NEO World of Advent Chapter 11
It was amazing really, Light thought, how one could perceive the slightest shifts in momentum aboard even an advanced naval base. Light recalled some of his team members remarking that they couldn't even feel the waves aboard their new home, the bastards. No, it had to be Light whose seasickness was fine-tuned to pick up even the tiniest of aquatic disturbances. He wasn't this way with rumbling earth; only open water could have this effect on him.
Light stared at the shining object in front of him - a pearl-white toilet seat, freshly scrubbed. For once he was not hugging the porcelain throne in a fit of violent seasickness; at the very least he could handle what little motion the waves mustered against their base now. He had been told that there was ultimately no way around getting over seasickness but to get used to the sea. Well, twenty miles off the coast on an otherwise unused naval station certainly counted, Light surmised. No shortage of water there.
No, the real reason behind both Light's placement in front of the aforementioned porcelain throne and its current shiny state was due to his having crashed and burned in a bet against Mist. She had promised to make him scrub the latrines for all eternity if he failed to procure a cure for his seasickness. Given his position as permanent cabin boy, it was pretty clear who had won that bet. Luckily, the rest of the crew had no idea this is what he did in his spare time, Mist having told the group he was off doing something 'Only Light was qualified to do.' She told him it was to avoid demoralizing the group by letting one of their own see another scrub the bathrooms, but Light knew better.
Secretly, she was in love with him. Yes, that was his story and he was sticking to it. It certainly wasn't some hairbrained excuse to keep flirting with his attractive head of command. At first Light feared she would make good on her promises to have him court-martialed, but after nothing ever came of it, he felt like it was safe to do so. Approval by way of inaction. Recently, she had even started to talk back, their banter the highlight of Light's erstwhile repetitive and monotonous days.
There was a flush as one of the morning staff came out from one of the toilets, making a jolt of surprise as he saw Light follow his trail to the sinks from one of the toilets he had cleaned not twenty minutes ago, making sure to keep eye contact as long as possible. Once the janitor had been sufficiently freaked out and Light had asserted his rightful dominance as lord of the bathroom stalls, the man made a hurried departure from the room. Light groaned aggravatedly at the thought of scrubbing the seat again but figured there was no way around it. Mist wanted all the latrines spotless. All. Of. Them. She had developed some sort of sixth sense for when he was slacking off or not putting forth the maximum amount of effort one could possibly put into cleaning bathroom gunk.
There was a rap on the door suddenly as Light felt as though that sixth sense might just be in use. "Occupied," he called out, to little effect. The door swung open, Mist's looming form above him as she criticized his work. "You know," Light said offhandedly. "I could probably sue you for sexual harassment now. Bathrooms are a sacred space. I don't recall giving you my consent to enter."
"Who would believe you," Mist shot back. "Here," she said, handing him something. It appeared to be a handmade pamphlet of sorts. A quick browse through found a variety of people in various forms of peril, always blonde and male, despite their having been labeled 'Damsels in Distress.' Mist folded her arms. "We were going over proper safety procedure. I didn't want you to fall behind."
"While I'm a man who appreciates fine art," Light said as he held one of the depictions of an unnaturally ugly blonde man about to be eaten by sharks, "Aren't damsels supposed to be female? Preferably scantily clad and with big er, you know."
"I can make them women," Mist said, "But I doubt that would make much of a difference in their appearances. I based them off of you, see."
"Ooph." Light held a hand to his heart. "You wound me. Admit it; you can't handle all this raw testosterone."
"Put some of that testosterone into some of those stains," Mist told him. "A five year old girl could do better."
"It's kind of hard to do when people like to make more stains," Light told her. "That sink over there gets nasty; you'll never appreciate true irony until you're using cleaning supplies to mop up the soap."
"What I'm trying to understand is why I'm still talking to you," Mist said. "Don't think you're off the hook for that risque book you sent me anonymously. I know it was you."
Light shrugged, unrepentant. He had it on good authority that the steamiest of romances happened in romance novels with high disparities in social class. He also thought 'The Cabin Boy' was a tasteful choice for some midnight reading. Who was he to deny his captain a good read? "Whatever could you be talking about?"
"You signed it with a 'wink' emoticon," Mist told him. "Not exactly subtle."
"That could have been anyone," Light scoffed. "Unless you caught a whiff of all this boyfriend material on the pages," he added. "I guess it could have been me then."
"In your dreams," Mist said. "The only thing I'm smelling now is my cabin boy amidst twenty gallons of bleach and a bathroom he hasn't finished cleaning yet."
"Who's fault is that," Light countered. "If it's such an intolerable smell, why don't you leave?"
"Good idea," Mist said as she called his bluff. "I'll see you at PT later tonight; don't be late."
Light gave her a small half wave as she sauntered outside. "Parting is such sweet sorrow" he said.
"All the sweeter when it's with you." Mist lingered for one last retort before closing the door behind her. Light cursed at an opportunity to ogle her backside denied, channeling his frustration in finishing the job he had been given. Hopefully, if he timed it right, he could be both on time and late enough to pick a machine behind Mist. Why she liked to choose the machines behind Light was a mystery to him, but it sure made spying on her sweat-soaked body hard. Like another part of his body… No. Bad Light. Focus.
Luckily, the cards were in Light's favor as he returned from a hasty shower in order to mask the harsh smells of cleaning spray. Mist had already chosen a treadmill and nobody had taken the one right behind hers, allowing him the perfect chance to admire her perfectly toned butt. The others didn't give him much notice, giving him a casual grunt of "Cabin Boy" by way of greeting. Light didn't mind; he knew it to be a token of deep affection - just like when they took the last dessert in the mess hall or used up the hot water before he got a chance to use the showers.
Light took his eyes off a much more pleasing sight to examine his machine. The treadmills they were given were designed to give even a reploid like Leviathan a workout (How a sentient machine worked out was still a mystery to Light; he figured that some things were just best left unanswered). He had actually tried out its highest setting once before, against crew recommendation, and fell flat on his face from the high velocity of the track. A quick sampling of eye candy later told Light that Mist's designated setting was two levels higher than his own. A quick re-calibration of his settings later, his muscles screamed but he let the machine spin determinedly.
Light grimaced as he matched Mist's decision to later crank it up a further notch. While he wasn't unused to exercise, this kind of punishment was new to his body. His limbs felt weak and sore by the end of their training, but at least Light knew now he could keep up with Mist's absurd pace. One of his crewmates, Orca, looked at his exhausted state critically as he downed another cup of water.
"Can you do anything right?" Orca asked. "You can't even work out without embarrassing yourself."
"Save it for someone who cares, whale boy. I was pushing myself." Light downed another cup of water beside Mist, who felt a similar need to hydrate.
"Can it you two," Mist said. "Save it for after hours, if you have to bicker. I don't want to hear any of your complaints, got it?"
"Aye aye, Captain." Light enjoyed watching Mist's eye twitch at his signature response. It was perfectly within her requirements - namely calling her captain; there was nothing she could do about it publicly.
"Yes, captain." Orca seemed to reign himself in at Mist's behest, but saved a healthy amount of verbal abuse for Light in her absence. "As you wish."
After their bout of physical training, they were allowed inside a room where Mist went over different scenarios they might encounter while out at sea, far away from Neo Arcadia's protective reach. Apparently many mechanloids still roamed the areas near their haven and provided a lasting threat even as Leviathan sent crews out to clear the waters of the rogue machines.
Light found these times particularly helpful in improving his stature amongst the crew, though he doubted Orca was capable of being impressed by him. Regardless, often it was Light whose proposals for different scenarios were accepted. Fin's input proved an invaluable resource, Light had found, however. Some of the obvious answers were disproven and modified by the more experienced sailor, who had learned the hard way that was the logical solution didn't always yield the expected results, especially in the face of panic.
Once Mist was satisfied with their ability to leave her wordplay wrecks alive, the casualties of whatever mental mishap she had come up safe and sound, she cleared them all for their evening meal before breaking off for the rest of the day. The mess hall, Light had found, was not a place for refined discourse. The six of them (Mist joined in) often made crass jokes and generally made bigger fools of themselves than what Mist would ordinarily have accepted from them. Shale made the comment (a flurry of hand signs that Light could now interpret) that they could have done with a better foodstuff than what they had been given, but Light thought it was alright. A step above sim sausage at least.
After departing from the relative freedom of the dinner table, Mist told them that they had a good hour or so before Lights Out. They thanked her for the heads up as they shuffled over to the space beside the hall where they were assigned individual rooms - a luxury Light had not expected. Light found himself playing foosball with one of the more agreeable members of his squadron, Rak.
Rak was fun to hang around. When Light had switched the covers of riveting books such as '1000 Ways to Tie a Knot' with more compelling novellas filled with an appropriate amount of danger and proper damsels in need of saving, Rak had found the ordeal highly amusing and had even hung out with Light to read their faux-cover contraband before it was taken away. Light supposed it was his fault the ruse had been discovered. You could only get so excited about the myriad ways in which one end of a rope could be pulled through another.
"Cap seemed happy today," Rak said. "You're lucky she let you off the hook for missing class earlier."
If Rak knew the extent of which Mist let Light get away with, he might not think so, but the scope of their unprofessional relationship had thus far been kept a secret. "I was dealing with something 'only I'm qualified to do,'" Light said casually as he hit a ball toward Rak's side of the field. "Super important."
Rak gave him a quizzical look. "What is it that you two are doing when you're off doing your 'top secret work?'"
"Pursuing a career in selective debate," Light said obscurely. He didn't have to let Rak know that their 'debates' were often over the merits of having a romantic relationship with him. "Nothing that would be of interest, I assure you."
Rak seemed to take him at his word. "Kind of like those word games she has us always play. I guess she gives you more challenging ones, given all the times you come up with the plan."
"It's certainly challenging at times," Light admitted. "But I think I can win. It's only a matter of time. You'll see."
"Okay?" Rak shrugged. "I guess it doesn't matter. It's kind of cool to work with Leviathan's daughter, isn't it? She can be a bit scary at times, but I think she cares. You know, deep down."
Light nodded listlessly, deep in thought as he considered the depth in which she cared. "She's a formidable person. I suppose any one of the Guardians' children would be."
"I keep thinking about the way you two sparred," Rak said. "You know, back at orientation. I never thought someone outside a royal family could move like that."
"Any Advent can achieve a certain level of speed and strength," Light told him. "If you train long and hard enough there's no reason you couldn't either. That voodoo with the water, though? Good luck with that."
Rak laughed. "You know, your oversol kind of reminds me of one of Zero's weapons. I studied his movements," he explained. "Learn from the best and all. The Z-knuckle has a similar ability to yours. Is it something like that?"
"Something like that," Light said offhandedly. Exactly like that, he added to himself. "It's pretty useful in neutralizing an annoying ability, but it takes a lot out of me to actually use the stolen power. Most of the time I use it just for the speed and strength increase."
"My oversol isn't great on land," Rak said, "But it's pretty great in the water. I can control water currents and breathe underwater if I let the oversol cover my neck. Kind of like getting metal gills, does that make sense? It's cooler than what it sounds like."
"It sounds pretty cool alright. It's certainly a useful ability to have for the kind of stuff we'll be doing." Light pushed his goalie to the right in a bid to deflect an unexpectedly powerful shot from the other end of the foosball table. "Who is your reploid parent?"
"You wouldn't know him," Rak said. "He's a retired fighter in Leviathan's Meikai army. Mostly stayed out of the major conflicts though."
"Not a bad decision, considering Zero was a part of most major conflicts in recent history. Certainly did wonders for his life expectancy, I bet."
Rak laughed. "Yeah, I don't see my old man holding a candle to a legendary reploid like him. Can you imagine what kind of oversol his child would have? I know that kid, Cero hasn't revealed his yet to the public, but I'd be really interested to see what it could do."
Rak let out a small cheer when Light's lapse in concentration cost him the game point. "I think that makes it my win."
"Yeah," Light said. Then, almost as an afterthought: "What else have you heard about Cero? The Resistance kid, I hear him referred to as a lot."
"Oh him?" Rak thought for a moment. "Not much, really. I know he has two brothers, but they're dead I think. I bet the kid gets along all right though. He's famous; probably has all the chicks asking him out or something."
"Yeah," Light said distractedly. "He's probably doing all right. Hey, I think Lights Out is going to be called soon, and I don't want to be caught at the foosball table when we should be in bed."
Rak took a quick look at the clock. "Oh crap! Good point. I'll catch you later Light, good game."
"Good game," Light said. "Same time tomorrow?"
"You know it!" The two retreated to their separate rooms, where Light felt free to let his thoughts drift. There was a time when family meant the people you hung out with, survived with. He had called someone else brother before ever knowing he had one of flesh and blood. Chaos had been like family to him, Light recalled as he rolled over in what little covers they were given. Sanctum too. How fragile their bonds really were. It only took the appearance of someone from his real family to mess everything up.
A half-brother, Light reminded himself. After everything Xavier had done, he was more than willing to milk whatever distance he could from the blue armored Advent. Still, the voice haunted him as he closed his eyes. A cold voice amidst screams, calling him "Brother."
