Chapter X:

No Eye in Team

Displayed in Devola's arms was a beautiful sword. A sword 9S had seen before. A vibrant emerald adorned the golden hilt. The jagged double-edged blade was spotless, though, it was incredibly dull. 9S was hesitant to touch it.

The twin waited for him to take hold of the weapon. She wore a worried frown as she presented it to him. It shined, beckoning for him to claim it as his own. Her frown indicated that she wished for the opposite. 9S ultimately chose to listen to the pleas of an ancient weapon as opposed to the silent gestures of a dearest friend. He liberated the blade from her clutches.

"Amos brought this," she informed him. "It belonged to No.9. I'm sure he'd want you to have it."

9S held it upward. Flashes of lightning illuminated the weapon for him. The blade appeared to have somehow sharpened itself the instant it left Devola's hands. He could hear the sound of the sword's edges narrowing in, honing themselves in reply to his touch.

"Weird lookin' thing," Devola muttered. "I'm not about to give you a whole song and dance like Popola loves to do. I'll just stick around and hope you don't go too crazy with it."

"Thank you, Devola."

The dazzling blade suddenly dispersed into a cloud of fractal light. In its place, 9S manifested his own sword and held it under the flashing lights of the storm. The golden metal glistened even in such a dark, dreary space. He relinquished a parting sigh as he examined Cruel Oath one last time. A weapon state-of-the-art design, issued by YoRHa. A unique sword that 9S never recalled seeing utilized by anyone aside from himself.

There was no point in holding onto it any longer. He had no desire to continue using it. The weapon may as well be a stranger to him. It offered him no memories, and thus, no purpose. Unlike the bejeweled sword, Cruel Oath did not make him feel any closer to No.9 and that was enough reason to discard it forever. With no further desire to keep it, 9S handed it to Devola.

"Uh, wha-"

"Take it," 9S calmly commanded.

Sheepishly, Devola took hold of the lustrous blade. She could see herself within its reflective gold surface. Guilt moved across her face like a tidal wave of regret.

"You're giving me this!? Why? It's leagues better than that dusty, old sword Amos brought. Don't waste it on me."

"Think of it as my thanks for your loyalty," 9S advised. He turned his back and set off for the dark halls ahead. "Or look at it as payment for the flower you gave me. Just throw it in the sea if you don't want it."

"Loyalty!?"

The way she spoke that word made it sound as if she were trying to grasp the very meaning of such a concept.

Devola was left transfixed. She gazed at the blade both in awe and sorrow. Awe at the fact that such a well-crafted weapon was now hers. Sorrow for how heartlessly 9S cast the blade off like garbage.

She could not think about it for too long. The moment she looked up, she realized she was left all alone in an empty chamber. Frantically, she raced after 9S. In part to ensure he did not faint again. In part for fear of the crippling loneliness that rundown building evoked in her.

Devola caught up to 9S and led him around the thirteenth floor of the nameless building they called "home." He followed in silence until they reached a closed-off room on the other end of the floor. Devola's flashlight was the only thing keeping the darkness at bay. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but 9S could not help but think that these halls somehow managed to grow darker since he last walked them.

He watched as Devola grimaced before carelessly throwing the door open. She then stepped aside, allowing 9S a clear path forward. All the while, she completely avoided looking inside herself.

"Guess who's awake," she called out. Both her tone and expression signified a certain level of annoyance that was not present back when they were alone.

9S stepped inside the room. It was pitch-black save for a light at the end of the chamber. Pod 153 floated in the air just above Popola, shining her spotlight down on her. The girl sat at an old, rotting desk. Papers and a familiar journal littered the festering surface. Popola jumped slightly just as Devola did earlier. It seemed that both of the twins were on edge for whatever reason. She smiled after realizing who had come to visit her. A smile that gave 9S no further cause for concern over her apprehensive behavior.

"Oh, thank goodness. We were really worried about you. How are you feeling?"

"I'm standing, aren't I?"

Popola responded with an assuring nod. "Yes, I suppose you are…" She wanted to say more to him but trailed off.

The boy's eyes wandered about until they fell upon that familiar book which laid next to her. He cracked a cocky smile at the sight of it. "What's this? I thought memories weren't important to you."

It took no time at all for Popola to figure out what he was referring to. "I never said those exact words. At any rate, I retrieved it for your sake, not mine. I intend to cure you. I believe the information recorded in here might help with that."

"Cure," 9S scoffed. He folded his arms and rolled his eyes. "I'm not sick with anything."

"9S," Popola interjected with a disbelieving sigh. "You fainted and were out cold for days. And while I hate to say it, you haven't been acting normal since we met. On top of it all, those eyes…"

"Are nothing you need to concern yourself with," 9S concluded, cutting her off. "My pod and I tried everything already. Nothing worked. It's pointless to try. We determined them to be harmless, anyway."

"I won't give up so easily. Nor will I jump to a conclusion like that. Just you wait! Your eyes will be blue again before you know it. I-I just wish you would have told us about it sooner."

The two fell quiet. 9S listened to the sound of rolling thunder as he gazed at Popola. Her hopeful, somewhat reserved smile was interesting to see. There was a trace of sorrow in those emerald eyes of hers. Her sister had the same air of despair about her. 9S wondered if it was new or if he simply failed to notice until then.

Words would not be enough to deter Popola from her hopeless endeavor. He stepped forward, inching closer to 153's spotlight. 9S placed a hand over his left eye. Popola watched with increasing concern as 9S wormed his fingers beneath his own lids. He then twisted his eyeball like he was unscrewing a nail. Without a trace of pain or unease, 9S plucked his eyeball from its socket and held it out for Popola to see.

It stared at her from within his palm. A black pupil surrounded by a horrific sea of red. The opposite symptom of a logic virus. Initially, that detail alone was what Popola found the most troubling. It would soon be the least of her worries.

The eye sat in his hand, detached from his body but for a second or two. Its scarlet iris suddenly changed colors. Red gave way to vivid cobalt. It became the bright, crystal clear, blue eye he was always intended to possess. 9S gave her a moment to fully perceive it before he screwed the eye back into its rightful socket. In no time at all, a wave of red spawned from one corner of his iris and flooded the rest of it. Once more, it overwhelmed the blue.

"Do you see," asked 9S. "I didn't tell you because it would just make you worry over nothing. I've tried replacing them. Logic virus vaccines. System reboots. Everything short of a full factory reset. Nothing works and nothing ever will."

"There has to be a cause," Popola reassured. "And where there's a cause, there's a solution. Tell me more about those cherubs you mentioned. Who are they and what do they want from us?"

9S suddenly reeled back like a vampire being exposed to light. The reaction took her by surprise. "What? What cherubs," asked 9S. "I… I don't know what you're talking about!"

"But before you fainted, you said…"

"I said nothing! If I did then it was feverish gibberish."

Popola studied him. She eyed him from head to toe. Her shy smile never faltered, yet 9S could see her hands tremble. The pen in her right hand suddenly snapped in two. Those traces of rage in Popola were a horrifying thing to witness. He found them easy to miss if he were not already paying attention to her.

"I understand," she explained in her usual monotone. "That response alone tells me everything I need to know. Please, if you ever want to talk to me about it, then you know where to find me."

"What was it those humans used to say," asked 9S in a last-ditch effort to change the subject. "Eyes are the windows to the soul?"

Popola shrugged her shoulders. "They did say that, but they were referring to the expressive nature of eyes, not their color. They were believed to show a person's true nature. Come closer. I'll give you an example."

The scanner obeyed her request and stepped up to her desk. Popola leaned forward. "Right now I see fear in your eyes."

9S blinked at her. His frown was blank and without a hint of emotion. He could feel the emptiness of his facade without the need to verify with a mirror. Was she bluffing? He was aware of no fear. Regardless of his skepticism, he remained quiet.

Suddenly, Popola reached forward and took hold of his hand. "Oh, look. Now, I see something different in them," she laughed.

"That's not creepy or anything," Devola snarled from behind.

Popola released his hand and leaned back. She furrowed an irritable brow at her sister. "Excuse me?"

9S peered at Devola from over his shoulder. She did not bother facing her sister. The ill-tempered sibling merely glared at her own boots as she mouthed off.

"You're always so handsy," complained Devola. "It's weird. Just give him some space."

Seeing the two speak so harshly to one another caused 9S to shift about uneasily. Briefly, he pondered the possibility that he was simply hearing things. Something peculiar was going on between the two of them. Some conflict was unfolding right under his nose and driving a wedge between the two seemingly inseparable twins. He decided right then and there to not intervene. Whatever the cause of this tension may be, it was not his business.

Between reviving No.9 and collecting his lost memories, 9S had far too much to deal with on his own. Surely this conflict between them would sort itself out in time.

Popola sunk in her chair and bowed her head apologetically. "I-I'm sorry. I did not mean to…"

"Don't worry about it," 9S said dismissively. "I wanted to ask you something."

"By all means."

"Anamnesis," he recited. "What does that word mean?"

Popola pursed her lips. Her eyes darted to the ceiling, searching for a means of transmuting the concept from ideas to words. "There are a couple definitions, actually. Though, given it's you who's asking this question, I assume the one you want to hear pertains to memory."

9S stepped closer. With that one word, she instantly captured his undivided attention.

"The term describes memories retained from past lives. It also describes genetic memory. Let's say a man is bitten by a red and black spider and falls ill. Future generations could inherit that knowledge at birth and instinctively know to stay away from those spiders. Of course, genetics do not apply to us, but you could still say it affects us. Those who programmed my sister and I, as well as the first few generations of androids, were all humans. So, maybe some of that genetic memory, if indeed real, influenced our programming."

Popola narrowed her eyes quizzically at him. "Where did you encounter that word?"

"I saw it written in Heaven."

She stared on with a bewildered look in her eye. "Um… In Heaven? Care to explain? I'm having trouble following."

"No," 9S confirmed sternly. "No, I do not. Where's Amos?"

"Right this way," said Devola. She stepped aside and gestured for the hall behind her.

With that information obtained, 9S was quick to leave the room.

"Come back if you need anything," Popola called out.

9S gave her a thankful nod before he and her sister disappeared around the corner.

Devola stopped a short distance down the hall and turned around. The curly-haired twin took a few steps back towards Popola's room.

The boy could not help but notice the sorrowful, almost longing frown and hopeless look in her eyes. A bewildering shift in emotion when he considered the attitude she showed mere moments earlier.

"I shouldn't have said that," she murmured.

9S could barely make out her words, but he did not need to hear her. It was easy enough to guess what was upsetting her. "Just point me in his direction and I'll find Amos on my own," he offered.

Devola froze in place. She glinted between him and the path leading back to her sister. "N-no. It's fine. Come on. Sodium Boy is just up ahead."

The girl forced a smile as she led him to the newest member of their little group. "Hey, Nines. Ya think Amos is kosher?"

"…I don't find that joke very amusing."

A room set far apart from the more active areas of the group's selected floor was where Amos thrived. 9S stepped inside only to be reminded of the den Amos resided in across the ruins. Pictures sparsely posted along the walls were reminiscent of his own dwelling. There were not nearly as many targets here as 9S remembered seeing. A few local maps and various documents laid scattered across the floor. Even when away from home, it was clear that Amos had no intention of halting work on whatever operation he was carrying out.

Amos sat in a corner, quietly studying one of the maps in his possession. A lone lantern gave him a dim yet competent source of light. What he searched for was anyone's guess. 9S could only trust that the salt monster knew what he was doing and left it at that.

"Knock, knock," Devola called out. "Look who's awake."

The Legionnaire looked up but offered no further reaction. He merely sat there and stared 9S down. Amos could not speak. A fact that did not go forgotten by 9S. Were it but a week ago, 9S would have been elated to see Amos. The thought of picking the mute demon's brain for information was a prospect that filled 9S with intrigue. That excitement was long gone. Replaced with skepticism and a hint of fear.

9S held out his newly-obtained sword. Its glistening gemstone glowed in the dark. "I thank you for returning this to me. No.9 gave it to you, I presume."

Amos did not move. He did not offer so much as a hiss.

"You lied to me. I need to know why."

Amos firmly shook his head. A reaction that left 9S utterly confused.

"Pardon? Are you saying it wasn't a lie? I asked you why you didn't attack me and you confirmed it was due to the color of my eyes. But you knew No.9. He left his memories in that old facility you called home. You must have recognized me, yes?"

Amos nodded.

"Then are you saying you would have killed me anyway were it not for my eyes?"

Another nod. A firm, unapologetic nod.

"Why? Why my eyes of all things?"

"It's cause you remind him of Red Eye," Devola blurted out. "You've got the same eyes as his leader. The brains of the entire infestation. The only difference between him and the rest of Amos' crazy salt friends is that Red Eye has, well, red eyes."

Amos did not confirm or deny Devola's assumption. An interesting topic, but 9S would pursue Old World knowledge when he had more time on his hands. He decided instead to refocus the discussion.

"Then what happened," asked 9S, nearly begging for an answer. "What put you at odds with him? To the point where you'd kill me on sight?"

Amos gave him a different answer that time. He raised his arm and circled his index finger around his ear. A universal gesture that 9S had no issue understanding. A warning he stubbornly refused to heed.

"Wow," Devola chuckled nervously. "And that's coming from a genocidal monster with a heart of salt. No offense, of course."

9S slowly lowered his sword. Devola's comical words of warning fell to the background as he focused on Amos. "There were two women somewhere in that memory I saw. Who were they?"

It was another question 9S asked on impulse. An inquiry he should have expected no answer from as it was too complex for Amos to work with. However, Amos did give him an answer. He extended his clawed index finger to Devola. 9S did not make the connection in his head for a full minute or so.

His eyes turned to saucers. He stared daggers at Devola as he inevitably reached the only logical conclusion. "You mean… You knew him the whole time and didn't…!?"

"Relax, ya damn schizoid," Devola warned. "He's talking about a different pair of sisters. Trust me. If we knew No.9, you'd have found out by now. It is a really odd coincidence, though. Devola and Popola models weren't exactly growing on trees even back when we were relevant."

Amos nodded along with her words. It left 9S with further grounds to accuse her of anything. His gaze fell back on the Legionnaire. "They sounded off in that memory. Like they were in pain. What's their story?"

The aberration visibly shuddered at the thought of them. Seeing a hulking, immortal soldier quaking with fleeting fear did not exactly fill 9S with confidence.

"So, he knew you as well as another pair of twins. How, though? Would YoRHa not have found out? They kept such close tabs on us during field operations."

Amos shrugged.

The Legionnaire reached for one of the pockets of his archaic uniform. He pulled out a storage chip from inside and handed it off to 9S. Excitement surged through 9S like a shock to his system. He liberated it from Amos' demonic clutches and gazed at it with coveting awe.

He left the room only to return soon after with his pod hovering at his side. With her only light source having been temporarily seized by 9S, Popola opted to follow him back to Amos' room as well. He reentered the area to find Devola patiently waiting at the door while Amos casually threw knives at one of the pictures on the wall as if he were playing a game of darts.

"Find any files recorded nine years ago or at around that time," 9S ordered. He handed the chip over to his pod. "Play those now. I'll review the rest later."

"Affirmative."

153 did exactly as told. She located a single file in a sea of various memories and prioritized that one above all others. 9S looked on with complete focus once that holographic screen appeared in front of him.

"Relevant data located. Beginning playback…"

An image of the table in Amos' lair was projected from her feed. No.9's perspective was fixated on a lit candle. White wax dripped onto ancient wood. The little flame flickered and writhed about at the slightest disturbance in the air.

Towards the left side of the screen, 9S could see a forearm resting on the table. The pale, salt-like texture was an instant giveaway.

"Sorry for the worry," No.9 stated aloud.

It was becoming a treat for 9S to hear the voice of that boy. He spoke with an air confidence that 9S lacked. A quality 9S was quickly growing to revere about No.9.

"I'll link up with No.2 and return to the Labo as soon as possible."

"No rush," a male voice spoke out in reply. The filtered sound of his words left 9S assuming that No.9 was speaking to someone via transmission of some sort. "She wasn't able to contact you so I just wanted check in and see what was going on."

"I'm fine, Zinnia," No.9 said with a frustrated sigh.

Zinnia. 9S remembered that name from some of the first files he viewed. He still wondered who that android was and whether or not YoRHa continued to develop his model or not. Given the time period, it was unclear to 9S if Zinnia was a proper YoRHa android at all.

"It's good you're not up here, now," Zinnia continued. His tone softened as he rambled on. "Temperature control's got some kind of malfunction going on. I feel like I'm burning alive up here."

No.9 giggled at the statement. A cruel, knowing giggle. His fingers curled around the candle's flame like predatory talons closing in on unsuspecting prey. "Oh, you're gonna burn all right…"

A response delivered so quietly, 9S only barely managed to hear it despite viewing the events directly through No.9's eyes.

"Come again," asked Zinnia.

"Nothing," No.9 laughed. An unsettling laugh. "I'm busy, now. I'll talk to you later."

"Oh. Uh… Sure. I guess I'll…"

No.9 ended the transmission. The prototype turned to Amos.

9S could not help but notice that the monster did not change at all in terms of appearance. The same tattered, gray uniform and militaristic helmet decorated his person.

"I thought he'd never shut up," No.9 hissed. "No matter, within the next 24 hours, he'll never be a bother to me again."

No.9 stood up from his chair. His eyes locked onto the black and blue sword propped up on the wall at the far side of the room. He lowered his head and looked down at his own weapon. The very blade 9S recently obtained.

At that moment, 9S felt at one with No.9. They both admired the same jewel as it shined definitely against the dark backdrop of Amos' den. In that brief instance, 9S could feel a presence next to him. The haunted feeling of No.9 standing right beside him.

One day, it would not just be a feeling. 9S assured himself of that. For one day, No.9 would rise from his grave. The two would be united soon enough.

No.9 placed his sword on the table next to one of Amos' rustic sidearms. The beast had quite the arsenal at his disposal. Explosives, munitions, and at least a dozen Old World weapons were scattered across his hideout. One did not have to look very far to find a lethal relic from the past.

No.9 stepped off to the side and approached the dark, otherworldly blade. He knelt before it and examined the ancient weapon closely. A note was left near the sword's hilt. Posted on the wall, it read:

"Team,

Keep her shiny until the Prince comes back. Don't even think about using her!

And Jubal, I swear to God! If I catch you using it to cut watermelons again, we won't have to wait for that buff dude and his talking book anymore because I'll be sending your goofy ass in to deal with the Shadowlord!

~Ezekiel"

"What will remain of YoRHa come tomorrow," said who 9S could only assume was one of those mysterious twins. A voice that sounded as though it belonged to one of the twins. It was a far shakier, more frail tone than 9S was used to hearing from them. Popola was softly spoken, but not quite that much.

"Tomorrow," asked No.9. He turned away from "the Prince's" blade. 9S could vaguely see the outline of that mysterious pair of twins sitting side by side in a corner of the room but the image on screen was too dark to make out any details. "They'll be gone tomorrow, but they'll be back. This war will be prolonged forever if need be."

"But isn't wiping out the machines the real goal? What about winning the war?"

No.9 shrugged his shoulders. "They'll send someone."

Pod 153 closed the projection.

"File played to completion," she promptly announced, likely to avoid any misunderstandings that would lead to 9S yelling at her again.

"So, he met with you in secret," 9S concluded aloud.

Amos gave him a thumbs-up as confirmation.

"And all that about YoRHa. What did he mean by that?"

The monster did not respond to that question. It was a puzzle 9S would have to solve himself.

"I don't know what happened between you two," 9S admitted. He took some time to carefully consider his next words. "I'll probably find out sooner or later. I ask that you help me again, Amos. I want to collect all of his memories. I want to resurrect No.9. You clearly don't like him, but I'll be dealing with him this time, not you. You want to find your squad, right? You showed me a picture of them. When you were still human? In return, I want to help you find them."

His declaration was initially met by a quiet scoff yet 9S persisted in his effort. "I promise you. Before this storm has passed, you and I will both have what we want. You traveled with me once before. I want you to join me again."

With his case made, Amos stood up. 9S stepped back to clear some distance. Just as he did when they first met, Amos examined the boy. He analyzed 9S' body language. Deciphering intent from the android's expressions and movements. It was a stressful encounter. 9S got the sense that one wrong move could potentially lead to a bitter end for both him and more importantly, the twins.

"Trust me once more," 9S pleaded. His firm tone could not hide his body's fearful trembling.

After Amos weighed his options, the beast quietly held up a fist to 9S. The boy recognized that gesture. A ritual he used to perform with 153 to signify his companionship with her.

Eagerly, 9S mimicked the action. The two promptly bumped fists. Amos added a little extra flair to the interaction. As he pulled his hand back, he wiggled his salty talons about as if emulating an explosion. A microscopic smile briefly overtook 9S's emotionless visage.

"And do we get any say in this," asked Popola.

9S grimaced. That fleeting smile twirled upside down by the time he managed to face her. "No. I want him involved. Just trust me on this. Please."

Popola offered no further argument on the subject. "Come along, 153. Let's get back to work."

Pod 153 followed her back into the dark corridors.

"Now, that that's settled," 9S began. "The Devola and Popola who assisted you and No.9. Are they still around?"

Amos gave a clueless shrug of his shoulders. Not at all the answer he was hoping for but it gave him at least some hope.

"Do you know where I could find them if they are alive?"

Amos picked up the map he was previously reviewing. He showed the contents to 9S and pointed to a red circle far north. The boy took a closer look to get his barrings.

"That's… that's really far. What about the rest of No.9's memories? Are they with you or them?"

To his surprise, Amos pointed to an entirely different area of the map. It was at least closer to their current position than the previous location was.

"I see. Well, that settles it. As much as I'd like to continue the search for his memories, and as curious as I am about those twins, we'll start off small. No.9 is going to need a body as much as he'll need those memories. I need a scanner model in perfect condition."

"Hold up," Devola demanded. "Why do you need to meet this other pair of sisters? If the majority of his memories are being held elsewhere then that's a step you can skip, right?"

"I thought you'd be interested to meet another version of yourself," 9S proclaimed. "I know I would be if I were you."

"I have no desire to meet another Devola or Popola. I definitely don't desire for you to meet another pair either."

"It has to be done," 9S insisted without hesitation. "They knew No.9. That's more than enough reason to find them. But first thing's first. We need a vessel to store all those memories in."

"Right. You need the body of an undamaged, YoRHa scanner. Good luck finding something like that."

Devola's dismissive attitude was erased when she noticed the way 9S stared at her. His blank frown morphed into a sadistic, toothy grin. A downright evil twinkle infected his scarlet eyes.

"Not true, Devola. I already know exactly where to find a body like that. Just follow me to the Forest Kingdom. We're going to see an old friend."

It was something Devola could not agree to. She figured out what he was planning long before he outright admitted it. She chose to stay behind. It was an agreeable outcome. With both of the twins remaining in this relatively safe abode, it was just one less thing 9S had to worry over.

He and Amos moved through the dilapidated halls. Amos carried a flashlight and shined it through the dark interior while they searched for the exit. Even after living in that desolate building for weeks, navigating it was still bothersome. No doubt a result of the lack of light.

The place was dead quiet apart from the haunting echoes of Devola plucking her lute somewhere beyond the veil of darkness. From such a distance, it sounded far more frightening than it usually did. Whether Devola was experimenting with a darker tune or if it was the atmosphere getting to him, 9S could not say. The stillness of his surroundings had become unbearable for him. He was compelled to strike up some form of one-sided conversation.

"Thanks again for helping us."

The sound of his own voice somehow made the situation less comfortable for the boy. His words echoed off the walls like the cries of so many damned souls. He carried on, trying his best to ignore the feeling of being watched.

"It's incredible to know you once traveled with No.9. You knew him personally. You and an entirely different pair of twins. Will we meet others who knew him as well? Is there someone looking over his memories?"

Amos nodded.

"I need to know what happened to him," 9S admitted. "He was doing something. Something involving YoRHa back during the organization's early years. I need to know what it was. And I'd like to know more about the Devola and Popola models who knew him. Why did they help him? What was their relationship with him?"

The salt-comprised demon slowed his pace. He placed a talon to his chin in contemplation. After what 9S could assume was a short bout of brainstorming, Amos found a means of answering at least one of those questions. He turned to 9S and wedged his flashlight between his arm and torso. Amos then formed the outline of a heart with both hands.

9S studied the gesture. The answer left him disturbed more than anything else. "And… what did No.9 think of them in return?"

Amos shook his head. The monster broke out into a fit of hissing. He sounded like a snake with a case of hiccups. 9S realized that the noises the beast made weren't random gibberish. He was laughing. An uneasy laugh that ended the very moment it started. Amos carried on down the hall, leaving 9S to fill in the rest.

"What about you," 9S inquired. The boy rushed to catch up with his Legion companion. "You made it clear you didn't like him. It couldn't have started that way, though. Why did you bother with him? Why did you hold on to all those memories? And his sword?"

Amos came to an abrupt halt as they neared one particularly familiar corridor. At first, 9S failed to notice the issue. He assumed he was on the verge of receiving another answer to his myriad of questions, but 9S assumed poorly.

After a second or two, the boy heard it. The very thing that alerted Amos. A rhythmic thud that repeated itself over and over again. It reverberated off the walls. The disturbance was not exactly loud, but it sounded close.

Amos suddenly shined his flashlight down a separate hallway. 9S followed the cone of light where he spotted Pod 153. She hovered all by herself, staring at a random wall. She took no interest in the exposing light surrounding her. In silence, she repeatedly bashed herself against the wall. The pod brainlessly beat her own head against it, producing the offending noise. She slammed straight into the wall only to float backward and perform the same demented act all over again.

9S and Amos exchanged confused glances.

"Pod," he finally called out. She stopped and faced him. "The hell are you doing?"

Before his support pod could respond, another voice beckoned her attention from further down the hall.

"153," Popola called from somewhere afar. "Where did you run off to?"

153 bobbed up and down. "Apologies," she announced. "This support unit must report to Unit Popola."

With that, she floated off at a worrying pace. She promptly disappeared into the abyss beyond.

9S was left with a dumbfounded look plastered to his face. As though the two were on the same conscious wavelength, 9S and Amos seemed to reach a silent agreement. The two made no effort to follow her. Instead, they continued on their trek to the outside world, pretending as though they did not see a thing.

Two unsuspecting resistance members scoured the Flooded City in a search for something. The specifics of what they sought were of no concern to 9S. The problem began and ended with their presence.

They were just a little too close to home. Such a trespass could not be ignored. He noticed them the moment he stepped outside, but they both remained oblivious to his presence. He recognized at least one of them from Anemone's camp. The sight enraged him.

Crying gales masked his advance. 9S held his elaborate sword high overhead. The cherubs cackled from Heaven as they watched over him. They encouraged him. Goading him into evoking worse violence than he initially planned. Once in range, he lunged on the closest trespasser and left the other for Amos to deal with.

Crashing waves and obnoxious thunder drowned out the man's screams as 9S brought his treacherous blade down upon him. The stranger slipped and fell to the ground after being slashed across the back. It simplified the slaughter for 9S. He climbed on top of his victim and hacked away at his body, using his sword as though it were a meat cleaver. Artificial blood mixed with seawater.

9S's original intent was to kill them quickly, toss their body into the ocean, and be done with it. However, various possibilities started racing through his mind. He wondered exactly what Anemone's goons were doing so close to home. Were they looking to steal his precious memories? Did they seek to harm the twins he cherished so? Oddly detailed images of Devola and Popola's mangled bodies flashed in his head. The thought of them being murdered by some rag-wearing resistance fighters was enough to drive him mad. The idea of those same lowly, non-YoRHa androids making off with valuable memories only furthered his violent impulse.

He did not allow his cold composure to break. It was the only thing keeping him detached from the butchery. With a blank stare and empty smile, 9S chopped the body to pieces long after the struggle ended. When his left arm fell limp, or rather, fell off, a large satchel fell free from his grasp. Rustic bolts and various spare parts spilled out at 9S's feet. Basic tools and other components needed for basic maintenance.

9S never noticed.

It would be irresponsible to leave the coast without ensuring that the trespasser would not get back up. He was sure to chop off his legs, but that alone did not convince him to end the violence. Only when there was nothing left but a mangled torso did he stop.

9S staggered back and examined his handy work. A gruesome scene. One that amused the cherubs greatly. Blood soaked both him and his sword. The boy looked up to the sky. He took a moment to allow the rain to shower him and wash the gore away.

A strong gust knocked him clear off his feet and straight into a puddle of blood and rainwater. Perhaps it was the storm's own way of welcoming him back. While on the ground, 9S noticed Amos. The soldier sat on a large chunk of concrete. The violent weather did not phase him in the slightest.

The second resistance fighter laid dead at his feet. The grunt's head appeared to have been crushed. Fragments of his synthetic skull and chunks of gray matter decorated Amos' right boot.

"Help me hide these bodies," 9S demanded. "I don't know how the twins would react. They don't need to see this anyway."

Amos did not budge. It was not the most compelling suggestion in the world. Amos was rather comfortable in that spot. Instead of doing as told, he opted to kick back and see just what exactly 9S would do.

The boy did not pressure Amos any further. He frantically dragged what remained of the first corpse over to the edge of the road. 9S dropped the mauled body into the swirling vortex below. He repeated the process for the second.

"Anemone knows where we are," 9S snarled as he hauled the second corpse into the water. "I knew I shouldn't have stopped at that guy's arm. I should've killed them all back then. We have to wipe them out. Otherwise, they'll just keep attacking."

Amos cocked his head. He gave the notion some serious contemplation. After a bit of brainstorming, he stood up and yanked at the sling wrapped around his shoulder. A strap that held a large rifle to his back.

9S saw him grab that hulking rifle on the way out, but it was far too dark to make out the finer details of the weapon.

Even with the minimal experience 9S had with ranged weapons, it looked nothing like the sorts of firearms gunner models used to carry. The thing had two magazines. One behind the trigger. The other, thinner magazine, was situated toward the front. It was like someone had simply stacked one rifle on top of the other and called it a day. The weapon had two barrels. The top barrel was larger yet shorter than the one below it.

Adorning the top of this complicated system was an enormous scope with various knobs and switches decorating its blocky surface. The rifle was probably almost as large as 9S's torso, but in the hands of Amos, it was downright tiny.

The ghostly beast took the weapon in both hands and readied it.

Amos tapped his helmet, a clear signal that the Legionnaire had an idea. Intrigued, 9S tossed the remaining body parts off into the sea and chased after him.