Remind me why you're doing this?

I rolled my eyes after checking myself in the mirror. I had to say, I actually looked somewhat presentable in the Glitch Hunter set if I combed my hair.

Because I'm impulsive and I've never been to an actual fancy party before. Plus, one does not simply say 'no' to the Schnee Dust Company. Or to the Atlesian Army, for that matter.

I removed my spy-sunglasses from my inventory and slipped them on, admiring the way they completed the look.

I just don't know why they'd want you of all people as a security guard. Y'know, considering your track record with them. You don't even have any proper training.

I stepped up to the window of my rented room, gazing out into the Atlesian city-scape.

Well, in theory, it's a simple job. Patrol your assigned area, keep a keen eye out for any suspicious individuals, escort out the undesirables, and stop anyone from bringing harm to the party-goers. Not exactly rocket science.

I walked back to the room's desk, pulling out a tranquilizer gun I had bought after the recent incident.

True, but the saying 'easier said than done' still stands. Just because you know what you have to do doesn't mean you can actually do it.

With my Blacksmithing skill now at level 25, it was relatively easy to efficiently take apart the non-lethal weapon.

Gaia, I have Observe and a minimap. And I'm pretty sure I'm strong enough to take on the majority of people that could decide to crash the party. I'd say I'm fairly well-equipped for the job.

I performed a standard maintenance session on the gun, using a cleaning kit that I had gotten for a pretty great deal.

...alright, you have a point. I still don't understand why you actually seem somewhat enthusiastic about this.

I put the weapon back together and loaded it.

The Eisenbergs told me they'd be going. This is one of the few times they've all gotten a chance to be together for a while. Plus, it's sponsored by the SDC, and if I know anything about Jacques, it's that he'd never pass up a chance to boost his approval rating with the elite. I'd bet money that he's ordered Weiss to sing for everyone. Who knows, something could happen and we might get a chance to talk.

I swiveled around in my seat, and quickly squeezed off three darts. They landed in a tight group, all within the bullseye of the target I'd taped up on the opposite wall.

Good luck actually talking to her, though. She didn't get the moniker of 'Ice Queen' for nothing.

I retrieved the darts from the target and loaded them back in.

I know, but there's no harm in trying.

I spun the tranquilizer around the trigger a little, then stuck it in a holster tucked away under my suit coat.

...wait a minute. Your decision wouldn't happen to have been influenced by the reports of Atlas's White Fang branch supposedly increasing their activity, would it?

I smiled.

Honestly, a little, but not really. I mean, sure, logic would dictate that this branch would have to be much more competent than Adam's dumbass lackeys just to stay under Atlas's radar, but come on, it's the frickin' White Fang. Practically 90% of their members are auraless cannon fodder, and the remaining ten percent are significantly bogged down by outside and inside factors, if canon is to be believed. But seriously, after Volume 5, I find it extremely hard to think of them as anything other than a joke. Especially after what they did to Adam himself. For fuck's sake, one hammerblow from his not-actually-ex-girlfriend, and his resolve is shattered? He got nerfed harder than freaking Greninja, and that's saying something.

I walked over to the door leading outside my room.

So no, the White Fang activity wasn't really responsible for my decision. I'm relatively sure that even if I don't show, the regular security will still kick their asses if they try anything. But if they do, I'll be more than happy to show them the door… and give 'em the boot.

I stopped, frowning.

That doesn't mean I don't agree with their opinions, though. I'm also sure that at least half of the attendees will be complete douchebags. If I somehow go the entire night without getting any shade thrown at me for one inane reason or another, I'll join the army.

Really?

Hell no.

Damn it.

I opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

I'll see if I can't discreetly mess with some of the bad apples. Do I have any bugs in my inventory or similarly disgusting things?

Locking my room behind me, I began to make my way to the building's exit.

Check back in ten minutes or so. Your inventory's like the upstairs attic of a thousand-year-old mansion. I really need to work on that sorting feature…

Yeah, that'd be much appreciated. Still don't know why you didn't include that as a day one feature.

I'd like to see you try to build a system as complex as this in two weeks. When you're doing all-nighters for overtime and running on fumes of the gods' equivalent to coffee and sheer willpower, you tend to forget a few of the minor details and cut some corners. Honestly, you should be extremely thankful that this didn't turn out like Abridged Kayaba's SAO.

That little bit of backstory actually contained a lot of implications as to what Gaia's past was like. I thought that a lot of details in there were very interesting, but deigned not to comment on it.

Even so… wow. "Fucking Bethesda" indeed.

Well, when you put it that way…

I fell silent when I walked through the door leading outside.

A short ride later, I arrived at my destination. It kinda looked like those ballrooms you'd always see in movies, the ones that all the rich kids host the climactic parties of the narrative at. Only this one was magnified about two times over. Seriously, the place was huge. I felt like an ant, craning my neck up and up just to find the top.

Sheesh… talk about imposing. Makes me wonder if the guy that built this was compensating for something.

Shaking my thoughts away, I dismounted my light cycle and deconstructed it back into its rod form, replacing it inside my inventory. Once that was done, I began the journey up the stairs to the front door.

I was stopped by the guy acting as the bouncer. I displayed a little identification and reason for attendance. In return, he handed me a map.

"Head up to the room marked here for your briefing, and make it snappy. The next shift starts soon."

"Thanks."

With that done, I stepped inside.

Lemme tell you - say what you will about Atlas, but damn if they didn't know their stuff when it came to interior decorating. I'm not even gonna try describing it, since I already know that I won't be able to properly capture it. Like, wow.

But this wasn't the time to get distracted by amazing visuals. I had a job to do.

When I arrived at the designated room, I was greeted by what I guessed to be my superior.

Tsei-se

Smith Curator

Archer

Level 22

Straight black hair going down to his shoulders? Check. Slanted eyes? Check. Tilak on the forehead? Check. Emotionless expression? Check. Snazzy almost-black blue suit with a pistol tucked away inside? Hard double-check.

Yup, he was a Tseng expy, all right.

"Hello, sir. Zeiss Serven, reporting in for my security shift?"

His stone-faced visage didn't budge.

"I don't recall hiring a child."

Oof. Underestimating much?

That deserved a bit of snark.

"If you have a problem with my age, sir, I would recommend bringing it up with the people who offered me this job. You know, the ones paying you? With all due respect, I suggest that you keep your comments about my supposed lack of capability to yourself until after seeing me in action, thank you very much."

My retort caused his eyes to narrow ever so slightly. But...

"...very well. I trust that your employers know what they're doing."

With that cleared up, he proceeded to brief me on my task, and provided me with some credentials to use as proof of my position as a security guard. He also gave me a complementary taser in the event that somebody "overstayed their welcome," as he put it. I tucked it away next to my tranq pistol.

The instructions given, and the next shift starting in just a minute, I quickly made my way over to my designated area, passing a great many guests on the way.

I didn't really bother paying attention to their names. As far as I was concerned, in the context of my story, they were background characters and bore no relevance to the plot. They might as well have been Volume One-style shadows.

Compounding that was the fact that most of their titles were really generic, and I think I saw a few being used for more than one person.

Jeez. Rub their mediocrity in my face some more, why don't ya.

When I reached my area, I psyched myself up for what would no doubt be an incredibly uneventful job. Ironic, considering how much of an "event" this party was.

I guess my only hope of salvation from unbearable boredom is some familiar faces. C'moooon, Petra… don't leave me hanging now.

"Yo, kid! The hell're you doin' here?!"

Oh, boy. There was no mistaking that voice.

I turned around, and was met with a familiar mane of wild red hair and a pair of goggles sitting on a forehead.

Reid

Fox-Nose Contractor

Drifter

Lv. 20

He still wore the same outfit as the last time I saw him, with the only difference in his appearance that I could see was his apparent lack of weapon.

"What the - I should be asking you that! What the hell are you doing here?"

Honestly, I should have expected this the minute I saw that the Smith Chief would be my superior tonight. But that still didn't stop me from being shocked at Reid's presence here.

"I'm keepin' the peace, yo! And ya didn't gimme an answer!"

I had to give him credit - his expressions were pretty on-point. He did a good job of looking naturally frazzled.

"Same reason as you, man. For whatever reason, the government decided that this would be the first job I'd take to start paying off my debt. No idea why, considering my human kill count consists entirely of security guards, but I'm not complaining. From my point of view, keeping watch over all these corporate snobs for a few hours is nothing more than easy money. Honestly, the only thing I could possibly complain about would be boredom."

He snorted.

"Don't let 'em hear ya call 'em that. Trust me, I did that once, and I had ta sit through the guy blowin' his top plus the riot act ol' Tsei read me after he found out. Not my finest moment, I'll tell ya that much."

I decided to get the pleasantries out of the way.

"Mmm. So, the professor I rescued told me that you and your two buddies were apparently part of some organization called the Smiths. I looked 'em up, but I didn't end up finding much. Would you terribly mind enlightening me on what exactly you are?"

Reid looked away for a moment, apparently weighing his options, then turned back.

"...all right, guess it wouldn't hurt to tell ya since we're on the same team now. Plus ya did also kinda kick my ass. Anyway, on the surface, we Smiths're a buncha guys hired ta gather information all around the world and get it back here ta Atlas. We get government protection since they're the ones fundin' us, so that's cool. We're also independent contractors-fer-hire if the price's right. But that's not all we do."

His stance shifted, and his face became just a little bit darker.

"We're also responsible fer a lot more morally grey things - like ensurin' employee loyalty, spyin', espionage, 'n recruitment, along with a few others. Basically, if a spy can do it, so do we. Oh, and ya didn't hear it from me, but we do kinda-sorta act as assassins on occasion."

I began to get suspicious.

"Wait a minute… this feels like you're divulging company secrets. You're not gonna try and off me as soon as possible, are you?"

He snorted again.

"Nah, man. This is all stuff ya can learn with a bit 'a snoopin' around. What we do in the shadows ain't exactly a secret if ya know who ta ask. Much's we hate ta admit it, the nature 'f our line 'a work attracts a lotta attention, an' not alluvit's good."

I thought on that.

"So what you're saying is that you can't stop the media from taking notice of a… let's say 'political assassination,' is that right? Regardless of the victim's standing with the public."

He nodded.

"Bingo. No matter how much a guy's hated by the people, they'll still ask a buncha questions when he kicks the bucket ahead 'a schedule. If not 'why,' then 'how,' or 'who.' And lemme tell ya - some 'a those dudes can be dedicated ta the weirdest 'a things. Like figurin' out that two murders 'a completely unrelated people had the exact same method a' death, requirin' very specific items, and connectin' that with a buncha other suspicious stuff that happened ta have us behind it. Seriously, it's like all those guys literally have nothin' better ta do other than speculate 'n uncover conspiracies."

It was my turn to snort.

"Well, put enough neckbeards in front of enough computers, and I think you'll find that some pretty crazy shit can result from it. I bet that someone somewhere has done something at least a few degrees more insane than that. You'd be surprised at what a few nerds can do with a bit of time, CCT access, and some noodle implements."

His reaction confirmed that he was unfamiliar with tropes.

"Noodle implements?"

I waved that off.

"Basic everyday materials, y'know, spoons, toothpicks, can openers, stuff like that. Don't worry about it. Anyway, I don't see your pals anywhere. You draw the short straw on this assignment or something?"

He rolled his eyes.

"Naw. Our contractors decided ta shell out a helluva lotta cash fer this gig. You'd think that with the absurdly high pay they're offerin' that we'd be on guard duty fer a convoy drivin' through dangerous territory, but nope. All we really gotta do here's stand around, look like we mean business, then get shitfaced once our shift's over. Speakin' 'a Rudger 'n Crissie, the big guy's over near the entrance. Ya know, if he weren't a Smith, I could see 'im workin' as a bouncer, no doubt. Little miss ginger's over by the VIP area, lucky cat. Don't know how, but I suspect that she's gotta way 'f ensurin' that she's always the one hobnobbin' with the royalty. Then again, that's prob'ly fer the better. I've honestly lost count 'a all the blue-bloods I've pissed off by now, an' between you 'n me, Rudger ain't exactly the friendliest guy in the world."

I swept my eyes over the crowd, and turned them back to my conversation partner when he finished speaking.

"You know, I'm actually pretty surprised that a guy like you's still got his job. Literally everything about you screams 'young delinquent,' and I'd expect someone like that to be lurking around slums or back alleys, not upper-crust parties. Not to mention the fact that you've apparently screwed up a lot by your own admission. How do your superiors put up with you?"

He smirked, then leaned in a little.

"Well, kid, lemme tell ya 'bout a lil' somethin' that I've learned from experience. It don't matter if yer the world's biggest douchebag, so long as yer top dog at what ya do."

He pointed to himself.

"Case 'n point - I pretty much make it my mission ta make the lives 'f everyone 'round me absolute hell whenever they're in earshot. But my bosses haven't kicked me out yet, 'cause if they did, they'd lose one 'a their best men, an' that's one 'a the few things they can't afford ta do. Ya also hafta understand, though… don't overdo it, or else they might decide that yer not worth the trouble 'n cut ya loose anyway. Ya need a good sense 'a perception ta do what I do well - watchin' a pro at work's like watchin' a guy ride a unicycle over a tightrope while jugglin' and simultaneously confessin' his love ta his crush without soundin' awkward as all get-out. One wrong move sends him tumblin' down into the void 'f unemployment. But I'll be damned if it ain't downright inspirin'."

I took some time to digest those words of wisdom, which was cut down a bit by the fact that I had read most of it before. It seemed to me like Reid had just nailed the 'Bunny-Ears Lawyer' trope explanation almost to a T, while having absolutely no idea of what the term itself was, or what it entailed. I saw now how fitting it was that his title was obviously based off of that phenomenon's name.

And he was right - the way I saw it, big businesses didn't care about you as an individual with a personality and eccentricities. What they did care about was your results. So if you were a constant high deliverer, they'd keep you on the payroll, no questions asked. Even if you made a habit of constantly doing ridiculous and baffling things, like, say, wearing a pair of bunny ears to your workplace.

Then, all of a sudden…

"Reid! What in the world are you doing?! Get back to your post!"

I turned toward the source of this new voice, and was met with a head of short blonde hair attached to a body clothed in the usual Smith garb.

Solena

Loose-Lipped Recruit

Drifter

Level 16

Aaaand there's Elena. Gang's all here.

Although he recognized the new arrival, it was obvious that the redhead gave absolutely zero shits.

"That right, Solena? Well, why aren't ya at yer post?"

She bristled, clearly annoyed at Reid's flippant attitude towards the assignment.

"I can't believe you, you lazy ass! Why can't you ever be professional about these kinds of things?! You can't even be bothered to wear your uniform properly, for god's sake!"

She wasn't wrong, actually. Reid's dress shirt was unbuttoned and untucked, leaving a trench of white down the middle of his upper body. The man looked down at his state of dress, then shrugged.

"Can I really help it if I look good wearin' it like this? I bet yer just jealous that yer sis's still restrictin' ya from takin' the more dangerous missions, an' I just happen ta be here fer ya ta take yer rage out on."

Solena actually stomped her foot in indignation.

"Crisset has nothing to do with this! The only problem here is you and your complete lack of respect for your station! Why, you couldn't do that even when we were on that assignment in-!"

When it sounded like she was about to reveal something she shouldn't, Reid quickly cut her off.

"Whoa, there, spitfire. Keep that talkativeness in check, would ya? We do have a listener."

"Ack-!"

Eyes widening, her hands shot up to cover her mouth upon being called out and realizing that she was about to blab. She turned off to the side, a light blush of embarrassment on her face, berating herself all the while.

"Idiot…! Stupid…! Loose lips sink ships, you moron…!"

Somehow growing a shadow of a conscience within the span of ten seconds, Reid relented.

"Alright, alright, none 'a that. Don't worry, I'll get back ta my spot soon enough. Now why don't ya run along back ta yers?"

She spared a moment to glare at the laid-back Smith, conveying that this was far from over, before striding back the way she came.

Concluding that that was the end of that, Reid turned back to me when I asked him a customary question.

"Who was that?"

He glanced back at the crowd.

"Our newest member, goes by the name 'a Solena. She's the lil' siblin' 'f the girl ya stomped back when we first met. She's got potential, I'll admit, but she's also gotta habit 'a runnin' that mouth 'a hers right at the worst possible moment. Whether or not she'll get a grip on that remains ta be seen."

He then checked his wristwatch, and began to step away.

"Alright, I better get back ta doin' my job, or else she might just explode. Be seein' ya!"

"Okay. Bye!"

We gave each other a quick two-fingered salute before I lost him in the mass of guests.

Ah, well. Back to sentry duty it is.

For the next fifteen or so minutes, I kept a silent vigil over the crowd. I would receive strange looks from the partygoers every so often, which I determined to be because of my apparent youth. Some of the more jerkish ones approached and asked me why a child was playing at being a security guard, to which I replied with curt assertations of my ability and thinly-veiled demands to GTFO. I was sure that kind of behavior wasn't going to earn me any points with them, but I didn't really come here to make friends. (Unless you count Weiss, but that was more of a bonus than a requirement.)

Thankfully, before my hyperactivity made me do something I might regret, I was saved by a very familiar face.

"Zeiss! There you are!"

I turned to the source of the voice, and was met with the visage of the only Atlesian friend I had that was my age.

Petra von Eisenberg

Iron Girl

Engineer

Level 16

"Well, look who it is! Where have you been for the past twenty minutes? I mean, come on, what am I, chopped liver?"

She huffed.

"Looking for you! I swear, you're like a freaking ghost sometimes! If I had known that crunching on stealth training for only three whole days would give me those kinds of skills, I would have volunteered for the cannon job myself!"

I chuckled and patted her shoulder a couple times.

"Well, we can't all be masters of the disappearing arts. Sometimes you just have to stand back and let the professionals handle things."

She lightly socked me on the arm for that.

"Jerk. And you're being a hypocrite. You do remember that you got caught, right?"

I held up both my hands in surrender.

"Okay, okay, touché. Still, it's great to see you, Petra. Gotta say, you rock that look. Not that I know anything about fashion, of course, but still, friends gonna friend."

Her attire consisted of a sleeveless dress that matched the color of her hair and went down to her knees, paired with silver pumps, and…

"...wait a minute, are those… revolver earrings?"

She chuckled.

"Yep. As much as I wanted to do otherwise, guests are apparently forbidden from bringing weapons of their own. 'Leave protection to security,' they said. So, I thought I'd show my appreciation for the craft in a different way. I actually made 'em myself a few months ago, but despite my best efforts, I couldn't find a way to make them actually shoot anything. Which in hindsight was kind of a waste of time - even if I did get them to work that way, the caliber would be way too small to actually do anything noteworthy. At best, it'd have about as much effectiveness as a spitball."

I let out a somewhat disbelieving laugh at the absurdity of such an endeavor.

"Wow. That… honestly sounds ridiculous, but still, imagine if you had gotten them to work. That would be hilarious."

This time, she snorted.

"I suppose it would. You don't look too bad yourself, you know. I see you actually found a way to comb your hair so that it stays down."

I reached up to brush the aforementioned follicles.

"Yeah, that took longer than I care to admit. I eventually found out that the only method that stuck was brushing the front to the right, the sides to the back, and the back downward. No idea why it had to be that specific combination, but whatever. Speaking of which, it seems like you had no such luck."

At my words, one of her hands raised up in a futile effort to tame her strands. Unlike mine, she sported a natural spiky windswept look with the front spines curving to point off to the left, leaving a few short ones dangerously close to obstructing her eyesight. I had to admit, it was one of the more interesting hairstyles I had seen in my time here.

"Nope. Not without artificial means anyway, but I'm not really into that stuff, so I just try to make it work. Poorly. Unless I break out a can of Whippity-Do, these guys refuse to stay down."

It was clear that she wasn't opposed towards it, but I concluded that a little extra reassurance wouldn't hurt.

"Well, the way I see it, you're turning heads whether or not your hair decides to listen to you. Where'd the dress come from, anyway?"

Petra gave herself as much of a once-over as she could.

"Oh, this thing? My closet. I figured that showing up in a lab coat and cargo pants would be in bad taste, so I dug in and found this lying around. I'm drawing a bit of a blank as to how I got it, but my leading theory was that I bought it a while ago for some reason and eventually forgot about it due to lack of usage. Why it still fits me, I have no clue, but I don't fancy myself as a girl to look gift horses in their mouth, so I won't question it. I have to say, though, you look like you stepped right out of a spy movie or something. The outfit really... suits you."

She pointed dual finger guns at me upon firing the pun, a shit-eating grin plastered on her face. I stared at her with an expression that screamed 'supremely unamused.'

"Petra, come on. I've seen reruns with more originality than that. Seriously, I could have seen that coming a mile away even without my eyeballs. If you're gonna spout crap like that, you could at least try to do it right. I mean, I like puns as much as the next guy, but that was just… no."

The grin slid off her visage in an instant, replaced by a frown accompanied with averted eyes as a hand unconsciously rose up to the back of her neck.

"Yeah, that was really terrible. Remind me to never do that kind of thing again."

I let out a fond sigh at her admission of failure.

"I don't think I need to. That kind of experience speaks for itself."

Right after that, we were both hit with a silence spell, neither of us talking for an awkward moment.

"So, uh… anything else you wanna talk about?"

More silence.

"...wow, we're terrible at this."

We shared a laugh over our total ineptitude in the basic social skill of making small-talk.

I guess even a Charm stat of 52 isn't enough to break a lifetime of aversion to socializing. Makes sense, considering I'm still about 24 natural levels away from getting it up to just frickin' 100.

"Seems like we decided to trade our people skills for other things. I got a deal on a lifetime of digital enjoyment, while you picked prodigious computer and weapon design skills. We're not so different after all - the only big separation between us is that you got the set that actually let you make something of yourself, whereas I just decided to waste away, locked in my own room. Not literally, of course, but you get the point."

Petra gave me this look.

"You know, I have a feeling that if it existed, you'd hold the world record for 'most times a person has naturally insulted themselves in 24 hours.' And… that's not healthy. Like, at all. Are you sure you don't need a therapist or something?"

I acknowledged that with a helpless shrug.

"Tried that once, nothing really happened. I'm also extremely averse to anything that messes with my mind, so that puts me at odds with medication that works like that. Heh, imagine that. A depressed man who refuses his pills because he's uncomfortable with his thought patterns, and if he did take them, he'd still feel down, because to him, being happy feels wrong. A Catch-22 if there ever was one. Sad excuse for a human being, isn't he?"

The little revelation made the gray-haired girl's eyes go wide.

"Waitwaitwait - Zeiss, you… are you saying you have depression?"

I stuck out my hands in a 'stop' gesture.

"Whoa, no no no! I didn't say that! ...well, actually yeah, I kinda did, but! It's only a minor case, or so I've come to believe. Plus a… bit of autism, possibly, but-but still! You won't be seeing me trying to commit suicide or anything like that in the near future, unless something that massively rocks my worldview just so happens to show up. Even if I had the means, I don't think I'll ever have the guts to actually go through with it."

I didn't feel like that was a lie, but… there was still that lingering sense of doubt.

Given the right circumstances… would I still chicken out? Or would I really cut my own life short?

...I still don't know…

"Trust me, the only thing that came from that is my pessimism, which I discovered is actually not that bad of a perspective to have. Think about it this way - if your expectations remain at the bottom of the barrel, then you're either always right, or pleasantly surprised. There's nowhere else to go but up. And, possibly as a result of that, my sarcastic personality came into being to compliment it. And then in speculative spite of that, I developed my habit of trolling others. Although that really hasn't gotten a chance to shine through in a while… hopefully, I'll get to end that tonight."

I gathered that Petra was still reeling somewhat from this little info bombshell, but she made the effort to latch onto that last bit.

"What do you mean, 'end that tonight?' You're not going to try and do something stupid, are you?"

I was unable to stop a mischievous smirk from showing.

"No, I'm just going to, ah… let's say 'mess with' some of the people here that have been disrespecting me due to their suspicions of my incompetence as a security guard. Nothing too ridiculous, of course, just a little bit of... harmless pranking, if you will. Heh heh heh…"

Her eyelids fell down to half-mast when an unintentional evil laugh slipped out of my mouth.

"Yeah, that does not give me any confidence whatsoever that this will end well for anyone involved. Are you sure you know what you're signing up for?"

I shrugged again, only this time my posture said 'whatever.'

"Eh, not really, but honestly, I'm kinda past the point of caring by now. I understand that some people enjoy rubbing their status in others' faces, but holy wow are some of the jerkasses here in serious need of an attitude adjustment. I won't give out anything specific - I'd like to think I respect their privacy enough to do that - but a few of those guys can get really creative with their insults when they feel like it. Believe me, the results are… not pretty, and that's putting it lightly."

Petra threw her arms up, yielding to my motivations.

"All right, I gave my token resistance. If you still feel like making a mess of things, go right ahead - I won't stop you. Just don't say I didn't warn you if you wind up screwing yourself over."

I turned my gaze back to the crowd, mentally projecting crosshairs over the few people in sight that I had figuratively 'marked for death' after they had pissed me off at my post.

"Rest assured, your concerns have been heard and acknowledged. That said, they will also be completely ignored. Oh, but don't worry your pretty little head off yet - I'd like to finish my shift before I stir up any trouble. Less chance of my paycheck being kept from me in the event that I'm caught if I wait until I'm off the clock."

She brought her palm up to her face, letting an exasperated sigh escape her as she did so.

"That's the best I'm going to get from you, isn't it? Ughhh… well, I guess a delay until I can get to a safe distance is a fair amount of mercy. Plus we get more time to talk, even if we do suck at that."

I put my hand up to my chin, rubbing it with my curled-up pointer finger just like a certain porcupine-headed ("Hey!") lawyer would.

"Actually, I've been thinking about that - in theory, small talk isn't actually that hard. You just need to find some inane topic to share your thoughts on, give a conversation starter, and the rest just happens naturally, or at least it should. And, well, I mean, we're both pretty smart, so I'd say that our ability to find things to talk about should be more than adequate. So, logic dictates that by all accounts except experience, we should actually be quite adept at this."

That made her think on the concept.

"Huh… that actually kinda makes sense. In a weird sort of way."

I decided to try and demonstrate.

"Like this: so what exactly got you into your hobbies? You know, weapon design and coding and all that?"

The casual ease at which I did so inspired her to put forth the effort to return the favor.

"Oh, that? Well, it mostly came from when my dad used to come home back when he still worked on projects small enough to allow that. I think I was… I dunno, four or five around that time, maybe? I would climb up and look over his shoulder to watch what he was working on. Sometimes it was infantry equipment, like rifles and pistols, other times it was heavy-duty stuff like Bullhead cannons and rockets."

As she spoke, she slowly began to ease into it more and more.

"But what really got me excited was all the experimental tech he got to work on, even if they ended up never seeing the light of day. I don't think I'll ever forget the time I found out that he got to try his hand on an honest-to-god laser gun. Sure, it was eventually deemed unfeasible, unneeded due to Dust, and canceled, but still - a frickin' laser gun. You couldn't tell my old self that that wasn't crazy awesome."

Huh… but Penny had a laser… was that Aura or Dust powered? I couldn't really tell...

"So, naturally, I wanted to do stuff like that for myself. I started reading up on whatever material dad could find the time to provide for me, and luckily I was smart enough to find more sources on my own by the point that Atlas really started cracking down on his schedule. Turns out I apparently have just as much of a head for weapons as he does, so I picked up on a lot of stuff really fast. I created my first original design when I was just nine years old. Of course, I look back on it now and cringe really hard at how bad it is, but it worked, and I still have it locked away somewhere. In fact, right now I'm working on a little experimental something of my own. I'm still testing and fine-tuning them, but when they're done… well, let's just say that the heads of any small fry Grimm that cross me might as well be bottles at a shooting gallery."

That caught my interest.

"Now that sounds juicy. Would you be willing to drop a hint on those?"

Her eyes narrowed, and a smile stretched across her face.

"Hmmm… I'd prefer to keep it a surprise, but I suppose I could give you a clue. Magnetism and polarity is heavily involved in their function."

I did a quick brainstorm on that, running through a bunch of possible outcomes in my head before settling on what I determined to be the most likely result.

"Oh, don't tell me… railgun?"

Her lips splitting to turn the smile into a toothy variant told me everything I needed to know.

Then something else came to mind. I recalled in an earlier conversation about weapon preferences that she was speccing into dual revolvers and tonfa blades. Combining this information led to… oh boy.

"Wait… no freaking way. Revolver railguns?!"

I didn't think it was possible for her smile to get any wider, but it did. I could almost see the bloodthirsty aura leaking out of her, as well as the classic [MENACING] kanji scattered about. I felt a drop of sweat roll down my head.

Oookay, that's quite enough of that. Subject change!

"Alright, so that explains your love of weapon design, but what about the computer side of things?"

Thankfully, my plan worked. Her smile became normal again, and my nerves stopped screaming at me to get the hell away as fast as possible.

"Believe it or not, it's pretty much the exact same story, only it was my mom who was the one responsible. I was a pretty curious kid, or so my parents like to say. I preferred to silently observe whatever they happened to be working on, and eventually came to get a rudimentary understanding of it, leaving me to find ways to learn more. I just kept going from there, and now I'm an apprentice tech wizard. Of course, I'm nowhere near mom's level, but I like to tell myself that I'm catching up every day."

It seemed like she remembered something in that moment.

"Oh! By the way, did I ever tell you that I'm actually working on a game of my own?"

I blinked.

"Say what?"

She quickly reaffirmed her claim.

"Yeah! I mean, you didn't honestly expect me to get where I am without reading a couple manuals on game design, right?"

She did have a point.

"Really, huh? What've you got in mind?"

The spark in her eye appeared once more.

"I figured I might try to do something new, so I brainstormed a bunch of ideas and came up with an idea that basically amounts to 'what if I made an RPG that's all about collecting better gear, but turned it into a first-person shooter and replaced the gear with random procedurally-generated guns?' So I went online and found a way to get a copy of the Intangible Engine and started typing away. At the moment, I've got a bunch of concept sketches of the kind of weapons I want to create and some ideas for how they'll function, and I've managed to get a really, really basic Alpha up and running, but I don't have anything besides that. I figured I'd make a passable prototype and come up with lore and story and all that after I made sure the stuff worked."

It was impossible to miss just how similar her idea was to a certain cult classic of a game that defined the 'looter-shooter' genre. I knew right then and there that I would not miss my chance to help make this a reality.

"That so… tell me, then. How many times has a misplaced semicolon made you feel like tearing your hair out?"

Her expression suddenly turned into something resembling a thousand-yard stare, and gained a slightly haunted air.

"Please don't remind me. I'm much better at checking now that I'm older, but those little guys gave me nightmares when I was just starting out."

Before she fully registered what my statement meant, I pushed forward.

"Well, here's an evil little programming prank - grab a coworker's code, pick any semicolon, or more than one if you're feeling particularly malicious, then replace it with an Old Mistrali question mark. Step away, wait for them to pull it up, then watch them slowly lose their mind while they try to find what's causing the syntax error. It's hilarious."

The implications behind my dialogue finally hit her.

"Hold it, you code too?!"

I brought up my hand in a noncommittal gesture.

"Ehh, a little on the side before my hometown got axed. I haven't given it much thought since, but I think it might be time to refresh my memory a little. I was never all that amazing at it, but I'd like to think my skill is relatively passable. You don't mind if I take a bit of the workload off your shoulders, do you?"

She got pretty excited.

"Not at all! There's a lot of things that still need work, and even if you're not all that good at coding, you can still help out with the plot and other stuff like that. And the best part is that we can take all the time we want, because we're completely independent and don't have any deadlines except the ones we enforce on ourselves! I mean, I've never worked for a triple-A company before, but once you surf the CCT enough, you get a general understanding of how bad of a practice crunching is."

I couldn't really argue with that, especially since I had come from a world that housed abominations like Sonic '06 and the old E.T. game that kicked off the crash of '83. Real nasty shit. Not to say that watching '06 fall apart isn't funny as hell ("IT'S NO USE! TAAAAKE THIS"), but the fact that a game that poorly made was shipped out by a company like Sega is serious cause for alarm.

"Yeah, but I think you might want to give me some if you want me to get anything done. If you don't, I'll just keep blowing it off until you put your foot down and force me to do it, 'cause I'm lazy like that."

She rolled her eyes.

"Of course you will. Anyway, I think that's enough about me, so how about you? Got anything you want to share?"

The request caught me on the back foot, leaving me scrambling for an answer.

"Uuuuhhhhh…"

I fumbled for a while, Petra's expression becoming more and more deadpan as the seconds ticked on. Eventually, I did find a subject within the purview of sports, of all things.

"Well… I do actually golf. Granted, I kinda suck at it, but I still know how to properly swing a club. The most you'll ever see out of me is a par, and I can count the number of times I've gotten one of those legitimately on one hand. My average is around double bogey, and if I'm lucky, just bogey. But it's not uncommon for me to hit triple or above."

Her eyebrows shot up at this new information.

"Golf? Really? I expected something… I dunno, different."

I made a sheepish gesture in response.

"Well, after I opted out of baseball, my mom was pretty insistent that I play at least one sport. After bouncing around for a while, I settled on golf, for the sole reason that it had the least risk of injury. Believe it or not, before the attack, I was actually pretty cowardly. So I got a bag of clubs, found a tutor, and the rest is history."

She frowned and narrowed her eyes.

"You know, you seem to be able to bring up the destruction of your home and the death of everyone you ever knew pretty offhandedly. I mean, you did just say that you kinda-sorta maybe have depression, and that you may be a bit screwed in the head, but… ehh, something still doesn't seem right. Are you sure you're okay?"

I chuckled - which probably didn't help matters, but I did it anyway.

"Honestly? No. Not in the slightest. But then again, I don't think anyone is every truly okay. All we ever do is pretend we are, when inside we're just scrambling to process every new thing that's thrown our way and frantically trying to adapt to every situation we encounter. I firmly believe that the phrase 'fake it 'till you make it' applies to everyone at all times. Some just can't help showing more symptoms of that than others."

I got a flat look in return.

"Well, that's depressing, but then again, I guess that's par for the course with you."

All of a sudden, her expression shifted into something different.

"But… really, Zeiss, if you ever feel like you need to talk with someone, just call me. You were there for me when I needed a pick-me-up, and I'm going to return the favor. I mean it."

I blinked and hesitated.

"Huh… well, that went from zero to heavy in no time flat."

I quickly backpedaled when I saw annoyance begin to creep onto her face.

"In all seriousness, though… thanks. I'll admit, I hardly ever talked about any of my bigger problems back home. It was always just surface-level stuff. Y'know, school issues, physical problems, stuff you'd expect to get resolved in a week at most. I mostly brushed off the deeper stuff since it probably wasn't actually so big as to warrant any real effort - remember, I was never actually diagnosed with any mental disorders."

More and more began to spill out, but strangely, I found it impossible to stop.

"So I always kept my core issues locked away inside, not even bringing them up with my parents in anything but a joking manner. I just laughed everything off, saying it didn't matter, while telling myself over and over that I didn't need to butt into other people's lives with my problems. After all, they had enough on their plate already - they didn't need me barging in and piling on even more meaningless bullsh*BEEP*t."

I noticed Petra's lack of reaction towards the censoring. It made sense, as she'd been getting used to it for a fair amount of time by now.

"Looking back… it's kinda obvious that I was subtly telling myself that I didn't matter. That I was expendable. Replaceable. Just another face in the crowd. But I think that changed after I survived the attack. I think that the fact that out of everyone there, a bunch of people who were no doubt better than me, that I was the one to get out safely kinda impacted my worldview. If I had survived, while all those others didn't, then was I really as faceless as I told myself I was? Back then I wasn't sure if it was that or just pure luck, but… after recent events, I'm starting to believe that there was a reason I made it out of that nightmare with my life."

Funny how things turn out like that. Finally getting a victory that means something can do a lot for a person's psyche.

"I mean, come on - how many people could have done what I did and gotten away with it? Well, probably more than I expect, but my point is that I did that. I changed the freakin' world. You guys pitched in a lot, sure, but still - I stood up to Atlas and walked away in one piece. That's not something any old faceless bystander can do."

It finally hit me, what I was doing at the moment, and I stopped.

"Ah-wow, uh… that veered off-topic fast."

I awkwardly tried to recover, lifting a hand to tug on my shirt collar.

"I guess what I'm trying to say, is… well, I have my fair share of issues. I've started to work through them, but… if you really want to take on the role of listener, then be warned, 'cause I've got a lot of baggage. Are you certain that you want to do this?"

That was probably a good way to word it, if the fire in her eyes was any indication.

"Absolutely. After all, it's only fair. I pretty much told you my life's story that day and dumped all my baggage on you, so the least I could do would be to take on yours in return."

I smiled at the conviction, and held out my hand as an idea struck me.

"Then I suppose we are in agreement, Miss Eisenberg."

Immediately understanding the meaning behind it, she took it and gave it a firm shake.

"You've got yourself a deal, Mister Serven."

We held that position for a few moments, then broke away chuckling.

"Wow, I can't believe we just did that. What were you thinking, dude? That was so cheesy, I could swear the moon crashed into the planet!"

I laughed a little harder at the cheese quip - I'd have to remember that one.

"I have no idea, but it was probably stupid. Scratch that, it was definitely stupid. I don't know what would make me think that was a good course of action."

We calmed down in short order.

"All right, I think that's enough socializing for now. I'm gonna go check out what my parents are doing. With any luck, I'll meet a big name that I can score some points with. Always nice to have connections, and all that."

"Okay. Have fun! I'll ping you after I'm off the clock so you'll know where not to be when the shrieking starts - and the best place to be if you want a front-row seat."

She turned, and began walking off, waving as she did so.

"Sounds great, thanks! Bye!"

"Bye."

Soon, she was indistinguishable from the rest of all the other faces.

I directed my attention back to surveying the crowd, sweeping over their titles once again, and occasionally shooting off a bored Observe at random to check whatever bios I could find. Most of them were pretty cookie-cutter, interchangeable rich person stories. X was born into Y family, inherited all their wealth and is now being trained for Z job. The only things that could be considered interesting were the relationship aspects as well as all the corporate intrigue, but even those lost their luster once I saw enough of them. X got into an affair with Y, which attracted the wrath of Z, who is now sending saboteurs to mess with X's business, blah, blah, blah. It was almost as if Atlesian high society was one big competition to see who had the most cliché backstory.

There were standouts, of course, but none of them are worthy of being recorded here. I'd apologize, but I don't want to take up too much of your time by spouting useless info. (Whaddaya mean, I've done that a lot before?! Shut up!)

Eventually, I slogged through enough lifeless time to make it to the twenty-minutes-left mark. Once I did, a voice crackled over the speakers.

"A message to all our esteemed guests. Weiss Schnee, current heiress to the venerable Schnee Dust Company, will be performing in person at the dining hall stage in twenty minutes. We invite you all to attend and enjoy some good old-fashioned classical music. Thank you."

'Venerable,' he says. Hah. What a riot. If it wasn't responsible for basically the entirety of the world economy's well-being, I'd tear it down as soon as I could.

I decided it wouldn't hurt to do one last patrol before waiting out the rest of my time and then going off to see the concert. With that choice made, I began to once again roam the halls in a predetermined route, checking for anything out of the ordinary. Finding that nothing seemed to look out of place, I started to walk back to my post…

...until I saw a solitary red dot on my minimap.

What the hell…?

I checked in its direction, and found nothing that seemed like a potential enemy.

The dot was still there… then I remembered to look up.

And right there, outside the skylight, was a shape that wasn't supposed to be there.

Oh, please don't tell me...

Focusing my sight, I made out his tag.

Parid Kaol

Righteous Ranger

Archer

Lv. 22

...my god, they're not seriously...

He was wearing a cloak that covered almost all of him, and from what I could see, he was wearing a White Fang mask stylized like that of a Nevermore. His weapon of choice appeared to be a bow of some kind.

The reason I say 'appeared' was because I became distracted by the sudden influx of red dots everywhere, and realized what was happening.

...fuck. They actually went ahead and decided to attack tonight. Just my luck.

The next pop-up didn't help matters.

Quest Alert!

Stealing From the Rich

The White Fang's Atlesian Branch has made the decision to strike at the party you're currently providing security for, and have already infiltrated the location. Be warned, as they have their sights set on a variety of high-value targets, and you can bet they won't be pulling their punches. You'll have to move fast if you want to prevent anyone from dying tonight, not to mention that there's a performance you don't want to be late to, so get a move on.

Objective:

-Repel the White Fang

Bonus Objectives:

-Defeat Parid

-Do not let any guests die

-Do not kill any White Fang Infiltrators

-Complete the quest within 18 minutes

Rewards:

-1,500 EXP

-10,000 Lien

Bonus Rewards:

-Hero's Bow

-15,000 Lien

-White Fang Mask

-Support progress increase with Weiss

God damn it… why can't these things ever be easy?

A/N: Jesus, this got a lot bigger than I anticipated. I originally planned for this to be a single chapter, but then it ran away from me and I realized that I'd have to split it into two if I didn't want to frontload you guys.

Anyway… a few surprisingly heavy topics are discussed here. I will neither confirm nor deny what Zeiss says to be true about my own self. Aside from that, I had a pretty good time writing all the dialogue. And I bet you thought the Smiths were just one-off characters, didn't ya? Nah, I have an idea or two concerning Zeiss's involvement with them in the future.

This was also a way to give Petra more screentime in a way that made sense. If some of you find that suspicious, tell me why you think I'm giving what seems to be a side character so much time in the spotlight in a review. I don't doubt that some of you have already figured it out, but if you want to stay quiet, that's fine.

Bonus points if you figure out which storybook figure Parid's based off of. Personally, I'd say it's easy to figure out, but I'll let you all be the judge of that.

I was debating for pretty much the entire writing process of this chapter whether or not to actually have the White Fang stage an attack. There were a lot of reasons that could explain why they wouldn't show up, but there were also a lot that could explain why they would. Eventually, I decided that they probably should try their luck, since I'd already invoked Chekhov's Gun by mentioning them at the beginning of the chapter, as well as Murphy's Law by Zeiss asserting that they probably wouldn't risk an assault.

Honestly, I'm just as much in the dark as you all are as to what's gonna happen next. I have no idea how to actually handle the attack at the moment, but I'm sure I'll find a way to properly write it out.

See y'all next time!

[TRANSMISSION ENDED]