his seat, startling Misaka Mikoto who'd become lost in thought and disappointing Kumokawa Seria, who'd only just started to get used to having another girl near her precious little kohai.
Looking at Misaka Mikoto, she was a diamond in the rough of the moment. She was simply so cute! Seria could almost see herself cuddling the little thing up.
"Deep Blood...? You... you leave Himegami the fuck out of this, or you're as good as dead. All I'm saying about that."
"I'm terrified, Kami-yan. Oooh. Please, spare me."
Ignoring Tsuchimikado Motoharu completely, Kamijou Touma looked to David Horton.
"Then, that's where we come in, and Davey here. Davey can book just about anyone in this City, illegal immigrant or otherwise. Oculus has higher authority than even Anti Skill and far more than Judgment. Put the problem in chains and haul 'em off, whoever they are. Go from there."
"Might there be violence involved?" Kumokawa Seria inquired. Reaching into the pocket of her jacket, she looked over either of her shoulders before she produced something that made Kamijou Touma start, ever so slightly. Even if its ammunition couldn't come close to even meaningfully wounding him, the reaction was one of surviving, lingering instinct.
Seria held in her right hand a concealed weapon. Only three or four inches in length, the tiny revolver sat comfortably in the woman's palm.
"I'm more than prepared to use this, should the situation call for it. I'd much prefer to lodge bullets than take them, especially in my legs. I'm going to be needing those for more than one reason. I could demonstrate in a private environment if you wish; my shot is among the best in all of Academy City, I assure you."
David Horton seemed to have the least volatile reaction of the six individuals present, with Fran's own subdued "oh," coming as a close second place contender for the first. Motoharu merely clicked his tongue and Mikoto moved herself a few inches away from the older girl.
Rather than reacting vocally at all, the Oculus Operative merely nodded his head, yes.
"It's never a bad idea to carry a piece, Kumokawa-san. Illegal to possess or to own or not it can save your life. Guns don't kill people, after all. Rich people have poor people kill people. With guns."
"Would've tried to stop the hit if I could've, Misuzu. Good doing that someone managed to. Nice woman like you didn't deserve any of that… bullshit. Sure as Hell don't deserve a deadbeat husband, either."
The Oculus Operative cleared his throat before he continued, shaking off his own mental considerations.
"We've done just about enough dawdling. If there aren't anymore… friends… of yours that are going to show up, Kamijou, we should get going. Academy City's crooked interests aren't going to protect themselves."
The oldest among the group set the example. Turning his back, the lanky David Horton began to walk, eventually passing beyond the corner from which he and the Backstabbing Blade had come.
"At Tsuchimikado's request, I've sourced some vehicles for your respective uses. Your taxes at work. This is the sort of thing the average student pays for… they're being contained in school district seventeen. Should ring a bell or two for you, Kamijou, Misaka-san."
"Don't fucking go there Davey, not even if you're joking."
"I wasn't."
Soon, the quartet followed behind Tsuchimikado Motoharu, who spoke only to Karasuma Fran who'd joined him, taking to his side.
Misaka Mikoto's eyes widened. Kamijou Touma clicked his tongue of nanorobotic resin, and Kumokawa Seria produced a soft, concerned-sounding "tsk".
The vehicle was darker than any darkness the trio had previously seen. It was so dark in coloration that the two human espers and the non-human construct of machine-phase matter could see their reflections in the darkness, as if the abyss was staring back at them.
With thick, bulletproof tires whose rims were as shadowy as the thickest blankets of night, the vehicle which David Horton, Tsuchimikado Motoharu, and Karasuma Fran climbed into was hardly a 'casual' vehicle, nor was it inconspicuous. It was highly, highly conspicuous.
While the Backstabbing Blade and the fake gemstone had entered through the vehicle's opened rear doors, the Oculus Operative had clambered upwards and into the driver's side seat.
"There's no way I'm getting into that thing," Mikoto stated, putting her foot down. The electromaster folded her arms across her chest and shook her head, no, to further accentuate her point.
"Forget it. Neither of you can possibly be comfortable with this either. Please tell me you have my back. One of you, at least… Kumokawa-san? You seem reasonable! You agree, right?"
"It's not that big of a deal, Misaka," Touma commented.
"Right," Seria chimed in.
"Of course you don't, Touma… oh, come o… wait, you do? You're with me on this one?"
"I do and I am. I have a solution; my kohai and I arrived in my own vehicle. We'll simply shadow behind Horton-san, Tsuchimikado-san, and Karasuma-san."
The third-ranked level five wiped her arm across her brow and stumbled forward, apparently very relieved. Kamijou Touma protectively stood before her, ready to catch her, but Mikoto merely steadied herself in response, straightening her back and producing a victorious proclamation of "denied!" Touma hung his head in mock defeat.
With Kumokawa Seria temporarily distracted, approaching the driver's side of the pitch black vehicle, more than likely to explain her course of action to David Horton, the vehicle's driver, Misaka Mikoto and Kamijou Touma found themselves alone. Seria had even apparently acknowledged this, by repeatedly shaking her head in disapproval while wagging her finger. In contrast, her lips had curled upwards into an almost dastardly-seeming grin. She winked, once, but chose not to do so again.
"You can back out anytime you want, Misaka. I won't be mad or anything. Why would I be? That'd just be dumb as a sack of bricks."
"Forget it. Enough of you playing the lone gunman, it's time for you to start letting other people help you with these crazy tasks that, for whatever reason, are always thrown your way. I'm helping you and that's that. I…"
"I'm grateful for it, I want your help Misaka. You're reliable and you're a partner I can trust when I'm working with you, just like Seria."
"I… waitwhatholdon. You're… you're just full of surprises! Heh, you really have turned over a new leaf, haven't you? Sorry for... uh... jumping to conclusions. I've got some more work to do on myself."
"Don't even worry about it, Misaka. I turned one over because I had to. For you and for all the other people in my life who love me and want to help me, the people I love right back. The people I've been pushing away for too long."
"You're g-going to make me c-cry again. K-knock it off, would you?"
"Sorry. Let's hug and make up."
"Since when have you been so cuddly, Touma? Alright, I think I can manage that. Come over here, ya big ol' bear."
February 10th, 2004. PM. 2:08 AM.
There was silent, wordless chaos in one of few run-down, cheap and poorly-maintained motels that dotted the Welsh hamlet of Catherdine.
A silent scream had been uttered in a dream; it failed to reach out to the world beyond a certain girl's dreaming mind.
There was infinite suffering within the maw of madness, and all screams bounced against its never-ending walls.
There were many eyes and there were many maws with gnashing teeth. Each spoke in seven tongues and an eighth that she could not comprehend. Soft and alluring, horrid and gurgled, stern, like the voice of a disapproving father, and even the tones a small child would produce were among the many thousands of voices that rang out inside of her higher mind.
"You abandoned them."
"You killed them."
"You are a killer."
"Your loved ones have abandoned you."
"You're alone."
"Leave."
"Shatter the circle."
"Leave, your kind is not wanted. You do not offer Drink. You are no friend."
"The Majin will pay for their arrogance. They have forgotten the Old Gods. They have forgotten what we can do. All of them have forgotten the Old Gods. We will be forgotten no more. They occupy our lands and they offer no Drink."
"We were here first. We will not have it."
"Just break."
"You couldn't save her. You turned to the power which should not be. You turned to those who should not be. You called out and they answered. We could have helped."
"D I E."
"In the shadow of death only the living tread. Hunted. Butchered. Devoured. They mate they feed they kill and they repeat the circle. But together we can break the circle. They are cruel for they pillage our lands. Do not steal from us."
"The blind lead the blind in this trail of infinite pain. Free yourself and BREAK."
"Such a quandary… now wake up, human. Begone from the Sacred Lands. Begone, begone, begone. Vjsavsh beneath Holy Walled City K'thon beneath the Walled City Nrzuth beneath the Old Kingdom. Lest you come with Drink, begone."
She'd awoken in a cold sweat, lunging up from her fluffy, luxurious pillow. Wrapped in the sheets of the run-down motel's double king-sized bed, which she had to herself, Leivinia Birdway's brow felt as cold as ice. Like an overheating canine, she panted, struggling to reign in her quick and shallow breaths.
Leivinia's heart was beating far too quickly for its own good.
Panic. White-hot and undeniable. It besieged her very mind.
Softly, she began to cry.
Warm, salty tears dripped down her cheeks as she shook, whimpering like a child lost in a shopping center.
The horrors that had taken place in the ethereal realm of dreams were fading quicker than Leivinia could recall them; she pieced together moments of agonized screams, the bleeding and carved-up form of her sister Patricia Birdway with many a great, inky tendril protruding from her carcass, upon which buzzards had been feasting. Their eyes had been as red as the lifeblood that dripped from Patricia's damaged cadaver.
She remembered one thing more clearly than most, however. "Old Gods". The many voices, the snarling, gnashing maws, the infinite blinking eyes, they were everywhere, like so many larvae laid by a mosquito in a calm body of water.
Leivinia Birdway stayed where she was not wanted.
Upon a nightstand, next to the great bed, a dusty, damaged old lap was flicked on, providing synthetic illumination to the small, darkened room.
"Th… Thepes. I-Iosephus. H-h… help."
"My Lady."
"Enough, it's only the two of us here. Drop the facade and address me properly."
"… right. Apologies, I found myself distracted by your peril, Leivinia. You've given me quite the scare."
She reached out for him. Leivinia Birdway had stopped being the leader of one of the world's mightiest magical cabals.
Instead, she became a child reaching out to a trusted guardian figure. Instincts savagely beat her overwhelming pride into the dust, bloodying and bruising it with savage brutality.
Leivinia was lifted from her bed and caressed like the child she was.
Wrapping her arms around her "caretaker's" shoulders, Leivinia Birdway only seemed to sob harder. She buried her crying face in the demon hunter's suit jacket. She bit her lower lip and tried to push back the tears. Paradoxically, the harder she pushed, the stronger the resistance. Her body and mind rebelled.
Iosephus Thepes the demon hunter supported his leader and "charge's" form with his arms, his hand placed against the back of her head. Carefully he ruffled the twelve-year-old girl's hair as he looked on, past the first of two king-sized beds and towards the motel room's meager kitchen, consisting of little more than a counter and a sink, with only a few plastic cups scattered about. Hardly a lodging suitable for the Leivinia Birdway.
"Maybe you should tell me what troubles you. A nightmare? There's little to be ashamed of, such occurrences plague us all."
"Q-quiet down… and hold me. J-just hold me."
And that's precisely what the demon hunter did.
Leader and subordinate changed their places on the stage they constantly danced across, taking on the roles of charge and guardian figure. In the process of being lovingly held and silently comforted, Leivinia Birdway's tears slowed. Her sobbing quieted and her grip on her guardian's neck choked him considerably less than it had at first.
It had been only mildly painful, but Iosephus Thepes struggled through the irritation for his dear one, the child he'd never had.
Soon, Leivinia had been placed down upon the carpeted flooring, her cold, bare feet twitching as they struggled to warm themselves.
Still, she couldn't face him and she couldn't face herself. Leivinia kept her face buried within her guardian's suit jacket.
Then, she sniffled awkwardly. Leivinia attempted to speak, but her throat had tightened. No words could seem to emerge and barely any oxygen could be taken into her lungs.
"S-si… sister."
"Sister, Leivinia? Your sister? A nightmare about your sister?"
She nodded. Her shoulder-length hair, golden, yet almost as white as snow flowed majestically, even though she neither looked nor felt even remotely majestic. She inhaled, attempting to steady herself.
And then she failed. She completely and utterly failed.
Leivinia found a new round of pained sobs wracking her body.
Iosephus could stand it no longer. He sat both himself as well as his broken leader and "charge" upon the edge of the bed. Forcing her to look at him, Iosephus peered into Leivinia's bloodshot eyes. He ran his fingers below the beautiful orbs, attempting to stem the flow of tears that seemed dead set on dripping down her cheeks.
Even filled to the brim with bright red veins, dripping with clear, salty liquid agony, Leivinia Birdway's eyes were still so beautiful. They were like two priceless gems, both flawless and immaculate in their design, naturally stunning.
Desperate, the reeling mind of Leivinia Birdway demanded that she find comfort in her guardian figure and elder. Taking either of Iosephus Thepes' larger hands into her own, she sniffled and growled, trying to beat back the onslaught of tears.
"Please tell me what happened in your nightmare, dearest Leivinia. I can only help you if you tell me what happened. We'll work through it together, like we always do… I know it to be painful beyond measure, but Patricia is alive and well. She's as fit as a fiddle in fact. Maybe you'd like to give her a call and speak with her when you're feeling better? I'm sure that Patricia misses you as well. Here, allow me to fetch you a glass of…"
"Please DON'T g-go. Let me be v-vulnerable f-for a moment… don't go. I'm not letting go. It n-needs to come out. I c-can't hold all of this in."
"It's very mature of you to realize that, dearest Leivinia."
She couldn't look at him. Leivinia looked down towards the floor beneath her feet, towards the exquisite, silky garb she wore as a nightgown.
If any of her operatives were to see her in such a state, she would lose all respect. A leader needed to be strong-willed and mighty, fearless and without hesitation. A leader needed to be everything that Leivinia wasn't, in the moment.
Leivinia Birdway inhaled. As her body shook, she spoke.
"It… it was horrible. It was Patricia, infested with… it. "Sample Shoggoth". You were not there. No one was there except for myself and Patricia. She… she cried out for my aid and I could do nothing to protect her. I had to watch as she was eaten… I-Iosephus, it ATE her… and then… something else. "Old Gods".
For a moment, he panicked; but he beat the urge back, keeping it in line, bending it to his will.
Old Gods or no Old Gods, Iosephus Thepes would not allow his emotions to get ahead of him. Proverbially and literally, he stood his ground. He was irrelevant, an unimportant factor. It was her that mattered.
Temporarily parting from his charge, the demon hunter proceeded to fill up a small, plastic cup with water from the nearby "kitchen", if it could truly be called that. While not the heavily-filtered and mineral-enriched water she was used to, water was water. Leivinia's voice was hoarse, and it cracked repeatedly as she struggled to utilize her vocal cords.
Iosephus Thepes offered his charge and leader the cup, which she took with a meek vocalization of "thank you". Leivinia raised the cheap, flimsy thing to her lips and drank deeply.
"I do comprehend just how horrid such an experience must've been, dearest Leivinia – dreams can sometimes seem so real that there can be difficulty in separating dreams from reality – but it was only that, a night-terror. Patricia survived her infestation, and we will not permit for such a thing to occur again. As for them, the… "Forgotten Ones", you would do well not to speak of them often, dearest Leivinia. They Hear. They feed on one's thoughts as you or I feed on a meal."
Leivinia pulled the cup away; it nearly crumpled in the vice grip of her little right hand.
"P-Patricia is only okay because… because you were there! You saved her, not me! Without you, Patricia would be DEAD. Even with all of the power I possess, I was unable to protect my sister, the only surviving blood-related family member I still have!"
"You would have found a way."
"No, I d-don't think so. I tried EVERYTHING. My uniquely developed... my worthless cannibalism magic could have taken my own life, while "Sample Shoggoth" claimed Patricia's… we instead turned to that profane stuff you throw around. It was you. You saved her, not me."
Iosephus Thepes knelt before his charge, the Dawn-Colored Sunlight's leader. Taking her smaller hands into his own larger hands, he offered her a warm, comforting smile, one which caused the twelve-year-old to smile back, despite the tears that still dripped down her cheeks.
"Your strength comes not in the form of suppressing your emotions, but releasing them when the time is right. You've done right by allowing your tears to flow, and as much as it pains me so very deeply to see you distressed, a release is important. You and I know that all too well, dearest Leivinia… but it's past two o'clock in the morning. You should really think about tucking yourself back in. I will turn off the light and re-take my post. If…"
"Stay?"
"Stay? Stay where dearest Leivinia? Here, at your bedside? As you wish."
"No. I mean…"
She produced a soft sigh. Leivinia pulled either of her legs up and crawled back into the sheets, bundling herself up like a caterpillar about to undergo the first cocooning stages of metamorphosis.
"I want to be held. I don't feel good, my stomach hurts. Just hold me until I go back to sleep. Just come here and… help me."
Iosephus Thepes didn't quite know what he thought about such a command.
Regardless of the fact that he, the close personal friend of the absurdly wealthy and highly aristocratic Birdway family been caring for both Leivinia and Patricia Birdway since the day that they were born, the day that Rose Birdway died in labour, the day that her father Archibald had been driven too mad by his grief to care for his twin daughters, there was something inside of his mind that told him to keep his distance. Such was dangerous. There were lines not meant to be crossed.
"I'll remain atop the covers."
"Fine. Stubborn, old..."
Eventually, the demon hunter managed to settle himself in atop the comforter and sheets of the bed. He laid next to Leivinia, who'd rolled onto her side, while he remained on his back. Apparently, resting his hand atop and gently massaging her shoulder, covered by numerous sheets and the bed's comforter was a fair substitute for cuddling.
At one point Iosephus Thepes had thought that the Dawn-Colored Sunlight's leader, his charge had fallen asleep. Rolling onto his side to face her, Iosephus' suit jacket and dress pants crinkled, while the comforter beneath shifted in place.
"I can't sleep."
"Try, dearest Leivinia. Try to sleep."
Instead, she defied her guardian and rose from her place in the bed, where she'd been laying for close to a half hour and threw herself down upon the surface of the comforter. Leivinia laid either of her arms beneath the right side of her face and squirmed.
"You should massage my back. That might help me get back to sleep… in the meantime, now that I've managed to compose myself, there are important matters to discuss."
The haughty leader of the Dawn-Colored Sunlight had returned; gone was the needy twelve-year-old girl.
Gone too would be the father figure; the servile underling would return from his short hiatus.
Going against his better judgment and performing the action he'd been commanded to perform, Iosephus Thepes pushed the upper half of Leivinia's nightwear upwards while he gently, but firmly pushed his digits into the 'proper' sections of his leader's back. She occasionally shuddered and cooed in pleasure before and while she spoke.
"The magic touch… good boy. There're a few topics I'd like to cover. Firstly, the potential training of additional demon hunters within our ranks would be a… a little bit higher, please? Mm. Right there. Thank you. That'll do for now. See, with more demon hunters, we will be able to compete with the might of the Vatican. Summon an army of demons from that… "Dark Beyond" of yours if you must. I want the Vatican City, and I want it as soon as possible. We've shambled about enough. Summon forth one of those... "Cataklian" demons of yours. Surely, such a foul thing could break Vatican City's walls, no matter how old, no matter how holy."
"So, with that in mind, you'd like to continue with our plans to besiege Vatican City, my Lady? Truth be told, calling forth a child of BLIL would be strenuous and unwise," Iosephus spoke, moving downwards along his leader's back and then upwards, causing Leivinia to shudder further. "Such a demon would level more than Vatican City. The entirety of Europe would likely be annihilated before the beast could be slain."
Leivinia's eyes were growing heavy and a sensation like that of butterflies fluttering about chaotically within Leivinia's stomach danced throughout her. She blinked back the desire to sleep.
"Fine. I trust your judgment, Thepes... I would, regardless, like to continue with the siege effort. Taking Vatican City would be a difficult but rewarding move. Provocative, certainly, but in the end, I believe we'll be looking at conflict with the English Puritan, and Roman Catholic Churches regardless of moving against Vatican City. Conquer magic first, science second. Academy City will be a much greater opponent than Vatican City and even the Churches. We'd also do well to be prepared for the Russians to stand in solidarity with the Anglicans and Roman Catholics… if the Orthodox can't be won over, well, then they'll just have to be destroyed."
Leivinia Birdway temporarily halted her speech and turned back to look at Iosephus Thepes.
"Shoulders, now. A bit tougher, as well. Rub my neck while you're at it."
"Of course, my Lady."
Situating himself atop his leader, the demon hunter rested either of his hands against her shoulders and gently, but firmly began to rub the kinks from them. A chill ran down Leivinia's spine, her fingers and toes wiggling unconsciously as she cooed.
"Striking out against the Russians, and therefore Annihilatus might not be wise, dearest Leivinia."
After taking another sip from her cup of water, Leivinia posed a simple question to her caretaker, guardian figure and adoptive 'father'.
"Why?"
Moving his hands away from his leader's shoulders, Iosephus set his thumbs gently into the back of Leivinia's neck, massaging, and causing the child-leader to coo in pleasure.
Then, he answered.
"They are a powerhouse."
"What is your point? So are we, Thepes. With myself and you at the helm of the Sunlight, we're an insurmountable force. With many trained demon hunters and demons brought from your "Dark Beyond", the Russians would be lucky to survive our onslaught."
"Compared to Necessarius which finds itself divided by the scheming of its Archbishop, Annihilatus remains unfractured and a whole organization, capable of quickly and efficiently dishing out punishment. Necessarius could be overtaken and dismantled with a surprise surgical strike, delivered by a small but effective death squad of demon hunters; Annihilatus wouldn't be so easily outmaneuvered. Additionally, the training of additional demon hunters would do little, as Annihilatus more than likely possess countermeasures for the Daemoniac."
As she always did, Leivinia had an answer.
"Then we'll negotiate. Iosephus, I'd like more demon hunters to be trained. They would compliment our current array of shock troopers and supporting units very well. There are many Neophytes, Acolytes and even those who follow our resident Saint are interested."
Leivinia Birdway knew of one way to get Iosephus Thepes to break. It was simple, manipulative and it preyed on paternal instincts. While regrettable, it was simply one of those situations in which mind couldn't be paid to sentimentalism.
Craning her neck to face the demon hunter, Leivinia softly cooed, garnering his attention.
Her eyelids had widened, her eyes within them sparkling with traces of tears. Leivinia's lips had curled and folded into a convincing pout, while her eyebrows were raised, curled almost pathetically.
It'd only take one word, really. One word and he would break.
"Papa… p-please train more d-demon hunters for me? It would make me very h-happy…"
There was very little to be said or done. The demon hunter merely sighed and gave in.
"… you win, dearest Leivinia. The battle but not the war. I'll begin renewing training regimens at your soonest convenience. My old coven would be very upset… the Daemoniac Arts are not meant to be handed out like compulsory gifts. But I defy the Tenets for you."
"You do, and of course I do. I'm a winner. Thank you, Papa~."
February 8th, 2004. PM. 5:23 PM.
Misaka Mikoto's gut was twisting and churning inside of her. Her innards felt as if they were going to collapse in on themselves.
Seated in the first and only row of passenger seats in Kumokawa Seria's vehicle, Mikoto tugged at the seatbelt that was ready to attempt to save her life in the event of a crash.
Of course, the strongest electromaster in all of Academy City could have easily saved herself – it was more or less the thought that counted. The fact that there was something secure fastening her in place was an instinctually pleasing sensation to experience.
Both vehicles, Kumokawa Seria's and Gladio-Oculus Operative David Horton's had only just passed through the border checkpoint separating school districts nine and seventeen, passing from the former and into the latter, the former vehicle shadowing the latter.
It had only been a few minutes, and yet Mikoto felt like the moment in which Kamijou Touma, then-bearer of that impossible thing he called "Imagine Breaker" utterly defeated the mass murdering monster known as Accelerator, the number one ranked esper in all of Academy City had happened only the day prior.
She recalled the horrified and confused facial expression stretched across that animal's face. The way his eyelids his widened, the way his pupils had dilated.
Mikoto could've touched herself to that. The sense of satisfaction she received just from thinking about it was orgasmic in and of itself.
Everything within school district seventeen looked the same as it had on that fateful night. The same old shipping containers were present, the same old boring, dull and grey pavement, lacking the usual spunk and fervor of the architecture found in Academy City's residential districts, even the sky looked the same, dull and cloudy. School district seventeen wasn't trying to impress anyone.
There was only a light breeze, one which couldn't even be experienced from within Kumokawa Seria's vehicle.
It would've been just enough for Accelerator to compress the natural force into a great, twisting, churning orb of plasma.
"Misaka, you're quiet all of a sudden. It's all good, nothing like that is going to happen again if you're thinking about what I think you're thinking about. We won't let it happen again. Right?"
Kamijou Touma had turned around in the passenger seat to face the third-ranked level five. His hands remained on Kumokawa Seria's legs; if Mikoto hadn't been feeling the way she was, she likely would've blushed or have felt even slightly flustered by the sight. Seria didn't seem to have a problem with the physical attention, or she didn't notice it.
Maybe she'd tease him about his perverted ways later. In the present, Misaka Mikoto just couldn't find the motivation to do so.
"Yeah. That's right, we, us. Together. You and me."
"You seem to be forgetting someone," Seria stated with a giggle. "I'm no esper, but I've plenty of experience on the shooting range. I'm no pushover in a brawl either. I can get physical with the best of them."
"She's telling the truth," Touma remarked as he turned around, but not before offering Mikoto a warm smile, one which the troubled level five returned.
Even if it was more sudden than she would've liked, even if she hadn't planned for anything of the sort to occur, Mikoto was genuinely pleased with herself and with the situation unfolding before her.
She, Misaka Mikoto, was actually going to reach up to him, Kamijou Touma, and work as his equal. He was giving her the chance to prove herself and to close the proverbial distance between them. He, Kamijou Touma, was fulfilling the promise he'd made so long ago, not to her, but to that strange fellow with the broken face, he who'd turned out to be part of a world Mikoto, at the time, had no idea even existed.
She was delighted.
"I remember this one time, there were these guys from another school who'd showed up for some reason, I think they were friends with someone in our school. This was back before our high school got completely fucked. Well, because Seria is Seria they try to get a piece, one of them tries to get touchy…"
Seria shrugged, making a right turn as she continued to shadow the Oculus Operative, the Backstabbing Blade and the fake gemstone.
"He attempted to grope my breast. I broke his nose. Touma-kun watched it happen. Of course, because he's such a sweet little thing, he was quick to make sure everyone involved was alright, even the gorilla I'd brutalized."
Kamijou Touma merely chuckled. Was she being nostalgic? Or did she have a clue? That Kamijou Touma was dead and buried. There was a new Kamijou Touma in town, a better and stronger Kamijou Touma who'd taken the place of the previous.
Misaka Mikoto was in no position to chastise others about extreme reactions. She merely looked on as the vehicle being shadowed by Kumokawa Seria came to a halt before a great, expansive warehouse.
Covered in graffiti, stained and rusted by Japan's oftentimes disagreeable weather patterns, the location was like something out of a horror movie.
What windows it still possessed were small and located close to the roofing of the warehouse, stained with dust, to the extent that the interior of the structure couldn't be seen from the outside.
Out stepped Gladio-Oculus Operative David Horton. He looked over either of his shoulders and ran his hands over the surface of his vehicle, from one end to the other, eventually being joined by a casual Tsuchimikado Motoharu and a tired-looking Karasuma Fran.
Horton waved in the direction of Seria's vehicle. Though he couldn't see it, the vehicle's owner nodded affirmatively.
"I can't say too much about my… extracurricular activities, Misaka-san, but I can say that I'm not entirely certain as to what's going to occur, or what might occur, but I have a few ideas. I've experience in what some might refer to as 'the underworld'… feel free to bail out at any moment if you feel yourself to be in an uncomfortable situation. I understand and I'm sure my kohai understands as well."
"I do, by the way," Touma added. "Seriously, don't be afraid to split if things get rough. Seria and me, we're used to these sorts of janky scenarios."
Mikoto shook her head, no, her arms folding across her chest as she proverbially stood her ground.
"So am I. The gesture means a lot, especially from you Kumokawa-san, given that we've only just met. Me and him, Touma, we have a history of facing down conflict together too… it's complicated. He seems to have a history with a lot of girls, doesn't he?"
"That he does," Seria confirmed. "It's not necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes, abnormal is good, even better. Adjustments sometimes need to be made, but the abnormal and the unexpected can be… pleasant."
To Mikoto's surprise, she didn't seem at all perturbed, though Mikoto wasn't necessarily perturbed herself – "Kami Disease" had become more of a reality set in her mind, something to accept rather than to dance around and avoid. "Kami Disease", as Tsuchimikado Motoharu referred to it was part of Kamijou Touma's existence.
Seria spoke once more before she stepped out of her vehicle, just after she'd kissed her kohai on the cheek.
"He really is something special."
That he was. Kamijou Touma was worth adjusting for. The agreement with that damn Shokuhou should've been proof enough that Misaka Mikoto was open to abiding by such a requirement, if that was what it would take to close the ever-growing distance between her and that boy.
"Hey, Misaka?"
"Hey. Somethin' you need?"
"There's some things I want to talk to you about when this is done. It's… relevant to what we've been talking about."
"Is it now?"
"Uh huh. I'm going to be talking to my senpai, Seria, about the same thing. I don't know about Shokuhou, she's… I don't remember her being the daring type. It's been a while to be fair, so that could've changed."
"It hasn't. Daring, huh…?"
Without another word, both Kamijou Touma and Misaka Mikoto left Kumokawa Seria's vehicle, closing either of the vehicle's doors behind them.
Situated in a small, vacant parking area adjacent to the warehouse, the vehicle was left alone as its three once-occupants turned their sights to the warehouse.
Its twin entranceway doors were enormous, rusted and battered. Sections of paint had and were perpetually peeling away, revealing a shade of dull, metallic grey beneath. Splattered with graffiti of all appearances, some forming text, and others forming nonsensical, meaningless images and pseudo-words, either door was forced into place and carefully bound together with a series of thick, metallic chains.
Why such primitive technology was being used in a place like Academy City was beyond the knowledge of Kumokawa Seria and even Kamijou Touma, who was nearly omniscient, for all intents and purposes.
Misaka Mikoto knew.
Her electromagnetic senses tingled, similarly to the unique senses of a certain building-climbing superhero as she 'reached' out and identified the many different sorts of metallic substances around her.
The warehouse was not quite what it seemed to be. Hardly at all.
A section of the outer walling fell away, pulled down by David Horton's hand before Horton pressed down on a small button located within.
Slapping the small section back into place, it once more had become completely opaque and indistinguishable from the rest of the outer walling.
Rather than opening outwards as a normal door would've, both doors, which were apparently part of one solid megastructure were pulled downwards into the ground, exposing the true innards of the warehouse.
Where rusted walls, filthy floors, and a partially caved-in ceiling should've been, all was fanciful and modern in its architecture.
Bright, reflective silver. The walling, the ceiling, the floors, all was silver as if the group had stepped into some sort of dystopian vision of a survivalist's underground bunker.
Much of the warehouse was completely open space with nothing save oxygenized air to fill it, though there were numerous, strange-looking and orb-shaped contraptions that dangled from the ceiling and were attached to the walls, each with a singular, blinking red dot in their respective centers.
There were, however, numerous queer constructs, shaped like pods, with translucent 'windshields'. Each floated above the ground, stabilized and directly in violation of gravity's laws by some invisible force. Each of the queer constructs produced a series of soft hums.
"So, Kami-yan and harem members, today we're traveling in style, courtesy of Gladio and the Oculus. Academy City's many proxy wars and state-funded coupes staged in foreign lands have given us this lovely boon."
Misaka Mikoto shook her head, seemingly in exasperation. Kumokawa Seria quietly produced a soft, curious "hm", while Kamijou Touma folded his arms across his chest, watching on as the exchange unfolded.
"Proxy wars? Coupes?"
"Money's got to come from SOMEWHERE, right, Biribiri-chan? Don't think that those warlords over on the other side of the world would impeach themselves. They've got dirty money, and Academy City's over there, supposedly as "the good guy". Think about it, Biribiri-chan."
Tsuchimikado Motoharu approached one of the queer constructs with a bored-looking Karasuma Fran in tow. She poked one; Motoharu followed up by pressing the palm of his hand against the same construct's 'windshield', utilizing the construct as leverage to hold his form up and offer him balance.
"Mr. Shadow War himself can give you a better explanation than I can."
Gladio-Oculus Operative David Horton had sparked up another cancer stick. He removed the burning death sentence from his mouth and held it between his fingers. Pacing awkwardly, Horton found himself awaiting the moment in which the facility's light fixtures would activate. With the entranceway door having slid back into place, there was very little illumination, natural or synthetic, to speak of.
"Prototypical weaponized vehicles, SHADE_CRAWLER. They saw service during Academy City's invasions of Avignon, Vietnam and numerous countries and city-states in South Africa, respectively."
"Very good, Beauty-Senpai! You're in the know, aren't you?"
"I could ask you the same rhetorical and sarcastic question, Tsuchimikado-san ."
The tension was hardly palatable. It was thick like smog and it was an oppressive, consuming force. While it didn't seem to concern Kamijou Touma, who uttered an impressed chuckle, Misaka Mikoto had many questions.
Just who was this Kumokawa Seria, what was she involved with and what even was she to Touma? Just how much did she know?
Just how deep did Tsuchimikado Motoharu have himself dug into the underworld of Academy City?
Neither of those questions could be answered, in the moment, a fact which made Mikoto silently grumble to herself within the confines of her higher mind's passing thoughts.
"Self-driving," Horton expanded. "Custom operating system built directly into the vehicle's onboard computing systems, just input a location from a preselected group and you'll be taken there.
"Only controls you'd need to keep a hand or an eye on would be the grips for the SHADE_CRAWLER's internal, deployable miniguns. Enough ammunition would be on board to last you for hours before you'd have to reload – but we haven't gotten that far yet. Experimental. For now, fancy cars, not much more than that. Quickest way to get from point A to point B."
"What's the point, Davey? Could've just drove to district four, hopped out of our vehicles and busted the doors of this market… place… thing down."
Kamijou Touma had posed a question that both Misaka Mikoto and Kumokawa Seria had thought to pose, in different terms.
In response, David Horton took a drag of his personal lifespan-shortening device and exhaled a great mass of silver smoke.
"The point here is the exact opposite of what you suggested. We're doing reconnaissance, so pick a SHADE_CRAWLER and hop in. Tsuchimikado here, and I, we took the liberty of prepping them for a trip to school district four. We're going two to a CRAWLER, because… Oculus is underfunded, blame the campaign in Russia for straining our resources. Couldn't get more than three. How… funny."
Touma assumed that a war of the words was about to break out between Kumokawa Seria and Misaka Mikoto; it just seemed like the only outcome in a situation of the sort. That's what happened when girls were put in a situation in which one could get a moment with him.
And so, they all wanted that moment, even though there could only be one.
"Kumokawa-san, do you want to jump into one of these… thingamabobs with Touma? You were with him longer today, after all, I wouldn't want to impose."
"You're an absolute little dear! I don't mind taking a short amount of time to have a private discussion with Tsuchimikado-san. We're… we're quite close as business partners, you see, Misaka-san… and we have oh so much to discuss!"
And yet, nothing of the sort occurred. There was no infighting, no name calling and no antics straight out of the pages of some misogynistic harem manga.
Tsuchimikado Motoharu found himself in a pickle, but not Kamijou Touma.
He gulped. Indeed, he was in for a treat. As if to acknowledge this, Kumokawa Seria cracked her knuckles, and tilted her head to one side.
Karasuma Fran looked to her co-worker with a sympathetic facial expression. In response, the Backstabbing Blade patted the fake gemstone on the head, as if she was a household pet.
"Tsuchimikado-san can take a beating. Don't look at me with that sad little pout."
Kamijou Touma found himself wracked by synthetic guilt, apparently. Such was announced within his converted higher mind by a burst of expository data.
Regardless of whether the information he received was right or wrong, the fact was that he'd lowered both Kumokawa Seria and Misaka Mikoto to be little more than catty, uneducated, feral tribeswomen in his mind.
Obviously, he still had plenty of work to do.
The groups practically formed themselves. While Kumokawa Seria whispered something into Tsuchimikado Motoharu's ear, something that made him come along quietly and without complaint, a bored and tired-looking Karasuma Fran exchanged words with Horton, who she clambered into a SHADE_CRAWLER with.
That left Misaka Mikoto and Kamijou Touma, the latter of whom took their place within the free SHADE_CRAWLER. Simply by touching the construct's surface, the translucent 'windshield' popped open, offering an opening into the queer construct's 'cockpit'.
He looked to Misaka Mikoto, who seemed to be looking over the queer construct. Occasionally, a current of bright electricity would jump from her forehead, or from the tips of her fingers.
Touma decided to pose an inquiry, one which called the level five's sense of comfort into question.
"Something wrong, Misaka?"
"N-no. There's just… some strange things in here," Mikoto answered. She climbed into the queer construct with that boy, the boy who she desired to stand as an equal with.
She was coming closer and closer to achieving her goals. As she sat next to him inside of the strange, prototypical thing, Mikoto's own shoulder rubbed against Touma's.
"Any idea how to close this thing up? I don't… oh, here we go, a button. Let's press it! What could possibly go wrong?"
"W-wait, T-Touma…"
Mikoto had half-expected the both of them to be ejected from their seats inside of the vehicle, but nothing of that sort happened.
Instead, two small compartments on either side of the queer construct opened. Mechanical innards spun and whirred as, from either side, a compact weapon was produced.
With small holding chambers and several smaller, but longer Gatling-style rotating barrels, either weapon was unleashed like the claws of a housecat. With the push of the same button Touma had originally pressed, they retracted. The queer construct whirred and chugged once more, as both parties within its 'cockpit' watched on, curiously.
While his words couldn't be heard, due to he and Seria's construct having its 'windshield' sealed, Tsuchimikado Motoharu offered Kamijou Touma and Misaka Mikoto two thumbs up, while Kumokawa Seria viciously tugged on either of his ears, obviously angered by something he'd said.
Then, she punched him in the face.
Kamijou Touma couldn't believe that the snake was trying to be friendly after everything he'd done, everything he was involved with, and everything Touma had said to him. At least he could vicariously live through the pummelling Seria delivered onto the snake.
"I'm going to try this one; Touma, hold onto your hat!"
Misaka Mikoto pulled down a small lever, which, much to her appreciation, caused the windshield to be lowered along with it. Within the queer construct, more innards whirred; for a moment, the Railgun wondered if the construct would spontaneously explode.
The vehicle commandeered by the Gladio-Oculus Operative and the fake gemstone was the first to begin moving forward; apparently having not thought the situation all the way through, the Operative had to disembark from the construct and subsequently flip a small switch to bring down the false entranceway doors. He flashed an odd hand gesture in the direction of the construct commandeered by Tsuchimikado Motoharu and his tormenter, Kumokawa Seria. The bruised Backstabbing Blade nodded in affirmation.
Apparently, the Operative wouldn't be accompanying the group. Instead, the construct commandeered solely by Karasuma Fran went on its merry way without him, soon followed by that of Motoharu and Seria.
Kamijou Touma and Misaka Mikoto still struggled to figure out how their own queer construct functioned.
"Misaka, why don't you use your ability? Can't you just… make this thing work?"
"I can't! I… erm, I mean, I could, but it already sounds like it's going to explode!"
"Let's just push buttons."
"No, no… let's think this throu…"
But Touma didn't heed the level five's words of warning. Instead, he'd chosen to begin pressing buttons and flipping switches at random, one which seemingly disabled the construct completely; flipping it upwards enabled the construct once more, causing the Railgun to breathe a sigh of relief.
Eventually, he came upon the singular, yellow button which seemed to make the construct move forwards. Drifting further from the ground, causing the Railgun's stomach to turn upside down inside of her chest, the queer construct suddenly picked up speed. The world rushed by as Mikoto struggled to keep her half-digested lunch to herself.
An arm wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her close to the body to which it belonged. Icy but thick with considerable muscle, Mikoto found herself welcoming it.
"Oi, you're looking pale. Just sit back and relax, we'll take care of everything. Yeah?"
"Y-yeah."
This certainly wasn't how Mikoto had expected her evening to go; but when it came to associating with Kamijou Touma, she'd come to not only expect but embrace the unexpected.
Whatever it took, she would be at his side. She would become his equal, even if that meant adjusting her own moral standards and becoming a part, of all things, a "group effort". A harem. There was no sense in dancing around what it truly was.
Even if Shokuhou was going to be involved, Mikoto would find a way to make it work. If she could come to an agreement and reason with the likes of Shokuhou, she could reason with anyone.
Silently, she vowed those words to herself as she nuzzled that boy, who wasn't a boy at all, not even human. Lovingly, he fiddled with locks of her chestnut brown hair and left soft kisses on the crown of her head.
Misaka Mikoto might as well have been in Heaven.