Author's Note: I'm back! Thought you had seen the end of me, didn't you. No, I have been forgetting and forgetting to write this chapter, having been distracted by such things as Hyouka and Love, Chuunibyou, and Other Delusions, but I! Have! RETURNED! Now if only the next episode of Precure comes out sooner, I'll be set!

Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY, Code Geass, A Certain Scientific Railgun, or Fate/stay Night, and thank goodness for that. If I did, I would utterly screw them all up.

Ferry Kind

Is A Horrible Pun, Isn't It

The island nation that Colony Eleven was located in sat not far across the seas from the continent of Vytal, but still almost a full twenty-four hours away by boat. The distance was shorter by airplane, but not everyone could afford to travel that way, due to either cost or not wanting to leave their big honking RVs behind. Hence, the existence of the ferry.

The ferry service was as singularly odd sight. The first thing you saw walking towards it was the signboard with departure times posted. There was no list of destinations—There was only one practical location. The word ferry was itself a joke to be honest—the ships that traversed the short stretch of ocean could be compared to a ferry in the same way that a Doberman could be compared to a teacup poodle.

It was still, Misaka decided, as the RV rolled to a stop (with all the bulldoggish stubbornness Lancer brought to bear when considering his final possession, he had not even allowed the attendants near it), one of the most improbable vessels to make the trip and back across Grimm-filled waters. There had to be some trick to it, though—Milly had purportedly made the trip to the mainland by stowing away on a ferry—and she was admittedly somewhat curious as to what it might be.

/11111/ It says here that the hulls are chemically treated to prevent the Grimm from detecting the ferries, Misaka reads from her laptop.

/10033/ Is that it? Misaka thought it would have been something more exciting, Misaka laments.

/11111/ Seriously, when did you stop—

/10033/ What do first person pronouns have to do with anything? Misaka demands.

Misaka missed Misaka-11111's response, for the unfortunate reason that the deck tilted slightly and she tripped over nothing, falling against Milly's back.

"Haven't got those sea legs yet, Skipper?" Milly asked jokingly.

Misaka regarded this. Very often, Milly would display behavior that, when correlated with data from the other Misakas, indicated friendship. However, Milly was highly insistent that she was not friends with Misaka, Lancer, or Adam. Misaka 10032 suggested that maybe she was a tsundere, but Misaka's attempt to confirm it had ended in disaster.

"Don't worry, kid. You'll get used to it eventually," Lancer said good-naturedly. He and Adam were walking around with all the ease in the world, as if they had been born on ships.

Although they hadn't.

At least, Misaka was fairly sure they hadn't.

/11043/ Chu Cullain wasn't, Misaka confirms. I did a mythology report on him.

/10032/ Onee-sama says that we are not allowed to hack the national mainframe to confirm Adam Taurus's birth records, says Misaka.

/Last Order/ Also, stop using the Network to satisfy random flights of curiosity, says Misaka as Misaka is finding this to be inane.

"'Misaka hopes so,' Misaka complains," she said in reply to Lancer.

"Hey!" Milly said suddenly. "When did you stop using first person pronouns?"

That was never going to go away, was it.

Misaka tuned out the captain's speech over the intercom as the ferry left the dock. She already knew the details of what he was going to say from what some Misakas had dredged up on the internet, and others had learned from actually going on the ferry for school trips or secret missions or the like. She knew that the company that ran the ferries was forty-five years old, and that the hull—as her sister had said earlier—was treated with a veritable cocktail of chemicals to simultaneously deter the massive, sea-going Grimm like Jorgmandrs and Cetuses from attacking the ships and prevent them from scenting the humans riding them. Looking to the right, she saw Adam sitting upright resolutely (because for whatever reason, Adam tended to have the posture of an iron rod), and on the left Lancer pulling out a novel of the Dresden Files and Milly…

Milly was sitting, hunched over, hands clasped in her lap. Her eyes were shifting over the passengers of the boat, glancing over the crew, alight with suspicion and fear. Even though the coating had allegedly proven itself time and again, Misaka decided that she ought to do something to comfort her companion. It was what companions did, after all, right?

That decided, she reached across Lancer's lap—and book, to his startled squawk—and patted Milly twice on the leg. Milly looked down in shock, saw her arm, and her eyes ran up the limb to Misaka. She blinked, and then a small amount of fear was lost to mirth. It wasn't a lot, but Milly was able to take a deep breath and sit up taller for it.

"Do you think you could move your arm?" Lancer demanded.

"'Oh, sorry," says Misaka."

/10033/ Misaka has another question, says Misaka, worried.

/19090/ Oh great, says Misaka.

/10033/ It is not a "random flight of curiosity," Misaka clarifies. Milly has expressed distress at having to return to her home. Misaka is worried that there may have been violence involved in her departure which would affect our time there, Misaka further explains.

/19088/ Fine, we'll look into it, says Misaka, almost growling in frustration. Now could you please stop asking questions? she demands.

/10033/ If Misaka does not ask questions, then how will Misaka gain knowledge? Asks Misaka.

/Last Order/ That's enough of that, Says Misaka as Misaka does not want to have this conversation again.

It was dark out—some time after ten, by his estimation—and very few passengers were still left standing on deck when Adam was shaken awake by Misaka. As he blinked the sleep out of his eyes, he began working furiously to figure out if she had figured out that he had been snoozing the moment he had sat down, or if she was still under the illusion.

"'... Wants to look around,' Misaka finishes," Misaka whispered.

"Say that again?" Adam asked. He looked her over and saw that she was wearing her normal skirt and a flannel nightshirt, as if she had gotten out of bed in a hurry and been half-asleep when she dressed herself.

"'Misaka heard a weird noise,' Misaka explains," Misaka replied. "'Misaka is worried, so she wants to find out what made it.'"

"Are you sure you weren't just having a bad dream?" Adam replied, tensing and untensing, waking himself up more fully.

"'Yes, Misaka is sure,' whines Misaka. 'Can we go find out what made the noise?'"

Adam was tempted—tempted—to go back to sleep and leave Misaka to handle the mystery herself, writing it off as a bad dream. But what if it wasn't? What if—on some off chance—there was something wrong on board? Adam wouldn't call himself paranoid, but he did have a bit of a cautious edge to him, developed from the years he'd spent fighting a war for his rights, and dodging bounty hunters after the war had come to an unexpected and unfortunate end.

Not paranoid, but it never hurt to be careful.

"Fine," he groused. "Let's go."

Adam inhaled through his nose, exhaled through his mouth, and tried desperately not to pound Misaka over the head for her curiosity. Instead, he gripped the railing and tried to crush it with his bare hands.

They had searched the decks (nothing), the halls (nothing), the dining room or mess or whatever it was called on a ship(also nothing), and even snuck into the kitchen and the bridge. Nothing. Not a peep out of place. And yet, Misaka stubbornly insisted that she had heard something.

"'Misaka is sure,' Misaka insists," Misaka said.

"Do you need your hearing checked?" Adam demanded. "There's nothing out here!"

"'But Misaka heard it,'" Misaka pleaded.

"Okay, look. I've accommodated you here," Adam growled. "But this has gone on long enough. You were having a nightmare. There is nothing dangerous out here! You. Are. Imagining. Things. Come on, I'll walk you back to your room."

Misaka gave him a blank look for several seconds, before turning and walking away. Adam wasn't entirely sure, but he thought this might be some odd Misaka equivalent of sulking. With a half-sigh half-groan, he followed her.

And it was a good thing, too.

Because Misaka opened the door at the exact perfect second to find some mystery man bringing a sword down on Milly's head.

Author's Note: Looking back, I discovered here that I really, really enjoy writing Misaka. I actually had to make myself switch to Adam. In any case, next episode is FIGHT SCENE! Here's praying I don't flub it.

Life Is What Happens To You! Come for the story, stay on to see how stupid the chapter titles get!