Is it everything you hoped it would be, CPU of Lowee?
The heart of the Land of Green Pastures was an altogether different beast when viewed from the heightened position of its skyway. A marvel of engineering that served as the envy of Gamindustri's many overcrowded streets, Leanbox's elevated network of highways provided an elegant solution to the issue of a growing population filling a finite space. The idea had first been pioneered years ago in Planeptune, but the skyway of Leanbox was far more expansive than any other construct of its type, and it had only grown in scope as time had passed. Many objections had been voiced about the hundreds of possible issues that such a project could cause, but it would not be surprising to see more cities thrown into shade by their own special roads in the near future.
From here, the glare of the city's ever-present glow burned at the eyes far more harshly than down below. While Leanbox possessed its fair share of skyscrapers, much of the horizon was unobstructed at this elevation, making the contrast against the night-shrouded world seem all the more conspicuous. The city was a great glob of light in the midst of a wide open void, as if held in place only by the strength of the walls surrounding it. Yet, one side was left unprotected – the border between the sky and the ground was impossible to make out there behind the few buildings that managed to stretch above eye level.
Ah. The ocean. Truly, such an expanse must seem beyond comprehension to you. Why, in a world with such a great open space available, would its denizens choose to crowd together? Realize now that so much of the world is rendered inhabitable by an obstacle as simple as water.
"It's not really so strange. People naturally seek companionship. It would make sense for communities to grow in size with that in mind, regardless of available space."
The wind generated by a busy road whipped at Blanc's clothes, her ears being assaulted by each and every vehicle that zoomed by beneath her. There was no walkable area designated in this section of the skyway – so she had made use of the network of supports above, her legs dangling dangerously above a road where rush hour was every hour. With so many streets on the ground level sectioned off for pedestrians during the Festival, the skyway was currently experiencing an unprecedented amount of traffic on top of its normally busy volume.
A gross oversimplification, would you not say?
"I'm not in the mood to debate with you again. If I wanted to go into details, I'd open a book on the subject."
Fair enough. But I must question your assumption, all the same. Do you not prefer the solitude of your fortress, the Basilicom? Would it not drive you mad to never have the peace you require to read even a single page of your ever-growing library?
Blanc found it difficult to come up with a response. It was true that she was a loner by both choice and habit. She would almost say that she would prefer to spend her entire life not having to deal with another living, breathing person. Yet, at the same time, even she sometimes needed an outlet for her ideas. What use would it be to write for an audience that didn't exist? Besides – she'd miss the magical air present at the doujinshi festivals, if nothing else, as much effort as it took for her to convince herself to participate. "I'm a goddess. My nature is different from that of humans."
Somewhere in the distance could be heard a muted chuckle. A leader of a nation cannot simply sidestep a presented issue forever. What choice would White Heart make if she was forced to give an answer, I wonder?
She would draw a blank. Blanc could feel her brow furrow as her mind reached and strained. The hamster wheel was refusing to turn for her in this moment. It was a sensation she usually only associated with writer's block. "Does there have to be an answer?"
Another chuckle. Such a sentiment can be an answer in and of itself. But a ruler does not become popular by ignoring an issue.
"It's good that I can become popular through other methods, then, isn't it?"
Ah, but what if a goddess does not wish to resort to such sordid methods?
"Then she'll die. Or vanish. A CPU has to have shares to exist."
Perhaps if you believe that, then you will be needing to have a talk with our Lastation sister, eh, Blansy?
"'Our' sister? Are you…"
The girl only just barely caught herself from falling forward as the sound of rushing cars snapped her to awareness. Her heart thumped in her chest faster than seemed possible, her eyes growing to the size of saucers. She was so certain that she was going to slip off the edge of the grated platform. Vertigo seized her, rooting her in place.
A set of metallic taps came from behind her, audible even over the insane blur of traffic below. Her hands turned white as she gripped the edge of the platform. She wasn't sure whether she was shaking from the vibrations of the highway or from her own trembling. She dared not to look over her shoulder – even moving a single muscle could prove disastrous.
"Don't give me that nonsense. You know I'm here. And I'm willing to bet you know exactly why."
Her grip somehow tightened even further. The voice belonged to a woman – a rather cross one, at that.
"We don't have all night, you know."
At least there was some sense to be had now. It was true that the girl couldn't just sit there forever – her stomach gave a low growl as if in response. Slowly, she turned her head, still fearing that she would drop into certain death. It then occurred to her that if she continued to sit, the woman might push her off anyway. That was enough to convince the girl to rise to her feet and face whoever was waiting for her.
"Took you long enough."
No words came to the girl as she absorbed the sight before her. What was this creature? Was she perhaps an angel or demon, sent from another realm? Or was she in fact a manmade creation, a being that represented an incredible triumph of engineering?
"What?" The woman's face clearly showed her annoyance, if her tone wasn't enough of an indication. "Quit…quit giving me that stare! I hate it when you do that!"
The girl blinked, but her gaze did not turn away.
"Ahg!" A pained wail came from the woman as she doubled over, grasping her head with both hands. A moment passed before she spoke, her words barely audible, "You already know what I'm going to say, don't you? You already know what choices I'm going to make, don't you? I can't even figure out myself, but you know everything that there is to know about me, don't you?"
"No..." The girl shook her head before saying more loudly, "No. I don't know everything. I'm not sure I know anything at all."
"Why? Why do you always do this?" The woman lowered her hands, placing them on her knees. "Is...is this a test? Some kind of nightmare? Am I strapped into a machine right now while a bunch of eggheads do everything they can to break me?" Her head snapped up to meet the girl's gaze. "Well? Am I?"
The girl barely resisted the urge to jump back when the woman suddenly jolted upright and stepped forward, her foot stomping down on the metal beneath with a loud, resonating clang.
"Just give me a straight answer for once, won't you?!"
Why was this being pleading, tears in her eyes, with a person who could remember nothing? It was all such a blur…"Y-You're bleeding."
Several red droplets were streaming from the woman's hairline, turning her face into even more of a mess than it already was. She raised a hand, brushing a palm against her forehead to confirm that it was more than just sweat creating the sensation of an itch there. "These claws…nothing more than a nuisance." She turned her attention back to the girl. "You think this is funny, don't you?" A laugh lacking all signs of mirth came from the woman. "I bet you're having the time of your life here." She took a step forward. "You get to be the star of the show." Another step. "You get to know the script in advance." And another. "You get to laugh behind my back while I'm fumbling around, making a fool of myself." A sigh. "I just look like the biggest idiot in the world, don't I?"
The girl was forced to step back, but there was precious little room to move behind her. The woman's face was awfully close – the insane look in her eyes was not one that instilled confidence. "Are you going to kill me?"
The woman absorbed this statement for a moment, her expression becoming unreadable. Finally, she took several steps back, placing a comfortable distance between them. "That would hardly be fair, would it?"
Just before the girl could breathe a sigh of relief, she found the tip of a massive sword pointed mere inches from her nose.
"Draw your weapon."
There was no answer.
"Come on! Fight me! That's what CPUs do, isn't it? You're a CPU, aren't you, White Heart? Let's hurry up and get this over with!"
White Heart.
"I have no reason to fight you."
The woman faltered, lowering her sword slightly. She tilted her head, a wry smile appearing on her lips. "Hmph. I figured you'd say something like that." Her sword continued to drop ever so slowly – that is, until she jumped up into a battle-ready stance. "But there's just no choice in the matter, now is there?"
The blade came in a flash, cutting through at a speed faster than most humans could process. Even still, the assailant wasted no time staring in surprise when she found that her target had already moved. Black Heart spun on her heel, sword once again at the ready in preparation for a retaliatory strike.
But none came. Blanc stood several feet away near the center of the platform, her face now as blank as it always was. She still hadn't bothered to transform, much less summon her hammer.
"You don't even need a weapon when you can just read my mind, do you? Hah! You dirty cheat." A confident grin had appeared on Black Heart's face in contrast with the rage in her eyes. "I suppose it's about time I learn to stop playing fair. See if you can dodge this!"
"Is something the matter, Ms. Natal?"
Relera's fingers ceased in their endless dancing upon the door of the limousine. She tore her gaze away from the window long enough to face the man seated across from her, his balding head giving off a shine with every streetlamp and headlight that passed by. "Why would something be the matter?"
The assistant put on his most reassuring smile, giving his head a slight bow. "Ah…it just seems as if something may weigh on your mind at this particular moment, Your Grace."
It was hard not to grimace. It had come as a surprise to Relera when she'd found out that the man had a six pack hidden beneath that ill-fitting suit of his, true, but a dozen wrinkly lines, a crooked, broken nose, and a cartoonishly ridiculous scar that traced from his brow to his jawline did nothing to make him anything more than ugly as sin. If it was up to her, she would've replaced him with a handsome butler ages ago. Then again, a cute maid wasn't out of the question, either. Maybe if the maid had to wear cat ears…
Relera quickly shook her head. No, no, best not to give anyone any weird ideas. I have enough to deal with without adding some saucy rumors to the pile.
"Nothing at all, then? No troubles to speak of? Ah, but perhaps you are simply missing the warmth of the golden sun? Do not worry yourself too much, Your Grace – daylight will return soon enough."
An annoyed groan came from the Duchess as she turned her attention back to the man. "Uhg. Why do you always have to bother me? They didn't hire you to be a…psychiatrist." Her lips tightened into a line – she'd almost let slip a curse.
Surely, it wouldn't do to cultivate the reputation that the Duchess of Leanbox speaks as crudely as any commoner in private, hm?
"Ah…if I may, Your Grace, I would point out that a psychiatrist is employed specifically to treat mental illnesses. Unless there is a sickness ailing Your Grace that this humble servant is not aware of? Err…aside from the one."
Your Grace, this. Your Grace, that. Relera clenched her teeth, feeling the frustration burn at her. Why couldn't she work with a single person who didn't drive her up the wall? "My job would be so much easier if Cave had never quit, it would."
That seemed to be exactly the right type of attack to wipe that stupid grin off the man's face. "Again, if I may, Ms. Natal – Cave was never under Your Grace's employ for even a single day. In fact, she left the Basilicom under, shall we say, unusual circumstances years before Your Grace was ever even considered for the position of Duchess."
It was true that Relera had never gotten the full story about Cave's departure from the Basilicom. The one time she'd gotten curious enough to investigate had led to a dead end. What did a person have to do to get their bio classified to someone who ruled a fourth of a nation? Still, she'd heard enough rumors to piece together an image of the woman, in the same manner that she'd learned of Chika's exploits. Cave and Chika – one the very essence of stoic, the other being the example in the dictionary for the word "unstable." So many delicious stories existed of the quirks and scandals that were had during that era.
The assistant managed to recover his smile, albeit tinged with a nervous edge. "Ms. Natal, please understand that it is only natural for this assistant to worry when the leader of a state suddenly calls to be retrieved after it was assumed that she was resting safely in her quarters. Our Duchess' habit of leaving the Basilicom grounds without even a single word is, if I may say such a thing, unspeakably reckless, Your Grace. Your call left our security department in such a panic, it did."
"I know."
The man's brow raised at this admission. "Then why has Your Grace decided to show such a disregard for—"
A fist slammed against the inside of the door closest to the Duchess, but it managed to hold firm against the assault. Her teeth clenched once again, her nostrils flaring as she let out a breath.
"Is everything alright back there?" a voice called from the front. The face of a bodyguard was visible leaning from the passenger seat, although the black suit covering his body from the neck down was too dark to make out.
Relera waved a hand dismissively. "It's fine, it's fine."
The face lingered for a moment before disappearing in front of the back of the seat.
Relera's assistant was still hanging on to that smile, but the light holding steady on him revealed the bead of sweat glistening on his forehead. "Ah. Perhaps our Duchess is in need of a vacation? Such stress is not healthy for the mind, Your Grace must know."
The Duchess lifted a hand to run down her face with a tight grasp. What good would a vacation do? She leaned back in the seat and let out a quiet sigh. Her gaze moved to view the assistant as she cycled through a variety of possible responses, but something in the corner of her eye caught her attention before she opened her mouth. She slid over closer to the door to get a better look, pressing her hands against the window.
"Ms. Natal?" the assistant questioned, before he also turned to see what seemed to be so important.
They had been stuck in what appeared to be gridlock traffic for the past minute after their progress for much of the trip had been smooth sailing. Sure, the Festival was guaranteed to make driving through the city's ground level a complicated experience, but their chosen route was supposed to be free of obstructions or busy intersections. It seemed that an explanation could be found in the crowds that were gathering around the limousine – but their attention was not turned toward the vehicle housing the leader of Leanbox.
Directly outside the window of the limousine, a television screen could be seen in the side of a building, being of a size large enough to be clearly legible even from across a wide plaza that was steadily filling with people. More and more citizens and tourists alike were pouring in from either side of the plaza's entrance to get a closer look. On the opposite side of the four-lane road, a similar story could be seen as people crowded around a much smaller television that sat above the entrance to a retailer. And, if one was to look ahead beyond the line of cars that were currently blocked by pedestrian traffic, one would see yet another crowd formed on the corner of the intersection there.
The sound-dampened environment of the limousine's interior blocked out anything that either the televisions or the pedestrians might be saying, but one hardly needed to hear to understand the confusion on display. Every one of the screens were tuned to what was clearly a news broadcast. A ticker was visible on the bottom – the largest text currently scrolling through read "BREAKING: Return of the Devils? Battle Against Alleged CPUs Leaves 11 Dead, 16 Injured." On the screen was aerial footage of a scene that should've been impossible.
A series of white lights suddenly played across the crowds, drawing some attention upward. A fleet of VTOLs and drones could be seen flying by overhead above the skyway, their shapes obscured by the blooming glares of spotlights. It didn't take much work to figure out what they were looking for.
See them stare in awe. See them tremble as the realization falls upon them. Can you feel it, Duchess of Leanbox? Can you feel your world being swept from beneath you?
Yes.
Can you feel the end coming with each passing breath?
I can.
Does it strike fear into your mortal heart, I wonder?
It does.
Ah, but do not fret – you are not alone, for there is at least one being in all of existence who can empathize with your powerlessness against the inevitable.
Who?
The Duchess blinked. A cool sensation was coming from her hands. She jumped back, moving away from the window. Her foot caught against something, and she fell backward onto the seat beneath her.
"Ms. Natal?"
Relera lay there for a moment before raising a hand to brush the hair from her face. She lifted her head to see a man giving her a concerned look. "Who are you?"
The man's eyes widened, his face stretching in clear dismay as he slowly mouthed the words, "Oh, dear. Not again."
"If you're not…going to fight me…you can at least…stay…still!"
Blanc's gaze seemed to be unblinking as she focused on avoiding each one of Black Heart's strikes. Yet, it was less that the CPU of Lowee was impossibly quick and more that she was simply not there when the attacks came.
"Stop…cheating! Just…die!" With a primal yell, Black Heart's blade came down for one last swing to crash into the platform. "Arhg!"
Sensing that there was a break in the battle, Blanc took the opportunity to speak. "You know that this fight is pointless. You have nothing to gain from attacking me."
"'Nothing to gain?'" A bratty laugh came from Black Heart. She threw her arms up, motioning toward the sky. The air was buzzing with the engines of a swarm of drones that was steadily increasing in size. "The whole world will be watching this! What an introduction, huh? Can you imagine the shares I'll get from killing you?!"
"What good will shares be when you're left on your own in a dying world?"
Any hint of arrogance present in Black Heart's expression was replaced with pure rage at this statement. "How do you not get this?! Shares are everything! They're all we live for!" The goddess faltered, taking a step back as her gaze softened. "It doesn't matter how much I hate this. We're enemies to the bitter end…and if we're going to be stuck fighting each other for the rest of eternity, I'd rather do it in real combat than in a damn swimsuit contest!" Black Heart reached forward to pull her sword free from the metal beneath – the platform must have been made of advanced materials indeed to withstand any force at all from a CPU's weapon. Or had her blade lost its edge? "It would all be…so much easier…if I could just…kill you!" She fell over backwards as her grip on the sword's hilt suddenly slipped. Instead of screaming in fury, however, she simply lay there, panting, struggling to catch her breath.
Black Heart could barely muster the strength to lift her head as her opponent's shadow moved over to obscure the glow meeting her eyes. "Why? Why can't I ever win?"
Blanc stared down for a moment, not sure how to feel about the broken look on her fallen enemy's face. "Because you still don't understand your role."
"My role can go stuff itself." Black Heart attempted to punctuate her words by slamming a fist down, but all she could manage was a slight thump against the grating.
"All you're doing is wasting your strength. You should be saving it for the battles to come."
"I don't care."
"Really? You don't care? Is that the best excuse you have? And after all this time, you still think you're the mature one? What about your 'useless' followers? What about your friends? What about your sister? Are you really enough of an idiot to throw everything away for the chance to become this world's next Queen Nothing?"
For once, Blanc's icy stare was giving way to that familiar old anger. Black Heart could finally feel the fear that had been creeping at the back of her mind come right to the forefront. "'Friends?'" She gave a weak little laugh. "Don't be ridiculous. You think I haven't heard this exact same story a dozen times over? I bet you've written one of them." The CPU forced a wry smile onto her face, but the twitching of her mouth belied her true feelings. "How am I the one who doesn't get 'my role' when I'm the only one still willing to keep the War going? How am I the weird one for not wanting to sell this fake body to stay alive? How am I the spoiled one for not wanting my lover to be hand-crafted for me?! I…" She took in a shaky breath. "I don't want to be…this."
Blanc raised a hand to her chin in thought. "Funny. I didn't think my experience raising Rom and Ram would prove useful elsewhere. I was wrong – you already understand completely, and yet you're just lashing out like a child. Face it. Your energy is spent. Your shares are dwindling. And this tantrum is getting old."
Black Heart's teeth clenched, her eyes squeezing shut for a moment. "You're not my mother."
"No. I'm not. But I think our mother would agree that you're being a brat."
Precious seconds passed before a glow emanated from Black Heart, her sword vanishing to leave behind a gash in the floor. In her place when the light subsided was the much frailer form of Noire, clad in the dress she had obtained from the Idlers Inn. She rolled her head to get a better look at the goddess standing over her. "I…I didn't ask to be made a brat."
"No. You chose to be one just now."
Noire let out a breath, a genuine smile attempting to form on her lips. "I guess I'm not completely powerless then, huh?"
"Again, no. But, even as goddesses, there are limits to our power. You know this, as does every human. No one asks to be made the way they are, but they do what they can with what they're given. Raging against the heavens isn't going to change that."
"But humans don't need shares. There's…nothing quite like us, is there?"
"Hm. I suppose not."
A silence fell over the two. Noire's expression grew clouded, her gaze turning to the side. "I said to myself that I wanted to be me. Not Noire. Not Black Heart. But…"
Blanc merely continued to study Noire's face, waiting for the CPU of Lastation to continue.
"I…can't. I'm stuck like this. I can't change who – or what – I am. I'm a CPU, now, and forever. It doesn't matter what I want. I exist to serve, and nothing more. I just…" She attempted to lift her head to view Blanc's studious expression. "I just want to know…how it is that you manage to live like this? To spend every single waking moment having to worry about the shares? Knowing that even a single slip of the tongue can be the end? Why am I the only one who seems to struggle with the existence she was given?"
Blanc's brow furrowed as she raised a hand to her mouth. Was Noire the only one of them who was unhappy with her lot in life?
Perhaps she was not created to be happy, hm? Would that not be a sick and twisted fate, to be crafted in such a way?
That wasn't quite the answer. It just didn't add up. But Blanc had some inkling that may at least point them in the right direction. "You're afraid, aren't you? Afraid that you can't meet your own ridiculous standards. Afraid that you're not as perfect as you claim to be. You've built an image that you can't possibly live up to, and you know that it's all going to come crashing down one day. Because that image isn't you. It took hardly even five minutes for that fanboy of yours to realize that, didn't it? Well, gee – what if everyone figured that out?"
Noire's mouth tightened into a thin line, clearly holding back some kind of emotional outburst. Her gazed turned aside as a sniffle came from her.
Ah. It appears that you have struck the mark. Well done, CPU of Lowee.
Only the lowliest of hack writers don't understand the characters in their story.
"Quit yer cryin'," Blanc spoke. "If you want my pity, you're not getting it. You dug yourself into this hole. It's up to you to pull yourself out. You said I'm not your mother, right? Well, I'm not your damn therapist, either." The glare that had formed on the CPU's face softened. "But I am your sister, in a sense. And your sister is telling you to grow up and deal with it. You know that face you're making right now is going to be all over national television, right?"
"I know." The words were barely audible, but they were there.
"Come on. Get up. We've got work to do." Blanc kneeled down, reaching out a hand. "There's no time to be feeling sorry for yourself."
Another sniffle came from Noire as she took the offered hand, her mouth managing a shy smile. "So…ah…I guess I'm sorry for trying to kill you. Is…is it too late for me to choose to be your friend, Blanc? Am I…allowed?"
Blanc's brow lowered at this, her face scrunching up slightly. She kept their hands clasped together as she said, "My friend? Why? Because you don't want to be by yourself? That's odd. I thought you hated needing a friend. I thought you liked being alone. Or is it that you still want others to bail you out of trouble when needed? Maybe you just want someone who'll listen to your endless whining and complaining with a straight face? Wait – I know. You need someone around to feel superior to with those pert little ta-tas of yours. That's what it is. I see."
The shock on Noire's face was plain to see, even in the dim lighting. "Th-That's not…"
"Isn't it? You reject Neptune so handily because she's 'made' for you, and yet you keep running back to me like a scared little girl. Funny how that works. Newsflash: I don't know everything. And I sure as hell don't want to be a part of your love triangle."
"Wh-What? But why did you…I don't…"
"Is that how you react to everything that's too much for you to handle? You just scream, and cry, and pout, and whine? Pathetic. I can't believe I ever considered you an equal in the Console War."
"Fine! I'm not sorry, then!" Noire let out a frustrated yell. "Ahhh! I just can't figure you out!"
Blanc leaned her face in closer, squeezing Noire's hand a little tighter. "Let me spell it out for you, then: I don't want to be your friend. I don't give a rat's ass about you. But I'm stuck with you. And you're stuck with me. Just as we're stuck with Neptune. And Vert. And all of our sisters. We're all that we have. As you said – there's nothing quite like us."
"B-But if we're 'all that we have,' shouldn't we—"
"No. You were at least partly right before – we're enemies. We always have been. And we always will be. Nothing will change that. It's part of who we are."
Noire's mouth had formed back into a thin line, her gaze turning away. "I…see."
My. So ruthless. Is it simply too much to give a kind word to your poor sister?
Oh, gimme a break. If you think I'm going to coddle her, you've got another thing coming. She wouldn't do that for me, now would she?
Hm.
…What's with the "hm?"
Ah. I am merely wondering just when it was that your heart grew as cold as the ice within your homeland. That is all.
Like you have room to talk.
At that moment, a flash of light and a roar of thunder broke through the steady whine of drones surrounding the platform.
The CPU of Lastation managed a wry grin. "Eheh. I guess the climax needs a storm to top it off. How cliché. Right, Blanc?"
Blanc looked as if she was going to give her own snarky remark before her head snapped up, her eyes widening.
"NO!" The voice of Purple Heart cut through the din, but she was far too late. The last thing she could manage was to drop down in a vain attempt to shield Blanc and Noire as the platform vanished into a pure brightness.