"We're clear for now. But I don't imagine it'll stay that way for long. Hold on tight, alright?"

It was hard for Noire to say why she had decided to place her trust in this woman. Perhaps it wasn't so much trust as it was the dreaminess of it all. It was becoming more and more clear to her that agency – the freedom of choice many humans saw as a basic tenet of life – had never been a major factor in any of her decisions, least of all in this new world that she was forced to accept as real. Despite all of her efforts, it seemed that she had been merely floating along in a predestined stream for so very long. What, then, was the harm in allowing herself to be guided by fate once more?

"So what were you two doing together in that room? If I may ask, that is."

A blush crossed Noire's cheeks at the implications of those words. "Picking up a game console," she answered, finding it difficult to put any volume in her voice.

"Eh? Those are pretty rare nowadays, sad to say. Most people don't put a lot of stock in gaming anymore. Total waste of time, they'll tell you."

"At least they're worth a lot for the collector's value now," Jake added.

"As long as you don't mind getting tangled up with ASIC, you mean," Falcom warned, shooting the man a stern look.

They paused when they reached the stairwell at the end of the hall, where potential paths leading either up or down presented themselves.

"Here," Falcom said, pulling Noire further up onto her back. "I'll help you on the way up."

"Up?"

"Yeah. To the roof."

"Oh. Blanc says...we can't fly. I can't…"

Falcom held back a groan when the goddess gripped a little tighter onto her.

Good grief. She's really out of it right now. And freezing, too.

It sounded like trouble was starting to brew on the ground floor, the sounds of shouts, gasps, and thudding footsteps meeting her ears. She didn't have time to be a bouncer, though. All she needed right now was to escape with her target. She would figure out the rest later.

I'm sure the CPUs will be glad to have a helping hand.

Falcom nearly stumbled heading up the stairs, her own throat growing a little choked up. A sense of awe was only just now beginning to wash over her. Was any of this real? Had the goddesses truly returned? She was in direct contact with one at that very moment – a divine being, in the flesh. In her care.

"I won't let you die again," she breathed, too low for anyone to hear but the semi-conscious girl currently slumped against her.

Don't make a promise that you can't keep.

"That IDIOT! As soon as I stop babysitting her, she goes and pulls something like this!"

"Blanc, please—"

"Don't tell me to calm down, Vert! You don't get it! None of you do! We're the only thing standing between this world and its end. We are goddesses. Not some stupid, spoiled kids. I thought Noire at least had some basic sense of responsibility, but…" Blanc let out a huffy sigh. "If you're not going to help me track her sorry ass down, then I'll do it alone. Someone has to get things done. May as well be me, huh?"

Vert could only watch as Blanc stomped away, leaving their little hideout behind. "I…am not sure that I have ever seen her quite so upset before. Certainly, she has been louder before, but…"

"Ehhhh…" Neptune raised an inquisitive finger to her chin. "I think we might need to go make sure Blanc doesn't put a few bruises on our party's tsundere…Her skin's pretty sensitive and stuff, y'know?"

"Hm. I suppose you may be right, Neptune. I would not enjoy seeing Noire's smooth, ticklish skin scarred in such a manner, either." Vert's lips formed into a smile. "And, besides – what sort of adventurer turns down a side quest to rescue a party member, hm?"

It didn't take long to catch up to Blanc. Despite her words, she didn't seem to be in that much of a hurry.

"Oiiiiiiiiiiiiii! Blaaaaaaaaanc!" Neptune called as she and Vert raced after the CPU of Lowee, stopping just behind her.

"Oh. I see you two decided to join me," Blanc said as she turned around. "How nice."

Vert shot her a glare. "We have decided to render our assistance to you, Blanc. Please do not deride us like the spoiled child you have declared myself to be."

That seemed to get to her. Blanc's gaze turned away for a moment, her expression softening a little. "Alright. But you're not my mother. Or my sister. Don't think I'm gonna act like you are."

The CPU of Leanbox twisted her frown into a delighted smile. "I would hardly expect such, Blanc-chan."

Blanc's nostrils flared, her temper threatening to boil over once again for a few dangerous seconds. She blew out a quick sigh through her nose in a manner reminiscent of a bull. "I have a pretty good idea of where Noire wandered off to. And, no, I can't tell you how I know, Neptune."

"Bwuh? But I wasn't even gonna ask this time, Ms. Super-Secret!"

"Good. I'm glad your thick skull can actually learn something."

"Gee…just because I totally survived the fall from Celestia doesn't mean you have to keep bringing it up…"

"Can you feel it?"

"Uh…no. I can't feel whatever it is that you're possibly talking about, Oracle."

The Oracle took in a long, noisy breath, raising her arms as if savoring the air or praising a particular celestial entity that was not currently visible in the sky. "There is a tension about us. The Festival draws to a close. And with it, the climax of this tale draws near to give way to the next. And so on, and so on…"

Relera merely continued to shoot a bored look out of the corner of her eye, propping her head sideways with a hand. She wished that there was a glass of wine nearby to grab with her other hand, but the table in front of her was devoid of such treats, as alcoholic beverages were not permitted on the fairgrounds. "All I smell is burnt plastic and too much perfume. You were back down in the lab again, weren't you?"

"Kch." The Oracle's eyes narrowed as she spun to face the Duchess. "That is the smell of science, dear Duchess. Science, and progress. Obviously you would be unfamiliar with such heady concepts."

"Yes, yes, of course," said Relera, waving a hand dismissively. "I'm just glad I don't have to be a volunteer."

There was the low sound of a laugh from the Oracle, soon building up to one that was quite maniacal in nature. "Ah, but you were already volunteered long ago, Duchess of Leanbox."

"Pipe down, would you? You're mildly terrorizing the tourists."

"Sooooooooo…do we have a plan?"

"Yes, I have a plan, Neptune," said Blanc. "It goes like this: we walk in, beat up anyone who looks at us funny, and walk out with Noire, kicking and screaming if necessary. Oh, and without activating the HDD form. That part's, ahem, pretty important."

Neptune pouted to show her displeasure. "Oh, boo. I wanna be super cool and sexy sometimes, y'know."

"Yeah, well, I've already explained that we can't afford to blow our cover. We're supposed to be dead or banished or something along those lines, remember?"

"But we're totally alive and stuff! I bet the Nep-Nep F.C. would have the beeeeeeest day ever!"

"I am not so sure that they would still be around after so long, Neptune," Vert said, her tone uncharacteristically despondent.

"Of course they're still around! No one can forget about good olllllll' Nep-Nep!"

"If only because the sound of your voice can't be erased from one's ears," added Blanc. "Anyway, are you two ready? We only have one shot at this. We have to get Noire back, even if she's a royal pain in the ass. Gamindustri needs all of us here."

Vert nodded. "Ready."

"Ready!" Neptune shouted, pointing a finger toward the sky. "Commence Operation: Get Back Our Tsun-Tsun Goddess (And Totally Earn Lily Rank While We're At It)!"

"Hmmmm." Vert crested her fingers together thoughtfully. "It could use a little more zest, perhaps, but it echoes my sentiments exactly. Ah, but we have had so little time to work on our lily ranks!"

Blanc stepped forward out onto the asphalt of the street. "Let's go."

If Neptune had her way, a slow-mo walking montage would be added here, but such a thing is impossible in a text-based medium, much to her disappointment.

"Bah! You've spent all this time hiding behind the fourth wall, and now you're peeking out, Mr. Narrator?" Neptune whined. "All of those other super boring chapters could've totally used you!"

"Oh, my. A nightclub, is it?" said Vert wringing her hands anxiously. "I wonder what sorts we will meet in here? Several bounty hunters, perhaps?"

"Ehhhh, some mercenaries…" added Neptune.

"Swords-for-hire."

"Sell swords."

"Adventurers."

"N'er-do-wells."

"Vagabonds."

"And…whoa! Look at the bazongas!"

Vert seemed confused for a moment before she realized the source of Neptune's excitement. A smile slowly spread across the Leanbox CPU's face. "My, my. Not just a nightclub."

Blanc let out a groan as she pushed the doors open without breaking stride. Immediately, her senses were assaulted by sights and sounds that she wanted nothing to do with. A live band was performing, their outfits resembling that of typical pop idols, albeit slightly more scanty than usual. A series of waitresses in barely decent maid uniforms were hurrying about, serving food and drinks to the eclectic selection of customers within.

"How unusual, not to mention brazen. This is all visible from the street, is it not?" commented Vert. "Should there not be something present to shield the…ahem…innocent eyes of youth from peeking inside?"

The CPU of Lowee had already managed to slip her way through the room, her small size making such a task easy. She stopped in front of a rather large suit-clad man with crossed arms, who was blocking a door labelled Employees Only. "Hey. Uh…you. What's it going to take to get back there?"

"Nothin' you're willin' ta pay. 'Sides, ain't you too young ta be here? Beat it, girly!"

Obviously, Blanc was not pleased. She managed to keep her cool, anyway. Clearing her throat, she said, "I'll ask one more time. How can I get back there without having to twist a meathead into a pretzel?"

The man sneered at her, as if such a tactic would work on Blanc. "You threatenin' me, girly? I'll pound your tiny ass into the ground and kick you out in that order if you think you can tango with me!"

The brief scrap that ensued ended pretty much as expected – with Blanc dusting off her hands, her expression as blank as always. Oh, and one human pretzel. A very salty human pretzel.

This didn't go unnoticed, of course. Several people yelled or screamed when they noticed that a giant man had had his ass thoroughly kicked by a 4' 9" girl who was petite even for her height. Luckily, Blanc had already made her way into the backrooms before anyone was too much the wiser.

Unluckily, her companions weren't so quick on the uptake.

"Get those troublemakers!" one of the bouncers screeched.

"Gee. They have a bouncer army in here!" exclaimed Neptune. "Blaaaaanc! Where'd you go? Blaaaaaaaaanc!"

"It appears that we will need to be facing this army with just the two of us," said Vert, who was already materializing her spear into existence. "How unfortunate."

"Bah! She totally abandoned us!" Neptune let out an annoyed sigh, drawing her trusty wooden katana from nothing. "Well, at least we have some cool battle music! More Soul!"

"Almost got it…There!" The satisfying sound of a lock clicking was followed by the door swinging open, revealing a rooftop lit by the ambient green lighting spilling from the taller buildings around it.

"Say…isn't it illegal for this to be locked?" asked Jake.

"Yep," Falcom answered with a slight groan as she lifted Noire's limp form onto her shoulders. "Totally breaks fire safety codes. They don't want their maids wandering up here, y'know. What if one falls off and makes a scene? And they can't put up fencing without being suspicious, either."

"Oh."

"Oh shit!" came a voice from below. "We got wounded here!"

"And there's the universal code for 'it's time to hurry,'" said Falcom, stepping out onto the roof with a goddess in tow. The agent expected a breeze to begin whipping at her, but it seemed that the air was rendered static in the presence of the Festival.

"So how are we getting down from here?"

"Welllll…" Falcom gave a little chuckle. "I was hoping that I would be able to convince her to fly me out of here, but that's a bust, it seems."

"So what's Plan B?"

"Plan B? We're already on Plan D."

"Oh."

The agent took in a deep breath. "Ahhh…Plan D's coming to me right now. It's saying that we can rappel our way off the roof to safety, crossing our fingers and praying to whoever's listening that no one sees us. And that we don't manage to drop Noire."

"Are you seriously improvving all of this?!"

"Heh. I was improvving from the moment I stepped foot in Leanbox."

Jake wasn't quite sure what to make of the agent's little grin. "Um…you are going to rescue me, too, right?"

"Sure." Falcom made her way over to one of the roof's edges, setting Noire down nearby. The agent chanced a peek down to the street. She'd gotten used to heights by now, but that didn't change the fact that a fall could be deadly. Especially twelve stories down like the one here. Knowing that time was of the essence, she searched for a convenient point to attach a line.

"Here we go…"

Just as she started readying the rappelling rig, she realized that a familiar sound was hitting her ears and growing louder – sirens. Lots of them.

Crap.

A whole fleet of police vehicles – including armored vans – were rushing in to surround the building, officers jumping out with weapons at the ready, some of them wearing paramilitary equipment as if they were prepared for a real battle. What was going on down there? Had someone tipped them off about this place? Or were they here for more than just a crackdown?

"Uhhhhh…" Jake must've noticed the commotion as well. "How are we getting past that?"

"I don't know."

"Eh? But you're a Guild agent! You're supposed to be like…a super sneaky assassin, and stuff!"

"I'm an agent, not a ninja." Falcom breathed out a loud sigh. "Looks like we're stuck, then, doesn't it?"

"You can't…call in backup?"

Falcom shook her head. "No. I already told you, I'm going to be in the Guild's black book after this. I was never supposed to make direct contact with the CPUs."

"Why did you do it if you knew you would end up on your own? Where were you planning to go after this?"

It was tough to answer that, considering that Falcom wasn't quite sure herself. The whole idea had been idiotic. Reactionary. But, at the same time, it had been brooding within her since she had first become convinced that the goddesses were real. "I figured I wouldn't need anyone else's help if the CPUs were on my side. I…was kind of hoping that I could go adventuring with them again, I guess. Get the whole band back together. Save the world or whatever. Stupid, I know."

Jake seemed to perk up. "Wait…'again?'"

Falcom nodded. "Yep. Surprised? I'm a lot older than I look. Full body replacements on the cheap are just around the corner, y'know. The magic of technology…because we got rid of the real magic."

"'Real magic,' eh?"

The agent was spared embarrassment by her ironic choice of words when she heard footsteps growing closer from behind.

"They're gonna jump off the roof!" came the voice of Generic Goon #51532.

Indeed, a whole squad of generic, suit-clad men soon appeared on the roof. Of course, no matter how bulging their muscles might've been, none of them were armed, making them relatively simple opponents.

Jake didn't seem to see the situation in the same light, however. "Oh, crap! What do we do?!"

"Shut up and keep your girlfriend company. I've got this."

"G-Girlfriend?!" Jake didn't add that his actual girlfriend was most likely currently waiting in her hotel room, wondering where he could possibly be. She'd be wanting him to join her and their friends in the central plaza for the end of the Festival, for sure.

He also didn't add that Noire was probably more likely to dropkick him off a building than call him even so much as an acquaintance.

Falcom raised her hands into the air, a red glow forming as an impressively large greatsword was fabricated from nothingness. She sliced the sword down, lowering into a well-practiced stance. She rarely did get to use the thing in this line of work, to the point where her fellow agents questioned the value in carrying it. Well, who was laughing now?

Certainly, Falcom wasn't laughing when the attackers reached into their suits to pull out a variety of small automatic firearms.

Oh. Come. On!

"Glass her, fellas."

What should've been a bloody and unfortunate scene was averted by a technique that all experienced Guild agents were now encouraged to acquire for situations much like this one. Falcom removed one hand from her sword, fingers splayed outward toward the gunmen. They let loose with their guns, the shots deafening, not stopping until they had run out of ammo. They were quite surprised to see that not a single one of the hundreds of bullets they had just fired had hit their target. They were also surprised to find that their target was now behind them, bashing one of them in the head with the broad side of her blade.

I guess I am a little like a ninja, huh? Hidden ninpo!

Of course, Falcom had not actually managed to teleport her way behind them like it was nothing personal. They had simply been so blinded by their own gunfire that they hadn't noticed the energized sphere blocking every shot as she advanced toward them at a sprint. Small-scale electromagnetic shielding was a powerful tool available only to the most well-connected of individuals. It cost a fortune to install, so she was told. But she, like any agent, was expected to pay back the cost a thousandfold with her service.

Too bad for them that she was going AWOL with their brand new tech.

Also, too bad for the thugs who were now lying on the ground in various degrees of unconsciousness. They wouldn't be out for long, probably, but it was long enough. And, just to make sure, she gave each of them a light injection of tranquilizer. She was always nervous about these kinds of tactics – it was far too easy to accidentally kill someone. She'd rather not cross that threshold if she could help it, even in the occasions in which deadly force was authorized.

The agent turned her attention back to those in her charge, growing alarmed when she saw that Jake was on the ground, writhing in pain.

"What's wrong?" she asked, having rushed over to them.

"They…nng…shot me!" groaned Jake. "That's what's wrong!"

Falcom took a few moments to inspect him as best she could in the poor lighting. One red spot was present on his leg, likely having been deflected at an odd angle by Falcom's shield. He was wounded, but he'd live. Probably.

"I see you've learned some new tricks. Interesting."

The red-headed agent jumped to her feet, spinning around with her sword at the ready. The tip of the blade stopped well over the head of this latest intruder.

"Calm yourself. We don't have time to fight each other."

Falcom let out a shaky breath, lowering her blade and depositing it back into hammerspace. "Blanc. Long time no see."

"Just how long have you been waiting to say that?" Immediately, Blanc chided herself, adding, "Don't answer that question. Not enough time." She kneeled down next to Noire, lifting the goddess up by the front of her dress. "Wake up, you brat. I didn't come all this way for you to be dead."

A low groan sounded from Noire, whose eyes fluttered open ever so slightly. Her head lolled to the side, a few incomprehensible syllables being muttered.

Blanc's sigh was tinged with frustration. "Idiot. Did you really think you could run away from the shares?"

"C'mon, Blanc!" an irritating voice called from behind. "Give her mouth-to-mouth! I believe in you!"

The Loweean goddess turned her head to see Neptune and Vert making their way over to join the burgeoning party. "I'm not giving her freakin' mouth-to-mouth!"

"Oh, my. She appears deathly ill," commented Vert. "Deary me…such a sorry state to see a goddess in."

"Uh…girls? I'm dying over here, too," came the voice of Jake.

Falcom threw him a glare. "Can it. You'll be fine, just as soon as we get you to a hospital. But Noire's probably going to need a lot more than that."

"She needs share energy," said Blanc, rising to her feet. "And we have three sources of that standing right here."

Vert arched a brow. "Are you suggesting…"

Blanc nodded.

"Let's raise our hands and give her our energy!" Neptune shouted, doing just that.

A moment passed, during which the chaos in the lower floors of the building was clearly audible.

Falcom gave a nervous little chuckle, rubbing the back of her head. "Er…"

"I'm…not exactly sure how this works," Blanc admitted.

A shocked look formed on Vert's face as she raised a hand to her mouth in melodramatic fashion. "This process doesn't involve…transferring mana, does it? Oh, my!"

"Wh-What?! O-Of course not! That would be ridiculous! Only the most perverted of writers would make a requirement like that!"

Neptune giggled to herself, throwing a sly look toward Blanc.

The CPU of Lowee squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds to avoid having to strangle a certain purple-haired someone. "Okay. I've got it. We just have to want to transfer our shares. Like making a wish."

"Oooh. Are we magical girls now?" asked Neptune. "Where do I apply for my frilly uniform?"

An uncomfortable amount of time passed as the goddesses stood there, trying to wrap their heads around just how the shares functioned. Eventually, they could begin to feel…something flowing away from them, manifesting in the form of heat leaving their bodies.

And then, the flow stopped, much like a diner finishing a meal.

Noire's eyes blinked open…then grew wide when she saw the figure hunched over her, one hand ready to give her face a good slap. "H-Hold on just a second! I'm awake!"

"Good."

Smack.